Mantracker

There's a show on -- is it the Science Channel, somewhere in that vicinity -- called Mantracker.

I saw most of an episode, plus I see the commercials for it all the time (which I hate.)

I'm not going to watch this show. It bothers me that the mantracker is on horseback and the trackees are on foot. They should either all be on horseback or on foot, make it a lot more even.

I would be a natural audience for a show like this, because I like the concept. But mostly because we did a kind of mantracker thing in our neighborhood when I was a kid, hiding and chasing. Kind of like hide and seek with the entire block or so. And I was pretty good at it.

But, no, I'm not watching ... put the mantracker on foot, too!

By the way, how is it the camera guys aren't giving away everyone's locations? I guess I'll never know.

Whatever Happened To Travelers' Checks?

This is a blast from the past, as far as I'm concerned. We were talking about something and the subject of travelers' checks came up. And I suddenly realized you never hear or think about travelers' checks anymore.

What was it? Debit cards or electronic checks or credit cards that did them in? Or are they not done in yet, but still going strong?

I know we used to get travelers' checks when we went places. Because the places you went to wouldn't want to accept a check from people out of state. And if you took too much cash and someone stole it, then you were out.

So we would go to the bank and buy these checks. They had some particular rule about signing them that you had to do to use them, which I don't remember now.

30 Days Hath September

And today's the proof!

I'm Suddenly Fashionable!

I read an interesting article today, that suddenly its fashionable not to wash your jeans. That's great news, becaue I get a lot of guff about wearing my jeans so long "they're able to stand up by themselves." I hate hearing that complaint, but it's true.

Recently, though, since I got a new washing machine in June, and the novelty hasn't worn off yet, I've been washing them more often. It does seem kind of nice to have them fresh and new feeling, but it's not necessary to my happiness.

In the last few days, I've been keeping them on longer. So if a popsicle piece falls, that's a little stain. And I also got some grass stains a couple days ago from working on the yard. But I've still got them on.

I'm never in fashion, as far as I know. I don't even know what the fashion is. But now, out of the blue, I see this article, and it lets me know all is right with the world ... finally.

Jimi Hendrix

40 years ago today, the 18th, Jimi died. We love him.

How Good Looking I Am

I caught another glimpse of myself in a mirror today. This was just after we were out to eat.

I had sat there in the restaurant feeling a little surly. I'm a nice person, but there's only so much of it I can take.

But I have this ingrown sense that I look better than I do, so as far as I know, the wait staff are seeing the same thing.

Then afterward, we're in the car, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm reminded once again that I'm not near as good looking as I imagine myself to be. So that's what they're seeing, an old man with weird hair. Maybe graying side hair, I didn't look that close.

Churches

The Church of the Sacred Welcome - You'll be personally greeted by the pastor and his wife. Your hand shook or your tithe cheerfully refunded.

The Church of the Vigorous Ass-kick - Self-explanatory policies.

Contemporary Worship Services

I've gone to a church for a couple of weeks, to their "contemporary" service.

What can you say?

The guys up there playing guitars are really good at it, but I'm already a little sick of watching them slash away at their guitars in great excitement. I haven't got any big criticism of them, but it's not really doing much to make me spiritually inspired. It's watching some guys play guitar, piano, bass, violin, and whatever.

It may as well be an old fashioned organ buried away somewhere, where you don't have to watch it as a performance thing.

The songs are all the usual sorts of stuff you might expect, God's glory, how glorious one's experience is, 'I was low in the pits before you go a hold of me, but now I'm a jolly person,' etc. The big difference between these songs and the old songs is they're "contemporary." Some of the old time composers didn't leave a lot of space for fancy guitar work.

One of the guitar players really gets into it. Today I was thinking about how calloused his fingers must be. Also I was thinking about how it must've been when he first picked up the guitar and started strumming, then how he started to learn. I was thinking how he made great progress along the way, practicing like the devil, until he was good enough, yet ever learning. I was thinking, 'I wonder if he's a regular at the music store,' always checking out the latest in guitars, maybe even owning a really good guitar. I was thinking how much practice he must do to stay really good, to come across so good on Sunday morning. I don't especially like watching him.

The other guitar player is an older guy. He also knows how to boogie down. I'm thinking many of the things I thought about the first guy, when he came to know he had proficiency at it. I'm also thinking of how motivated they are, apparently, to really put on a good show for us. This guy has the extra responsibility of saying all the prayers in the church. They're very ordinary, conversational prayers, albeit keeping some level of distance and arm's length adoration toward God.

As for me, I try to enter in ... or at least exclude these guys so I can get my own focus ... but that's not always an easy thing to do. I'd probably be better off staying home, to tell you the truth. I like the communal aspects of spirituality, but if you're unknown there, it doesn't make much difference.

This particular church isn't going to be my church. But, you know, God bless 'em.

I'm sitting in the library writing this. If you see me you may as well say hello, but since it's a library say it quietl@y. They have a lot of very cool books here. Most of them are inviting someone to read them.@

Setting The Table

I'm setting the table for a nice day. Being off to a good start and well-adjusted.

Republicans are afraid of people with dark skin. But they don`t seem to mind John Boehner.

Nixon Resignation Day

I think we're up to Nixon Resignation Day again, aren't we? Something in my memory says it was Aug. 9.

So it's been yet another year since we've had Nixon to kick around.

Nixon might not look that bad in hindsight, going by the feral Republicans we have these days. As bad as he was, there was at least a sense that he had some aspects of the good of the country at heart. Not like his modern day brethren, who are complete sell-outs to their peculiar brand of anti-Americanism.

A Sanitary Seat

At the grocery store they're germ-conscious, putting a container of sanitary wipes next to the shopping carts. No one wants to touch anything anyone else has touched. I know I don't, since my mind has a little red flag popping up every time I touch something.

They also have a nice looking electrical horse at the door for the kiddies. It has a beautiful saddle. But I'm looking around for the disposable seat covers that should go with it. I wouldn't want my kid sitting on a saddle that every pee-pants kid in town has sat on!

Macedonio Fernandez

I'm reading a book by a guy named Macedonio Fernandez, called "The Museum of Eterna's Novel (The First Good Novel)."

I'd love to actually get the entire thing read. But it's been slow going for me thus far. I'm only up to page 52 (out of 238) and that after a few days picking it up and putting it down.

I love the concept and some of the sly observations he makes. I can resonate with some of the sly observations he makes about novels and characters, since I've thought of a few of those myself, not just with books but with movies and songs.

He has some things to say about the characters in a book and their existence or non-existence. Like a traveler who shows up and travels on, what kind of existence he has.

I'm no Fernandez expert, having just heard of him a few days ago. But he was from South America and was influential to other more famous guys down there. Somehow he became well known and now, being completely dead, is gaining in reputation. To the point that a guy like me would hear of him and be reading and resonating and all the rest.

The little I know about his book so far -- and forgive me if I'm announcing a completely new doctrine apart from his, although that would be better from my point of view -- reminds me of what I think of every time I hear the Beatles' "Day Tripper" song. To me it's like a little world that exists all by itself -- the riff is probably the key here -- then in a couple minutes it's gone, yet it exists as its own little compact self somewhere in the eternal stream.

The book, the title given above, has a novel in it somewhere, which I haven't gotten to yet but I've glimpsed. Before we get to it, a surface reading seems to suggest, we have 50 or so tangential or intrinsic prologues to make it through. Some of these are extremely delightful. And the ones that aren't delightful, I was just tired while reading them.

It was written many years ago before he died, but the English publication is only recent, having been translated in recent days. The translator deciphered it from a handwritten manuscript that was virtually indecipherable, but thankfully it was also nicely written out by Fernandez' lover, which had to help.

How Cool Am I?

Clicking my fingers, listening to a rock 'n' roll album, and doing yoga exercises.

Pictures I Bought

I'm not putting my pictures on the internet right now. I'm toying with the idea. I'm also toying with the idea of not, and letting them be my private domain. There's something cool about that too.

I was walking along the street downtown and a guy was sitting on the street corner with a bunch of photos spread out, most in big photo binders under plastic. I started to pass unaware of what was going on, then I stopped and asked him if he was selling these. He said he was and told me how much they were and what one guy in one of the pictures was named.

I went on and went to a bookstore. Then I decided I should buy that guy's picture, if the photo guy was still there. I couldn't see him. I was kicking myself (prematurely), because he turned out to be there still.

I said, "Have you still got that Jeremy one in sunglasses?" He said he did. So I got that one for $5 and I bought another one for $5 too. The Jeremy one shows a B&W close-up of a black guy in white glasses, smoking a cigarette. He's looking up away from the camera. He looks very artsy. The glasses turned out not to be sunglasses. It's a cool photo. So I got it.

