Classic Monty Python: Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw Engage in a Hilarious Battle of Wits

Have you ever won­dered what it would have been like to be present when Oscar Wilde was deliv­er­ing those daz­zling epi­grams of his? In this clas­sic sketch from Mon­ty Python’s Fly­ing Cir­cus, we’re pre­sent­ed with one hilar­i­ous pos­si­bil­i­ty.

The sketch is from Episode 39 of the Fly­ing Cir­cus, the last episode of sea­son three, which was record­ed on May 18, 1972 but not aired until Jan­u­ary 18, 1973. The scene takes place in 1895, in the draw­ing room of Wilde’s Lon­don home. Hold­ing court amid a room­ful of syco­phants, Wilde (played by Gra­ham Chap­man) com­petes with the Irish writer George Bernard Shaw (Michael Palin) and the Amer­i­can-born painter James McNeill Whistler (John Cleese) to impress Queen Vic­to­ri­a’s son Albert Edward (Ter­ry Jones), the Prince of Wales and future King Edward VII.

As for the his­tor­i­cal basis of the sketch, “There seems to be no evi­dence for the con­vivial tri­umvi­rate of Whistler, Wilde, and Shaw,” writes Darl Larsen in Mon­ty Python’s Fly­ing Cir­cus: An Utter­ly Com­plete, Thor­ough­ly Unil­lus­trat­ed, Absolute­ly Unau­tho­rized Guide, “espe­cial­ly as late as 1895, when Whistler was car­ing for his ter­mi­nal­ly ill wife and Wilde was in the ear­ly stages of his fall from grace.” Wilde’s play The Impor­tance of Being Earnest opened in Feb­ru­ary of that year, and short­ly after­ward he became embroiled in a legal bat­tle with the Mar­quess of Queens­ber­ry that led even­tu­al­ly to his impris­on­ment for homo­sex­u­al­i­ty. Wilde was once a pro­tégé of Whistler, but their friend­ship had dete­ri­o­rat­ed by 1895. Whistler was appar­ent­ly jeal­ous of Wilde’s suc­cess, and believed he had stolen many of his famous lines. When Wilde report­ed­ly said “I wish I had said that” in response to a wit­ty remark by Whistler in about 1888, the painter famous­ly retort­ed, “You will, Oscar, you will.” Shaw worked as a Lon­don the­atre crit­ic in the 1890s, and the Prince of Wales was a patron of the arts.

In the Python sketch, Wilde kicks off a round of wit­ti­cisms with his famous line, “There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.” But things go rapid­ly down­hill as the con­ver­sa­tion turns into an exer­cise in heap­ing abuse on the Prince of Wales and pin­ning the blame on a rival:

WILDE: Your Majesty is like a big jam dough­nut with cream on the top.

PRINCE: I beg your par­don?

WILDE: Um…It was one of Whistler’s.

WHISTLER: I nev­er said that.

WILDE: You did, James, you did.

WHISTLER: Well, Your High­ness, what I meant was that, like a dough­nut, um, your arrival gives us pleasure…and your depar­ture only makes us hun­gry for more. [The prince laughs and nods his head.] Your High­ness, you are also like a stream of bat’s piss.

PRINCE: What?

WHISTLER: It was one of Wilde’s. One of Wilde’s.

WILDE: It sod­ding was not! It was Shaw!

SHAW: I…I mere­ly meant, Your Majesty, that you shine out like a shaft of gold when all around is dark.

PRINCE: Oh.

WILDE: Right. Your Majesty is like a dose of clap–

WHISTLER: –Before you arrive is plea­sure, and after is a pain in the dong.

PRINCE: What??

WHISTLER AND WILDE: One of Shaw’s, one of Shaw’s.

