And yet, there is a familiarity to his Tweets. Consider this.

.@rupertmurdoch Great New Year’s party the other night. I think I left my LMFAO cd at your pad. Need that. Burn it & return it. #watsupdoch

— jimmy fallon (@jimmyfallon) January 3, 2012

Then oddly Dave tweets this

Great New Year’s party the other night.I think I left my LMFAO cd at your pad.Need that.Burn it & return it.

— Late Show (@Late_Show) January 3, 2012

I hope he keeps “jokingly” ripping off his fellow hosts.

In the 1970s, a local AM radio station (WGST if I recall correctly) used to devote part of its evening programming to airing old radio shows–and I vaguely remember hearing Fred Allen periodically. I know the name.

But this week I was absolutely flummoxed to hear a 1954 Christmas special, where Crosby went on at length (I came in on the broadcast mid-show, this could have been an ad) at how great Fred Allen’s then new book, Treadmill to Oblivion, was. The book is out of print (you can see parts of it at Google Books), so unfortunately it’s not something you can pick up at the local bookstore. Allen, a popular radio show host, was clearly unhappy with the seeming demise of radio, thanks to television. Allen likely would have made his way in TV (much like his peer, Jack Benny, did)

In trying to research the book, I ran across a 1989 Garrison Keillor New York Times review of a then new Robert Talyor-penned biography of Allen. The last paragraph of the review touched upon the naming of Allen’s 1954 book and Allen’s impact on the larger landscape of comedy history.

“Treadmill to Oblivion is a pretty bleak title for a memoir by an old comic. Allen chose it over genial ones like ”Looking Back” or ”Microphones and Memories,” and meant what he said, and ”Fred Allen: His Life and Wit,” trying to rescue him from oblivion, only proves him right. Comedy is temporary art unless you’re Mark Twain. Thirty years after you knocked them dead, your best stuff is just damp hyphens, a wet glow on the plate.”

A couple of months back, I interviewed writer/director Jairaj Walia about Pendejo, his romantic comedy starring Danny Trejo, Raja Fenske and Fernanda Romero, while the film was in post-production. More recently, the Pendejo team granted Technorati the exclusive premiere of the film’s official trailer (featured above) along with brief interviews of Fenske and Romero. My thanks to Fenske and Romero for their time. Current plans are for Pendejo to be released in 2012.

Five Questions with Raja Fenske

Were you nervous the first day on the set, or are you too experienced to get nervous any longer?

Not so much nervous. More anxious and excited to take on the role and begin shooting. It was my first experience being the lead in a film and I loved the idea that I would be in a position to carry a film.

Which attracted you more to working on the project, the director or the script?

Initially the script drew me in. It was witty and smart. It was one of those projects that you relish the chance to be a part of. Once we began filming, I quickly became very close friends with the director Jairaj Walia.

What was it like working with Danny Trejo?

An absolute pleasure and honor. Mr. Trejo is well known for his tough exterior and the badass characters he portrays. But I was lucky enough to see a rare side of him. He’s one hell of a comedic actor with a great sense of humor. I hope we’re lucky enough to collaborate again in the future.

Can you single out a favorite scene or moment in the film?

Wow, there’s so many brilliant scenes – and I had fun with every moment – but if I had to narrow it down to only one, I’d have to say the Haunted House scene was one of my favorites to shoot. Everyone on set had such a great time making that scene happen.

What is the most challenging aspect of doing a comedy?

Doing justice to the script and story Jai created. When I read the script, it was laugh-out-loud funny. My biggest concern was making sure that when the scenes came off the page they were as funny seeing them as they were if you had read them.

Five Questions with Fernanda Romero

How quickly were you able to establish a rapport with your co-star Raja?

It was pretty easy. We had instant good energy, which made it very easy and fun.

What interested you in working on the movie?

The script and the humor in it! I really liked the story.

What was it like working with the cast?

It was drama-free and quite fun on set.

Was it hard to decide how you wanted to approach playing your character?

Not at all. When I read it, I pictured her immediately! I saw her as savvy, fun, and a little bit of a joker – but never mean.

What did you enjoy most about working with director Jairaj Walia?

Jai really listens to you and is very happy to hear your feedback. At the end of the day we are a team. And having great communication with your director is a must.

Watch Educational Workshop: Lyle Lovett on PBS. See more from In Performance at The White House.

AdHouse: Nine Years Strong

In observing the nine-year mark, Pitzer also noted it is the publisher’s “MOST productive year to date”.

Tim O’Shea: In a sense, do you think mentors benefit almost as much from the experience as the contributors?

Masha Hamilton: Absolutely. A bridge is being built between Afghan women and both mentors and readers abroad that I think is important to both sides. To read some of the mentors’ comments on our site, look here. Here is one quote from Stacy Parker Le Melle, but you can pick any one you’d like:

“Magical. How else to describe sitting at my computer in Harlem, USA, and connecting with young women in Afghanistan, women who want to better themselves as communicators so that they can be heard at home and all over the world? I cannot thank Masha Hamilton and her partners enough for creating this cyberspace classroom. At times, it feels like we’re meeting in our dreams.”

