Blog number doesn't matter 28 October 2008
My Blog entries were messed up a bit, and the long and the short of it is that no more entries should be coming in here.If you are addicted to my Blog entries, the proper link is,
Click here: Bodhi's Harangeout
If that doesn't work, the proper address is:
http://bodhimaliks.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
LESS ARTISTS, MORE CRAFTSMEN
Blog number 235 25 October 2008
Today is Sunday. Tonight I get to watch "Dexter," "Mad Men," and "Entourage." Goody.
These programs are produced, written, directed and acted by craftsmen.
On the other hand we have "Crash," a new series with nice camera shots, nice opening credits, lots of money invested. And then it all goes to crap. I knew from the first scene that there were going to be problems with this turkey. It opens with a long sex scene. Obviously a precursor to what is coming.
So humans have sex. Amazing!
The problem with this series is that nobody cares. A cop with no stripes on his sleeves starts ordering other cops around like a top sergeant, and then when he is out on patrol, he wears sergeant stripes.
This same cop hassles a sexy Latina after accidentally ramming into her car, feeling her up, going to her house and kissing her while her husband is out of sight, but in the same room, and then has sex with her on the side of his car while stopped at a stop sign. And she obviously hates him. Guess you have to really insult a woman if you wanna have quick sex with her.
Then we have a Black architect trying to get a job designing some alterations a white woman wants on her house that her husband is very much against. You just KNOW the Black man and the white woman is going to have sex. Because it's cutting edge, you see. And sure enough, they do.
Then a Black poet is talked into doing rap for a powerful music mogul even though he insists he is NOT a rapper, that he writes poetry, period. So after no rehearsal, he proceeds to wow the crowd and is promised that he is going to be "the next big thing."
Crash could have been up there with Dexter, Mad Men, et all. You can see it has the potential, but the insistence on sex, juvenile nonsense and carelessness makes it into nothing more than a teenage sex thriller.
Obligatory sex scenes are like car chases, hand to hand combat and gunfire. They eat up the time while adding nothing to the story. You can almost hear the director saying, "I need something here. I know! I'll put in a sex scene (chase scene, fight scene, gun battle scene)."
I don't really like being a critic, but if not me, who? Somebody's got to say these things. Otherwise trash will tend to propagate its self.
Today is Sunday. Tonight I get to watch "Dexter," "Mad Men," and "Entourage." Goody.
These programs are produced, written, directed and acted by craftsmen.
On the other hand we have "Crash," a new series with nice camera shots, nice opening credits, lots of money invested. And then it all goes to crap. I knew from the first scene that there were going to be problems with this turkey. It opens with a long sex scene. Obviously a precursor to what is coming.
So humans have sex. Amazing!
The problem with this series is that nobody cares. A cop with no stripes on his sleeves starts ordering other cops around like a top sergeant, and then when he is out on patrol, he wears sergeant stripes.
This same cop hassles a sexy Latina after accidentally ramming into her car, feeling her up, going to her house and kissing her while her husband is out of sight, but in the same room, and then has sex with her on the side of his car while stopped at a stop sign. And she obviously hates him. Guess you have to really insult a woman if you wanna have quick sex with her.
Then we have a Black architect trying to get a job designing some alterations a white woman wants on her house that her husband is very much against. You just KNOW the Black man and the white woman is going to have sex. Because it's cutting edge, you see. And sure enough, they do.
Then a Black poet is talked into doing rap for a powerful music mogul even though he insists he is NOT a rapper, that he writes poetry, period. So after no rehearsal, he proceeds to wow the crowd and is promised that he is going to be "the next big thing."
Crash could have been up there with Dexter, Mad Men, et all. You can see it has the potential, but the insistence on sex, juvenile nonsense and carelessness makes it into nothing more than a teenage sex thriller.
Obligatory sex scenes are like car chases, hand to hand combat and gunfire. They eat up the time while adding nothing to the story. You can almost hear the director saying, "I need something here. I know! I'll put in a sex scene (chase scene, fight scene, gun battle scene)."
I don't really like being a critic, but if not me, who? Somebody's got to say these things. Otherwise trash will tend to propagate its self.
Friday, October 24, 2008
AND A GOOD DAY TO YOU TOO, SIR!
Blog number 234 24 October 2008
Today I had one of those experiences that comes to one every once in a while. You know - the kind that warms the heart, the kind that is in a way, a "secret" because there is no way to transmit it to another human so that they will understand - the kind that belongs just to you and to no one else.
The lovely Teresa took me to the new Fry's Grocery and Vacuum Cleaners and Radios and DVDs and Tool Bins and Starbucks on Pinal Avenue. While Teresa shopped, I sat and drank a cup of four-shot espresso and read the most delicious novel translated from Japanese. At one point I raised my head and stared off into space, thinking about what I was reading.
A mother walked by, trailed by her slight four-or-five year old boy. It seemed the boy was looking at me, but I wasn't sure - my eyes aren't all that good, and the boy had pale eyes. I waved at him to check it out. He quickly turned his head away from me and caught up closer to his mother. So he WAS looking at me.
I followed him with my eyes and just before he went behind a display, he looked back at me and gave a big shy smile.
We connected and nobody else in the whole wide world, including his mother, was aware of this.
I don't think he would ever tell anyone about this, because to a little boy, it was nothing. So up until I started writing this entry to my Blog, only two people knew of this event and only one (me) thought anything about it.
That event is mine and nobody else can have it.
No use begging, either.
Nope.
Today I had one of those experiences that comes to one every once in a while. You know - the kind that warms the heart, the kind that is in a way, a "secret" because there is no way to transmit it to another human so that they will understand - the kind that belongs just to you and to no one else.
The lovely Teresa took me to the new Fry's Grocery and Vacuum Cleaners and Radios and DVDs and Tool Bins and Starbucks on Pinal Avenue. While Teresa shopped, I sat and drank a cup of four-shot espresso and read the most delicious novel translated from Japanese. At one point I raised my head and stared off into space, thinking about what I was reading.
A mother walked by, trailed by her slight four-or-five year old boy. It seemed the boy was looking at me, but I wasn't sure - my eyes aren't all that good, and the boy had pale eyes. I waved at him to check it out. He quickly turned his head away from me and caught up closer to his mother. So he WAS looking at me.
I followed him with my eyes and just before he went behind a display, he looked back at me and gave a big shy smile.
We connected and nobody else in the whole wide world, including his mother, was aware of this.
I don't think he would ever tell anyone about this, because to a little boy, it was nothing. So up until I started writing this entry to my Blog, only two people knew of this event and only one (me) thought anything about it.
That event is mine and nobody else can have it.
No use begging, either.
Nope.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
SAME TO YOU!
Blog number 233 22 October 2008
A week or so ago I read a book called, "Waiter's Rant" about a waiters experience waiting on tables. The author mentioned reading a book called, "Waiting," by waitress Debra Ginsberg.
So I started reading that.
Debra mentions being told an anecdote concerning a group of patrons sitting at the same table where one of them kept cursing at the waitress for twenty minutes before one of the group told the waitress that the cursing patron had Tourette's Syndrome.
In case you don't know what Tourette's is, it's a syndrome whereby the sufferer of it uses offensive and dirty words shouted out in a loud voice.
I once saw a documentary about a Tourette's sufferer and he kept cursing, saying dirty words, and throwing haymakers that came awfully close to the documentarian's nose. At one point the documentarian nervously said, "You're not going to hit me, are you?"
Watching this documentary, I was struck by both the cursing and the haymakers. I wondered why, if the behavior was entirely involuntary, did the sufferer pick only obscene words? And why were the haymakers ALWAYS thrown toward the man making the documentary?
I'm not suggesting that those with Tourette's are consciously perpetuating this stereotype. What I am suggesting is that there might be an unconscious "bent," an unconscious passive aggressive drive causing the symptoms to be what they are. After all, it is difficult to conceive that the sufferer would think, "let's see now. I could say, "rabbit," or "look out," but I think I'll say, "shit"
"Yeah, that's what I'll do!"
"SHIT."
The laws of probability prevent the symptoms from being randomly produced, they are too orderly.
A week or so ago I read a book called, "Waiter's Rant" about a waiters experience waiting on tables. The author mentioned reading a book called, "Waiting," by waitress Debra Ginsberg.
So I started reading that.
Debra mentions being told an anecdote concerning a group of patrons sitting at the same table where one of them kept cursing at the waitress for twenty minutes before one of the group told the waitress that the cursing patron had Tourette's Syndrome.
In case you don't know what Tourette's is, it's a syndrome whereby the sufferer of it uses offensive and dirty words shouted out in a loud voice.
I once saw a documentary about a Tourette's sufferer and he kept cursing, saying dirty words, and throwing haymakers that came awfully close to the documentarian's nose. At one point the documentarian nervously said, "You're not going to hit me, are you?"
Watching this documentary, I was struck by both the cursing and the haymakers. I wondered why, if the behavior was entirely involuntary, did the sufferer pick only obscene words? And why were the haymakers ALWAYS thrown toward the man making the documentary?
I'm not suggesting that those with Tourette's are consciously perpetuating this stereotype. What I am suggesting is that there might be an unconscious "bent," an unconscious passive aggressive drive causing the symptoms to be what they are. After all, it is difficult to conceive that the sufferer would think, "let's see now. I could say, "rabbit," or "look out," but I think I'll say, "shit"
"Yeah, that's what I'll do!"
"SHIT."
The laws of probability prevent the symptoms from being randomly produced, they are too orderly.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMBLENESS
Blog number 232 21 October 2008
A couple of days ago I used the AOL search engine searching , "Bodhimalik" and one of the things that turned up was a Blog about Booth Tarkington, written by one Greg Wright. One of Mr. Wright's many essays concerning Booth Tarkington begins, "Blogger Bodhimalik describes his own experience with Tarkington..."
This raised a question in my mind that coincided with a comment by another reader who said that she was turned on to my Blog by a friend. The question raised is, "How do these people I don't know come to be reading my Blog, and as a corollary, how many people are reading it?" Tens? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?
"Now, Don, you're getting a little carried away there, don't you think?"
"Yes, I think so. Thank you."
"Glad to be of service."
I always assumed that the only people reading my Blog were friends and family to whom I had sent a link, and to people who THEY notified of its existence. When I was using message boards I sometimes came across somebody who said something that made me think they had read my Blog, but I never really invesigated it. In fact, I never asked any of them if they read it.
One of the reasons I am writing this particular entry is due to my puzzlement over finding out that strangers are reading it. I never expected that. Of course it still could be that these so-called strangers are acquaintances of my friends and/or family. Or ex-message board people.
The other reason I am writing this particular entry is that I have not made an entry in some time and I needed something to write about. It was either this or a treatise on the sex life of the Vietnamese tsetse fly, and I know you don't want that.
I originally wrote this entry under a misconception, so I have changed some of the writing to make more sense with my new understanding. I thought I had Googled, "Bodhimalik," but I hadn't.
A couple of days ago I used the AOL search engine searching , "Bodhimalik" and one of the things that turned up was a Blog about Booth Tarkington, written by one Greg Wright. One of Mr. Wright's many essays concerning Booth Tarkington begins, "Blogger Bodhimalik describes his own experience with Tarkington..."
This raised a question in my mind that coincided with a comment by another reader who said that she was turned on to my Blog by a friend. The question raised is, "How do these people I don't know come to be reading my Blog, and as a corollary, how many people are reading it?" Tens? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?
"Now, Don, you're getting a little carried away there, don't you think?"
"Yes, I think so. Thank you."
"Glad to be of service."
I always assumed that the only people reading my Blog were friends and family to whom I had sent a link, and to people who THEY notified of its existence. When I was using message boards I sometimes came across somebody who said something that made me think they had read my Blog, but I never really invesigated it. In fact, I never asked any of them if they read it.
One of the reasons I am writing this particular entry is due to my puzzlement over finding out that strangers are reading it. I never expected that. Of course it still could be that these so-called strangers are acquaintances of my friends and/or family. Or ex-message board people.
The other reason I am writing this particular entry is that I have not made an entry in some time and I needed something to write about. It was either this or a treatise on the sex life of the Vietnamese tsetse fly, and I know you don't want that.
