Published in Opium Magazine 2003                           

 

                                   Mox Vodka Presents…

                            Groveling In The Mud Pit 
                          With The Carlton Cardtable

                                                by Diana Grove
                                                      

          There is an undeniable void in American advertising today.  Amidst all of the schlock culture and pop pabulum the only way to fill it is to show consumers something fresh and exciting.  What they need is a new glitterati, a new intelligentsia, a group of brilliant minds that hearken back to a gilded era, not unlike the famous Algonquin Round Table of Dorothy Parker fame.
          Mox Vodka is prepared to take the world by storm and reveal the goings on of America’s most talked about quipsters, and its most avid vodka consumers; the notorious Carlton Cardtable.
         This illustrious group meets regularly for lunch in the Hotel Carlton in lower Manhattan.  Although the surroundings may not be as glamorous as days gone by, an impromptu cardtable is always reserved for them in the corner of the bar. This allows the drinks to flow freely and history to be made with the sharing of barbs, bits of gossip, and witty stories often involving the removal of car paint with stomach acid.   
          Mox Vodka is proud to present the founding members of its latest (and most daring) ad campaign to date - The Carlton Cardtable.

Ursula Whitcomb   (Master Quipstress, Wearer of Sideburns and Dog Trainer Extroidinaire)

         Ms.Whitcomb’s claim to fame is the creation the Nubian Noslette, an almost completely hairless dog which was bread exclusively for asthmatics. But because of a tricky little DNA glitch, the beasts tend to have an extra nostril, causing them to pass out on occasion from inhaling too much oxygen.  An avid naturalist, Ms. Whitcomb cuts a wicked swath in Turkish plaid riding gear and swamp spats, which she claims keep her ankles free from tree frogs when she’s out in the marsh, stalking the wild asparagus.  She detests just about everyone, with the exception of Mimsy Richfield, whom she thinks has strong eyebrows and very agreeable shinbones.  Ursula relishes her time spent verbally annihilating The Cardtable, and The Cardtable relishes making bets on Ursula’s flamboyant mustache styling (i.e. “5 bucks says Ursula comes in next week with waxed tips.”)  Enjoying the more robust things in life, Ursula Whitcomb’s “hair of the dog” is a Panther Sweat Highball (1 part Mox Vodka, 2 parts prune juice, served with a cup of branch water on the side)

Mimsy Richfield   (Southern Belle and Catcher of Exotic Flus)

“Mims”, as her friends call her, is the last remaining heir to the Biloxi waffle fortune.  Although she is so forgetful, she often thinks she’s just another poor girl from Picayune.  A delicate flower who often dresses in hand made gowns crafted exclusively from lightly used tissues; Mims is prone to fits of flamboyant illness and bad poetry.  One evening, while suffering from a slight cough and wearing a sarong created entirely of hankies monogrammed in H, Mimsy carried on a whole conversation in iambic pentameter.  Unfortunately for her drinking companions, the subject matter involved a silken slipper, a misplaced bushel of sugar peas and a drowned kitten.  When Mimsy isn’t drunk on the sheer beauty of a well-folded napkin, she likes to nip gently (but rather continuously) on a Wembly Wizzer  (1 part Mox Vodka, 1 part Applejack, and 1 part Essence of Wild Acanthus Root)

Jack Turnbull  (Explorer, World Traveler and Professional Man’s Man)

Although Jack claims to have chewed yage with the fiercest of Brazilian Indians, wrestled alligators in the dankest of jungles, and even used the top of a human skull as a fancy nut dish, he is still no match for the barb-tongued Ursula Whitcomb.  While showing the members of The Cardtable a poisoned dart he had found in the parking lot of a Namibian airport, Ms. Whitcomb was purported to quip, “Jack, you ignorant asswipe. That is neither a dart nor a poisoned arrow, but rather a misplaced knitting needle from either an English botanist or somebody’s incontinent Grandnannie.”  She then followed this by calling him “an encephalitic goo-head” to which he could do nothing but challenge her to a match of Armenian arm wrestling.  Needless to say, she won.  Whether he’s in the bush of the Serengeti or a bush outside Hotel Carlton, Jack’s veins are continuously coursing with Moxie Froth Blowers (2 parts Mox Vodka, 1 part rye whisky, served with a pickled egg and a lot of hot air).
 

