Thursday, September 18, 2008

Solo Star



Once upon a time, there was a feisty grandmother who wanted to be a singing sensation. Her voice wasn't terrible, but it wasn't particularly good, either. It possessed neither the greatness of a Judy, Peggy, Ella, Dinah, et al.; nor the stupefying yet charming hideousness of a Mrs. Miller. What this little lady did have, besides chutzpah to spare, was a rich husband who owned the Solo Cup Company. Hubby's unconditional love prompted him to indulge his wife's whims to record countless albums and singles on their privately-owned labels, which were often distributed with the Solo Cup Company's fine family of products. Eventually, this Iron Butterfly convinced her husband, who now also owned a low-budget TV production company, to produce syndicated "television spectaculars" built around her dubious charms and talents.

Ladies and gentlemen, aided by Rich Little, Phil Harris, Oliver, and Frank Sinatra, Jr. (plus a canned audience applause track), we present the one, the only, Miss Dora Hall.


3 comments:

  1. Ahhh, the dubious delights of Dora Hall...

    I was so very excited to get my first cassette tape of Dora's musical stylings. It was my 2nd year of college, and I hadn't "sent away" for something (using a proof of purchase cut from a plastic bag of solo cups) for a gajillion year. And when the little package arrived, I was so excited...

    But as so often happens with such orders, I was grimly disappointed. Not just appallingly bad, but tragically boring. Alas. My best camp intentions foiled again...

    Yet, somehow, I remain fond of the fact of Miss Dora Hall, somehow I do.

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  2. You hit the nail on the head, Lulu -- she wasn't really bad enough, or flamboyant enough, to qualify as "camp" on her own. What I think lifts her into that realm is her audacious determination, plus the uncanny ability to surround herself with the most spectacularly cheesy guest-stars imaginable, as well as charmingly fourth-rate dancers. (Dig the chubby guy with the receeding hairline, Ron Jeremy 'stache and potbelly!)

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  3. Oh the bottom of the barrel. It's not a pretty place to wind up. Even if (Frank Sinatra! Junior!) you never were that far from it in the first place.

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