I originally wrote this entry under a misconception, so I have changed some of the writing to make more sense with my new understanding. I thought I had Googled, "Bodhimalik," but I hadn't.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
PEG O MY HEART
Blog number 231 16 October 2008
I had my "heart conference" today. No operations of any kind to do. That's a GOOD to-do list. Soooo, not much to write about, but I promised. Kinda.
Th-th-that that's all, folks!
I had my "heart conference" today. No operations of any kind to do. That's a GOOD to-do list. Soooo, not much to write about, but I promised. Kinda.
Th-th-that that's all, folks!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
RETREAT HELL, WE JUST GOT HERE
Blog number 230 15 October 2008
I'm now reading a book about General Rommel and General Patton of WW TWO fame. Although it is a serious book - no mucking about, it has twice made digs at the Italians. One dig concerned both sides trying to get Italy on their side and the author makes a comment about knowing what Italy was, all that had to be determined was its price.
The other dig concerned Italy's ready acceptance of the fascist salute because "Its easier to raise one hand than both of them."
After recounting the brilliant strategy and opportunistic methodology employed by Rommel in an attack upon the Italians during WW ONE, the summing up reveals that Rommel attained his successes with never much more than five hundred men, and accounted for "nine thousand prisoners, eighty guns, and more horses, mules, and assorted supplies than anyone could count." The cost to his force was six dead and twenty wounded.
He was once ordered to stop an attack because his superiors were cautious about attacking with so few men, but instead he sent most of his detachment back to hill 1096 as instructed, including all his officers, keeping a hundred enlisted personnel and six heavy machine gun crews "because they could not be court-martialed for obeying orders from a direct superior," and proceeded to successfully complete another campaign. The guy just wouldn't stop!
I haven't read anything about Patton yet, but when I do, I will report his exploits too.
Unless they don't amount to much, of course.
Or I just don't feel like it.
I'm now reading a book about General Rommel and General Patton of WW TWO fame. Although it is a serious book - no mucking about, it has twice made digs at the Italians. One dig concerned both sides trying to get Italy on their side and the author makes a comment about knowing what Italy was, all that had to be determined was its price.
The other dig concerned Italy's ready acceptance of the fascist salute because "Its easier to raise one hand than both of them."
After recounting the brilliant strategy and opportunistic methodology employed by Rommel in an attack upon the Italians during WW ONE, the summing up reveals that Rommel attained his successes with never much more than five hundred men, and accounted for "nine thousand prisoners, eighty guns, and more horses, mules, and assorted supplies than anyone could count." The cost to his force was six dead and twenty wounded.
He was once ordered to stop an attack because his superiors were cautious about attacking with so few men, but instead he sent most of his detachment back to hill 1096 as instructed, including all his officers, keeping a hundred enlisted personnel and six heavy machine gun crews "because they could not be court-martialed for obeying orders from a direct superior," and proceeded to successfully complete another campaign. The guy just wouldn't stop!
I haven't read anything about Patton yet, but when I do, I will report his exploits too.
Unless they don't amount to much, of course.
Or I just don't feel like it.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS
Blog number 229 14 October 2008
When I was getting checked for my chest pains and was about to lie on a table and have photographs taken of my beating heart, the man-in-charge asked me if I wanted to listen to some music. "Sure," I said.
"Sinatra?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
At the time, I thought he might be a one of those strange Sinatra fans and wanted to listen to him, but as I got to thinking of it, I think he thought that, since I was an old man, I probably liked old time singers like Sinatra, Tony Bennett, et al. all of whom I hate with a passion.
We settled on Iron Butterfly.
This thought reminded me of when that fifteen year old girl asked my wife and me if we knew who the Beatles were. I think that to youngsters, they see themselves as living in the world and old people are "off there" somewhere, not attuned to what is really going on.
They are SO cute!
When I was getting checked for my chest pains and was about to lie on a table and have photographs taken of my beating heart, the man-in-charge asked me if I wanted to listen to some music. "Sure," I said.
"Sinatra?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
At the time, I thought he might be a one of those strange Sinatra fans and wanted to listen to him, but as I got to thinking of it, I think he thought that, since I was an old man, I probably liked old time singers like Sinatra, Tony Bennett, et al. all of whom I hate with a passion.
We settled on Iron Butterfly.
This thought reminded me of when that fifteen year old girl asked my wife and me if we knew who the Beatles were. I think that to youngsters, they see themselves as living in the world and old people are "off there" somewhere, not attuned to what is really going on.
They are SO cute!
Monday, October 13, 2008
THE ECLECTIC HORSEMAN
Blog number 228 13 October 2008
Ever since I was able to obnserve the magic machinations of mine own mind during psychoanalysis, I have been fascinated with minds. Both mine and others. Memories especially intrigue me.
A few years back, while visiting my youngest son Derek, he arranged for me to copy a bunch of his music from his computer to mine. I told him I liked R. E. M., and he volunteered the information that I would probably like "Orange Crush" by R. E. M. He said it was his favorite R. E. M. song. I told him I had never heard of it, but to transfer it. When I got home, I listened to it, and he was right. It's a good song.
That's act one.
A few years pass and there comes a time when I mention him liking "Orange Crush." He said he never heard of it. I dragged it up on my computer and had him listen to it in order to refresh his memory. He said it was the first time he had ever heard it, and not only that - he didn't like it!
That's act two.
There is no act three.
Now to me, the most interesting point of these "false memories" - either his or mine, is that when I think of the time he wanted to download it for me, it is like a video in my mind. I can see the whole event playing out once again, just like it did back then.
Of course, his video of this event is missing from his mental store of DVDs.
When two people remember a single event in different ways, each is seeing a replay of what they saw the first time. Tell me that ain't weird.
Tell me God isn't sometimes jerking us around for no apparent reason except to amuse Himself at our expense.
Ever since I was able to obnserve the magic machinations of mine own mind during psychoanalysis, I have been fascinated with minds. Both mine and others. Memories especially intrigue me.
A few years back, while visiting my youngest son Derek, he arranged for me to copy a bunch of his music from his computer to mine. I told him I liked R. E. M., and he volunteered the information that I would probably like "Orange Crush" by R. E. M. He said it was his favorite R. E. M. song. I told him I had never heard of it, but to transfer it. When I got home, I listened to it, and he was right. It's a good song.
That's act one.
A few years pass and there comes a time when I mention him liking "Orange Crush." He said he never heard of it. I dragged it up on my computer and had him listen to it in order to refresh his memory. He said it was the first time he had ever heard it, and not only that - he didn't like it!
That's act two.
There is no act three.
Now to me, the most interesting point of these "false memories" - either his or mine, is that when I think of the time he wanted to download it for me, it is like a video in my mind. I can see the whole event playing out once again, just like it did back then.
Of course, his video of this event is missing from his mental store of DVDs.
When two people remember a single event in different ways, each is seeing a replay of what they saw the first time. Tell me that ain't weird.
Tell me God isn't sometimes jerking us around for no apparent reason except to amuse Himself at our expense.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
BE A WINNER, NOT A WHINER.
Blog number 227 12 October 2008
A couple of years ago I got an epiphany while listening to two radio talk show hosts. These two had a program that was pretty funny, so I thought of them as humorous people. That is until they got to talking about the 100 funniest movies.
One of them declared that he thought "Singing In the Rain" was not only one of the top hundred funniest movies, but the top number one funniest movie of all time! His CO-host agreed with him.
It was then that I realized that not everyone looked at the universe in the same way. I thought if something was funny, it was funny. If someone didn't think it was funny, then that person had no sense of humor. That's what I thought.
Apropos to this, I heard a funny joke on a television program called, "The History of Jokes." I'll tell the joke later.
I first told it to my youngest son, Derek, and I laughed before he did, but he laughed. Then I next told it to my second oldest son, Kavi, and he said, "That's not funny." Then I told it to Maryanne and she looked at me like I was nuts. Yesterday I told it to my granddaughter, Tara, and she burst out laughing right away.
I realize now that I can use that joke to kind of scientifically investigate the "joke focus" of different people. Since people are patterns of patterns, I can then use this information to predict the future behavior of individuals and then I can offer this information to Homeland Security and make a lot of money. Then I can use that money to buy an airplane and flying instructions, hire a cook, a butler and a cleaning woman, build a new house with a huge kitchen with lots of copper pans hanging from the ceiling, a workout room with a live-in personal trainer, and a gardener to care for my extensive flower and vegetable garden.
I'll move to New York across from Central Park. My garden will be on the roof of my condo.
Ah, life is good when you make good plans.
This is the joke I will use to make my fortune:
A priest, a rabbi and a whale went into a bar.
The priest said, "I believe Jesus is the messiah, so I'll have sacramental wine."
The rabbi said, "I believe the messiah hasn't come yet, so I'll have Manischewitz wine."
The whale said, (and here you make a "eeeeeee" sound like a whale singing.)
It's funny. Trust me.
A couple of years ago I got an epiphany while listening to two radio talk show hosts. These two had a program that was pretty funny, so I thought of them as humorous people. That is until they got to talking about the 100 funniest movies.
One of them declared that he thought "Singing In the Rain" was not only one of the top hundred funniest movies, but the top number one funniest movie of all time! His CO-host agreed with him.
It was then that I realized that not everyone looked at the universe in the same way. I thought if something was funny, it was funny. If someone didn't think it was funny, then that person had no sense of humor. That's what I thought.
Apropos to this, I heard a funny joke on a television program called, "The History of Jokes." I'll tell the joke later.
I first told it to my youngest son, Derek, and I laughed before he did, but he laughed. Then I next told it to my second oldest son, Kavi, and he said, "That's not funny." Then I told it to Maryanne and she looked at me like I was nuts. Yesterday I told it to my granddaughter, Tara, and she burst out laughing right away.
I realize now that I can use that joke to kind of scientifically investigate the "joke focus" of different people. Since people are patterns of patterns, I can then use this information to predict the future behavior of individuals and then I can offer this information to Homeland Security and make a lot of money. Then I can use that money to buy an airplane and flying instructions, hire a cook, a butler and a cleaning woman, build a new house with a huge kitchen with lots of copper pans hanging from the ceiling, a workout room with a live-in personal trainer, and a gardener to care for my extensive flower and vegetable garden.
I'll move to New York across from Central Park. My garden will be on the roof of my condo.
Ah, life is good when you make good plans.
This is the joke I will use to make my fortune:
A priest, a rabbi and a whale went into a bar.
The priest said, "I believe Jesus is the messiah, so I'll have sacramental wine."
The rabbi said, "I believe the messiah hasn't come yet, so I'll have Manischewitz wine."
The whale said, (and here you make a "eeeeeee" sound like a whale singing.)
It's funny. Trust me.
Friday, October 10, 2008
DARNIT, DARNIT, DARNIT!
Blog number 226 10 October 2008
I thought I had that comment reply thing whipped, but I just found out that I don't.
I went through the hoops and got to reply to Paul, but when I tried the same damn thing with Maryanne's, it wouldn't work. It kept saying the password was wrong. I only have two passwords. Geeze, whadda they want?!
I thought I had that comment reply thing whipped, but I just found out that I don't.
I went through the hoops and got to reply to Paul, but when I tried the same damn thing with Maryanne's, it wouldn't work. It kept saying the password was wrong. I only have two passwords. Geeze, whadda they want?!
BUTTON BUTTON, WHO'S GOT THE BUTTON
Blog number 225 10 October 2008
As a normal neurotic human being, I am host to what is commonly called, "buttons." You know - somebody pushes them and you go crazy.
I have two outstandng buttons. One of them is when someone insinuates that I am stupid. I don't mind being thought stupid or called stupid, but I go off when someone tries to trick me as if I were an idiot.
The other button, and the raison d'etre for this entry, is that I don't want anyone to think I don't like them. Unless I get pissed at them for their behavior. Then I don't care a whit. This button goes off when someone leaves a comment to one of my Blog entries and I can't respond. I don't want them to think I am ignoring them because they are not worth my attention.