This Jeremy is a guy on the internet, with a My Space page and a blog. The photographer told me about him, so I looked him up, and indeed he has songs, albums, the whole bit. I downloaded one of them for free, but I haven't heard anything except the first track. Good stuff, the first track, hip-hopish with sound loops of people talking. I love the photo. It's around 5" x 8".

The other one is also a black guy, looking alone on a craggy street. This one is color. It's about 7" x 10". He's got his arms up, showing the underside of them. He's looking down, away from the camera. He's off to the right side, so you see the road on the left side. His arms, what he's showing, has tattoos, the photographer said of the names of his grandfathers. There's also some numbers, but I'm in a darker room right now so I can't make out what they are. The guy's name is Julio.

I don't know what I'm going to do with them. Probably nothing. Maybe frame them. They're very good, artsy photos, and the subjects are compelling looking.

The Unstoving Of The Stoves

I like hot water for washing my hands, the way my Grandma Steam used to make it.

She also wrote a column in the local paper, "All Steamed Up."

Then there was my Grandma Stove, whose column was a little more embarrassing, since it was, "All Stoved Up."

Her column was a lot longer because she was so stoved up. Except the times she couldn't think of much to say and was stoved up.

Back In The '60s

Everything was great back in the '60s.

The way I remember it, dogs didn't get sick and die back then. Even old cats could hold their food. Mothers were healthy. Fathers were alive.

Our biggest decision everyday was what happy thing to do next.

The grass always had the right amount of greenness and always grew to just the right length to be presentable and not need cutting.

The garbage truck belonged to the garbage man himself. There were no chains.

Car Surgery And Death

I had to get my car worked on a couple weeks ago. Tire problem. I didn't know I had a tire problem. I went in for an oil change. Then I asked them to give me my first of a "lifetime" of free tire rotations. It was then that a problem was discerned with one of the tires, having a "broken belt."

We were there for seemingly an interminable amount of time. Very --- not fun.

I was looking at the car back there, getting fixed by a mechanic in slow motion. It reminded me of people in the hospital.

The waiting room we were in was like the waiting room at the hospital, like in surgery. The doctor comes out every hour or so to tell you the progress he's making.

Finally, if things go badly, you're back in the room -- a hospice room now -- and they're telling you about the comfort measures. You just want to keep Dad comfortable, and the same of course with the car.

Wet his lips, put some salve on its grill every couple hours.

I Got A New Dehumidifier Today

The dehumidifier I had was one I essentially inherited. I didn't really know its vintage or provenance. (Pretty good word, huh?)

Maybe I had a bad attitude around it, or, since it's a dehumidifier, maybe my humor was too dry. Whatever, the stinking thing quit working.

Meaning, just like that I had to get a new one. So I went and got one. I got the biggest capacity they had, plus the one with the lowest temperature allowed, something like 42 degrees instead of the usual 65.

65 is ridiculous. Because if you use your air conditioner at all, which I do, of course in the basement it's going to dip below 65. But I hope this 42 degree one can get the job done without being too finicky.

The Moola Mantra

Look it up if you're interested what this is all about, the moola mantra.

I've had a recording of it by Ananda Giri for some time, well over a year. I was listening to it about everyday for quite a while, mostly last year, but also earlier this year.

Then there was a kind of shift in my life, and a lot of the things that made up my "normal" at that time had to go by the wayside.

Now, finally, months later, I put the Ananda Giri recording on against tonight, for the first time in a long time, and it was great.

I can't remember the whole thing, what it's all about, but there are good explanations of it on the internet. And Ananda Giri's is the best I've heard (I haven't heard that many, but a few).

Good-Looking Women Are Never At Rest

When you see a good-looking woman downtown, she's always moving. They come from you're not sure where. But they appear and they move quickly by. They don't stop and look around or say anything on their way past.

On they go, with a quick motion, up the sidewalk, but usually around the corner. How great-looking they are, too! Where they go, though, no one knows.

It looks like being in one place, a particular place, and staying there for any length of time, is up to the rest of us. We mill around. We gather and sometimes look uncomfortable. Very often we look bad. Not so good-looking.

Each of us has our advantages and disadvantages. Our disadvantages: we're not that good looking. But we have the advantage of being able to stay in one place long enough to do what we want. A big disadvantage in that the longer we stay there, not being good-looking in the first place, the more everyone around us can see how bad we look. But if they looked any good, they wouldn't be standing there looking at us. They'd be on their way.

The advantage for the good-looking woman, ever on the move, is that just a glimpse of her on her way lets us know how special she is. Her disadvantage, at least from my non-good-looking perspective, is that she has to hurry and go to that place that really is no place except a place for hurrying on to somewhere else, yet never being able to arrive.

It seems like that would be a disadvantage, because my thought is that every body in motion would prefer occasionally to be at rest. But there is no rest for this good-looking woman.

Right now, I'm sitting in a chair, coming up with this study on the movement or lack of movement that good-looking and non-good-looking people engage in. I'm so ugly that I can sit here at leisure, even taking my time. But somewhere out there, there's someone with many advantages over me. But one disadvantage, apparently, is that she has no rest whatsoever.

Government Doesn't Believe You

Celebrate with me my one-week anniversary of getting my new driver's license. It was last Friday, and by now common this time of day, it was already accomplished.

I'm making a point of saying it because it wasn't that easy to do. I didn't have to take a driving test or a written test, so of course I'm thankful for that.

But they do require you to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are who you say you are. Because, I guess, we don't want a lot of people driving cars who may be someone else.

Anyway, I was just by the turn that goes to the driver's license place and I got to thinking about it. We have "government by the people" with the odd twist being that the government doesn't believe that the people are who they say they are. Another way to look at it is, we have government by the people but we the people have decided that we don't trust one another to say their proper name.

Anyway you look at it, it's unnecessarily complicated.

Mouth Full Of Mush -- Voice Recognition Software Fun

This post is going to be me playing with my voice recognition software and pretending that I have a mouthful of mush:

1) Bill is gone now by the ponderous, and now it's crazy dog with you and scare the lightning or require while.

2) When I was a kid is Donald Trump and shoot rats with a ball in our area. Babies started towards her whole whether arrow sticking out of, a bunch of blogs everywhere.

3) One of our same error my morals when we lived wrote ketchup bottle to run old TV or throw aerosol can and will fire a watchable. Doctrinal studies of five.

OK, that's it. It did a terrible job.

Here's what I actually said:

1) It's really stormy outside. The thunder's coming down like, it's crazy. The dog was even scared of lightning there for quite a while.

2) When I was a kid I used to go down to the dump and shoot rats with a bow and arrow. They'd be staggering toward their hole with an arrow sticking out of their back, a bunch of blood everywhere.

3) One of the funnest things I remember was when we would throw a ketchup bottle through an old TV or throw aerosol cans into a fire and watch 'em blow up. Back in those days we had a lot of fun.

Kafka Vodka

Here's a good piece of graffiti I saw: "I love Kaiden Blake & Kafka Vodka."

I don't know if there really is a vodka called Kafka, but it'd be a good idea.

Listening To An Oldies Channel

I have been doing a lot of driving as a part of my job, and so I have been passing some of the time by listening to a radio station that plays oldies.

I have not done this over the years consistently. But I used to live in the same area 20 some years ago and heard the same channel at that time. Now that I am back and listening to it again I can really tell that the oldies format has changed. I knew it would, and remember saying a number of years ago that as time went on, the songs from the 50s would drop out and songs from the 70s and 80s would be in. And that is exactly what has happened.

20 years ago and a little more, of course some of those songs weren't considered oldies, at least in the same sense. Now that I am listening to it again, I like the newer songs but I wish that they would put in some of the oldies from the early 60s and the 50s. Still, those teenybopper songs from the early 60s, along with Herman's Hermit's, the Dave Clark Five, etc., as good as they were and actually still are, they get tedious when they are on heavy rotation. So I am kind of glad those ones are out.

If I am still around in 20 years I will make the same observation!

Baggage

For some reason, a very good reason, I've been watching the GSN channel quite a bit, which you may know is aka the Game Show Network.

Where I lived before we didn't even get this channel (we did years ago). But now that I've moved, we not only have it but it's on a few hours a day. That doesn't mean that I personally am watching it all that time, because I'm not. It's sort of hard to watch really, because it gets tedious.

Anyway, they have lots of old shows, like with Dick Clark and other old hosts. "The Match Game" is on sometime, which I watched in the '70s. And it seems like, among the new ones, "Deal or No Deal" is on several times a day. It's an interesting show ... the first time. If you've seen one episode, you've seen 'em all. Still, it's fairly compelling to see someone turn numbers at random and suffer the odds. There's absolutely no skill involved in turning the numbers. It's just guessing.

One of the other shows is a lascivious piece of crap, that also is fun to watch a few times, "Baggage," hosted by Jerry Springer. Today I saw part of it, where an individual looking for a date discovers the baggage of three suitors. Today there was someone who 'has 2 tigers and 10 pit bulls at home,' someone who 'needs his nipples bitten during sex,' and someone who 'wants to get married and have children now.' Out of these three, the woman was most offended by the guy who wants to get married! Wow, how times have changed!

