Disturbing New Charlie Chaplin-Stan Laurel Information Comes To Light
I don’t know how it started. Somewhere down in there I saw a description of a Stan Laurel movie from 1924 called West of Hot Dog. It was a silent film. It would be scientifically impossible for me to describe the path of rabbit hole I went down to get to that point. Impossible and I’m not even going to try because it doesn’t matter.
But here’s what some guy’s review said: “Stan Laurel was a protege of Chaplin’s. You can really see it in this short film. The prat falls, gags, and love interest are all there.” Oh really? In a silent film? Yeah Sherlock, what else was there in silent film besides “prat falls, gags, and love interest?”
Of course, up here in Orbit we don’t give a shit about silent films.
But never mind that shit. It’s totally beside the point. No, I didn’t know that and I still don’t. Of course, up here in Orbit we don’t give a shit about silent films. They’re incomplete as films as far as we’re concerned. No sound. Unless they have an alcoholic piano player nodding off during the performance. And that’s no fucking good either.
Was Charlie Chaplan disappointed in Stan Laurel because he teamed up with the fat guy? Did Charlie expect Stan to follow his solo footsteps, and was he devastated when the guy took a partner? Do solo acts look down upon duos and, for fuck’s sake, trios?
I’m not going to answer any of those questions. I don’t give a shit about the answers and I couldn’t possibly imagine you would either.
Apparently in that movie, there was a town called Hot Dog.
I’m a little more concerned about the origin of the name West Hot Dog. Apparently in that movie, there was a town called Hot Dog. Now we don’t know and we’re not going to look up WHEN the term “hot dog” was created, you know, for the tubular meatstick in a bun we all love. No, no, we’re resisting the urge to look that up because we might actually learn something and we don’t want to know nothing.
We’re going to assume the town was named after a dog that got hot. Probably laying around in that dusty spot when some settlers arrived to inhabit the place from that time on. They named it after the first “significant” thing they saw.
But they were shouted down by the horde of frumpy Old West babushkas.
Okay, there may have been some malcontents wanted to name the place after an eagle they saw flying around with rattlesnakes and arrows. But they were shouted down by the horde of frumpy Old West babushkas. “Dog are cute!” they chanted. The rest is history.
There’s a certain rare kind of bliss a human being can experience in his life (possibly even more than once) in which he can absolutely luxuriate in the liberation of not giving a shit about something. This is one of those times. NOBODY gives a good God damn about any of these dead people. None of it matters to anyone. Fuck all this.
Isn’t it lovely?