I can't at the moment respond to these comments because I haven't figured out how to do it. When I do, then I will.
I like that last sentence a lot. Succinct, yes?
As a normal neurotic human being, I am host to what is commonly called, "buttons." You know - somebody pushes them and you go crazy.
I have two outstandng buttons. One of them is when someone insinuates that I am stupid. I don't mind being thought stupid or called stupid, but I go off when someone tries to trick me as if I were an idiot.
The other button, and the raison d'etre for this entry, is that I don't want anyone to think I don't like them. Unless I get pissed at them for their behavior. Then I don't care a whit. This button goes off when someone leaves a comment to one of my Blog entries and I can't respond. I don't want them to think I am ignoring them because they are not worth my attention.
I can't at the moment respond to these comments because I haven't figured out how to do it. When I do, then I will.
I like that last sentence a lot. Succinct, yes?
HIT AND RUN
Blog number 224 09 October 2008
I went to the library yesterday with a twelve year old friend. I was carrying two books to the checkout when my friend asked me what books I had. I told him they were novels about hit men. He asked me what a hit man was. I told him if you wanted someone killed, you would give someone else a thousand dollars and they would kill him for you.
He said, "Isn't that illegal?"
I went to the library yesterday with a twelve year old friend. I was carrying two books to the checkout when my friend asked me what books I had. I told him they were novels about hit men. He asked me what a hit man was. I told him if you wanted someone killed, you would give someone else a thousand dollars and they would kill him for you.
He said, "Isn't that illegal?"
Thursday, October 9, 2008
DARNIT!
Blog number 223 08 October 2008
Sorry, Paul - and anyone else. Can't figure out how to respond to comments on this URL yet.
Actually, I'm having a little trouble with posting new Blogs. And editing them? Forget about that!
Sorry, Paul - and anyone else. Can't figure out how to respond to comments on this URL yet.
Actually, I'm having a little trouble with posting new Blogs. And editing them? Forget about that!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING
Blog number 222 08 October 2008
Last week I had slight chest pains whenever I did some walking or moving. Not bad enough to take nitroglycerin, and they disappeared whenever I rested, so I went with that. The day before, however, and yesterday morning, they didn't go away with resting, so I took the nitro and it worked. I decided to get in touch with a heart doctor, 'cause it sure seems like I'm gonna be visiting a hospital bed some time in the future.
I was given a stress test and a sonogram yesterday, and it looks like I might get by with a stent. I sure hope so. I'll know for sure Tuesday when I go in for my appointment.I watched my heart beat in the sonogram picture and I was struck with the image of the valve opening and closing with such precision and regularity without anybody doing anything. It looked like two drumsticks alternating hitting a drum. Seemed exactly like a magic miracle to me. I was fascinated.
I didn't like the stress test at all. Yukkers! Nausea. I hate being nauseous. Fortunately I had three people talking me through it, which helped. When one of them said, "Twenty seconds more," I knew I could make it. The first time I had one of these, two people were standing there, saying naught. I kept saying I was sick in a strange way. They didn't care. It felt like my head was nauseous, not my stomach. Can one's head vomit?
Last week I had slight chest pains whenever I did some walking or moving. Not bad enough to take nitroglycerin, and they disappeared whenever I rested, so I went with that. The day before, however, and yesterday morning, they didn't go away with resting, so I took the nitro and it worked. I decided to get in touch with a heart doctor, 'cause it sure seems like I'm gonna be visiting a hospital bed some time in the future.
I was given a stress test and a sonogram yesterday, and it looks like I might get by with a stent. I sure hope so. I'll know for sure Tuesday when I go in for my appointment.I watched my heart beat in the sonogram picture and I was struck with the image of the valve opening and closing with such precision and regularity without anybody doing anything. It looked like two drumsticks alternating hitting a drum. Seemed exactly like a magic miracle to me. I was fascinated.
I didn't like the stress test at all. Yukkers! Nausea. I hate being nauseous. Fortunately I had three people talking me through it, which helped. When one of them said, "Twenty seconds more," I knew I could make it. The first time I had one of these, two people were standing there, saying naught. I kept saying I was sick in a strange way. They didn't care. It felt like my head was nauseous, not my stomach. Can one's head vomit?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
IT'S NOT MY FAULT I'M IGNORANT
Blog number 221 17 September 2008
Judge Joe says to the defendant, "You know that the constitution prohibits incarceration for debts."
The defendant responds, "No. I didn't know that."
Judge Joe, incredulously, "you didn't know that the constitution prohibits anyone from being thrown in jail for owing money?"
Defendant replies, "No. I was educated in Kansas."
Judge Joe says to the defendant, "You know that the constitution prohibits incarceration for debts."
The defendant responds, "No. I didn't know that."
Judge Joe, incredulously, "you didn't know that the constitution prohibits anyone from being thrown in jail for owing money?"
Defendant replies, "No. I was educated in Kansas."
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I LOVE IT TO PIECES
Blog number 220 11 September 2008
I just read this and I gotta share it. It's from one of Booth Tarkington's books.
He sent Bibbs to "begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up" in the machine-shop of the Sheridan Automatic Pump Works, and at the end of six months the family physician sent Bibbs to begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up in a sanitarium.
I just read this and I gotta share it. It's from one of Booth Tarkington's books.
He sent Bibbs to "begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up" in the machine-shop of the Sheridan Automatic Pump Works, and at the end of six months the family physician sent Bibbs to begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up in a sanitarium.
CHARLEMAGNE'S SON ROLAND, WAS MY FIRST ROLE MODEL
I got to thinking about this guy this morning. When I used to hang at Weatherstone's, there was this guy that used to come around a couple of times a month. He never sat down and drank coffee. He would say, "hi," to a couple of guys, and then he would engage in a short conversation with one or two of the regular hangers -- like he knew them. He was always smiling, very pleasant, very clean, but he seemed different somehow.
One day a friend and I got to talking about him. This guy told me that he and that guy used to be meth freaks. He told me some of the things they did. He found the guy one morning passed out on the hood of a car -- his feet on the ground, his chest and head on the hood, dried puke under his face. That's just an example.
He then said that there came a time when he didn't see the guy for a very long time. Then one morning, there he was. He said he looked so weird, so different. He asked him what had happened. The guy said, "I got cleaned up."
"Yeah, I know, but WHAT happened?"
"I got cleaned up."
The guy I was talking to thought the guy meant that he had taken a bath or something, but that wouldn't account for his radical appearance. Finally my friend said he got it through his thick skull that the guy meant that he no longer took drugs, and that THAT was what accounted for his radical appearance.
He had met the guy when they both were on drugs, so to him this was an entirely new and strange person. He had had no idea that doing drugs made that big a difference.
This guy that I was talking to, I never suspected that he had been a druggie, not for a moment. What had happened I guess, was that the guy's shocking appearance had so impressed my friend that he too got off drugs. I then realized that what the guy had been doing, and now it made perfect sense, and in hindsight, I kind of suspected something like that, that he was trolling for users, using himself as an example of what one could become. He never preached. He just "presented himself." He was a role model. One of the best I have ever seen. A lot better than Donald Trump, lemme tell you.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
STILWELL
Blog number 218 10 September 2008
General Stilwell was not only a magnificent soldier's general, but a prolific writer. Notes, messages, diary entries, poems, plays, treatises, plans.
Here's one of his short "plays."
The Messenger
The Messenger has returned from (presumably) delivering a letter.
Q. Did you deliver the letter?
A. Yes.
Q. To whom did you give it?
A. I gave it to Mr. Oleson.
Q. But Mr. Oleson was not there. He is here now. You could not have given it to him.
A. Oh, no. I gave it to the interpreter.
Q. But the interpreter is also here with Mr. Oleson, and says you did NOT give to him.
A. Oh, yes. I gave it to the cook.
Q. What cook?
A. The cook up there.
Q. Up where?
A. At Hsich Kung Ling.
Q. But there is no cook, or house, or anything at Hsich Kung Ling.
A. Yes. I really gave it to the cook.
Q. But listen to me! There is NO COOK there! To whom did you give the letter?
A. I gave it to the ma-foo [groom].
Q. What ma-foo?
A. Mr. Oleson's ma-foo.
Q. But Mr. Oleson has no ma-foo, so you did not give it to him.
A. Ma-foo?
Q. Yes, ma-foo-ma-foo.
A. Oh, I gave it to the letter carrier.
About this time the average foreigner gives it up and either writes another letter, murders the messenger, or goes home by the next boat. The next morning the letter is probably found on the dining-room table.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
DON'T WORRY, IT'S JUST POLITICS
Blog number 217 09 September 2008
President Franklin Roosevelt appointed General Hurley as an intermediary between General Stilwell and Chiang K'ai-Shek because of the "tension" between the two. Hurley immediately asked to be made an ambassador, but that was refused.
Roosevelt then startled Marshall, who had recommended Hurley, by asking that a former Sears CEO, Donald Nelson, go too. When Marshall asked why, Roosevelt said that he wanted to get Nelson out of the country.
Marshall sympathized and consented on condition that Nelson was not to meddle with policy or strategy, but was to confine himself to selling razor blades. For purposes of public announcement this was translated as "studying China's economy."
President Franklin Roosevelt appointed General Hurley as an intermediary between General Stilwell and Chiang K'ai-Shek because of the "tension" between the two. Hurley immediately asked to be made an ambassador, but that was refused.
Roosevelt then startled Marshall, who had recommended Hurley, by asking that a former Sears CEO, Donald Nelson, go too. When Marshall asked why, Roosevelt said that he wanted to get Nelson out of the country.
Marshall sympathized and consented on condition that Nelson was not to meddle with policy or strategy, but was to confine himself to selling razor blades. For purposes of public announcement this was translated as "studying China's economy."
I GIVE YOU...THE BRITISH!
Blog number 216 09 September 2008
Barbara W. Tuchman, the eminent historian and author of the brilliant, Stilwell and the American Experience in China, states in that book, "No nation has ever produced a military history of such verbal nobility as the British. Retreat or advance, win or lose, blunder or bravery, murderous folly or unyielding resolution, all emerge alike clothed in dignity and touched with glory.
Every engagement is gallant, every battle a decisive action. There is no shrinking from superlatives: every campaign produces a general or generalship hailed as the most brilliant of the war. Everyone is splendid: soldiers are staunch, commanders cool, the fighting magnificent. Whatever the fiasco, aplomb is unbroken. Mistakes, failures, stupidities or other causes of disaster mysteriously vanish. Disasters are recorded with care and pride and are transmuted into things of beauty."
Just so you know.
BITCH BITCH BITCH
Blog number 215 09 September 2008
I don't visit the library in Casa Grande, where I live. I go thirty miles to Phoenix to vist their library. "Why?" you ask. Because the library here doesn't have all that many books, the "new books" section is filled with magazines and "how to" books, and the Library circulars seem to be for the sole purpose of recommending films and lectures, and enumerating the many new features of the library's computers. Anything ever about books? Sure. Book clubs. That's it.
So I have noticed that whenever I try to put a hold on a new book lately (in the Phoenix library. Good luck trying to put a hold on a book in Casa Grande), I have noticed they often have the book in CD form, or audio form, but NOT as a book! I'm afraid books are on their way out.
The only things of value you can be sure will not be stolen except accidentally, is one shoe or a book.
I needed to get that off my chest. I'm getting a bit crabby in my old age.
It'll get worse.
I don't visit the library in Casa Grande, where I live. I go thirty miles to Phoenix to vist their library. "Why?" you ask. Because the library here doesn't have all that many books, the "new books" section is filled with magazines and "how to" books, and the Library circulars seem to be for the sole purpose of recommending films and lectures, and enumerating the many new features of the library's computers. Anything ever about books? Sure. Book clubs. That's it.
So I have noticed that whenever I try to put a hold on a new book lately (in the Phoenix library. Good luck trying to put a hold on a book in Casa Grande), I have noticed they often have the book in CD form, or audio form, but NOT as a book! I'm afraid books are on their way out.
The only things of value you can be sure will not be stolen except accidentally, is one shoe or a book.
I needed to get that off my chest. I'm getting a bit crabby in my old age.