Her own baggage was that she 'wears adult diapers,' which the man in advance said was most offensive to him. Then she revealed that's what it was and he changed his tune, allowing that if she only urinated in them it wouldn't be so bad. This is the state of game shows in 2010.

I would've liked to have heard them pitching this show to Jerry Springer. "Listen, you're associated with human scum and crap anyway, who'd be a better host for it than you?"

Wheelchair Skid Marks

I was in the bathroom at McDonald's and looked down and saw wheelchair tire tracks on the floor, someone who had come in or exited the stall in a circular route apparently at 40 mph.

I've never seen wheelchairs laying rubber on the floor, so that was a new one!

The Partridge Family Shopping Bag

On one of my little excursions today I got a CD of the old album, "The Partridge Family Shopping Bag." It wasn't even open and was only a dollar. So that was good.

I'm currently enjoying it. I've never heard it before. But David Cassidy has a nice voice and the music is all pleasant enough.

In the past I've had the LP of this, which, as the notes note, had a plastic shopping bag that came with it. But I don't have that LP anymore, for whatever reason. I might've sold it ... or gotten rid of it some other way.

At The Arboretum

I was at the arboretum a little bit ago.

Since when did arboretums become all the rage?

There were some very convincing bird sound effects and some great animatronic birds sitting in the trees.

People Walking Big Dogs Downtown

I was downtown and saw some people walking their big dogs.

It seems like people who walk their big dogs downtown always do so with the same apparent confidence level, very high. They're strutting their stuff and their dogs.

They might have a dozen different dogs. And it's always the same. They might have a dozen, but of course they never do. It's two or three at the most. But I can well imagine that if they had a dozen they'd walk with the same confidence (and obliviousness) that they do with two.

As for me, I don't know. I'd be nervous my dog would be going messy all over the place. Then I'd have a patio table full of people getting grossed out and pointing at me. So I keep my dog away from downtown. It's never been a temptation for me to take my dog downtown.

It's May Day!

We have two competing worlds on May Day.

We have the Soviet Union -- who want us to think they're defunct -- parading their finest Brezhnev missiles.

Then we have little American girls and boys in yellow dresses and blue shirts delivering May baskets.

The Soviets goosestep down Kremlin Boulevard next to tanks and pointed vessels of war.

The American children set May baskets on the broad front porches of homes, knock at the door and run.

The Soviets smack at nuclear warheads with hammers, seeking to detonate the next World War and obliterate us.

We American children look at our May baskets, carefully made from construction paper and flower petals, finding the candy in the little nook.

1970 Rolled In

I keep seeing all the 40th anniversary commemorations of stuff from 1970, including Kent State coming up.

I'm old enough that I remember seeing 1970 roll in at midnight on New Year's Eve, preceded directly by 1969 rolling over the hills and out of sight.

Yes, I remember just where I was when I saw this spectacle. I was in the dining room of my parents' home, which at that time was also my home. Back then we had a garage just to the south of where I stood, which has since been replaced by a newer and nicer garage.


As I stood there, I remember distinctly seeing the '70s rolling in from the East, making a very pretty sight. The number '70 sounded very "mod" at the time, although the '60s set the standard for the "mod," which was then enhanced (it seemed) by the more up to date and "mod" '70, the 7 in that number. I've always liked new beginnings...

Anyway, as I saw the '70s rolling in from the East, I also glanced over at the West and saw the '60s rolling that directly, virtually at light speed or maybe a little slower. It was definitely slow enough that I could see it clearly.

And of course nothing has been the same since, with the '70s no longer sounding "mod," but sounding like something from a long time ago. It's the same thing we'll be saying someday about now. Those who remain alive will say it about now. I might also say it in the future, from whatever point in the future that I'm able to live to.

The Peanuts Of A Drumstick

I just had a store brand version of a Drumstick, the delicious ice cream cone you get in your grocer's frozen section.

They're good. They have peanuts on them, of course. And invariably, like in cereal, some settling occurs. In the case of peanuts, the peanuts fall off in transit, some of them, and fall to the bottom of the bag.

That's bad and that's good. It's bad, because you'd just as soon they were on the chocolate where they belong. But it's good, because after you get done with the rest, you still have some nuts to clean up. An extra bite when it seems like there shouldn't be any more bites.

Juno And The Paycock

I finished the Alfred Hitchcock film, "Juno and the Paycock."

It's part of a 4-disc DVD set I got at Walmart for $5.00. It's been nearly two months since I bought this set and I've been watching them ever since. It has 20 movies. I'm on the last disc. "Juno" is the first movie on the fourth disc.

It's really been a fun education for me, I guess I'd call it, in the early films of Hitchcock. I would definitely like to see them all at this point, and maybe go through them again or a few more times.

This one I wasn't too sure about. I started watching it without having any idea what was going on or what it was about. So it seemed like nothing but a slice of life for a family of Irish folks. Then I read a little about it and even read the plot and accidentally read about the ending, so I knew what was coming up. It actually made it a lot more enjoyable to watch.

It is based on a play by Sean O'Casey, and according to those who know, it's a very faithful adaptation. It really does seem like a play, more or less, filmed. There's a few variances from that.

Anyway, I had no idea what a "paycock" was so I was a little put off by that. Turns out it's just a way of pronouncing "peacock." And Juno and the Paycock has an Aesop's Fables connection, which I also read about online.

There's a family of Irish folk, the Boyle family, with the woman, Juno, the man (can't think of his name, but he's the peacock in all this), their daughter Mary, and their one-armed, very moody son, Johnny. Johnny seems to be in with the wrong crowd and is doing something that gets him in trouble. I'm not sure what. I need to watch it again.

Mary ends up pregnant in the movie and that's a shame for her. Johnny ends up dead. Juno and the Paycock end up broke and fairly in despair. So that's the ending, sorry to ruin it for you.

As to the dialogue, you can make out most of it if you really try, but it's tough, with a very pronounced Irish accent. I love the acting and the characterizations. The husband is very irascible. He has a drinking buddy who's fun to watch too.

The family thinks they inherit a bunch of money, proceed to spend on credit, oblivious to the possibility that something could go wrong. This is exactly what I would not do. I need to know the money's there. So that was kind of dumb on their part, but that's the movie.

As it went on I became a lot more interested. Knowing what was going on really helped.

Grandma Piledhigh

I had a great pizza today from Pizza Hut. That's news, because the ones I've had lately have all had something wrong with them, in my opinion. Usually the problem is the crust isn't completely done. It's not browned, it's as soft as my Grandma's upper arm always was.

Today I felt it and at first I thought it was more like her forearm, which wasn't quite as tender as the flabby back stuff on the upper arm. Then I noticed it had much more firmness, like the bellies of some of those volleyball playing girls you see in the Olympics. They're no one's Grandma, yet.

There's a slogan that one of the pizza makers has, "Pizza pie piled high."

So I said, "This is just like my Grandma Piledhigh used to make it," since I have a grandma for every occasion. And nothing says quality pizza in my mind than the phrase "piled high."

Grandma Piledhigh liked to stack things up, as far as they'd go. She loved Jenga, let's assume. And she liked to go to Denver, since it's called the Pilehigh City.

Thanks To Hitler

Thanks to Hitler, no man should have facial hair. Because what's the one thing we think of when we think of Hitler, his idiotic mustache.

That and the rigid arm salute, which is another good reason to let your arms go limp as much as possible.

The Best Of Geoge Harrison

There was a "The Best of George Harrison" CD at Goodwill today and I got it.

This isn't an album I would support by a long shot. I've never had it before even though I've seen it many times.

It makes me wonder who approved and put it together. Because I always thought it was weird that George's "Best of" CD (at that time) would be half filled up with Beatles' tracks.

I remember some of his solo albums pretty well, and it would not have been hard when they made this album to come up with 13 tracks off his solo work to be a "Best of" collection. Come on.

It seems insulting to him. If he was the one who wanted it this way, well, that's weird. That would be different though. Otherwise...it was a bad way to do a George album!

The Names Of Toilets

I just saw an ad on TV for a major hardware, home improvement store in the area.

They were advertising toilets, with the models of toilets having names. The two they advertised were "The Calloway" and "The Diplomat."

I get the Diplomat. It's just a name. Plus when it's constantly got people exposing themselves to it, it would have to be diplomatic in order to keep a roof over its head. But the Calloway, that seems like it'd have to be named after someone. So who would Calloway be? A beloved ex-employee who went to the bathroom more than normal?

They also advertised sewer pumps but these didn't have names. Just this sewer pump and that sewer pump.

Library Of Congress To Archive My Tweets

This is awesome. I've just made the Library of Congress! Since I and a few other people have used the popular site Twitter.

