In Which You Don’t Happen To Have A Cat By Any Chance?

It’s Okay With Me

by Molly Lambert

“My name is Donald Duck, fuck you. You know my name.”

Oh my god! Everyone pitch in so This Recording can buy Elliott Gould as Philip Marlowe’s apartment from Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye! Lost cat and pot brownie baking naked hippie chicks next door are presumably included with purchase.

These could be our neighbors! They do open air scarf dancing!

How do you think Charlie Kaufman felt about his NYU Film school chum Chris Columbus during all the years Kaufman was unknown and Columbus was juggling Spielberg’s balls at Amblin? I hope some of it comes out in Synecdoche.

Jack Davis’s poster artwork. Get ready for a MAD post soon.

Charlie Kaufman wrote for Get A Life, the great 90s sitcom where Chris Elliott played an adult paperboy who died in almost every episode. He also wrote for Ned And Stacy, where we assumed he died inside quietly.

Woody as The Little Tramp, photo by Irving Penn

“I liked Woody Allen when I was younger. The early Woody Allen is a complete mess, which I liked as a kid, but he was also a person that I could aspire to be, you know, short Jewish guys up there on the screen. I wanted to write comedies when I was younger, and yeah I liked his style. But I had a different idea of things then.” – Charlie Kaufman

Woody as dirty old man, present day

Dear Woody Allen, I fault you entirely for Overinspiring at least three generations of short Jewish guys. Although nothing will ever fix this, you can start by giving this short Jewish girl the Key to the Friars’ Club.

Reparations can be made out to mollylambert at

P.S. Please stop making terrible films. It’s embarrassing.

P.P.S. You better pull an ace out of your old man hat for L.D.!

How about Woody Allen sequels? This is so McSweeney’s of me. Remember McSweeney’s? I know it still exists but remember…it?


Next September
Return Of The Jade Scorpion
Melinda and Melinda and Melinda (or, Melindaplicity)
Manhattan 2: Manhattan On The Move
Take Bananas and Sleep
Husbands and Wives and Korean Stepdaughters
More Crimes And Misdemeanors
Hannah and Her Doctors
Stardust Dementia
Play It Again Sam, Again
Sweeter and Lower Downier
Reconstructing Harry
Annie Hall and The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull

(with contributions from Tess)

Ryan Adams likes big dictionaries. He is our kind of man.

The notion of judging someone by their bookshelf comes up a lot in Annie Hall. I’m pretty sure that if you rule romantic interests out based on what they’re reading you will almost definitely end up alone like Gustav Von Aschenbach in Death In Venice.

Calling Mr. Oswald with the swastika tattoo. Your son Max Mosely’s Nazi-themed orgy sex tape is the craziest British sex scandal in a while. Way to make Spitzer look relatively less fucked? As horrible as this is, I feel like Mel Brooks, Larry David, and Sacha Baron-Cohen will have a good laugh about it.

Molly Lambert is the senior editor of This Recording.


Dusty Old Dust (So Long, It’s Been Nice To Know Yuh) – Woody Guthrie: mp3

Bed On The Floor – Woody Guthrie: mp3

Little Black Train – Woody Guthrie: mp3

This Recording Is The Party That Makes You Feel Your Age


Andy praised Shadows.

Sex tapes should always have a soundtrack.

Fear of sluts guided our every move.

6 thoughts on “In Which You Don’t Happen To Have A Cat By Any Chance?

  1. Ms. Molly,

    It’s always nice to hold out hope for a key to the Friar’s Club. But even a key won’t undo the embarrassment of some of the Wood Man’s recent (1990-present) work.

    As far as sequels go perhaps you can talk him into doing a collaborative work with the Olson Twins called “New York Minute Stories – Twin Train Wrecks” where he makes them both disappear.

    Otherwise the best you can hope for is a date with him. That seems to be relatively easy to arrange. Please let us know how it goes.



  2. I was looking at this and remembered some pretty funny Elliot Gould trivia. I’m not sure why I’m posting it here, but:

    Was listening to the commentary for the film Little Murders directed by Alan Arkin, adapted by Jules Pfieffer from a failed Broadway play of the same name. Gould stars in the film and produced the movie, I believe, and he drops a hell of a lot of names during it, some examples of which I will relate here:

    It seems that Gould was married to Barbara Streisand at the time he and Pfeiffer decided they wanted to make the play into a film. Streisand somehow put him in contact with Jean-Luc Godard, who Gould wanted to direct the film. Godard responded that Jules Pfeiffer and Charles Schulz were his favorite Americans, and agreed to meet Gould, who had to skip one of his wife’s concerts in order to do so. Upon their second meeting, at the Algonquin Hotel in New York, Gould naively asked Godard to take an active role with his Gould’s financial backers/studio – to stand up for Gould, more or less – whereupon Godard blew him off, and the project, with the line “If my wife and my son ask me to tell them that I love them, I tell them to go fuck themselves.”

    Also, Gould reads a letter in which Jean Renoir had this to say about the film:

    “Dear Alan Arkin,
    Your picture will never be forgotten. It is not only a good picture, but what is more important it is a record of a stage of the destruction of our world. You manage to do what pleases me the most in the art of directing movies. I mean that there is a camera – we are the unseeing witnesses of a terrible drama in which your heroes are involved but also all our contemporaries. It is a terrifying film treated as lightly as a Broad-way Comedy. Thank you for having shown to me this modern version of a Greek Tragedy.
    Jean Renoir.”

    anyway, this blog entertains me. It reminds me a little bit of Suck. But with no Wednesday cartoons. Have someone get on that.

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