It'll get worse.
WELL, I LIKE 'EM.
Blog number 214 09 September 2008
I am enamored with pithy, clever or funny sentences. I was going to list my favorites from movies and TV and leave it to the reader to remember where they had heard them or wonder what they were all about if the sentences were unfamiliar to them. Then I thought I might have a contest, and whoever guessed where the sentences came from, would have a chance at a $100,000 prize. But I decided not to do that. I decided instead to list them, and the circumstances of their origin. So here 'tis.
"Didn't your masters teach you that before they sent you here?"
Wife, fighting with her husband in The Ref.
In Death Becomes Her, when Meryl Streep's character was told there was a warning after Streep's character had already taken the potion, she says, "NOW a warning?" .
Michael, in The Office, explaining to his girlfriend why he was breaking off with her, "It's not me. It's you."
"Spider Pig, Spider Pig..."
Homer's song, from The Simpson Movie
From Brother Where Art Thou. The really dumb one's partner has figured out that he will be eighty-seven when he finishes his sentence because of the added fifty years for their escape from a road gang. You can see the really dumb one working out that this means he will also receive fifty extra years, and you can see his face light up as he proudly proclaims, "Why, I'll only be eighty-two!"
In Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, discussing a fellow alumni, Romy says, " She's like a little girl except she smokes and says shit a lot. " By the way. This is really a funny, funny movie. Not a good title, but a good movie.
In The Perfect Murder, the wife's boyfriend, who was supposed to kill the wife, but things went wrong, is discussing with the husband what to do now. After it is decided to do nothing for the moment, he says, " One thing. Do I keep f***ing your wife or what?"
In Once Upon A Crime, George Hamilton's character - a gigolo, is being questioned about his alibi during a murder, and when he says he was servicing a wealthy dowager for three or four hours, the police looked at him with disbelief and awe. George shrugs his shoulders and says, "It's my job. It's what I do."
In HBO's The Wire, the cry, Omar's coming! Omar's coming! sends the street rabble scurrying for cover. Omar carries a shotgun and uses it often.
On King of the Hill, Bobby has accidentally seen his cousin, Luanne, naked. Telling this to his friend Joseph gets Joseph all excited.
Joseph asks Bobby if she had on high heels. Bobby says, "no." Joseph says, with a dreamy look, "I'm gonna imagine her in high heels."
Near the end of the episode, after numerous futile attempts by Joseph to see Luanne naked, Luanne catches Khan, the Laoion neighbor innocently looking in her bathroom window and yells out, "Peggy, Mr. Khan saw me naked." Joseph, riding outside on his bicycle, hears this and disgustedly says, "Aw, man!"
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
WAR MAY BE HELL, BUT READING ABOUT IT IS FUN 2
Blog number 213 02 September 2008
Reading a book called, Iwo Jima in Barnes and Noble's this morning. Found a bit of trivia. That flag that was raised on Mount Suribachi, that is so famous? It has a bullet hole in the second stripe.
The way it happened was that the guys were so short of people because of their casualties that they were waiting for replacements, so they dug in and slept right by that flag. The guy telling the story heard noises during the night, and thinking it was Japs, he fired at the noise, found out that the noise was the flag flapping in the wind.
There is an asterisk by the word, "Japs" in this book. The asterisk's explanation for existing is that "Jap" was commonly used during the Good War, but the proper word is, of course, "Japanese." I thought that curious because I, myself have used the word, "Jap" in my blog, with the explanation that that is what we called them during WW 2.
I was a little nervous using that word when responding to Maryanne's comment on one of my entries, because her mother is Japanese, but I expected that she would understand I didn't mean anything derogatory to the Japanese. It's just the way I think of the WW 2 Japs, that's all.
Reading a book called, Iwo Jima in Barnes and Noble's this morning. Found a bit of trivia. That flag that was raised on Mount Suribachi, that is so famous? It has a bullet hole in the second stripe.
The way it happened was that the guys were so short of people because of their casualties that they were waiting for replacements, so they dug in and slept right by that flag. The guy telling the story heard noises during the night, and thinking it was Japs, he fired at the noise, found out that the noise was the flag flapping in the wind.
There is an asterisk by the word, "Japs" in this book. The asterisk's explanation for existing is that "Jap" was commonly used during the Good War, but the proper word is, of course, "Japanese." I thought that curious because I, myself have used the word, "Jap" in my blog, with the explanation that that is what we called them during WW 2.
I was a little nervous using that word when responding to Maryanne's comment on one of my entries, because her mother is Japanese, but I expected that she would understand I didn't mean anything derogatory to the Japanese. It's just the way I think of the WW 2 Japs, that's all.
Monday, September 1, 2008
WAR MAY BE HELL, BUT READING ABOUT IT IS FUN
Blog number 212 01 September 2008
When I first read this, I thought, "well, that's not fair, to begin the games before the agreed upon time, " but then I realized that war doesn't go by any rules, so that what he did was right on target. Best to expect the unexpected.
Before the great battle with the Japs at Midway, the Japanese were running war games on the way there, and once they lost a carrier, but they figured that could never happen so they brought the carrier "back to life." When it actually DID happen that they lost a carrier - two actually, they had no backup plan for that eventuality, and it cost them dearly.
One Jap officer saw the American torpedo bombers shot down one after the other, and kept coming. He had been told that the Americans would turn tail at the first sign of trouble, so observing this, he thought Japan might be in more trouble than they believed.
The Japanese before this had always ran into troops that gave up long before they had to. Singapore, Wake Island, Burma, China - all could have been victories sans idiots and cowards. Not the troops - the leaders. Troops mostly do what they are told. Leaders do the telling.
Friday, August 29, 2008
DRINBKING IS BAD FOR SAOME, BUT NOT FOR ME
Blog number 211 29 August 2008
Mine wife, the beautiful Teresa, asked if I wanted a glass of wine. I said, "Sure. Why not?"
The wine tasted so good that I drank it instead of sipped it, then I had another and now I am legally drunk. I got to wondering if I could write while drunk, and this reminded me of a cartoon I pasted in my cartoon book. It's entitled, "Pearls Before Swine" and the goat is drunk and writing because he thinks he writes better while drunk and what he writes is, "beer good." That's not very good writing, so he figures he better drink another six pack.
My black cat, Zipper, loves me. He cuddles my slippers, follows me around, and when I pick him up, he just collapses. It's like I'm his Momma. He stays in the garage mostly, doesn't want to come out.
This morning I let him out and he seemed glad to go, stayed there until I went to collect him. I grabbed him from under the car where he wouldn't come out. I had to kneel down to do this, and since I am old, I had a hard time getting up while holding him, and he started growling and biting me. He never does this. I finally got up, and while I was carrying him to the house, he kept complaining and biting. It reminded me of a two year old slapping at a parent who was taking them inside when he awaited to stay outside and play.
Damn! Writing while drunk is not all that easy. I keep hitting the wrong keys.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
MY HEROES
Blog number 211 27 August 2008
In case anyone is writing my unautorized biography, my three favorite heroes are Homer, George Castanza, and Dwight Schrute.
Do the right thing. Don't mess it up.
GRIPES FOR TODAY
Blog number 210 27 August 2008
I'm reading another book about General Stilwell and in it, it mentions Madam Chiang K'ai-Shek being told about how the Communist Chinese pay their soldiers, treat the populace well, and do not have the graft that the Nationalists do. Madam went to the window and looked out for a bit, turned around and said, "Well, that's because they have not known real power."
A few years back I read a book written by the campaign manager of Goldwater's failed attempt to secure the presidency of the United States. In it, he stated that he noticed that he looked upon the crowds standing watching Goldwater ride by, waving to them, that he and Goldwater were obviously going places, but these people seemed to him like they were always going to be standing there, waiting and watching for those who were moving on. He stated that this was the main problem with politicians. They seemed to obviously be above and beyond "those people."
When Rockefeller was running for president, I watched him talking to a man who was saying that he wanted Social Security to be voluntary instead of mandatory. Rockefeller seemed confused by what the man was saying, and he finally asked, "Well, why don't you just send the money back?" The man was rendered speechless. How could a person answer that? It was obvious that Rockefeller (and many others) had no experience at all with paying Social Security. Probably no experience with paying any kind of taxes, actually.
I remember when Ronald Reagan, as Governor of California, after saying that "taxes should hurt," was found by a College newspaper reporter, to have paid no taxes at all.
This revelation roused the ire of the State of California, which then geared up to find the dirty scum that would dare leak such a valuable state secret to a lowly newspaperman, which enabled the ordinary common citizen to have access to information previously allotted only to the Chosen.
Now, if you tie all these stories together, you should begin to see that it really doesn't matter who becomes your representative. They all become the same person and that person is never YOU.
***************
I read in the paper today that the Farmer's Almanac is predicting a below average temperate for the U. S. this year. This is news? This should be put in the paper? This is the kind of news we expect in out papers? TV, yeah, but newspapers?
And oh, yeah. Julia Roberts is still Gorgeous. I just read it.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
WAR MYSTERY
Blog number 210 26 August 2008
Several times, in the books I have read, horrific losses of B-29s by MIG jets during the Korean War is mentioned, but no number or anecdote is ever mentioned or told. It's pretty obvious that with the large number of MIG jets and the also large number of B-29's used during that war, and the fact that the speed of the MIG was so overwhelming when compared with the B-29, that losses must have indeed been horrific. Especially at the beginning of the bombing runs, when no American jets were handy for protection.
I tried Wikipedia, no help. Wonder what the problem is? Very curious.
DISTILLENT?
Blog number 209 26 August 2008
When I was about 12 years old, living on the farm in Northern Iowa - that would be about 1943, the Good War still on, our John Deere tractor ran on a colorless fuel called "distillent." We pronounced it, "dis sill ent." I don't think it was diesel. Not oily enough. Had the consistency and look of water. But the tractor ran like a diesel engine, so I couldn't say for sure. I do know that in 1949, when I was stationed in northern Texas, they sold something called, "white gas" in the gas stations. It was much cheaper than the leaded gas, but I don't think many used it. Some must have, to be selling it like that. White gas looked like our "distillent."
Which reminds me. While still in Texas, I was driving down a two-lane road in 1949 in my 1937 Chevy and three brand new '49 Ford convertibles, a red one, a blue one and a white one, passed me on the right, in line, and off the road. I thought at the time that they were probably three sons of some rich oil men,
A man one farm north of us got killed when his B-17 got shot down in the Pacific, and a guy that lived on the farm across the street from us got killed in his tank in France. The one that was a tanker was the one that I overheard telling my Dad and Grandpa about a guy that brought in two prisoners and asked the commander what to do with them and he told the guy to "take them over the hill so's they don't stink up the place,"
My Dad and Grandad thought that a funny story, but I didn't. It shocked me because of how we were always told that Americans didn't do things like that - that only the Nazis and Japs did things like that.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
CHINA IS MORE THAN JUST ANOTHER COUNTRY
Blog number 208 23 August 2008
When Americans mortared in WW 2, they would drop the mortar in the tube, then turn around and cover their ears. I saw yesterday, Germans firing mortars and what they did, they would drop the round in the tube and then all three men would run like hell up and out of the hole. That must have been some powerful explosions going off in that tube.
I finished the book on General Stilwell's experience in Burma during WW 2. I liked it a lot, but I think you would have to have lived through WW 2 to really appreciate the nuances. Maybe not, but I think so.
I remember the way we were presented to Generalisimo Chiang K'ai-Shek in newspaper articles. Great hero. Savior of China. Turns out he was really an ignorant uneducated pompous manipulative greedy back-stabbing bullheaded asshole. At least that's the way General Stilwell sees him.
I'm reading a new book about Stilwell. This one goes into his background all the way to before his entry into West Point.
After WW 1, Stilwell was sent to UC Berkley to study Chinese, but he said that it wasn't going to work. He asked for duty in China so that he could hear the language being spoken. He got the assignment.
The founder and director of the school, one Dr. Pettus, told Stilwell and his partner that they had picked up a bad accent in California which could lead to confusion, "for even the most fluent foreigner could encounter difficulties."