They have made arrangements to archive every public tweet since Twitter's beginning. According to the article, Twitter processes around 50 million tweets a day.

I'm going to have to come up with something interesting to say ... since I've now gone high class.

How My Move Is Going

I was busy virtually all day today preparing for my move next week. I have a house full of stuff, so I'm busy packing it and getting it to the ground floor in an orderly way.

That means that lots of heavy boxes and totes need to be lifted one after the other and put in place. It's a terrible job, but I'm getting it done. I still have a lot to go ... but I put a serious dent in it today. I completely emptied the basement of my possessions. Now I have the upstairs to go, and I made some great strides at that.

It's a lot more work to move than you think it would be. The key thing is not to accumulate so many possessions. Unfortunately I learned that lesson a little bit late. Now I need to spend the next several years downsizing, so that any future move will be more handy for me.

This Is Evergreen Stuff

I've been doing some serious reflecting on blogging. And what makes an "evergreen" post.

Of course it wouldn't be a post on the latest news headlines, such as Michael Steele doing something wrong. That's evergreen in the sense that he's always doing something wrong, but one of these days he'll be gone and then the post would be dated.

There's even more obvious examples, such as "Congress voted on health care legislation today." When "today" is past and Congress has moved on, no one wants to read that five years from now.

But an "evergreen" post could very well be me saying that "I tore a couch apart today with a butcher knife and ax," as I did yesterday. Because who knows? Five years from now, still no one's going to know me. So it's just a story about a guy who at some point tore a couch apart with a knife and ax. It'll still be just as interesting and full of delights for anyone reading it in five years as it was yesterday!

So thank you for your attention. Whether you're reading this today or five years from now. It doesn't make any difference!

Reflections On Tearing A Couch Apart

One, I didn't want to tear the couch apart. I definitely believe in the idea of passing it on to someone else who would get some good out of the thing. But in the time frame allowed, with it being offered to the public for FREE, no one took it. And I can't dilly dally around with a heavy couch in my room forever. I'm moving and it needed to go.

Now, watch, though, I'll get a call about it tomorrow and I'll have to say it's "gone," even though it's still in my car, but in a hundred pieces.

All along the way in the tearing apart process, I kept thinking I was going to be injured. There truly are lots of nails and staples holding a couch together, as well as springs. They build them to stay together, meaning you have to do a lot of prying and bending, and, in this case, whacking with an ax.

The part where I really thought I would get injured was the whacking the longer slats in half so they'd fit well in my car. I leaned them up against something and came down in the center with the ax. Some of them flew a bit. Then I had one more slat and I thought This will be the one I get injured on, but thankfully I didn't. It whacked in half and that was it.

It's a nasty process. But the alternative is that I needed a truck and then I show up at the recycling place with an entire intact couch. I didn't know what they'd think of that. So being completely taken apart will probably be better.

Conquested

The angel of love looks and shines on over all my conquests. And all the times I'm conquested.

Boogling Out To "Low Rider"

The song by War I've got playing. They're the only War I like.

Don't make love, make War. "Low rider is a real goer."

Some kind of pipes sounding. Instantly hummable and boogieable.

I'm a Warmonger. Too bad they dumped Eric Burdon. Or something.

The pipes boogie in this song is sort of like in "Spill The Wine." The two songs are boogleagues. That's supposed to be a mash of boogie and colleagues. Heh.

Why couldn't they be friends?

Easy Virtue

I watched the Alfred Hitchcock movie, "Easy Virtue."

It is a silent one, with the DVD I have having a nice music soundtrack to keep it from being completely silent.

I believe the date was 1926 for this film.

In the film, the main character, Larita, was accused of cheating on her husband and found guilty. It didn't appear to me that she actually was guilty, but maybe there was a little dalliance there somewhere. I frankly missed whatever it was she was supposed to have done wrong, even though I was watching closely.

Anyway, found guilty, the old coot who was her husband, divorced her. So she's off to lose herself at the Mediterranean somewhere. While there she meets a guy named John Whittaker, a young man who falls in love with her. They have a grand old time and eventually get married.

Then for some reason, which I couldn't figure out either, they go to live with his parents and the various other folks of the household. The mother is a terror to Larita, and she scared me too, looking very imposing and mean. The father is a nice guy, and most of the rest of the family is fairly decent, including John's ex-girlfriend, who's a real champ. The mother and one daughter seem to be the worst, especially the mom.

Eventually the mother turns John against Larita. He admits as much outside and Larita, behind a bush, overhears him.

About now the family learns Larita's terrible secret, that she was involved in this scandalous divorce. Mother confronts her, and it's a mess. Especially since they've already invited everyone in for a big party in honor of John and Larita. Things are fairly uneventful at the party ... and it drifts off from there ... with the ending being that the happy couple get divorced.

I was amazed at how much smoking Larita did in the film (I can't remember the actress' name.) That might've seemed scandalous too but no one mentioned it. Even though I don't recall other women smoking.

I was looking at a book on Hitchcock's films, "Hitchcock's Films Revisited," by Robin Wood, who says in a footnote (p. 242), "The figure of the guilty woman occurs already -- if not very interestingly -- in Easy Virtue..." That's right about the "not very interestingly." It seems like for being so scandalous, Larita kept it all very sedate and under control. I was expecting her to go mad at the party and to shame John's family beyond reason. But it didn't happen.

It's interesting to a point ... I watched in an interested way. But mostly because I kept expecting something big to happen, and it didn't. The menacing mother was a real joy to watch, very yucky. And I sort of liked Larita, although she wasn't all that interesting. I liked Sarah, the ex-girlfriend, who told John he needed to stand by Larita (great advice and very gracious.) But I hated John for giving in to his mother and turning on Larita. He should've taken Sarah's advice, and stood by Larita in true love.

It might not have been a great ending for Hitchcock to do it that way, of course, but I like to see love prevail!

A Cheerios Dinner

I had something unusual for dinner tonight, the generic store brand of Cheerios, with a bunch strawberries cut up in it and a banana cut up in it. With milk of course.

That was very good and felt healthy for me.

Another Rough Day Moving

I have so many terrible possessions and I'm getting ready to move. So I spent almost the whole day going through crap and packing, in addition to carrying trash to my garage to be disposed of Friday, if we can find a landfill big enough to handle it all.

Essentially I have 11+ years of stuff from my basement that's more or less garbage by now. My garage itself had lots of garbage stuff and stuff that became garbage from various environmental elements in a garage. So I have Mount Garbage in my garage. The guy's who's going to help me on Friday is going to have a heart attack when he sees it all. I'm afraid to open the door for him!

I have a new vow, which I made yesterday or the day before, that Never again! Once I get moved I'm going to make an ongoing effort to dispose of the stuff I already have, while it's good, so that someday when I retire and move again it won't require a herculean effort. It's ridiculous how much stuff I have. I'm overwhelmed with stuff! I'm so ashamed, and I'm not kidding when I say that.

Just the stuff I'm taking with me is a mountain. I hope it all fits in the truck.

Write Something!

I've missed a couple days writing on my blogs, because of certain changes, upheavals, in my life. I'm in the process of moving. That causes a lot of consternation and a lot of wondering how things will work out, etc.

I hope good. The move is the big thing on my mind now. I've got a ton of boxes, and I'm giving quite an effort toward packing and cleaning my various rooms, including a basement that I had stuffed and messed up. Things had fallen over. Water had leaked in. Certain things were moldy, rotting. It wasn't a good scene. I was down there last night and hoping I wouldn't get that yucky water in any wound.

With all that going on, I've had to cut back in other areas of my life, including my daily writing of my blogs. So, I've knocked off for the night. It's been a busy day with it. And now I'm writing something.

I went to one of the local parks with my dog a while ago. She's consternated about the moving. The dolly and the boxes shuffling scares her so she's pretty scarce. But I know she's somewhere, like under the bed, probably wishing that we could get back to normal. Yes, I know, that's my wish too!

After a while I was thinking of her and that we needed a break. So we got in the car and headed to the park. It's a park that's a little out of the way, so there weren't any other people there. That meant I could give her free run, which she enjoys.

I sat at a picnic table for a few minutes, thinking over my life. Then I glanced over and the dog was taking a poop, so I took my sack over and picked it up.

My CPR/First Aid Class

Like I said a couple days ago, I had a CPR/First Aid class coming up, and today was it.

I made it through, missing only a few on the exams. Whew, I was really swearing it too. You wouldn't think the Red Cross would get tricky with the questions on the exams, but they do. It seems to me that if you sit through the demonstrations and videos and do the actual hands-on stuff that that'd be good enough.

Oh well, I passed, and that's what counts.

Now, would I feel comfortable actually doing CPR? Well, I'm not rushing out looking for cases. But if I happened to be there and it happened to happen, I'd at least have some idea of what to do, whereas before I would've been lost. They'd have a better chance with me today than the other day. I wouldn't run the other direction. I'd be doing the breaths, the compressions, and hoping that the professionals got there quickly.

