Last week I wrote a celebration of the physical grotesquerie of the great Clarence Wilson, now visible at The Chiseler. One of the less-famed of the pre-code rep company servicing Hollywood in the early 30s, Wilson deserves to be sung of more often, and louder.
A furtive spell-check amended the piece, making it a hair less Rabelaisian than intended: I had compared everybody’s favourite fat man, Eugene Pallette, not to an inflamed bullock, but to an inflamed bollock. But it’s equally true either way.
During the course of the article, I compare Wilson himself to a zombie, a horse, and a crustacean, although the closest equivalent in nature might be some kind of beetle or roach. The movie THE PENGUIN POOL MURDER, however, an entertaining romp with Edna May Oliver as a crime-solving schoolteacher, comes up with its own comparison — some kind of horrible fish.
Seconds earlier, though some minutes before Ms Oliver’s appearance, the film also seems to offer a pretty good piscine analog for her long-faced fizzog —
And here’s an unrelated limerick, co-written with Hilary Barta.