Dr. Pettus then told of Dr. Hume, who spoke perfect Chinese and had lived in the country many years, coming across two farmers by the side of the road. He asked them the road to Changsha. They looked blank. He asked them the question several times, and receiving no answer, he gave up and walked on. As he was leaving, he heard one of the farmers telling the other, "it sounds just as if the foreigner were asking, 'is this the road to Changsha?' "
Thursday, August 21, 2008
MORE ENDS THAN ODDS
Blog number 207 21 August 2008
The Daily Show has been reruns all week. They are setting up for the Democratic Convention. I got turned on to the Daily Show by one night happening to see them covering the Democratic Convention.
One of their "roving reporters" was at a speech by some Democrat and He asked a guy standing on a chair what the speaker was saying. The guy was distracted and mumbled something. The "reporter" asked him again, "What is he saying now?" The guy replied, "I don't know. You were talking." "What's he saying now?" I DON'T KNOW! YOU KEEP TALKING! I CAN'T HEAR HIM!" What''d he say just then?" "WILL YOU SHUT UP SO I CAN HEAR HIM?"
That guy got so furious and I couldn't stop laughing. I've been watching the Daily Show ever since.
I was at a party one night, sitting in an easy chair, just people-watching and Larry, a guy I knew from Weatherstone's Coffee House kneeled down beside the left arm of my chair and mumbled something. I said, "What?"
He mumbled again, I asked him what he said again, and the third time I just let him kneel there mumbling away. I didn't respond to him at all, just tried to ignore his mumblings and after about an hour of this, the party was starting to break up so I got up to leave and he told me he sure appreciated our long discussion.
I told a friend of his about that incident the next day and he told me that Larry does that as a power play. He figures if he can get you to lean in real close and ask what he was saying, he would somehow have you in his power. He would be controlling you. His friend told me that Larry did that to him a lot.
What an idiot.
The Daily Show has been reruns all week. They are setting up for the Democratic Convention. I got turned on to the Daily Show by one night happening to see them covering the Democratic Convention.
One of their "roving reporters" was at a speech by some Democrat and He asked a guy standing on a chair what the speaker was saying. The guy was distracted and mumbled something. The "reporter" asked him again, "What is he saying now?" The guy replied, "I don't know. You were talking." "What's he saying now?" I DON'T KNOW! YOU KEEP TALKING! I CAN'T HEAR HIM!" What''d he say just then?" "WILL YOU SHUT UP SO I CAN HEAR HIM?"
That guy got so furious and I couldn't stop laughing. I've been watching the Daily Show ever since.
I was at a party one night, sitting in an easy chair, just people-watching and Larry, a guy I knew from Weatherstone's Coffee House kneeled down beside the left arm of my chair and mumbled something. I said, "What?"
He mumbled again, I asked him what he said again, and the third time I just let him kneel there mumbling away. I didn't respond to him at all, just tried to ignore his mumblings and after about an hour of this, the party was starting to break up so I got up to leave and he told me he sure appreciated our long discussion.
I told a friend of his about that incident the next day and he told me that Larry does that as a power play. He figures if he can get you to lean in real close and ask what he was saying, he would somehow have you in his power. He would be controlling you. His friend told me that Larry did that to him a lot.
What an idiot.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
MORE ODDS THAN ENDS
Blog number 206 20 August 2008
I'm reading an autobiography by Ernest Borgnine. I like it. He once asked Spencer Tracy if it was true that Tracy's Oscar for "Boy's Town" had been erroneously inscribed, "Dick Tracy." It was true.
Used to be a TV program that showed clips from shows that had a mess up. I forget its name - it didn't last long. When I was in my movie, the extras kept yelling at the director when something went wrong, and one time the star - John Ritter, didn't have his hat on like he had before and someone yelled out about that and the director said, "They can use that in, (and here he named that show I mentioned that I forget the name of.) " The point of this is that they didn't care. Not artists you see, just workers doing a job.
In the Borgnine book, when he was in a movie about a football player, the director, who was from Hungary, said there wasn't enough actors on the field. They told him that in American football, there are eleven players on each side. He said, "I don't care. Not enough actors. Double the number. Nobody will notice." So, there were forty-four football players on the field instead of twenty-two, and nobody noticed.
We bought a new coffee grinder. $99.95. Instead of a cutting tool, it has a grinding tool. Lots quieter, and I can grind Turkish. I have read about Turkish coffee and it is always described as looking like black syrup. Yummers.
We had a Cuisinart coffee grinder. The motor quit after about two months. Took it back, got another one, it quit also after about two months. The salesman suggested we buy another brand. I replied that as long as we could bring if back if it broke, I didn't mind. He says, "Well, but if they are going to break every two months, it's like if you bought some clothes and brought them back after two months." I couldn't get my head around that reasoning.
Usually someone like that makes me laugh, but if I run into too much of it too soon, it kinda pisses me off. I get tired of living in the midst of idiots. It's like using a computer that messes up every once in a while and does something illogical. Sometimes I just can't deal with it.
And then today a guy got behind me - I saw him move in from the left lane, and honked at me. I got around the corner and stopped to see what his problem was, but he whizzed on by. Could have been something, could have been nothing. Could have been an inadvertent honk, I dunno.
I'm reading an autobiography by Ernest Borgnine. I like it. He once asked Spencer Tracy if it was true that Tracy's Oscar for "Boy's Town" had been erroneously inscribed, "Dick Tracy." It was true.
Used to be a TV program that showed clips from shows that had a mess up. I forget its name - it didn't last long. When I was in my movie, the extras kept yelling at the director when something went wrong, and one time the star - John Ritter, didn't have his hat on like he had before and someone yelled out about that and the director said, "They can use that in, (and here he named that show I mentioned that I forget the name of.) " The point of this is that they didn't care. Not artists you see, just workers doing a job.
In the Borgnine book, when he was in a movie about a football player, the director, who was from Hungary, said there wasn't enough actors on the field. They told him that in American football, there are eleven players on each side. He said, "I don't care. Not enough actors. Double the number. Nobody will notice." So, there were forty-four football players on the field instead of twenty-two, and nobody noticed.
We bought a new coffee grinder. $99.95. Instead of a cutting tool, it has a grinding tool. Lots quieter, and I can grind Turkish. I have read about Turkish coffee and it is always described as looking like black syrup. Yummers.
We had a Cuisinart coffee grinder. The motor quit after about two months. Took it back, got another one, it quit also after about two months. The salesman suggested we buy another brand. I replied that as long as we could bring if back if it broke, I didn't mind. He says, "Well, but if they are going to break every two months, it's like if you bought some clothes and brought them back after two months." I couldn't get my head around that reasoning.
Usually someone like that makes me laugh, but if I run into too much of it too soon, it kinda pisses me off. I get tired of living in the midst of idiots. It's like using a computer that messes up every once in a while and does something illogical. Sometimes I just can't deal with it.
And then today a guy got behind me - I saw him move in from the left lane, and honked at me. I got around the corner and stopped to see what his problem was, but he whizzed on by. Could have been something, could have been nothing. Could have been an inadvertent honk, I dunno.
Friday, August 15, 2008
I DON'T WANT SECONDS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH
Blog number 204 15 August 2008
I saw a movie last night. It was called, "Seconds" and starred Rock Hudson. Doris Day was nowhere to be seen. Rock seemed different somehow. Did he miss Doris? We don't know.
The first inkling that something was amiss with the script was when a meat packing company had the logo, "Honest Arnie's Meats" above a circle on one of its trucks, and below that circle read, "Used Cow Company."
Two things. First, this was not a comedy. It was a drama. Kinda of a Sci-fi drama, kinda of a horror drama, yet neither. That was the only bit of comedy in the whole movie, which makes it seem so out of place - like somebody's idea of a bad inside joke.
They dealt in meat, not cows. "Used cows" would be proper wording if you were selling cows.
Second, I had seen this movie twice before and was very confused both times, but I didn't know why. I also did not notice the "Used Cow Company" either of those times, which seems very weird, since it was very obvious - right in the middle of a scene. I attribute both the confusion and the not noticing the sign to my early life of sleepwalking through life. I just did not pay attention in those days. I make up for it now.
It was a revelation to me to get visual evidence of something I only conjectured before, using the fact that I couldn't remember much of events. I could see clearly just how asleep I was in those days.
I debated all day long as to writing about this movie, at one time deciding not to, since it is way too involved, but just now I decided to give it a shot. To get the full effect, you would have to see the picture and pay attention!
First off, this guy, a banker who is expecting to become bank president in a short time, who has a seemingly nice wife who obviously cares for him, a daughter, and a boat.
An organization offers to change his appearance and fake his death so that he can start life anew. They drug him and fake a rape scene with him as the perp, and film it. They use this film to blackmail him into signing a contract.
He accepts the organization's offer, signs the contract which evidently leaves his wife and daughter well cared for, as well as himself, and enough is left for the organization's business expenses which turn out to be pretty, pretty extensive. All of this money evidently comes from his insurance policy, his real estate (although the wife is later found to be doing very well living in the same house, so it must not have been sold) and stocks and bonds. The guy must have been a billionaire.
He gets ALL of his teeth pulled, and new "permanent" ones put in. The guy doing the job actually tells him he now has all new permanent teeth. He has his fingerprints removed and replaced with others, he has his voice box modified so his voice is different, the ligaments on his hands adjusted so that his handwriting is different, and as Teresa noticed, "What I don't get is how did they make him taller?"
Only his appearance is changed, he is as old as he was, he is as strong as an old man, all that is different is that he looks different. And oh, yeah - they burn a body disguised as him in a hotel room fire. Figuring, I guess, that his wife and daughter wouldn't be as upset that he died in a fire a they would if he just up and left. I can't come up with any other reason to do that.
His wife doesn't wonder what he was doing in a hotel room, and how much of the hotel had to get burned along with the room is never mentioned.
This guy is not running from the police. If he wanted to make a new life for himself, why didn't he just take off? Why go through all this torture? The process must have taken bucketloads of money, and he also gets two full time helpers employed by the organization that does these things for people, and he is set up as a painter, with legit diplomas from a couple of prestige colleges, one in Europe, He is given a house on the beach, food, clothing, a butler to take care of him, paintings, Buddha knows how much they cost, and as time goes on, he will be given more paintings - as if he is painting them. And nobody is going to say, "Hey, wait - my uncle painted that!" ?
As if all that is not bad enough, he decides he wants to get another identity because he says, like a two year old, that the organization told him what he had to do and he wants his freedom to do as he wants, so if they change his appearance again, this time he will do what he wants. Why he can't do that now, I haven't a clue. Makes no sense at all.
At least I found out why I was so confused the first two times I saw this movie. It's a confusing movie.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
MYSTERY NUMBER FIVE
Blog number 203 13 August 2008
The city of Casa Grande is getting a brand new L.A. Fitness Center. Teresa and I plan on working out there when it is finished, in order for me to get buff and for her to get hot.
We've been waiting for it to be finished, and yesterday, while coming back from a mall shopping trip, we noticed several young men in identical outfits standing around a stand under an umbrella with an "L.A. Fitness" logo on it. "Good," we thought, "let's go sign up."
We pulled up to the stand and noticed that there was no place to stop. There was one car there, and it was parked over a right turn arrow in the street! We parked next to it, motor running, and a young man came over. We asked where we could park and he pointed down the street a ways and said we could come in there. No, we couldn't. Unless we wanted to go over the curb, and besides, why wasn't any of them parked anywhere but out in the street if that was an entry way? Where were their cars anyhow? In the parking lot across the street? Why wasn't the stand in the parking lot anyway, where these young men would be available for information gathering?
I asked for a pamphlet while Teresa explained to him that he should tell his boss that they should pick some other place to have their stand. The young man finally said they had no pamphlets - that if we wanted to know anything, we should go on the Internet website.
No place to park, no pamphlets, no information, six worker bees standing around shooting bull - did they get paid for this? Who picked their site? Why were they there? Where are my shoes?
The city of Casa Grande is getting a brand new L.A. Fitness Center. Teresa and I plan on working out there when it is finished, in order for me to get buff and for her to get hot.