I'm happy to have this behind me. Except you need to get recertified every year. That'll probably be a positive thing for me. I'll read the book and be more familiar with it and I'm sure I'll know plenty about it by next year.

Gilligan Politics

It troubles me that there has to be such a wide gulf between the Democrats and Republicans. I want to see both sides of the isle come together.

CPR/First Aid

I'm going to be taking a CPR/First Aid class, a class that lasts six hours, probably with a lunch break in the middle of it.

I've never done that before. So this will be a real departure for me, making progress in my lifesaving skills, which right now are made up of the ability to dial 911.

As for first aid, I'd guess it's more than putting on some Neosporin and an adhesive bandage. We used to spray some Bactine on. How far this goes, the training, I don't know. Maybe it will include tourniquets and splits, the whole wilderness thing a person would need to know, survival skills.

I'm looking forward to it. So if I ever run into you and you need someone to save your life, I'll be ready!

Handling Collectibles Carefully, Very Carefully

I've been going through some of the things I collect. (Maybe you've already read about one of my collections, classic dog food labels.)

I am someone who takes my collecting very seriously. And that's what I recommend for any others who may have something valuable or nice. Take it seriously, and take good care of your items.

Some things we collect -- I'm sure you're the same way -- we collect just out of love for the thing. And some things we collect because it's an investment. We're looking ahead to that time when we'll be able to sell everything, piece by piece or in one unbroken lot.

As for myself, I have a hard time parting with anything, even though I know there's some monetary value now that perhaps won't be there in five years. I just like the way my collectibles would look on display. I say "would look" because most of my things I would never display, out of fear that someone will see them and steal them when I'm away from home.

My most valuable things I keep in the bank. Other things, I keep in file cabinets, all very low key looking so no one will think they have anything worth stealing in them. As long as I don't tell anyone about my collectibles and as long as they're always hidden away in the cabinets, as far as anyone else knows, these things don't exist.

Like other collectors -- and this I highly recommend as well -- I keep whatever it is in mylar bags with acid free backing boards, the whole nine yards. The more you keep your collectibles sealed up, hidden away, and kept from light and air, the longer you will have to enjoy them. Plus, after your death, when your relatives are going through your things, even if they're not specialists in a given field, they will recognize that these things are valuable and, hopefully, will continue to preserve the whole works.

I like collecting. And you can too.

Of Course, We Have Lots Of Wackos In Our Country

This is really big news!

Wingnut Republican Rep. Randy Neugebauer, who famously shouted out "Baby Killer" during the speech Bart Stupak was giving the other night said he has had a "tremendous outpouring" of calls, emails, and contributions, with those folks saying, "'Congressman, thank you for taking a stand.'"

This is really big news, of course, because, No one would ever guess that would happen. Yeah, sure.

After all we do have lots of wackos in our country, for whom a little bit of decorum in the Congress is nothing. You see them during every hearing. Somehow they're able to sneak in with a 50 foot banner and a tray of cream pies. Each of these people do have supporters somewhere.

When the guy flew his plane into the IRS building in Texas, even Congressmen (such as Steve King) had words of empathy for his cause. If you killed any official in this country -- any one of them -- there'd be a whole subset of wackos who would rejoice about that. They'd be sending in emails, making calls, and sending contributions. Mark it down, it's a fact.

When Joe Wilson made his famous outburst, "You Lie!", he made what? A couple million off that. Because there's plenty of wackos out there who will gladly reward bad behavior.

It doesn't make it right. But none of these people care about right and wrong anymore. Remember that someday when the Republicans try to tell us again that they're "the Responsibility Party." LOL.

A Long Lost Relative Of Sorts

Yesterday, out of the blue, I met a lady who saw my name on a name tag and asked me if I knew the folks in a particular town with that name. I was amazed. "Yes, because that's where I'm from."

It turned out her maiden name was the same as my name and she was from that area. That's all fine. Except I didn't know her branch of the family and she didn't know mine. Even though I figured everyone in that area had heard of my mom and dad, or at least my grandparents. And I'd think that especially with someone of the same family name. On the other hand, I hadn't heard of her either.

But I had heard of her dad's name, so that's at least something.

My mom filled me in on their place in the family tree, going back a while. Back there somewhere we have some common links.

A funny thing about all this is that the genealogical information I found about her on the internet appears to be wrong. The kids seem to be mixed up as far as their married names go. So ... beware of genealogical information you see from the 1700s ... if they can't even get people who are still alive right!

The Republicans Are Morons

They really are morons if they think Americans don't want decent health care insurance. Their big plan now is to repeal the health care reform legislation we just got. To replace it with what? They want to go back to pre-existing conditions exclusions, unregulated increases to premiums, and people dying early because they can't get coverage.

That doesn't sound like a winning argument to me: "We want you to die." But, hey, good luck with that!

What they should've done all along was play nice, get in there and contribute to making a bipartisan bill that would be good for all Americans. You'd think that's what they were elected for, to contribute to the well-being of the country. It doesn't seem right to me that someone would want to serve in government just to lie and block and obstruct everything.

It seems really bizarre to me that the Republicans shed so many tears over the baby who doesn't get born, then don't give a second thought to all the babies in the country after they are born. They tried to pull the wool over our eyes a few years ago that they were "compassionate conservatives." I didn't fall for that line of BS for a second, but I know several did. As far as I'm concerned, they're wolves in wolves' clothing.

So they've spent the day today lambasting the progress that President Obama and the Congress gave us last night, instead of getting on board and looking for common ground and progress. Morons.

Twentieth Century Fox

One of my favorite Doors' songs is "Twentieth Century Fox."

She doesn't have "no clocks," though, meaning she's not punctual, I guess, which I wouldn't like.

Everything else I could handle. "The queen of cool."

"She won't waste time on elementary talk."

"Got the world locked up inside a plastic box."

The 39 Steps

I watched the Alfred Hitchcock film "The 39 Steps." It was gripping.

I need to watch it again, since I had a hard time "getting it" entirely, what was going on.

Now that I know who was on what side, maybe it will make better sense to me. I didn't know Mr. Memory had something to do with it. I figured that was just filler at the beginning.

So, for the first time in a long time, I'm going to watch the same movie twice in a row.

Spies, I prefer agents.

We'll Protect You

I saw a blurb somewhere today to this effect: A tea party wacko promised any Democrat who'd vote no on health care reform that "We will protect you" in the next election.

That messes up my thought processes in certain ways. Because it's my general opinion that Democrats ought to be supporting Democratic legislation. And that Democrats ought not be overly worried about the votes of those citizens who won't vote for them anyway.

So what are we left here? A wacko promise of protection for people they wouldn't vote for anyway, if they will vote against what their natural constituency wants and against their party's president, platform, and principles. Right there you can see how wacky these Tea Party wackos are!

Here's the way it was when we suffered the Bush years: We didn't want him as president and we didn't want a Republican Congress. But we suffered with it, with the idea that they were going to get what they wanted (more or less) because they weren't that concerned with what we -- who wouldn't vote for them under any circumstances -- wanted.

It's mind blowing that the Tea Party wackos -- and other Republican extremists -- think this, that they lost the election in 2008, therefore they should be entitled to whatever legislation they want. Their thought, they win they win, they lose they win.

We'll have to remember that!

My Fingernails Getting Too Long

We've all heard that the fingernails of corpses continue to grow, for whatever reason. You open a casket 10 years later and they've scratched their eyes out.

I'm not even dead yet and my fingernails are growing at a prodigious pace. I just clipped them a week or so again and it's already time to take the shears to them again. Big garden shears is the only thing I can use. That's how thick they are. I need dynamite for my toenails.

I've been playing my guitar a lot more lately -- but not much in the last couple of days since I didn't want to retune it. Then I retuned it today and what's the next problem I have? Long fingernails. I can barely type this because of my enormous fingernails.

A few years ago I quit biting them. I used to gnaw them down to the quick, like one of my brothers. But I quit doing that all together, not out of choice but to save my teeth, which I always think are too brittle to stand it. Seriously, I'd need to be a beaver to keep up with my fingernails.

I was just looking at them. We had lunch and I have several crumbs and dried powdery food under there. I got to get them cut. I can smell yesterday's meal under there somewhere, it's that bad.

I was just thinking what it'd look like if I saw these crumbs and crap under a microscope. I'm sure it'd look like a vast army -- like a flea looks like -- and would drive me insane. That's why I never own a microscope, because the looks of small things would scare me to death.

Just a quickie here ... to make note of the weird stuff under my long fingernails, and to serve as a prologue to actually getting something done about them.

The Million Of Things That Put You Here

I was talking with my daughter today, who was talking to her grandfather yesterday (not my father).

He was saying that he always regretted he wasn't able to move to California years ago when he wanted to. Because he didn't have the money to do it. Or because he didn't think he had enough.