SHAW: You bas­tards.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python’s Best Phi­los­o­phy Sketch­es

Watch Mon­ty Python’s “Sum­ma­rize Proust Com­pe­ti­tion” on the 100th Anniver­sary of Swann’s Way

John Cleese’s Eulo­gy for Gra­ham Chap­man: ‘Good Rid­dance, the Free-Load­ing Bas­tard, I Hope He Fries’

Stephen Colbert Tries to Make Sense of MOOCs with the Head of edX

Last week Anant Agar­w­al, Pres­i­dent of edX (the MOOC con­sor­tium launched by Har­vard and MIT), paid a vis­it to The Col­bert Report. And it did­n’t take long for the host, the one and only Stephen Col­bert, to ask fun­ny but unmis­tak­ably prob­ing ques­tions about the advent of Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es. “I don’t under­stand. You’re in the knowl­edge busi­ness in a uni­ver­si­ty. Let’s say I had a shoe store, ok, and then I hired you to work at my shoe store. And you said, ‘Hey, I’ve got a great idea! Let’s give the shoes away for free.’ I would fire you and then prob­a­bly throw shoes at your head.” In oth­er words, why would uni­ver­si­ties dis­rupt them­selves and give edu­ca­tion away at no cost? Where’s the san­i­ty in that?  If you have five min­utes, you can watch Agar­wal’s response and get a few laughs along the way. And if you’re ready to take a MOOC, then dive into our col­lec­tion of 550 Free MOOCs from Great Uni­ver­si­ties. 120 new cours­es will be start­ing in August and Sep­tem­ber alone.

via The Har­vard Crim­son

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Col­bert Talks Sci­ence with Astro­physi­cist Neil deGrasse Tyson

Stephen Col­bert Dish­es Out Wis­dom & Laughs at North­west­ern

Har­vard and MIT Cre­ate EDX to Offer Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es World­wide

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook: Philosopher Ponders Making Omelets in Long Lost Diary Entries

sartre food

In 1987, Mar­ty Smith pub­lished a spoof called The Jean-Paul Sartre Cook­book in a Port­land, Ore­gon alter­na­tive news­pa­per called the Free Agent. Lat­er, in 1993, it was repub­lished in the Utne Read­er. And it starts with this premise:

We have been lucky to dis­cov­er sev­er­al pre­vi­ous­ly lost diaries of French philoso­pher Jean-Paul Sartre stuck in between the cush­ions of our office sofa. These diaries reveal a young Sartre obsessed not with the void, but with food. Appar­ent­ly Sartre, before dis­cov­er­ing phi­los­o­phy, had hoped to write “a cook­book that will put to rest all notions of fla­vor for­ev­er.” The diaries are excerpt­ed here for your perusal.

Now for a cou­ple of my favorite entries:

Octo­ber 3

Spoke with Camus today about my cook­book. Though he has nev­er actu­al­ly eat­en, he gave me much encour­age­ment. I rushed home imme­di­ate­ly to begin work. How excit­ed I am! I have begun my for­mu­la for a Den­ver omelet.

October 6

I have real­ized that the tra­di­tion­al omelet form (eggs and cheese) is bour­geois. Today I tried mak­ing one out of a cig­a­rette, some cof­fee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Mal­raux, who puked. I am encour­aged, but my jour­ney is still long.

November 23

Ran into some oppo­si­tion at the restau­rant. Some of the patrons com­plained that my break­fast spe­cial (a page out of Remem­brance of Things Past and a blow­torch with which to set it on fire) did not sat­is­fy their hunger. As if their hunger was of any con­se­quence! “But we’re starv­ing,” they say. So what? They’re going to die even­tu­al­ly any­way. They make me want to puke. I have quit the job. It is stu­pid for Jean-Paul Sartre to sling hash. I have enough mon­ey to con­tin­ue my work for a lit­tle while.

November 26

Today I made a Black For­est cake out of five pounds of cher­ries and a live beaver, chal­leng­ing the very def­i­n­i­tion of the word “cake.” I was very pleased. Mal­raux said he admired it great­ly, but could not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my most pro­found achieve­ment yet, and have resolved to enter it in the Bet­ty Crock­er Bake-Off.