We've been waiting for it to be finished, and yesterday, while coming back from a mall shopping trip, we noticed several young men in identical outfits standing around a stand under an umbrella with an "L.A. Fitness" logo on it. "Good," we thought, "let's go sign up."
We pulled up to the stand and noticed that there was no place to stop. There was one car there, and it was parked over a right turn arrow in the street! We parked next to it, motor running, and a young man came over. We asked where we could park and he pointed down the street a ways and said we could come in there. No, we couldn't. Unless we wanted to go over the curb, and besides, why wasn't any of them parked anywhere but out in the street if that was an entry way? Where were their cars anyhow? In the parking lot across the street? Why wasn't the stand in the parking lot anyway, where these young men would be available for information gathering?
I asked for a pamphlet while Teresa explained to him that he should tell his boss that they should pick some other place to have their stand. The young man finally said they had no pamphlets - that if we wanted to know anything, we should go on the Internet website.
No place to park, no pamphlets, no information, six worker bees standing around shooting bull - did they get paid for this? Who picked their site? Why were they there? Where are my shoes?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
HYPOCRITE IN A POUFFY WHITE DRESS *
Blog number 202 05 August 2008
* Excerpt from
My teacher, Celeste, was herself a genuine sadist. This was made clear to me the very first day of nursery school, when she led our class in a game of "Simon Says" designed to inflict flesh wounds: "Simon says : Poke yourself in the eye! Simon says: Hit yourself on the head with a Lincoln log! Stick a crayon up your nose! Whoops. I didn't say Simon says, now did I, Juan?"
* Excerpt from
My teacher, Celeste, was herself a genuine sadist. This was made clear to me the very first day of nursery school, when she led our class in a game of "Simon Says" designed to inflict flesh wounds: "Simon says : Poke yourself in the eye! Simon says: Hit yourself on the head with a Lincoln log! Stick a crayon up your nose! Whoops. I didn't say Simon says, now did I, Juan?"
Saturday, August 2, 2008
MY HERO!
Blog number 201 02 August 2008
Years ago, when I was a freshman in High School, I ran across the novel, "Penrod" by Booth Tarkington in the school library. I loved it. I then found "Penrod and Sam," and Penrod Jasber," all thee excellent books except for the last chapter in either "Penrod and Sam" or "Penrod Jasber," I don't remember which.
When I was a senior in another High School, I found "Seventeen," and before I got a chance to read it, my English teacher saw it and told me it wasn't any good. I read it anyhow (what does an English teacher know, right?), and I found it terrible. That book ended my reading of Booth. I thought his Penrod series a fluke, but that he was actually a bad novelist.
Then a few weeks ago I found a book called, "Rare and Used." This book was about old books, and in it some of Booth's other books were mentioned, along with a short synopsis of some of them, and the fact that two of them won a Pulitzer Prize and not only that, but he and Upton Sinclair were thought to be the foremost American authors at the time. Both have now gone out of favor. "Hmmmmm," I thought.
My caretaker, Teresa order a bunch of Booth's books for me on the Internet and I've been reading them ever since. One thing I noticed early on was that every time I started a new one, several pages in, I thought, "This is his best one yet." Except for the Penrod books, of course.
This morning, in Starbucks, I was reading "Kate Fennigate" and Teresa began reading, "The Flirt." Three pages in, she put it down and said, "Too much detail."
Now, I had been ruminating just what it was that I loved so much about Booth's books, and this made me realize it was exactly the same thing that Teresa found so off-putting. I started reading what she had just read, and I found that I could visualize Booth's description of what the man walking down the street was seeing. To me it was akin to watching the beginning of a movie as the credits rolled. I love his descriptions. Especially when he is describing a person's thoughts.
I had noticed that I would read a few pages and then I would have to stop and ruminate over them. It's not so much I am thinking about what he says - although there is that, especially when he says something rather clever or humorous. It is more like when you are eating a delicious steak and you have to stop and take a bite of mashed potatoes or candied yams. I wish I could think of a better simile but I can't. But it is somewhat like that. It's just too much and I have to stop and rest. There! That's it.
It will be a sad day when I have read all of his books.
Years ago, when I was a freshman in High School, I ran across the novel, "Penrod" by Booth Tarkington in the school library. I loved it. I then found "Penrod and Sam," and Penrod Jasber," all thee excellent books except for the last chapter in either "Penrod and Sam" or "Penrod Jasber," I don't remember which.
When I was a senior in another High School, I found "Seventeen," and before I got a chance to read it, my English teacher saw it and told me it wasn't any good. I read it anyhow (what does an English teacher know, right?), and I found it terrible. That book ended my reading of Booth. I thought his Penrod series a fluke, but that he was actually a bad novelist.
Then a few weeks ago I found a book called, "Rare and Used." This book was about old books, and in it some of Booth's other books were mentioned, along with a short synopsis of some of them, and the fact that two of them won a Pulitzer Prize and not only that, but he and Upton Sinclair were thought to be the foremost American authors at the time. Both have now gone out of favor. "Hmmmmm," I thought.
My caretaker, Teresa order a bunch of Booth's books for me on the Internet and I've been reading them ever since. One thing I noticed early on was that every time I started a new one, several pages in, I thought, "This is his best one yet." Except for the Penrod books, of course.
This morning, in Starbucks, I was reading "Kate Fennigate" and Teresa began reading, "The Flirt." Three pages in, she put it down and said, "Too much detail."
Now, I had been ruminating just what it was that I loved so much about Booth's books, and this made me realize it was exactly the same thing that Teresa found so off-putting. I started reading what she had just read, and I found that I could visualize Booth's description of what the man walking down the street was seeing. To me it was akin to watching the beginning of a movie as the credits rolled. I love his descriptions. Especially when he is describing a person's thoughts.
I had noticed that I would read a few pages and then I would have to stop and ruminate over them. It's not so much I am thinking about what he says - although there is that, especially when he says something rather clever or humorous. It is more like when you are eating a delicious steak and you have to stop and take a bite of mashed potatoes or candied yams. I wish I could think of a better simile but I can't. But it is somewhat like that. It's just too much and I have to stop and rest. There! That's it.
It will be a sad day when I have read all of his books.
Monday, July 28, 2008
THE YOUNG LOOK WITH AMUSED TOLERANCE UPON THE OBSOLETE
Blog number Two Hundred ! 28 July 2008
I remember the first time I was called, "Dear," by a lady - a stranger. I knew then that I had arrived in the land of old people. I love the condescendations sometimes afforded me. I was checking out at a Safeway counter one after noon, and I had with me a staff I was carving. The checkout lady said, "Did someone carve that for you, Honey? Hah! Sweet!
The first time I got on a bus and didn't show my senior card and was admitted, was a milestone.
I have wanted to be an old man as far back as I can remember. I think it was because of my affection for my grandfather and his cronies at the pool hall. They always seemed to enjoy things more than young people did. They were always laughing and talking - joking with each other.
Seniors get a lot of bennies. We get a lot of allowances for misbehaviors. The older we get, the more things we can get away with.
I just last night saw a trailer for a new movie starring Brad Pitt wher he begins life as an old man and gets younger. I can just imagine what that might be like. First people treat you real good and a the years go by they start yelling at you, watching you suspiciously, and accusing you arbitrarily.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
WHO'S OR WHOM'S IN CHARGE HERE ANYHOW?
Blog number 199 27 July 2008
Let me be clear here. I don't have anything to write about. I did this once before. I called it an experiment, but I didn't realize until someone asked me what the experiment was, that I never explained it. I'll do that now with this one. The experiment is to see if I could sit down with nothing to write, and write. So far, so good. Yes?
Doing this reminded me of a time when I had an assignment for a drama class to produce a short scene without using words. I always like to get my chores out of the way as soon as possible to avoid that hassle of worrying over them. So as soon as I got home, I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee, 'cause I like to drink coffee while writing anything.
I took the cup of coffee into the living room, sat down in my reading chair, setting the coffee on the end table by my chair and reached into the pocket of my Oshkoshs for my pad and pencil. Neither was there. I had left them in the kitchen. Damn!
I got up, went into the kitchen where I found my pad and pencil lying where I had left them, made it back to the chair, sat down and started to create when I realized I had my scene. I would just repeat the last few minutes. Brilliant! That wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Piece of pie, actually.
There is an additional part to this story.
When I did my scene in class, I got the "cup of coffee," took it to the chair, sat down, realized I hadn't brought my "pad and pencil," got up, went to the "kitchen," got them, came back and sat in the chair, put the "cup" down on the "table," sat back, end of scene.
During the critique, the teacher said, "You forgot about the table, didn't you?" When she said that, I realized that I hadn't, in my imagination, allowed for a table to be there, so I hesitated when I went to put my "cup of coffee" down. The table wasn't there! She saw that and immediately knew that I hadn't allowed for the table. I thought that was so neat - that my mind could do something like that. It was an imaginary table to me, but to my mind, that table was really not there.
Let me be clear here. I don't have anything to write about. I did this once before. I called it an experiment, but I didn't realize until someone asked me what the experiment was, that I never explained it. I'll do that now with this one. The experiment is to see if I could sit down with nothing to write, and write. So far, so good. Yes?
Doing this reminded me of a time when I had an assignment for a drama class to produce a short scene without using words. I always like to get my chores out of the way as soon as possible to avoid that hassle of worrying over them. So as soon as I got home, I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee, 'cause I like to drink coffee while writing anything.
I took the cup of coffee into the living room, sat down in my reading chair, setting the coffee on the end table by my chair and reached into the pocket of my Oshkoshs for my pad and pencil. Neither was there. I had left them in the kitchen. Damn!
I got up, went into the kitchen where I found my pad and pencil lying where I had left them, made it back to the chair, sat down and started to create when I realized I had my scene. I would just repeat the last few minutes. Brilliant! That wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Piece of pie, actually.
There is an additional part to this story.
When I did my scene in class, I got the "cup of coffee," took it to the chair, sat down, realized I hadn't brought my "pad and pencil," got up, went to the "kitchen," got them, came back and sat in the chair, put the "cup" down on the "table," sat back, end of scene.
During the critique, the teacher said, "You forgot about the table, didn't you?" When she said that, I realized that I hadn't, in my imagination, allowed for a table to be there, so I hesitated when I went to put my "cup of coffee" down. The table wasn't there! She saw that and immediately knew that I hadn't allowed for the table. I thought that was so neat - that my mind could do something like that. It was an imaginary table to me, but to my mind, that table was really not there.
Friday, July 25, 2008
I DIDN'T DO IT
Blog number 198 25 July 2008
One of my sons informed me this morning that my latest Blog entry is missing. I looked, and sure enough. It was the one about the TV program, "The Office." I just want to say, I didn't do it. AOL did it. They also erased my wife's last Blog entry. They probably have our house bugged and heard us cussing out AOL for the stupidity with which they run their business and they didn't like it and I don't care and they are not good people and somebody should take a shovel and dig up any garden anyone there has and that would show them and I would be glad and I would do it again and that would show them again and finally they would learn not to be such bad people and have other people mad at them and that would show them and finally they would get tired of being showed and would go back to AOL 3.1 and leave it alone.
One of my sons informed me this morning that my latest Blog entry is missing. I looked, and sure enough. It was the one about the TV program, "The Office." I just want to say, I didn't do it. AOL did it. They also erased my wife's last Blog entry. They probably have our house bugged and heard us cussing out AOL for the stupidity with which they run their business and they didn't like it and I don't care and they are not good people and somebody should take a shovel and dig up any garden anyone there has and that would show them and I would be glad and I would do it again and that would show them again and finally they would learn not to be such bad people and have other people mad at them and that would show them and finally they would get tired of being showed and would go back to AOL 3.1 and leave it alone.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
WHAT THE HELL?
Blog number 196 22 July 2008
I go to bed at 11:00 PM, take a nap (evidently), get back up at 0100 (I:00 AM civilian time) and the sprinkler system is going. That in itself is not a problem but I thought I set the sprinkler to go off at 8:00 PM (2000 sensible way of expressing time), so I go out and check the time it's supposed to be on the sprinkler controller and it's all right. I check the time the sprinkler is supposed to go off and it's set for 2000. NOW what!