O’Shea: What are some of the more unique topics tackled by contributors?

Hamilton: The site can be overwhelming to a first-time visitor because there is so much information and so many wonderful essays and poems. A good place to start here here. You can read “My First Namaz,” a lovely poem on loss and prayer, or “I Thought It Was A Dream, But When I Woke Up, I Couldn’t Walk,” written by one of our writers who went to the hospital to visit her grandfather, and while there, met a girl who had lost her legs in a suicide attack. “Running for Parliament, Afghan-Style” is another favorite, by a woman writer who decided to throw her hat in the ring, and won! There is an open letter to President Obama and an open letter to Secretary of State Clinton. “Remembering Fifteen” is one of my personal favorite poems, in which one of our writer remembers being 15 years old, on the cusp of womanhood.

O’Shea: How important are donations to making this project an ongoing viable project?

Hamilton: Absolutely critical. Although we are volunteer-based, we are trying to get our writers laptops and Internet service, and provide Internet cafes for them in undisclosed locations. Rent and security as well as ongoing Internet service is not inexpensive. We have six writers now in a Taliban-dominated province waiting for us to get them Internet. It costs roughly $2,500 a year per writer to support the program.

O’Shea: Unlike writers, who are hoping to raise their profile and market themselves, as noted at the website: “Most of our Afghan writers participate in the project partially or entirely in secret from friends and family.” Clearly it is stressful for participants to risk being found out, but on the administration end how stressful is it to work with these brave women but make sure you do not accidentally reveal their talents/efforts to the wrong people?

Hamilton: We use first names only on the site and take out specific locators. We do not give out their email addresses to anyone not directly associated with AWWP. We have a security team who helps us consider ongoing issues. And we intentionally err on the side of safety. BUT, we still want to keep the project going, because we believe if we shut it down out of security concerns, we are effectively doing the same thing as those who would silence the Afghan woman, even if our motivation is different.

O’Shea: Looking at the project’s Facebook page, I noticed that readers are encouraged to give contributors feedback. In most situations, writers crave feedback–but am I correct in thinking feedback in this situation is appreciated like rain in the middle of a long drought?

Hamilton: The comments are important. The writers know they are being heard. We have a writer who walks four hours each way from a Taliban-controlled province to send us a poem. We don’t want her work to sit out there without comment.

I respect the fact that TCM tries to update the clips for people who die late in the year, also. Thanks to Bill Brioux’s TV Feeds My Family for the tip.

The Life and Writings of Paul Nelson

From the 1960s to the early 1980s, Paul Nelson was known for writing passionate, insightful criticism of folk and rock music that showed a partiality for singer-songwriters. He, and his record collection, was of great importance to Bob Dylan early in his career. As an editor at Rolling Stone, he influenced many great critics, such as Charles M. Young and Mikal Gilmore. But suddenly, in the early 1980s, when editorial decisions at Rolling Stone ran contrary to his thinking, Nelson walked away from music criticism. In fact, he dropped out of criticism entirely, choosing to spend his remaining years in relative obscurity, working at a video rental store. He died in 2006, but not before writer Kevin Avery contacted him about a potential biography. After Nelson’s death, Avery was tapped to compile this new Fantagraphics book, Everything Is An Afterthought: The Life And Writings Of Paul Nelson, in which Avery documented Nelson’s career as well as collecting his writing. In addition to discussing this book, Avery also discussed his other Nelson-related book that he edited, Conversations with Clint: Paul Nelson’s Lost Interviews with Clint Eastwood, 1979-1983 (Continuum Books). To mark the release of both books, Avery recently allowed me to interview him via email.

Not to toss a large question your way, but how did Paul Nelson help to shape present day rock criticism?

I’m probably the wrong person to ask. As a result of immersing myself in the music and criticism of the Seventies and Eighties, I really don’t follow rock criticism much anymore, but what I do read bears very little resemblance to the kind of writing that Paul did. Paul’s writing was more contemplative and expansive—in contrast to some of what I read today, which is dictated by time and space constraints (some of the very things that brought Paul’s tenure at Rolling Stone to an end in 1982).

In gathering this book, were there certain key parts to the collection that proved harder to track down then others?

Everything Is an Afterthought: The Life and Writings of Paul Nelson is actually divided into two books: Book One, which is Paul’s biography and sets up Book Two, which, while continuing to tell Paul’s story, presents an anthology of some of his best writing. Tracking down the various writings that I wanted to include in the book wasn’t that difficult—the challenge was documenting the last twenty or so years of his life, after he left Rolling Stone and “began to erase himself from the world” (as Anthony DeCurtis recently chillingly wrote). He closed the door on most of his many friends and colleagues and began leading an increasingly private life (which was hermetic to begin with).

What were the biggest logistical challenges to developing this book?