The diary entries con­tin­ue here. And it just so hap­pens that The New York­er lat­er found Sartre’s long lost blog. You can read that online too.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jean-Paul Sartre Breaks Down the Bad Faith of Intel­lec­tu­als

Wal­ter Kaufmann’s Lec­tures on Niet­zsche, Kierkegaard and Sartre (1960)

Sartre, Hei­deg­ger, Niet­zsche: Three Philoso­phers in Three Hours

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The Way Too Philosophical Pop Song

Sec­ond City has giv­en us many great improv com­e­dy sketch­es and come­di­ans over the decades … and now com­ic videos on YouTube too. From this video col­lec­tion comes the “Too Philo­soph­i­cal Pop Song,” whose open­ing lines resem­ble the hack­neyed lyrics of so many con­tem­po­rary pop tunes.

We’ve got to be young while we live, and live while we are young.
We’ve got to live for tonight because tomor­row won’t come.

We’ve all heard these exis­ten­tial clichés before, right? But then, the “Too Philo­soph­i­cal Pop Song” gets, well, too philo­soph­i­cal, swerv­ing dark­ly of course.

We have to par­ty like we’ll nev­er see tomor­row, there­by destroy­ing the intrin­sic val­ue of this moment and our­selves.
The cer­tain­ty of death inval­i­dates our actions tonight.
We’re thrown into this uni­verse with no pur­pose, com­pelled to fab­ri­cate mean­ing.
There is no good, there is no right, and our morals are craft­ed out of rea­son.

Makes it a lit­tle hard to get your groove on … unless you’re a UVA grad stu­dent or one of those heady guys at Par­tial­lyEx­am­inedLife. Don’t miss their pod­cast.

via Leit­er Reports

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es from Great Uni­ver­si­ties

Rap­ping About Sci­ence: Watch High School Senior Jabari John­son Talk Physics with Poet­ic Lyrics

A Song of Our Warm­ing Plan­et: Cel­list Turns 130 Years of Cli­mate Change Data into Music

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Watch Out For the Flying Folding Chairs, It’s The Noam Chomsky Show!

The word “philoso­pher” tends to con­jure up the arche­typ­al image of an ascetic fig­ure stand­ing above the fol­lies of every­day life, absorbed in thought. Per­haps that’s why so many peo­ple have found it fas­ci­nat­ing to hear of the dis­agree­ments between Noam Chom­sky and Slavoj Žižek.

Sev­er­al weeks ago we post­ed an excerpt from an inter­view in which Chom­sky accus­es Žižek, along with Jacques Lacan and Jacques Der­ri­da, of emp­ty “pos­tur­ing.” Yes­ter­day we post­ed Žižek’s response to Chom­sky: “I don’t think I know a guy who was so often empir­i­cal­ly wrong.” Some of the respons­es have been amus­ing. “The gloves are off!” wrote one read­er on Twit­ter. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” said anoth­er.

Of course, we should bear in mind that the two celebri­ty intel­lec­tu­als are not real­ly at each oth­er’s throats. Chom­sky gave his brief assess­ment of Žižek and the oth­ers in response to a ques­tion dur­ing a long inter­view back in Decem­ber. Žižek’s remarks were a small part of a two-hour pan­el dis­cus­sion on var­i­ous top­ics. It’s hard to imag­ine either man seething over what the oth­er has said.

Still, the bois­ter­ous­ness of many of the respons­es remind­ed us of the stu­dio audi­ence in this 2009 sketch (above) from The Chaser’s War on Every­thing, an Aus­tralian com­e­dy show. The sketch is a par­o­dy of The Jer­ry Springer Show and the oth­er tabloid TV talk shows that mul­ti­plied like weeds in the 1990s. It’s extreme­ly sil­ly, but good for a laugh.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky Slams Žižek and Lacan: Emp­ty ‘Pos­tur­ing’

Slavoj Žižek Responds to Noam Chom­sky: ‘I Don’t Know a Guy Who Was So Often Empir­i­cal­ly Wrong’