This is the same kind of trouble I had when I had to replace the controller just a few days ago. What kind of karma is being handed me anyhow?
I'll call the guy tomorrow or someday, but in the meantime, I'll complain to my blog. Good blog.
I go to bed at 11:00 PM, take a nap (evidently), get back up at 0100 (I:00 AM civilian time) and the sprinkler system is going. That in itself is not a problem but I thought I set the sprinkler to go off at 8:00 PM (2000 sensible way of expressing time), so I go out and check the time it's supposed to be on the sprinkler controller and it's all right. I check the time the sprinkler is supposed to go off and it's set for 2000. NOW what!
This is the same kind of trouble I had when I had to replace the controller just a few days ago. What kind of karma is being handed me anyhow?
I'll call the guy tomorrow or someday, but in the meantime, I'll complain to my blog. Good blog.
Monday, July 21, 2008
PARANOID? HOW WOULD I KNOW?
Blog number 195 22 July 2008
So I get my coffee, my paper, my apple fritter, and I go to my favorite reading chair by the window. Two young Oriental girls are sitting on the love seat, looking at a lap top. I don't make eye contact with them. They have one chair of four, a purse is sitting on another chair and a bag on another. "My" chair is free. I think, from what I see, that they are trying to "fence off" the area so they won't be overheard or bothered. This has happened before, and by two young Oriental girls, so I figure it is the same girls, doing the same thing. That first time, Teresa moved the chairs and trash can they had arranged to fence off the area, and just sat down. I followed. They left.
I'm reading my paper, consciously ignoring them, when two young oriental boys sit down in the two "held" chairs. Off and on during the time these four were talking - some kind of business with the laptop, I get the feeling I am getting glances from them.
Just before they leave, I think I hear, from one of the boys sitting across from me, something like, "I'm glad you could join us." Now up until then, they have been speaking a foreign language - I think they were Chinese. I kind of dismissed it because that would be kind of weird except, it was the only time I thought I understood what was said, it was said by one of the boys, and it was said just before they left. I was also pretty sure that when he said that, that I got several glances from the both boys and one of the girls. Purportedly to see how I would take it?
Sound like paranoia? Of course, you weren't there to experience it, so I am the only expert in this particular area, but on the other hand, it concerns me and my ego, so could I be unbiased? Yes, definitely. Why? Because I am exceedingly humble.
You can't argue with that.
Well, you can - but it wouldn't do you any good.
So I get my coffee, my paper, my apple fritter, and I go to my favorite reading chair by the window. Two young Oriental girls are sitting on the love seat, looking at a lap top. I don't make eye contact with them. They have one chair of four, a purse is sitting on another chair and a bag on another. "My" chair is free. I think, from what I see, that they are trying to "fence off" the area so they won't be overheard or bothered. This has happened before, and by two young Oriental girls, so I figure it is the same girls, doing the same thing. That first time, Teresa moved the chairs and trash can they had arranged to fence off the area, and just sat down. I followed. They left.
I'm reading my paper, consciously ignoring them, when two young oriental boys sit down in the two "held" chairs. Off and on during the time these four were talking - some kind of business with the laptop, I get the feeling I am getting glances from them.
Just before they leave, I think I hear, from one of the boys sitting across from me, something like, "I'm glad you could join us." Now up until then, they have been speaking a foreign language - I think they were Chinese. I kind of dismissed it because that would be kind of weird except, it was the only time I thought I understood what was said, it was said by one of the boys, and it was said just before they left. I was also pretty sure that when he said that, that I got several glances from the both boys and one of the girls. Purportedly to see how I would take it?
Sound like paranoia? Of course, you weren't there to experience it, so I am the only expert in this particular area, but on the other hand, it concerns me and my ego, so could I be unbiased? Yes, definitely. Why? Because I am exceedingly humble.
You can't argue with that.
Well, you can - but it wouldn't do you any good.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
WHO'S AN ANGEL?
Blog number 194 15 July 2008
I few days ago I'm standing in line at Starbucks and I hear this voice behind me sounding like the tinkling of little bells. I look behind me and I see a little girl - between three and four years old standing by her daddy, holding his hand. I say, "Hi! How are you?"
She disappears behind her Daddy's leg and occasionally I peek around to see if she is peeking, but she never does. That's a bit unusual in my experience with babies. I get my coffee and pastry and I sit down in my favorite chair and I read. When I am ready to go, I notice the little girl and her Daddy sitting at a table, so I go down and I say to her, "I gotta go now. Bye!"
She brightens up like she just remembered it's Christmas morning, and says, "Bye!"
The next day I go in and the two are already sitting at a table and I go up to her and I say, "Bye!"
She brightens - not as much as the first time, but I take what I can get. She says, "Bye."
From then on I catch glimpses of her and it seems to me that she is looking at me puzzled. "He says bye, but he's still here. What is this, some kind of a cruel joke?"
She seems intelligent enough that I believe she has figured out what I did. So this morning they come in and I don't approach her, but I keep an eye on her.
Her daddy fixes something at the counter where they keep the creams, prior to them leaving. I notice she stays with her Daddy's leg between me and her. When they walk out, she keeps her daddy still between me and her. I follow them with my eyes, and as they reach the door, I kind of crane my neck to see around her dad, and just then she also cranes back, sees me, and when I say, "Bye," she gives me the sweetest smile!
Oh, joy!
I few days ago I'm standing in line at Starbucks and I hear this voice behind me sounding like the tinkling of little bells. I look behind me and I see a little girl - between three and four years old standing by her daddy, holding his hand. I say, "Hi! How are you?"
She disappears behind her Daddy's leg and occasionally I peek around to see if she is peeking, but she never does. That's a bit unusual in my experience with babies. I get my coffee and pastry and I sit down in my favorite chair and I read. When I am ready to go, I notice the little girl and her Daddy sitting at a table, so I go down and I say to her, "I gotta go now. Bye!"
She brightens up like she just remembered it's Christmas morning, and says, "Bye!"
The next day I go in and the two are already sitting at a table and I go up to her and I say, "Bye!"
She brightens - not as much as the first time, but I take what I can get. She says, "Bye."
From then on I catch glimpses of her and it seems to me that she is looking at me puzzled. "He says bye, but he's still here. What is this, some kind of a cruel joke?"
She seems intelligent enough that I believe she has figured out what I did. So this morning they come in and I don't approach her, but I keep an eye on her.
Her daddy fixes something at the counter where they keep the creams, prior to them leaving. I notice she stays with her Daddy's leg between me and her. When they walk out, she keeps her daddy still between me and her. I follow them with my eyes, and as they reach the door, I kind of crane my neck to see around her dad, and just then she also cranes back, sees me, and when I say, "Bye," she gives me the sweetest smile!
Oh, joy!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
BEEN THERE. DONE THAT. WISH I HADN'T.
Blog number 193 08 July 2008
This entry is kind of an experiment. I haven't made an entry in a while and fans are starting to get testy. I used to read Jon Carroll every day in the SF Chronicle and I don't know how the guy does it. Or how any daily columnist does it.
One runs out of things to say. Maybe they have a more exciting life than I do. My days are filled with TV watchings, reading, and napping. Not much to write about there.
My bird disappeared. I dunno where. Been gone a week or so.
My sprinkler system crashed. Got a new one yesterday. I went out and watched the guy put it in and I wish I didn't have to do that. He was one of those guys I usually hide from. A talker, ya know. I learned more about things I never wanted to know anything about than I can use.
He told me that somebody sold the buyer of the system I had, a bill of goods. It had places for twelve stations, and the one he put in had spaces for four stations. I use three.
After he told me that, I commented - or started to anyhow, that the house next to me had one of those and all the houses in this development had them. I didn't get any of that out because as soon as I started to tell him that, he interrupted and said, "Did you hear what I said?" Well, yeah. But what's that got to do with my life, ya know?
Isn't that a strange things for anyone to do - what he did? He must have thought he said something really, really important and he wanted to make sure I understood.
I never did say much that whole "conversation" we "had."
We're going to Phoenix today, maybe take Kiki (my daughter-in-law) to the library. I wish I could talk about Kiki more, but that has been forbidden to me. She's so funny. It's like I know the location of a silver mine, but it happens to be on posted land so I can't mine it.
I think my lady friend is up. I hear her moving about. She was up real late last night, sleeping to the sound of her TV.
We're putting Zipper in the bathroom while we go to Phoenix. Way too hot in the garage.
The weather has been way cooler lately. It was only a hundred degrees yesterday.
This entry is kind of an experiment. I haven't made an entry in a while and fans are starting to get testy. I used to read Jon Carroll every day in the SF Chronicle and I don't know how the guy does it. Or how any daily columnist does it.
One runs out of things to say. Maybe they have a more exciting life than I do. My days are filled with TV watchings, reading, and napping. Not much to write about there.
My bird disappeared. I dunno where. Been gone a week or so.
My sprinkler system crashed. Got a new one yesterday. I went out and watched the guy put it in and I wish I didn't have to do that. He was one of those guys I usually hide from. A talker, ya know. I learned more about things I never wanted to know anything about than I can use.
He told me that somebody sold the buyer of the system I had, a bill of goods. It had places for twelve stations, and the one he put in had spaces for four stations. I use three.
After he told me that, I commented - or started to anyhow, that the house next to me had one of those and all the houses in this development had them. I didn't get any of that out because as soon as I started to tell him that, he interrupted and said, "Did you hear what I said?" Well, yeah. But what's that got to do with my life, ya know?
Isn't that a strange things for anyone to do - what he did? He must have thought he said something really, really important and he wanted to make sure I understood.
I never did say much that whole "conversation" we "had."
We're going to Phoenix today, maybe take Kiki (my daughter-in-law) to the library. I wish I could talk about Kiki more, but that has been forbidden to me. She's so funny. It's like I know the location of a silver mine, but it happens to be on posted land so I can't mine it.
I think my lady friend is up. I hear her moving about. She was up real late last night, sleeping to the sound of her TV.
We're putting Zipper in the bathroom while we go to Phoenix. Way too hot in the garage.
The weather has been way cooler lately. It was only a hundred degrees yesterday.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
DUMB! DUMB! DUMB!
Blog number 192 26 June 2008
Dear Diary, it's been a while. Did you miss me? And could you excuse me a minute while I talk to my blog? Thank you. You're a sweetie.
Jon Stewart on the Daily Show was talking about Beijing, the site of the next Olympics, being one of the most, if not the most, polluted city on the planet. A clip was shown of the really dirty skies there. And they were really dirty!
Jon talked about the poor athletes having to breath that stuff, and a famous marathon runner was not going to show up for practice, that he was waiting for the day of the trials so he wouldn't have to breathe that poison any more than he had to.
I got a vision of those athletes running in poison like a bunch of insects having an Olympics in a jar that had been sprayed with insecticide. I think if I had been invited to participate in the Olympics as an athlete, I would refuse. No, I don't think so. I KNOW so. I wouldn't accept bleeding lungs for a gold medal, no way. Never. Why in Heaven's name would any clear thinking person do that anyhow?
It reminds me of when this bunch of supposedly wise people here in America who have been chosen to decide things for me, decided to send a satellite off into the outer regions of space with clear directions for any aliens that found it, on how to find us. Sheeze! Isn't that about the dumbest thing you could think of?
Wouldn't you imagine that one of the "deciders" would remember how humans treat newfound species? If we can't use them or eat them, we kill them if they interfere in any way with our comfort. How could anyone imagine that a species advanced enough to find their way here would treat us any differently? Wishful thinking? Naivety?
It's like that story of teaching a Mynah bird to say, "Here Kitty, Kitty," and then letting it loose in central Park.
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!
Dear Diary, it's been a while. Did you miss me? And could you excuse me a minute while I talk to my blog? Thank you. You're a sweetie.
Jon Stewart on the Daily Show was talking about Beijing, the site of the next Olympics, being one of the most, if not the most, polluted city on the planet. A clip was shown of the really dirty skies there. And they were really dirty!