Selecting those writings of Paul’s that would not only demonstrate what a fine writer he was but would also serve to tell his story. Paul was a very autobiographical writer, although not overtly so. Sometimes, as with the Rolling Stone cover story about Warren Zevon’s battle with alcoholism, he was a reluctant participant in the story. But in Paul’s other work, I think even the casual reader could sense his presence lurking between the lines.

What I wanted to do was structure the book so that, after reading the first half of the book, Paul’s writing, in the second half, revealed just how much he had almost surreptitiously been telling his own story all along—in record reviews as well as articles.

In terms of Nelson’s peers and associates, were there a few that proved to be a critical path in terms of giving you the proper frame of mind on the body of Nelson’s work?

At the risk of failing to mention several people who undoubtedly contributed on this front—and there were many (the usual suspects jump to mind: Robert Christgau, Dave Marsh, Greil Marcus, and Kit Rachlis—I’d have to say that Paul’s good friend Jay Cocks, a fine critic in his own right who went on to forge a very successful career as a screenwriter, provided me with the best insight to not only the work Paul had done but also placing it in perspective with rock music and rock writing as a whole. And not just the rock music and criticism of the Seventies of the Eighties, but where it had come from and where it ended up going.

How much fun was it to appear on Kick Out the Jams with Dave Marsh, discussing Nelson’s work?

Lots of fun. Speaking as someone who as a teenager used to sit cross-legged on my bed reading these guys’ work—guys like Dave, Christgau, Greil, Jay, and of course Paul—anticipating reading what they had to say about notable new albums as much as I anticipated the albums themselves—on that level this project was a dream come true.

Before embarking on this project had you known that Bob Dylan had stolen folk records from Nelson at one point early in his career?

Yes, thanks to Martin Scorsese’s Dylan documentary No Direction Home, where Paul himself tells the story. Though, as I point out in the book, Paul always claimed that the records actually belonged to his best friend at the time, and cofounder of The Little Sandy Review, Jon Pankake. On the other hand, Jon said they were Paul’s. Regardless of their ownership, Dylan took them.

After researching the book, did you find that your view of Nelson changed (for the better or whatever) as you learned more about him?

I certainly understood him better and, as a result, now appreciate his writing even more. While I was writing the book, I experienced the same thing that I think many people have expressed after reading it: an immense sadness. Paul’s story is a tragedy that, by and large, took place behind closed doors in small illegal sublets scattered throughout New York City. There’s an inevitability to what happened to him, but he did the best he could with what he had to work with.

But that sadness passed. It was replaced by a genuine appreciation of the man and the great writing he left behind.

Would punk music have flourished as much without Nelson’s advocacy for it?

What Paul did, especially by way of his amazing Rolling Stone review of the Sex Pistols’ debut album, was help introduce punk to the mainstream. Because he was a critic of some gravitas, famous for writing about singer-songwriters like Dylan, Jackson Browne, Leonard Cohen, and Neil Young, I think he undoubtedly engaged some people who otherwise would’ve never considered giving punk a listen. And certainly, when he was editor of the record-review section at Rolling Stone, he encouraged writers like Charles M. Young and Mikal Gilmore to write about bands like the Dead Boys, Joy Division, and Public Image Ltd.

Conversations with Clint

Care to talk a little bit about your Clint Eastwood book?

Absolutely. It’s called Conversations with Clint: Paul Nelson’s Lost Interviews with Clint Eastwood, 1979–1983. Even though it came out first, a few weeks before Everything Is an Afterthought, it’s actually my second book.

I’d always remembered, since reading the aforementioned Zevon cover story in Rolling Stone, that Paul had interviewed Clint Eastwood. In the piece, Paul mentions that he’s interviewing Eastwood for a story. But such a story never materialized anywhere. I hadn’t thought about those interviews with Eastwood in years, but then Dave Marsh mentioned them in a remembrance he wrote about Paul in 2006. Over the next few months, as I began researching the book and conducting interviews, several people asked me if I knew the whereabouts of Paul’s Eastwood tapes. Ultimately, they were found in Paul’s apartment after the medical examiner unsealed it.

The interviews, over seventeen hours’ worth, range from 1979 to 1983, and were intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that Paul, for various reasons, was never able to write it. What struck me while I listened to the tapes for the first time was the obvious friendship that quickly developed between these two men. They clearly enjoyed one another’s company. As a result, Eastwood is much more open and revealing—about his career and his aspirations, about his influences—than the Eastwood we’re used to reading about. Paul had correctly predicted, as far back as 1971, that Eastwood would become a “major force” as an actor and director.

Conversations with Clint presents these interviews as an occasional but ongoing four-year conversation between two friends.

It’s bittersweet to hear him be critical of his Sullivan appearances, lamenting that he cannot watch them…but admitting he intended to watch them someday. I hope he got the chance. Or hopefully heaven has a great cable package.

The term comic genius is an understatement with this fellow. His influence on comedy can be felt everyday. Hell, his influence permeates throughout The Daily Show.