Noam Chom­sky Calls Post­mod­ern Cri­tiques of Sci­ence Over-Inflat­ed “Poly­syl­lab­ic Tru­isms”

Clash of the Titans: Noam Chom­sky & Michel Fou­cault Debate Human Nature & Pow­er on Dutch TV, 1971

 

World-Renowned Graphic Designer Milton Glaser Has a Laugh on Old Jews Telling Jokes

Old Jews Telling Jokes: as Youtube series go, this one has a cer­tain con­cep­tu­al puri­ty. That its videos have become very pop­u­lar indeed won’t come as a sur­prise to any­one who grew up in a large Jew­ish fam­i­ly; you want a joke told right, you go to the top of the fam­i­ly tree. We’ve seen jokes told by den­tistsbusi­ness­men and even the likes of lawyer and polit­i­cal com­men­ta­tor Alan Der­showitz and for­mer New York City may­or Ed Koch. Above you’ll see “I Want to Have a Mon­key,” one of the series’ jokes told by graph­ic design­er and New York mag­a­zine co-founder Mil­ton Glaser, cre­ator of logos for DC Comics, the Brook­lyn Brew­ery, and of course, in the form of the uni­ver­sal­ly rec­og­nized I ♥ NY, his city. You can learn more about his 60-year design career in the short doc­u­men­tary by Hill­man Cur­tis just below:

Unlike most of the videos’ stars, who stand in front of a stan­dard white back­ground, Glaser tells his jokes in a more inter­est­ing set­ting: his long­time office, of which you’ll see more in Cur­tis’ doc­u­men­tary. When the Old Jews Telling Jokes crew turned up, they found in this force of graph­ic design a ver­i­ta­ble fount of punch­lines. He demon­strates his comedic acu­men in eight oth­er episodes: “The Res­ur­rect­ing Rab­bi,” “Magi­cian and a Sledge­ham­mer,” “Two Gar­men­tos,” “Edward R. Mur­row,” “Am I Thirsty,” “Ele­phant and Croc­o­dile,” “I’d Like to Be Cas­trat­ed,” and “The Par­rot.” Here we have anoth­er les­son to take from our elders, or at least from this spe­cif­ic elder: you can’t just rise to and remain for decades at the very top of your exot­ic and chal­leng­ing field. You’ve also got to have good tim­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Most “Intel­lec­tu­al Jokes”: Our Favorite Open Cul­ture Read­er Sub­mis­sions

Sketch­es of Artists by the Late New Media Design­er Hill­man Cur­tis

Mick­ey Mouse In Viet­nam: The Lost Anti-War Ani­ma­tion from 1968

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s … John Lydon in a Butter Commercial?

A few days ago we post­ed an exple­tive-laced let­ter that John Lydon, for­mer­ly known as “John­ny Rot­ten,” faxed to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006 to make it clear that the sur­viv­ing mem­bers of the Sex Pis­tols would have noth­ing to do with their induc­tion. “We’re not your mon­key,” he wrote. At least one read­er felt edi­fied. “Thanks JR,” he said, “for not sell­ing out.”

So we thought it would be a fun time to bring back Lydon’s 2008 com­mer­cial for Coun­try Life But­ter. The ad, which report­ed­ly net­ted Lydon a cool $8 mil­lion, plays on the incon­gruity between two very British things: the icon­ic punk rock­er and a rather bucol­ic-sound­ing brand of but­ter. The com­mer­cial places Lydon in a series of unchar­ac­ter­is­tic sit­u­a­tions — read­ing the news­pa­per in a gen­tle­men’s smok­ing room, wav­ing the Union Jack as the Queen’s motor­cade goes by, run­ning from cows in the Eng­lish coun­try­side — as he says to the view­er, “Do I buy Coun­try Life But­ter because it’s British?” Do I buy Coun­try Life because I yearn for the British coun­try­side? Or because it’s made only from British milk? Nah. I buy Coun­try Life because I think it’s the best.”