That allowed me to say to her, If he would've moved there, you would've never been born. Which is true in the sense that I would've never met her mother.

But it's not just that one fact but a million other facts that had to line up precisely so that she (or anyone) would ultimately be born. All the hundreds of generations before us had to go through their random moves and encounters. There's a lot of stuff that had to happen in a very precise way -- with no one regulating any of it -- for any of us to be here.

Except if you weren't here you wouldn't know about it, as far as I can tell.

I saw one of those signs on the side of the road that said "God knew your soul before you were born." Which, whether that's true or not, is an interesting thought. You might wonder in that case, Why be born? Wouldn't I have been more content wherever my soul was with God?

But if I would've stayed with God (in my soul contentment), I wouldn't have been here to continue the random chain of events that led to my daughter. And she expressed happiness that her Grandpa's big dream of moving to California never came true.

Roll Over Minutes

We weren't home last night but staying somewhere else. It was unusual, not just for us but for the dog.

The dog was in bed with us, and I'm tossing and turning because I haven't got my normal clock to look at. So I'm turning on my phone. Then I'm trying to get my share of the covers, etc.

I'm rolling around in an unfamiliar bed. And I notice the dog rolling around too, trying to keep from me rolling over on to her.

It'd be tough to be that small and to have the constant danger of someone smushing you.

Sane Christianity

Here's a good article, by Paul Raushenbush, "It Took Pat Robertson and Glenn Beck to Remind Sane Christians of Who We Are and Who We Do Not Want to Be."

Paul makes the very good point that there are plenty of Christians who have a sane faith. I would say we should expect the sane version of these things to be the normal version. And the weird, nutzoid faith of, say, a Pat Robertson, or the anti-social-justice version that Glenn Beck espouses, should be seen as the lunatic fringe.

The normal isn't seen at the fringe, the loud mouths. It's what you see in the average, level headed folks who do normal things and stick to what is in the middle, engaging in the things that are more balanced.

A Suit Of Clothes

It takes a skeleton in a body to fill out a suit of clothes.

Personally, I just call it my suit. A pair of suit pants goes with a suit. A suit jacket goes on top, with a suit. Then there's the vest and the chains. You put on a pair of nice shoes and you're fully dressed, assuming there's a shirt in there somewhere. And a tie.

Without the jacket it's just a pair of pants, and without the pants it's just a jacket. The suit takes the whole thing to be the suit.

I have a couple of suits. More than that if you include the bad ones. Why I have bad ones? I haven't gotten around to selling them to the rag man yet.

The Farmer's Wife

I completely watched the film, "The Farmer's Wife," directed by Alfred Hitchcock, from 1928. I wrote a tiny bit about this yesterday.

I both enjoyed it and struggled with it. Everywhere I look they say it is 97 or 98 minutes, but it feels so much longer than that. It's a silent movie, so you have to pay very close attention. Then it has a musical soundtrack that, in my case, induces sleepiness. I bet I took three naps just trying to make it through this one film, stopping the DVD of course each time.

But like I said that doesn't mean it wasn't enjoyable, because it was. There were, however, many scenes that could've been shortened or even left out all together. But it looks like the theory was that a silent movie needed longs of prolonged close-ups to get the full story across, the emotional transformations that a person makes.

The premise of the film is that a farmer's wife died, and he eventually decides to remarry. He makes a list of the eligible bachelorettes he can think of in the area. He has a housekeeper, but for some reason never considers her. Then we step through the attempts to marry the women on the list, each of whom reject his proposal. In the picture above, the woman on the left is the housekeeper, Araminta Dench (called 'Minta) played by Lilian Hall-Davis. The woman in the middle is one of the women on the list, my favorite character, Thirza Tapper played by Maud Gill. The man is not the farmer, but the farmer's handyman, Churdles Ash, played by Gordon Harker.

Each of these characters I really came to like, to the point that I wasn't really thinking about the characters so much but the individuals who played them. The others were great too. Maybe my least favorite was the farmer himself, who, even though he had land, animals, etc., didn't seem like that great a guy. I don't think I would've married him either, like if we were in a state that allowed that. Of course I know it was the premise of the film that had to be worked through, but anyone who would overlook the housekeeper for that much of the movie would have to be a blockhead. She was clearly the best girl in town, and already right under his own roof!

Of the four women who rejected him, I would only have good things to say. They played their characters excellently. I liked the mousy, fussy Thirza Tapper best. The farmer shows up to a party at her place a half hour early and it's a lot of fun watching her, very flustered, get ready to go down and meet him, since she has to work on her make-up, hair, etc. She really looks the part, her face and mannerisms.

One other thing, Gordon Harker plays a hilarious handyman, with a lot of excellent mannerisms. The camera's on him a lot, being very comic.

The Contentment

I'm in the contentment zone, with a nice bagel and a few drinks, milk, grape juice, and coffee.

I felt myself drifting a little bit into a reverie while reading some comments at Daily Kos. I look through some of the diaries but usually avoid the comments. But with the contentment, I drifted down lazily into the comments. That's a nice feeling, a kind of foggy feeling, allowing me to take those moments to read a few comments slowly.

Then -- I wasn't exactly awakened from the foggy feeling but I started processing the debate that takes place in comments, those who are offended then realize that the diarist's comments were "snark." I'm not going to get involved. So, like I said, I wasn't exactly awakened, but I became more conscious of what I was doing.

Meaning there's no place like home. Close that out and do this. Think about and note my reverie, in part induced through this morsel of food and these drinks ... also a fun size Reese's peanut butter cup.

A Sherlock Holmes Foggy Night

Last night when I took the dog out, it was a weird feeling night. It was foggy and it was still, no wind. It was peaceful, except when a car drove by. Because there was some moisture on the street, and you could hear the wheels picking up water and making that high splashing sound.

When all the cars were passed, it went back to a great stillness. I love it when there's no wind. You can feel like you're well balanced.

It reminded me of an old Sherlock Holmes movie, which had something to do with a claw. It was something like this, that people were being killed by a claw and many assumed was an animal, but was actually a guy with a claw. I found it. It was called "The Scarlet Claw."

Sherlock (Basil Rathbone) is walking along with this guy, who says, "Three deaths and three days," and he indicates that there needs to be one more, Mr. Holmes' death himself!

That's what I was thinking about while walking on that peaceful foggy night. Not a good thought. I'd much rather just look around and think about the enclosure that the fog seems to give.

Do The Vega

Since I'm watching Elvis' film "Viva Las Vegas," between my viewings (of pieces), I'm listening to the soundtrack album.

I see they've recently released most (or all) of Elvis' soundtrack albums with the original artwork. For me, I already have a number of them on the old "Double Features" CDs so I don't plan on buying them, duh. But there could be a few I don't have. Like "Tickle Me," and a few others.

There's a lot of good songs on "Viva Las Vegas," in my opinion. It's nice to be able to visualize the movie in my mind when listening to them. I think it would've been cool if Elvis had sung live in the films, but it wouldn't have been as smooth sounding. Still, that'd be a radical concept for musicals. Do music in them!

The other soundtrack on the "Viva" Double Feature CD is "Rousabout," which is also cool, but the songs on it are mostly in the under-2 minutes category.

Viva Las Vegas

I'm watching the Elvis movie "Viva Las Vegas." I've seen it before but it's been long enough, a couple years, that I'd forgotten most of it.

It's a treat so far, I think. Of course I love Elvis, so his movies aren't generally a problem for me. I don't like the ones where he gets beat up too much, killed, or is a juvenile delinquent or prisoner. But otherwise, with the lighter fare after the first few years, I'm fine with them.

"Viva Las Vegas" is obviously in that category. A love story with Ann-Margret as his love interest. So far I've seen a few musical numbers, including the one Elvis does at the University of Nevada and the one he and Ann do together, then he's at the piano at her father's place. They're all real good.

I also liked the musical sequence involved in Elvis' and the other guy's journeys to clubs to look for Ann-Margret. The "Texas" segment I don't care for much though.

My Bagel Was Gummy

My dog's unpredictable ways forced me to leave my heated up bagel on the stove for an extra 10 minutes, meaning by the time I got to it it was gummy and tough to chew.

For quite a while -- maybe it was because of the winter darkness -- she stayed in bed and I was able to fix breakfast, eat it, check out the computer, etc., before she appeared, wanting to go outside. Now it's been more like this, that she makes an appearance right when I'm about to grab my food and head for the computer.

The same thing happened today. I didn't hear her footsteps on the stairs, so I thought maybe ... maybe I'd get away with doing it in the order I want. So I heated up the bagel, had it buttered, had some juice, milk, and coffee ready. Then ... on cue, she shows up!

