D (13:48)
Thank you, Lyn. Hello. Thank you for your question. I'm not quite sure about the social acceptability of turning off your washing machine in between uses. I've never heard of anyone doing it. I suppose it's in the tradition of turning Everything off in the old paranoid way that you don't leave anything electric switched on around the house in case of fire. And I did see a fire truck going by the other day with a picture of a plug with flames coming out around it saying, switch it off. It's a danger. So it's a modern thing. It was not just my mom who used to do that. And you're asking a very personal question about my own relationship with washing machines. And I forgive you for that, because obviously you've got concerns about your grandmother, and it's all within that context. I don't have a washing machine. I've never owned a washing machine machine. It's like, I don't own, really own an oven. I do now have a kind of oven. I have a small grill stroke oven thing that you might find in a tent. But it's the sort of thing you'd have at a campsite. And it's never been used. It's never been turned on. It's a new development because for many years, in my last apartment, I didn't have an oven at all. But I did have a hob, which also. I don't know why that makes me laugh. I had a hob, which also never was, never used. And the only reason I had it was because when the builders were there and they were taking away the old oven, it was a new phase of my life. And I'd never really made these decisions before. And they said, when's the new one coming? I said, sorry. And then I realized in the moment that there was never gonna be a new one, because who needs it? They're kind of ugly. And I didn't want one, you know, hanging around in my kitchen. So I said, well, no, there won't be a new one. And my daughter was there, and she said, like, she said most of the time in those days, dad, don't be weird. So I had a hob in order not to be weird, but I never used it. And then one day my daughter came in. She said, this isn't a kitchen. This is a library. Because the hob was just covered in books anyway. So I don't have a washing machine. I'm decadent. I send it out. When I was young, I used to be in digs a lot. And I was in one particular digs in London at 33 Cromwell Avenue, Highgate, where the other residents had a laundry system or a laundry service. And a van would come, and they all had boxes, like these sort of oblong boxes with a leather strap tied around it and their name on the lid. And I thought, if I ever make any money, I'm having one of those. So now I have one of those because I made some money and you put it in this box and it goes outside the front door. You never see it again until it comes back. I would tell you how it comes back, but the word that I would employ to tell you how it comes back has been recently, not so recently put on the banned word list. But I may ask the permissions committee if we could make an exception in this case. Hang on one moment. Yeah, the permissions committee have decided that an exception can be made on this occasion. So I can say that my laundry comes back sheathed. Every single item is sheathed. And it's so glamorous to me. And when you pack, and I have to pack all the time because you're always going somewhere in my job, you just go, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish. Five shirts. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. You can pack them like books and similarly with T shirts. And it's all very, very glamorous. So my relationship with washing machine is non existent, but I have a deep relationship with the laundry service and with dry cleaning. I am a committed dry cleaner. If it stands still for six seconds, I dry clean it everything. I run my wardrobe like a fascist state. Hi, Bill. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on the correct attire for swimming at the beach. In particular, any advice in relation to the dilemma between Budgie Cyclers and board shorts would be welcome. Yeah. Brad, did you ever come to the wrong guy? I haven't been in swim attire or owned swimming trunks this century and before that. So I'm not your man, really. I'm not even going to repeat the phrase that you used in the question because for a start, my colleagues won't survive it because they are basically, with no disrespect to children. They are children, but I know what you mean if you're talking about Speedos. There's something about me that when people talk to me, if I ever indicate that I exercise at all, the first thing people do, and they try not to because they're nice people, but they try not to. But the first thing they do is laugh. And they laugh quite, you know, properly and sort of, you know, at length. And the second thing they ask me is, what do you wear? Like, you know, I'm going to be dressed in a suit in a gymnasium or something, you know. And similarly, there are certain people, one of whom is not far from Me at this moment, actually, Brad, who I can barely have a business conversation with without at some point, she