Lydon drew a great deal of crit­i­cism for his deci­sion to appear in the ad, but he has been stead­fast­ly unapolo­getic. “The advert was for a British prod­uct,” he told The Sun last year. “All Britain. Fan­tas­tic. We don’t seem to believe in our­selves as a coun­try any more. And I found great empa­thy with that. Plus it was the most mad­dest thing to con­sid­er doing. I thought it was very anar­chic of the dairy com­pa­ny to want to attach them­selves to me. And they treat­ed me with the utmost respect and I love them for­ev­er as it all allowed me to set up my record label and put out this record.”

Lydon was refer­ring to This Is PiL, the first album in 20 years from his post-punk band Pub­lic Image Ltd. He report­ed­ly used some of the mon­ey from the com­mer­cial to bring the group back togeth­er for rehearsals, record the album and launch their 2012 tour. “The mon­ey,” he said, “got us out of no end of trou­bles.” And any­way, Lydon has always had a sense of humor when it comes to the finan­cial demands of life. His 1996 reunion with the Sex Pis­tols was offi­cial­ly named the “Filthy Lucre Tour.”

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

John­ny Rotten’s Cor­dial Let­ter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: Next to the Sex Pis­tols, You’re ‘a Piss Stain’

The His­to­ry of Punk Rock: A Doc­u­men­tary

The Art of Punk, MOCA’s Series of Punk Doc­u­men­taries, Begins with Black Flag

Mal­colm McLaren on The Quest for Authen­tic Cre­ativ­i­ty

Punk Meets High Fash­ion in Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Exhi­bi­tionPUNK: Chaos to Cou­ture

Three Great Films Starring Charlie Chaplin, the True Icon of Silent Comedy

Writ­ing about the sort of cre­ators and works of art we do here at Open Cul­ture, I con­stant­ly strug­gle not to overuse the word “icon­ic.” But in the case of actor and film­mak­er Char­lie Chap­lin, no oth­er adjec­tive could do. When we call Chap­lin icon­ic, we mean it lit­er­al­ly: not only did he find great suc­cess as a com­ic fig­ure in the silent-film era, he visu­al­ly rep­re­sents the con­cept of a com­ic fig­ure in the silent film era. Yet he did­n’t attain icon sta­tus in just one form, hav­ing con­tin­u­al­ly tweaked, refined, and improved his look and sen­si­bil­i­ty through­out his 75-year career. Now, 35 years after his death, we see all of these per­for­mances as sub­tly dif­fer­ent but still rec­og­nize them as expres­sions of the broad­er Chap­lin per­sona. At the top of the post, you can watch the film that estab­lished his most beloved one, 1915’s The Tramp.

But the Lit­tle Tramp did­n’t emerge ful­ly formed just then and there. Tech­ni­cal­ly, the char­ac­ter debuted in the pre­vi­ous year’s Kid Auto Races at Venice, and even before that, Chap­lin por­trayed a few fel­lows we might call pro­to-Tramps. Just above, you’ll find 1914’s Mak­ing a Liv­ing, a pic­ture that casts the Lon­don-born Chap­lin, with hat, cane, and mus­tache, as flir­ta­tious thief Hen­ry Eng­lish. His crim­i­nal ways lead him into the path of those oth­er silent-com­e­dy stal­warts (if not quite icons), the Key­stone Kops. A decade lat­er, Chap­lin, by that point the quin­tes­sen­tial writ­ing-direct­ing-act­ing auteur, would­n’t need to share the screen. In 1925, he made the Klondike-set The Gold Rush, whose “streaks of poet­ry, pathos, ten­der­ness, linked with brusque­ness and bois­ter­ous­ness” drew spe­cial praise from the New York Times, and for which Chap­lin said he want­ed to be remem­bered. You can watch it below, and then you can browse our col­lec­tion of 25 Free Char­lie Chap­lin Films on the web.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Silent Movies, with The Artist Direc­tor Michel Haz­anavi­cius

Hol­ly­wood, Epic Doc­u­men­tary Chron­i­cles the Ear­ly His­to­ry of Cin­e­ma

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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