Orlin O. Rush   (98 pound, Junk-Infested Stink Pot)

Writer of rambling, incoherent prose that is often lost on disintegrated, clingy cocktail napkins, Orlin is quite sure he’ll be published one day if only he could locate his pen.  A life long Speed and Benzedrine freak, he cuts a ghostly swell at Hotel Carlton.  Orlin is so thin and raspy, he was once mistaken for a hall tree and spent the better part of an evening wearing a topcoat and three rain slickers.  The Cardtable Clan secretly loath him, considering he only makes clever comments in the presence of illegal substances or creamed herring, and as Mr. Turnbull so eloquently put it “what in High Hell’s the Goddamn difference!”  What’s more, Orlin O. Rush has been without so much as a spit bath for well over a year.  This has made him so ripe and mungy he has begun to take on the aura of a very rare European cheese.  When found passed out in the men’s room with a urinal cake stuck to his brow, the Clan was very close to ejecting him from the group.  However, as the Queen Mum herself once said to the Duke of Shatsbury, “what is the demi monde without its token junkie?”  So Orlin remains, sallow, yet somehow fashionable.  After his morning fix, he saves face with The Cardtable Crew by ordering several Stagger Soups (1 part Mox Vodka, 3 parts Gin, served in a bowl with a bib and a straw)

Melanie Gittmore   (Alcoholic, Nymphomaniacal Press Agent from Flaming Hoops Entertainment)

Although Melanie tries to be discreet, she has systematically bedded nearly all of the members of The Cardtable, not to mention the entire male reserve at Hotel Carlton.  Her lithe body and flowing hair are no match for her tremendous aquiline nose, which some men claim actually works as a sun dial if she’s standing in the right light.  As a press agent who simply refuses to take no for an answer, she has shared the beds of countless famous names such as Arthur Miller, J.D. Salinger, James Dickey and a very aged Norman Vincent Peale.  When Melanie says she must go to the ladies room to “sharpen her skates” or even “see a man about a horse”; she’s most likely in the hotel’s meat freezer being explored anally by master butcher, Philipe Montigo -Tenderloin King.  She once tried to settle down to a more normal life by moving in with John Shriver III.  However, after she was discovered playing the Swiss cheese in a Kennedy sandwich (with two of his illustrious uncles representing the buns) Melanie was once again left on her own to down endless Hot Monkeys with the often drunk but always there Cardtable Crew (2 parts heated Mox Vodka, 1 part Squirrel Whiskey, garnished with two or more cocktail weenies and a wink)

John Robert Charles Shriver III   (Trust Fund Kid, Third Nephew To The Kennedys, Owner Of 36 Very Large Teeth)

John Robert Shriver III or “little Rob Rob” as the press likes to call him, has always been in the public eye.  Donning the typically horse-like, but strangely appealing head structure of all the Kennedy offspring, John has had many suitors in his day, as well as stalkers.  One woman became so bothersome she was forced to “take an extended vacation overseas”, at least that’s what his uncle told him.  In between celebrity tennis matches, fund-raising tea parties and impromptu trips to Aspen on his Daddies private jet, John Shriver likes to break from his conservative image and grovel in the mud pit with the unsightly but always interesting Carlton Cardtable (particularly since his arraignment in the notorious Girl Scout Hot Tub scandal.)  Little Rob Rob’s drink of choice is the Gag Order (1 part chilled Mox Vodka cut into 2 parts Quinine, served in a chilled silver tumbler, garnished with an often dead cell phone)

Norbert Thinnwhistle   (Theatre Critic, Gad Fly and Closet Collector of Rare Dolls)

Norbert has been theatre critic for the Hoboken Hobnobber for well over a decade.  He is so dedicated to his work; the paper allowed him to move into the boiler room, which he recently had redecorated entirely in English Regency.  His cutting reviews are fiercely followed by all members of The Carlton Cardtable, not to mention a couple of ribbon clerks out in Teaneck.  He once reported that Ida Lupino had such a large, shiny forehead in the off- Broadway production of Farewell Hottentots, he sincerely hoped it wouldn’t distract the swallows from returning to Capistrano.  Although he has a rather rancorous time co-mingling with the fairer sex, he simply adores the Cardtable girls. However, Ursula will attest that he’s been known to spread a good deal of hurtful gossip as if it were “just so much fish paste”.  Melanie has often been an easy target.  After a four Mox luncheon, Norbert was heard to quip “that Gittmore woman has had more poles in her cathedral than His Holiness the Pope!”  When he’s not lambasting the theatre world and the female sector in general, Norbert secretly collects rare dolls.  His most prized possession is an Eva Peron “blinky” doll from 1952.  He keeps it under his bed in a glass box next to his mother’s wig.  With the exception of offering a firm handshake, Norbert will do just about anything for a Double Mox Woo Woo, including performing unmentionables in the Carlton cloak room (2 parts Mox Vodka, 1 part Chartreuse, and a splash of Grenadine, flanked graciously with a paper umbrella or anything else that’s bright and fruity)

 

Next time:  Read how Mimsy Richfield impersonates a Crested Warbler while drinking Mox Vodka from an old sea boot.