Jon talked about the poor athletes having to breath that stuff, and a famous marathon runner was not going to show up for practice, that he was waiting for the day of the trials so he wouldn't have to breathe that poison any more than he had to.
I got a vision of those athletes running in poison like a bunch of insects having an Olympics in a jar that had been sprayed with insecticide. I think if I had been invited to participate in the Olympics as an athlete, I would refuse. No, I don't think so. I KNOW so. I wouldn't accept bleeding lungs for a gold medal, no way. Never. Why in Heaven's name would any clear thinking person do that anyhow?
It reminds me of when this bunch of supposedly wise people here in America who have been chosen to decide things for me, decided to send a satellite off into the outer regions of space with clear directions for any aliens that found it, on how to find us. Sheeze! Isn't that about the dumbest thing you could think of?
Wouldn't you imagine that one of the "deciders" would remember how humans treat newfound species? If we can't use them or eat them, we kill them if they interfere in any way with our comfort. How could anyone imagine that a species advanced enough to find their way here would treat us any differently? Wishful thinking? Naivety?
It's like that story of teaching a Mynah bird to say, "Here Kitty, Kitty," and then letting it loose in central Park.
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
MORE MOTHERS
Blog number 192 19 June 2008
I was watching an animal thing on the telly and I again saw an amazing thing. Thing thing thing. My vocabulary is amazing. There. I did it again. In order to appreciate what follows, you gotta know that lions and hyenas are mortal enemies. I have seen film of them killing each other - actually hunting down and killing each other. They fight whenever they get close.
Anyhow, this lion jumped up into a tree and grabbed a carcass that a leopard had placed there. As the lion and the carcass hit the ground, a hyena rushed in and tried to grab it away from the lion. They hassled a bit and then both settled down and ate from the same carcass. It was a sight watching those two eat right next to each other, peacefully.
Turned out that the lion was pregnant and probably didn't want to risk a real fight. The hyena eventually grabbed the remains and ran off with it. Those creatures are pugnacious! The lion outweighed it three times and had claws besides.
Which reminds me...I was reading a book by a guy that hunted down human killers and he was called in to a native tribe where the chief's mother had been killed by a lion. The hunter carefully asked the chief if he would leave his mother's body where it fell in hopes the lion would come back. The hunter carefully explained that if they didn't, the lion would kill someone else. The chief agreed to leave his mother's body where it lay.
The hunter killed the lion and went to thank the chief for his sacrifice and through an interpreter, he discovered the chief asking if he would leave the body there for a while and get rid of some of the hyenas that had been hanging around.
I was watching an animal thing on the telly and I again saw an amazing thing. Thing thing thing. My vocabulary is amazing. There. I did it again. In order to appreciate what follows, you gotta know that lions and hyenas are mortal enemies. I have seen film of them killing each other - actually hunting down and killing each other. They fight whenever they get close.
Anyhow, this lion jumped up into a tree and grabbed a carcass that a leopard had placed there. As the lion and the carcass hit the ground, a hyena rushed in and tried to grab it away from the lion. They hassled a bit and then both settled down and ate from the same carcass. It was a sight watching those two eat right next to each other, peacefully.
Turned out that the lion was pregnant and probably didn't want to risk a real fight. The hyena eventually grabbed the remains and ran off with it. Those creatures are pugnacious! The lion outweighed it three times and had claws besides.
Which reminds me...I was reading a book by a guy that hunted down human killers and he was called in to a native tribe where the chief's mother had been killed by a lion. The hunter carefully asked the chief if he would leave his mother's body where it fell in hopes the lion would come back. The hunter carefully explained that if they didn't, the lion would kill someone else. The chief agreed to leave his mother's body where it lay.
The hunter killed the lion and went to thank the chief for his sacrifice and through an interpreter, he discovered the chief asking if he would leave the body there for a while and get rid of some of the hyenas that had been hanging around.
Monday, June 16, 2008
MOTHER EXTRAORDINAIRE
Blog number 191 16 June 2008
I just read in the book, "Human Smoke," about a mother holding her child on the edge of a pit where the Germans were having the executed Jews stand before shooting them.
She said that just before she heard the second command, she threw her child into the pit and then jumped in on top of her. She heard the shooting and felt the bodies falling on top of her and then a second shooting with more bodies, and then she heard arguing and then all was quiet. She crept out with her child and both survived the war.
I appreciate a human that can do something like that. Talk about cool under fire.
I just read in the book, "Human Smoke," about a mother holding her child on the edge of a pit where the Germans were having the executed Jews stand before shooting them.
She said that just before she heard the second command, she threw her child into the pit and then jumped in on top of her. She heard the shooting and felt the bodies falling on top of her and then a second shooting with more bodies, and then she heard arguing and then all was quiet. She crept out with her child and both survived the war.
I appreciate a human that can do something like that. Talk about cool under fire.
NO SHYTE, SHERLOCK.
Blog number 190 16 June 2008
I was walking by the telly on my way to my computer and Teresa had one of those reality legal shows on and I saw the sentence, "A confession can hurt a defendant's case."
I was walking by the telly on my way to my computer and Teresa had one of those reality legal shows on and I saw the sentence, "A confession can hurt a defendant's case."
SID CAESAR
Blog number 189 16 June 2008
Back in the '50's, Sid Caesar was way funny, but since he has gotton old, he has lost his way and is no longer funny. Too bad, but show business is a tough master as I discovered in my youth when I was as funny as Sid used to be but am now as funny as Sid now is. Not my fault, either.
Not my fault.
Nope, not my fault.
Back in the '50's, Sid Caesar was way funny, but since he has gotton old, he has lost his way and is no longer funny. Too bad, but show business is a tough master as I discovered in my youth when I was as funny as Sid used to be but am now as funny as Sid now is. Not my fault, either.
Not my fault.
Nope, not my fault.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
BETTER THAN I COULD DO, EVEN ON A GOOD DAY
Blog number 188 14 June 2008
Saw a movie yesterday. I saw it once before several years ago, so this time I was able to notice things outside the movie. The movie is called, "City of God" and I am pretty sure it is a Brazilian movie, subtitled. It is about these orphans running the streets in Rio, dealing dope, killing, robbing, general mayhem. Real animals. Fascinating movie.
What I noticed the first time I saw it was that it was hard not to get caught up in the action. Something was always either happening or leading up to a happening. The first time I watched it, I kept thinking of it as a documentary.
The acting in unbelievable - especially since the actors are very young, and none of them really old, or even middle aged - except the victims.
One kid - and he was the norm as far as acting goes - seven to ten years old, he got shot in the foot and I tell you, I'm kinda of the idea that the kid actually got shot in the foot. He couldn't be THAT good an actor, could he? But would an international movie actually shoot one of the actors for realism? It reminded me of the acting of Tom Hanks in Castaway where he had to knock out a bad tooth with a rock. THAT was some good acting - and THIS was as good as that. Honest.
Friday, June 13, 2008
THIS AND THAT
Blog number 187 13 June 2008
The Mommy bird is back nesting. Second crop, I guess. I looked out there the day after the last chick left and scared a bird out of the nest. At the time I thought it was the young'un coming back home for a spell, but now I think it might have been the Mommy, starting a new family as soon as the old one left the nest.
We went to the credit union to pick up my fifty-cent pieces this morning and a man came in with a small person - evidently the small person's driver. On the "driver's" black tee-shirt were the words in white print, "I've had it up to here with midgets" and below those words was a white line
The Mommy bird is back nesting. Second crop, I guess. I looked out there the day after the last chick left and scared a bird out of the nest. At the time I thought it was the young'un coming back home for a spell, but now I think it might have been the Mommy, starting a new family as soon as the old one left the nest.
We went to the credit union to pick up my fifty-cent pieces this morning and a man came in with a small person - evidently the small person's driver. On the "driver's" black tee-shirt were the words in white print, "I've had it up to here with midgets" and below those words was a white line
Thursday, June 12, 2008
IT'S A MAN THING. YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND
Blog number 185 06 June 2008
Bacardi Mojito commercial - pure genius! Dum dum de dum dum. Dum. Dum.
Bacardi Mojito commercial - pure genius! Dum dum de dum dum. Dum. Dum.
RETREAT HELL, WE JUST GOT HERE.
Blog number 186 12 June 2008
In the beginning of WW 2, Norway was quickly overrun by the Germans, as was Poland, France, Belgium, Holland, et al. Briton had a squadron of aircraft parked on a frozen lake in Norway, thirty - forty aircraft? Anyhow, the Germans simply bombed the frozen lake and sank the whole squadron.
Briton didn't do too well in that war by itself, evidently. Took a lot of punishment - more than it dealt out - due to infighting, carelessness, bad leadership, also et al.
Harold Nickolson, in his dairy wrote, "It is perhaps fortunate that the British Expeditionary Force is so good at retreating, since that is mostly what they do.
It is not just in the European theater that the British were so ill thought of. Gen. Stillwell in Burma also had the same trouble with them. Bad leadership, quick to retreat.
*******************
Clare Boothe, American Journalist was driven around the Maginot Line - a series of French fortresses and pill boxes designed to keep the Germans on their own side of the fence. It was a magnificent fortification and the French were quite proud of it.
Since it was obviously impregnable, Boothe asked if the Germans couldn't simply come some other way.
The commandant and his subordinates laughed. "What other way?
"Holland? Belgium?"
They laughed some more. "The Germans are stupid, but not that stupid."
Of course, that's the way the Germans came.
**********************
In the beginning of WW 2, Norway was quickly overrun by the Germans, as was Poland, France, Belgium, Holland, et al. Briton had a squadron of aircraft parked on a frozen lake in Norway, thirty - forty aircraft? Anyhow, the Germans simply bombed the frozen lake and sank the whole squadron.
Briton didn't do too well in that war by itself, evidently. Took a lot of punishment - more than it dealt out - due to infighting, carelessness, bad leadership, also et al.
Harold Nickolson, in his dairy wrote, "It is perhaps fortunate that the British Expeditionary Force is so good at retreating, since that is mostly what they do.
It is not just in the European theater that the British were so ill thought of. Gen. Stillwell in Burma also had the same trouble with them. Bad leadership, quick to retreat.
*******************
Clare Boothe, American Journalist was driven around the Maginot Line - a series of French fortresses and pill boxes designed to keep the Germans on their own side of the fence. It was a magnificent fortification and the French were quite proud of it.
Since it was obviously impregnable, Boothe asked if the Germans couldn't simply come some other way.
The commandant and his subordinates laughed. "What other way?
"Holland? Belgium?"
They laughed some more. "The Germans are stupid, but not that stupid."
Of course, that's the way the Germans came.
**********************
Friday, June 6, 2008
THIS MIGHT SHOCK YOU!
Blog number 185 06 June 2008
In a paper, magazine, somewhere, I read that several famous people were asked what book they were reading. Billy Bob Thorton said he was reading, Electric Universe and that it was fascinating. I thought, "Well, I'll order it from the library and give it a shot. Billy Bob was right. It IS fascinating.
It's not about electricity per se. It's about the people involved with electricity - like Watt, Hertz, Morse. It's about their experiments and experiences with electricity. Did you know, for instance, that Morse didn't invent the telegraph? No, he didn't. Lots of people did. He was the one that patented it. What he really wanted to do was to get rid of the Catholics. Yeah, I know. Weird, huh?
He was reviled for his activities and for his behavior. For instance, his lawyer was very embarrassed to have to inform the Supreme Court that Morse's "daily notes" concerning his experiments with the telegraph were burned in a mysterious unwitnessed fire just the night before.
At the beginning of Chapter six, there is an excerpt from the dairy of Heinrich Hertz. It tickled me, so maybe it'll tickle you.
And I quote;
27 Jan 1984. Thought about electromagnetic rays.
11 May. Hard at Maxwellian electomagnetics in the evening.
13 May. Nothing but electomagnetics.
16 May. Worked on electomagnetics all day.
8 July. Electromagnetics, still without success.
17 July. Depressed; could not get on with anything.
24 July. Did not feel like working.
7 August. Saw from Rice's "Friction Electricity" that most of what I have found so far is already known.
(ed. note) Six plus months shot to hell.
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