will mention speedos. She will mention Speedos or Lycra. Yeah, Lycra is another matter. But pertinent to your question is Speedos. Because the thought of me in speedos is apparently unsurvivably funny, which I can't deny I would say it's unsurvivably sad. But, you know, each to his own. So, yeah, you came to the wrong guy if you're going to go on the beach and if you cut off a pair of jeans, that's it. That's all she wrote. Job done. Now, welcome to Ill Advised by Bill Nye's Banned Word List. And we have been inundated with suggestions to ban certain words from the English or any other language. And this week's words are mucus. I. I'm a mouthpiece. I just report. But I think I kind of. I'm behind that one. Kiddie. I think that's absolutely. It's long overdue to ban the word kiddie. K, I, double D, Y, mani, pedi, which also should be. Obviously, should be banned. That refers to manicure. Slash, if you pardon the expression. Slash. Slash pedicure. Actually, slash. Maybe that's a bad word. I don't know. Gotten, which I presume means instead of I got, you would say I've gotten, which is obviously not a word in the first place, so it should be not encouraged. And. Yeah, and I thoroughly agree. Doggy bag. Give me a break, really. How did it ever catch on? Anyway? Too late now. It's go. This week's playlist is called Not Quite Evening. And the first track comes from the Jesus and Mary Chain, which I still think is one of the great band names of all time. And the track is called Sometimes Always, which contains the couplet. If it's okay to say that I won't get on my knees, don't make me do that, please. Which I find just. It scans nice. The next song on the list is from Phoebe Bridges, somebody I particularly admire. And the song's called Would you'd Rather? And the chorus is what you call curious. And it goes, I'm a can on a string, you're on the end. We found our way out of a suicide pact over family and friends. The next song is from a country artist, probably americana, called Laurie McKenna, who I like a lot. The song is called We Were Cool, and some of the lines in it are Duran Duran on the radio, the Wild Boys in the days Ago, I was sitting on his right. On his left was a fresh tattoo. Oh, man, we were cool. His daddy had a drinking problem. My daddy worked way too hard. Now, the next track is from Taylor Swift. Yeah, Taylor Swift. And it's a very, very early, kind of really not kind of country song, which called Tim McGraw. And for those of you that don't know, Tim McGraw is a major, major country star. And it's a very sweet song about a love affair. And guess what? A pickup truck that had a habit of breaking down on the back roads late at night. Oh, yeah. Anyway, it's a nice song. And it arrived on an old ipod of mine in New York years ago. And I never knew who put it there or how they got it there, because it just sort of arrived one day and I thought, who is Taylor Swift? The next song is by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. And it's one of my favorite love songs of all time. And it's called Love Letter. It opens with, I hold this letter in my hand A plea, a petition, a kind of prayer I hope it does as I have planned Losing her again is more than I can bear. And the final song is from one of my favorite singers and writers of all time, Van Morrison. And it's a song called Crazy Face, which is a mysterious song. And I once read an interview where he was asked about it, and he kind of just said, I don't know where that came from. And it has one of my favorite saxophone solos on it, which I think. I don't know, but I think it's played by Van himself. And the majority of it is on one note, which is part of why I like it. Anyway, he sings the same verse twice, and he does it beautifully. This episode's book is by Walter Moseley, and it's called Devil in a Blue Dress. If you were to read this book, which features Walter Mosley's hero, EZ Rawlins, who is a war veteran who comes home from the Second World War to Los Angeles having been in combat. And if you liked it, you would thank me because there are, I don't know, maybe 20 more featuring Easy Rawlins. And they're all good, and they're very good about being black in America, in Los angeles in the 1940s, immediately after the war, the 50s, the 60s, and the 70s. I think we make it to the 70s, and they're superior novels, and I highly recommend them. As it says on the front, a damn good read. And I'm going to read you the first two or three pages this is Chapter one of Devil in a Blue Dress, which was made into a film, and Easy was played by Denzil Washington. I don't think I've actually watched the film and I don't know that. I don't know how successful it was, but there was. You would imagine there would have been more, but they've never been made. Chapter One I was surprised to see a white man walk into Joppy's bar. It's not just that he was white, but he wore an off white linen suit and shirt with a Panama straw hat and bone shoes over flashing white silk socks. His skin was smooth and pale with just a few freckles. One lick of