We went outside and dilly dallied longer than usual. She made more near approaches to taking a crap than Apollo missions before they actually set one down. She was creeping around, looking for a place to land. Reminds me of crab walking. I was barely containing myself, feeling annoyed. And once when she was moving closer to some fresh mud I did yell out, "Hey!" I told her come this way, and "Good girl." I have to show that we're on the same page or she'll never go.

I finally got in and now here I sit. The coffee was cooler, the milk warmer, the juice was good, but the bagel was super gummy. Two things, bagels and macaroni and cheese have to be eaten right away or they're not fit to eat.

Live A Little, Love A Little

The Elvis movie I've been watching the last couple days is "Live A Little, Love A Little." I love this film. I've seen it a few times.

It's so peppy. The only downer is how irritated Elvis always seems at the flirtations of Bernice. I gotta say, if I were a single guy and in the same position he was, I wouldn't be so rejecting. She's one great looking lady. But Elvis is sick of Harry Baby in the picture and also that Bernice keeps standing him up or acting weird.

I can't figure out the scene when he goes to the printing company and gets into a big gang fight. To me, I'm either always missing something or it simply doesn't make any sense. He's late for work and they try to kill him? I don't get it.

I'm getting toward the end. Elvis is "Almost In Love" with Bernice. Pretty soon they're going to have a divider in the bed, and finally, as I recall, Elvis gets rid of the divider. Whoa.

This is toward the end of Elvis' film career. Had he gone a few more years, who knows what we might've seen? As for this one, he's in the shower, with Bernice reaching a back washer way down. This also might be the only Elvis movie that has Elvis sitting on the toilet, although he's just sitting there fully dressed (toward the beginning when he's at the beach house.)

The movie has the greatest songs, as far as I'm concerned. But they're few. They're great though, including "Edge of Reality," "A Little Less Conversation," "Almost In Love," and "Wonderful World." The last song there really sets the stage for a breezy movie, with Michele Carey's beautiful performance a real treat throughout.

Some of the other folks are great too. One of "Bewitched's" Darrins plays Harry Baby, Rudy Vallee is in the film (!), Sterling Holloway is in there.

If you love Elvis and you don't have this movie, get it, and Live A Little!

The Terrorists' Initials

I keep thinking when I hear the one terrorist or terrorism suspect (whatever he is) referred to as KSM, Why do we do that? Why are we giving this guy such notoriety, that we call him by his initials, like JFK or FDR.

It's nuts. Just call him by his name, his last name like we would a normal person. We only magnify him by giving him the extra designation.

It's the same as they did with bin Laden, calling him OBL (or UBL as Fox News kept insisting on doing).

DBK, out!

The Birds Know

The birds outside seem to know something about spring coming. I was out there and they were singing like crazy.

It's a nice sunny day. They've come out of hiding.

John McCain Channels Dead Generals

This is hilarious. John McCain, who only wants to follow the advice of military leaders on "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," ignores their advice if it's against the DADT policy. Meaning he has his opinion and credits it to the military leaders who agree with him. Why not just cut out the middle man and say it's his own opinion PERIOD?

Now he's got some big letter on the subject that's signed by a bunch of military leaders, some of whom are dead. One guy was dead when it was published, and his wife signed it for him. Jason Linkins at the Huffington Post article says he might get George Armstrong Custer's signature before long!

Why does John McCain need this kind of stuff? Is his life really so pathetic that he's reduced to channeling the dead to back up opinions he already has? Of course we remember the 2008 campaign. There's no depth he won't descend to to make a bad point. But the campaign's over, he could be a normal guy if he wanted.

On the other hand, he's not the brainiest guy in the world. He's the guy who thought Sarah Palin would make a terrific president ... IF ...

Rapacious Palin Cleans Out The Place

This is funny.

Sarah and the other hillbillies were in California and had the opportunity to pick up some free gifts at an Oscar party. And reportedly they descended on the freebies, according to someone who was there, "like locusts."

I can picture that. Free stuff. I love it!

A Worthy Facebook Shout-Out

I see a lot of people had this for their status recently:

Every single one of you are on my friend list as a result of a conscious decision. I am not only glad to count you as friends but also as family! Let's see who in my Friend's List actually pays attention. Copy and repost this in your own bulletin. You can't choose family but... you can choose friends..

I actually was paying attention, obviously. But whether I'm going to copy and repost this in my own bulletin doesn't have anything to do with whether I was paying attention. I can't choose your status but ... I can choose mine.

Anyway, it's great to choose your friends wisely! Then to give them a good shout-out. Every one of you is precious to me!

I'm giving a shout-out tonight to you, my worthy readers. I didn't choose you. You just showed up. Thank you for that, and I hope you enjoyed your stay. If there's anything I can do at this blog to make your time more enjoyable, don't be afraid to ask. Of course I can't give any guarantees, but if it were something reasonable, I might be able to accommodate you.

Their Native Habitat

I made a rare journey to the local college, the mecca of higher learning.

I tried to fit in as best as I could in the union, watching the students in their native habitat.

I saw several people younger than I -- virtually all of them, except for few old profs (probably) who went by. I don't know that they were profs. They didn't have padded elbows.

The young people made me think: The last time I was in college many of them weren't even born yet. In fact, their parents might've been whooping it up, bringing about that spark of life that exploded into being and brought them into the world.

I sipped my latte and thought wistfully about philosophical things. Were I a professor, I would've caressed my own wispy beard.

I spy an average student in his native habitat. A blow of the pipe and a tranquilizer dart to the thigh will give me a fine specimen for later study.

The Companionship Of A Good Dog

I don't know if there really are bad dogs. I'm sure of course that there are dogs that have been mistreated and so are bad. Or they're sick with some weird condition and they're bad. But whether there are just dogs that are bad just out of choice, that I don't think is the case.

The dog I have is certainly a good one.

I'm well aware of the whole thing where we get attached to them and we project a lot into them and their behavior, etc. But it really does look objectively like they are actually good and do love us. I look at my dog and it's impossible for me to think she doesn't love me. Since she's always around. If she didn't love me, wouldn't she be on the couch somewhere instead of right by my side?

I look at this dog and I'm amazed at the faithfulness, the quality of the companionship that she provides. It makes me want to cherish her in return, no matter what.

We're really on the same page in lots of ways. I've been taking her out without a harness and leash for over a month, since it's winter, there's snow everywhere, and she stays with me. She knows what I want to do based on what I say. I've been telling her to "Wait" when we come to a street crossing, since I don't want her to get run over. And she waits. Then "OK" and she runs across the street. But this wasn't practiced. I just did it and she seemed to get it right away. And there's other things like that.

Last "Kissin' Cousins" Post

A tiny bit more on the Elvis Presley movie "Kissin' Cousins."

Yesterday I said I was toward the end, and I really was. I finished it off last night. Elvis gets Pappy to give in on renting the mountain to the military for a missile base. So our nation is saved from the Russians! And Pappy is saved from the Revenuers, thanks to Elvis' keen negotiating skills.

We all remember Elvis' big meeting with Nixon. But Nixon was nothing compared to Pappy in "Kissin' Cousins." Pappy held out to the bitter end. No detente until the bitter end. In fact, they had to keep the movie going until Pappy finally gave in. What kind of movie would it've been if Pappy had acceded to Elvis' requests right at the beginning?

Personally I don't need all the conflict of Pappy withholding his OK. It would've been a good movie, in my opinion, if Pappy would've given in at the beginning, then they just had two hours of ho-downs and Elvis songs for the rest of the time. Skip the Elvis cousin in the blond wig, and just have a good old fashioned mountain music program. Call it "Kissin' Cousins," have Elvis doing his numbers live, and I would've been happy.

As it was, we had that happy resolution. Then it was time to show the couples who were getting married, and sing the title track (different version). Here they had Elvis-cousin and Elvis-normal doing a duet. Then, since it was all him, they had Lance LeGault with his back turned or in the background or his head down a little as the opposite Elvis. On my DVD player, I stopped it on one of the flips, and you can see Lance full facial for a split second. But I couldn't get it to stop at the precise moment on my computer .... so I don't have a screen shot.

The movie ends, they hold up a couple THE and END signs and that's it.

One song that didn't make it to the soundtrack album, and should have, is Ma's "Pappy, Please Come Home," complete with Hezekiah's (the dog's) moans.

Kissin' Cousins

I'm watching the Elvis Presley movie "Kissin' Cousins." I'm actually about to the end of it.

It's a good one certainly for all the female beauty throughout, with the wild Kittyhawks who inhabit them thar hills. Plus Elvis' closer kinfolk, the two girls of Ma and Pappy.

The story is fairly cute, with Elvis sort of in charge of helping get Pappy's mountain, at least to rent it, to put some missiles on it for national security. He has all kinds of stubbornness in Pappy.

Elvis plays a double part too, being his normal looking self, then also his cousin with a blond wig. He appears as both characters (from the front) in a couple of scenes. Most of the time it's Elvis and a stand-in from the back. I read in a book that the stand-in was Lance LeGault. In my opinion they should've got someone who looked like Elvis from the back, since you can tell clearly this guy has a different shaped head. No offense to Lance, but he's not even close!

I was just listening to a couple tracks from the soundtrack CD. I don't care for the slightly duncier voice they have the cousin Elvis singing with on the final number, "Kissin' Cousins." It doesn't seem like he had a duncier voice when he was singing earlier on in the movie. But they obviously wanted some way to distinguish Elvis normal from Elvis cousin.

The sisters are very hot, if you ignore the fact that they're hillbillies.

One Stinking Senator

I can't believe it!

What kind of idiotic rules do they go by in the Senate anyway? How can one stinking guy -- Republican Senator Jim Bunning of Kentucky -- hold up the whole works on unemployment benefits?

Is there literally no way to get anything accomplished there? I find this stunning, that they, the majority, are so powerless, but he, one stinking guy, is so powerful.

I guess there's no way I'd want to be a Senator. I like to see things accomplished. I wouldn't want to just be there and spin my wheels endlessly. Now I know why they need a six year term. Maybe in all that time they can get lucky and accomplish one thing.

A Killer Whale Kills

At some big aquatic park in Florida, I guess it was, a big killer whale killed a trainer, a worker with the whales.

Why this is surprising, I don't know. Since they are mammoth, gigantic, 12,000 pound animals, who aren't really designed to be spending their lives in a teacup doing idiotic tricks.

The report I saw on TV said the whales were acting a little strangely that day, or earlier. It made me think, maybe there was some atmospheric pressure or something, some natural thing that would change their biorhythms. It would take someone more intensely trained than I to figure it out. Except nature has more to it than just what's comfortable for our range.

It makes me wonder what ought to be the limits of mankind with the rest of the animal world. Should we be entertained by these great animals? It seems like there ought to be some educational stuff going on, but just to be making a buck off a bunch of cooped up, deprived animals? Maybe I'm starting to shift on that front.

Certainly anyone who's trained in the upkeep and behavior of these whales ought to know (and no doubt does) that anything can happen. There's more going on in their brains and bodies -- and they are larger than goldfish -- than can be entirely predicted.

The Anxiety Could Kill You

I am not getting entirely better, with all the recent anxiety I've been feeling. Things are pretty much up in the air for me in various ways. So it makes me anxious, very nervous.

For a while, like a week ago, I had a terrible feeling in my stomach. But I've gotten over most of that. Now I've got something, not quite a headache, but a slight head fog feeling. Like I'm not thinking completely clearly, although for the most part I'm the same as always.

I keep telling myself it's crazy and that I ought to just roll with the flow -- security should not be my number one concern every waking moment. But there's an underlying thing in myself that goes its own direction, regardless of what the rest of me is saying.

I take an hour in the morning for spiritual disciplines and that helps. I could be doing that right now, I'm sure it would be good. Or I could be reading poetry or something mind stimulating. But my thoughts keep drifting to the situation as it exists, with numerous questions about what is to come, and numerous hurdles that I'm going to eventually have to face to resolve everything. This is a several months' project.

It's really tough not to keep going over it. But I know it's not good for me. What else can I do?

One Of Our Beloved Cats Passed Away Today

Her name was Smokey.

She didn't die simply naturally, but my wife took her to the vet for them to "put to sleep."

That's a very hard thing to do. I'm kind of a coward but I could've done it, out of mercy. But in this case I didn't have to.

We were crying when they left.

I told her what a good cat she was and how much of a friend she was, and some other personal things.

She was just shy of 15 and was getting very skinny and had trouble vomiting all the time.

So ... sad day for us.

My Fast Eating Dog

I went out to eat tonight, this evening, getting the "Early Bird Special," just like on Seinfeld.

I'm almost getting old enough to qualify for the Senior Discount -- in fact I think I am old enough some places -- so I ought to hike my belt line up around my nipples and I'll be all set.

I got the seven ounce sirloin, which was very very good. I asked for medium and it was more like rare, which is still to my liking. I like the look of that redness in there ... maybe not super rare, though. It's very primal, eating something that's barely dead. Of course it's literally dead.

I could've eaten the whole thing. Seven ounces isn't enormous. But I started thinking of my dog at home, and how much I knew she'd appreciate having a piece of this. So I cut the remainder into tiny pieces. Otherwise she'd just wolf it down in one gulp if it was one piece.

We got home and the dog knew there was something delicious, the odor wafting in the air. She was very attentive and happy. I put the pieces, at least 10-12 little pieces, in her bowl, and she went to wolfing. She had them in her belly within 20 seconds.

The dog will not stop to enjoy anything. That is so weird. She just inhales it and it's gone.

Keeping Us Safe

I'm about sick -- sick and tired -- of hearing the Republicans and other naysayers constantly griping about President Obama "not keeping us safe." We're safe. As safe as we've ever been.

But it starts at the top (it'd be the bottom if scum didn't rise) with a guy like Dick Cheney, who's continually prattling on about this. Never mind that Mr. Obama has continued many of the same programs, and that he's actually intensified some, that he's killing one terrorist after another (which the Republicans are also complaining about), and catching Taliban leaders regularly.

The short story is we're as safe as we've ever been, keeping in mind that the possibilities are virtually infinite as to what any potential enemy could do.

Just because we're safe, though, doesn't mean we're safe, for exactly that reason. You can't guard against every nut with a gun or plane. And even if you could, that wouldn't prevent someone with poison, a knife, or a wet noodle from coming out of nowhere to do something. How could we prevent every bad thing? Would we put a monitor out there trailing every single person? Then who's going to monitor the monitors? Because one of them could turn out to be a nut like the guy with the plane the other day in Austin. Or the soldier at Fort Hood.

To be 100% safe is impossible. Life carries with it all kinds of risk. And the fact that people are sometimes very evil, crazy, unstable, and dangerous is not a fact that's going away soon.

Everyone ought to sit back and be patriotic about it. The commander in chief is not a person who can circumvent the laws of life. We ought to support one another's efforts to maintain civic harmony and be vigilant against threats, not always just looking for some way to exploit every whipstitch for partisan gain. We ought to get back to the idea that we're all in this together, looking out for the common good.

An Ice Cream To Never Buy Again

I bought some ice cream yesterday that I won't buy again. It's a bad flavor with nothing to recommend it.

I'll leave out the brand name -- although I don't know if anyone can figure it out just based on the flavor, i.e., whether a lot of ice cream makers make this flavor. You'd have to be a real connoisseur, though, to know that kind of information!

Anyway, it's called "Pistachio Almond." It's green like mint ice cream but the flavor is nothing as delicious. It's more of an odd flavor, almost like a bland sherbet flavor that's missing something. The nuts don't add much, being also fairly bland. And where they're not bland they're not tasty. With an edge of unpleasantness.

Yucky stuff. And I still have most of a box of it to go. I don't think I'll be able to finish it, even though it's money down the drain. I should've gone with the chocolate chip.

The Cat Survived

The other day I wrote about my cat, who I expected would not make it. I figured when she went to the vet that they'd put her "to sleep," but it turned out that she came home.

I was resigned to the fact that she'd probably die. But of course it would good to hear that she was in health at least good enough to continue being a cat. To get a $140 bill to prove it wasn't a good feeling, but life sometimes comes with a price tag.

As to what to do differently, we got four cans of food, that somehow we were supposed to feed her. The complication is that there's another cat who wants it. Then the other cat's food is there. And the cat who went to the vet wants to eat it, etc. Plus, four cans of food isn't going to cure anything. So we should either have a bigger supply of the food or forget it.

I don't know what to do. I guess we'll let her eat what she wants. And die when she dies. And in the meantime, live.

1936 Carnival-Circus Imagery

"You'll meet your friends along this gay white way!"

"The event you have all been waiting for!"

"Tons of Fun for All Who Kum ... Not a Dull Moment ... Not an Objectionable Feature"

SOL'S LIBERTY SHOWS - July 6, 1936

Future Shock

I'm looking at some future Future Shock for myself, which I hope won't be so bad. Anytime your life is in a state of transition, the unknown rises up like a big double fanged monster with blood dripping fingernails. "I'm gonna getcha!"

Again, I hope not.

We get the whole "One Day at a Time" arrangement, so it's a matter of stepping through, planning, keeping mum at the appropriate places, and letting things work out, with all due diligence of course.

We'll see what the future holds. Because, like Criswell says in "Plan 9 From Outer Space," that's where we're all going to spend the rest of our lives. If the past is any guide, I'll be able to look back on it from a perspective of what was future being accomplished and me ultimately being OK. Ultimately being OK, that is, until I'm not, when I'm six feet under. And even then I think I'll be OK.

We shall see. Future shock? I hope not. Future blessing, more desired.

I don't like having a queasy feeling in my gut. I need to do some kind of discipline thing to overcome that.