strawberry blonde hair escaped the band of his hat. He stopped in the doorway, filling it with his large frame, and surveyed the room with pale eyes, not a color I'd seen in a man's eyes. When he looked at me I felt a thrill of fear, but that went away quickly because I was used to white people. By 1948 I'd spent five years with white men and women from Africa to Italy, through Paris and into the fatherland itself. I ate with them and slept with them, and I killed enough blue eyed young men to know that they were just as afraid to die as I was. The white man smiled at me. Then he walked to the bar where Joppy was running a filthy rag over the marble top. They shook hands and exchanged greetings like old friends. The second thing that surprised me was that he made Joppy nervous. Joppy was a tough ex heavyweight who was comfortable brawling in the ring or in the street, but he ducked his head and smiled at that white man just like a salesman whose luck had gone bad. I put a dollar down on the bar and made to leave, but before I was off the stool, Joppy turned my way and waved me toward them. Come on over here, Easy. This here's somebody I want you to meet. I could feel those pale eyes on me. This here's an old friend of mine, Easy, Mr. Albright. You can call me DeWitt, Easy, the White man said. His grip was strong but slithery, like a snake coiling around my hand. Hello, I said. Yeah, Easy, joppy went on, bowing and grinning. Mr. Albright and me go way back, you know. He probably my oldest friend from la. Yeah, we go ways back. That's right. Albright smiled. Must have been 1935 when I met Chop. What is it now? Must be 13 years. That was back before the war, before every farmer and his brother's wife wanted to come to la. Joppy guffawed at the joke. I smiled politely. I was wondering what kind of business Joppy had with that man. And along with that, I wondered what kind of business that man could have with me. Where are you from, easy? Mr. Albright asked. Houston, I said. Houston. Now that's a nice town. I go down there sometimes on business. He smiled for a moment. He had all the time in the world. What kind of work do you do up here? Up close his eyes were the color of robin's eggs, matte and dull. He works at the Champion Aircraft up to two days ago, joppy said. When I didn't answer, they laid him off. Mr. Albright twisted his pink lips, showing his distaste. That's too bad. You know these big companies don't give a damn about you. The budget doesn't balance just right and they let 10 family men go. You have a family, Easy. He had a light drawl, like a well to do Southern gentleman. No, I said. Just me, that's all. But they don't know that. For all they know you could have 10 kids and one on the way, but they would let you go just the same. That's right. Choppy shouted. His voice sounded like a regiment of men marching through a gravel pit. Then people own them. Big companies don't never even come into work. They just get on the telephone to find out how their money is. And you know, they better get a good answer or some head's gonna roll. Mr. Albright laughed and slapped Joppy on the arm. Why don't you get us some drinks, Choppy? I'll have scotch. What's your pleasure? Easy. Usual? Joppy asked me. Sure, I said. When Joppy moved away from us, Mr. Albright turned to look around the room. He did that every few minutes, turning slightly, checking to see if anything had changed. There wasn't much to see, though. Joppy's was a small bar on the second floor of a butcher's warehouse. His only usual customers were the Negro butchers, and it was early enough in the afternoon that they were still hard at work. The odor of rotted meat filled every corner of the building. There were few people other than butchers who could stomach sitting in Joppy's bar. Joppy brought Mr. Albright's scotch and a bourbon on the rocks for me. He put them both down and said, Mr. Albright looking for a man to do a little job? Easy, I told him. You out of work and got a mortgage to pay, too. That's hard. Mr. Albright shook his head again men in big business don't even notice or care when a working man wants to try to make something out of himself. And you know, Easy always trying to be better. He just got his high school papers from night school and he's been threatening on some college. Choppy wiped the marble bar as he spoke. And he's a war hero. Mr. Albright Easy went in with Patton volunteered. You know, he's seen him some blood. That a fact? Albright said he wasn't impressed. Why don't we go have a chair Easy over there by the window. And so begins the big adventure. So that's about the size of it for this episode. Thank you for all questions. I hope you've enjoyed wasting some time. I hope we have successfully helped you take a break because that's our mission. Stay loose. And most importantly, don't forget to disco. Ill Advised by Bill Nike is produced by Alice Williams and Kiera Gregory with assistant production by Angelique Somas pronounced Somas and Charlotte Ross pronounced Ross R O S S and it's an Ipod Studios Production.
