Living on Eighties Time

Do you remember when every move was calculated and effective, every motion quick and accurate, every deadline fourteen minutes away?  The pace, the pace.  Now! Or better, yesterday.

I don't live that way anymore.  I couldn't live like that even if the desire to do so were present. I have two speeds:  exceedingly slow and can you still see me moving?. Do I still accomplish things?  Not much, but I can still shower and dress myself.  I live in gratitude fo what I can do. 

Will the world, or even the nation or my community be improved if I watch congressional hearings, form biting opinions about the state of affairs in which we are entangled?   They will not, so therefore I do not invest any of my precious remaining time doing that.  Same for most "news" outlets.  I hate this, but I have become so skeptical that I herewith validate my father's opinion regarding reporters and pundits.  "The only thing you can believe in the newspapers is the funnies page."  But that is not all bad; saves me more of that dear commodity called time. 

So what do I have to contribute to the conversation over the coffee mugs at the old coots' gathering?  Pleasant words about the weather.  A cheery, "How're things?" and a firm "Good day!" if someone should steer the conversation toward Washington, the State Capital, the mayor's office.

Seriously.

Think the wain will huht the whubob?      (The "ahh" key quit on me.  Sowwy,)

Life Revised #T

NBC runs a show called "Timeless."  The premise is ridiculous, though I generally like stories that involve time-travel.  Last night, though, I watched the program, my first time.  I saw it through, but found myself getting increasingly irritated.  Over a fictional story? you ask.  Yes,

Three years ago, coincidentally on the same date NBC ran this show, I posted a fictional tale here in which Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow played roles in my tale.  Though my account was fictional and the actions of the characters were dreamed up in my mind, I went to considerable lengths to make sure that the timing and the locale of the behaviors were such that they might have fit perfectly into the lives of these two notorious characters as they actually lived them.  Preface.

Which brings us to the NBC folly.  The only thing they got right other than the names Bonnie and Clyde was the date, 1934,  Everything else was nonsense and in particular the way in which they were killed.  Now fiction is one thing, but violation of historical fact presented as fact in a fictional tale is an abomination.

We live in the Post-truth Era.  Truthiness is to be accepted as fact, for truth is what I say it is.

One is compelled to believe that whatever he reads or hears is likely to be baloney or horse feathers.

Discernment?  Play a requiem for discernment.  Sad

"When I use a word it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less." --Humpty Dumpty

Smile

A couple of days ago I was on about my aversion to "take it to the next level."  Last night I was reading the newspaper and came across another cliche that sets my teeth on edge.  This one is heard on a daily basis on tv newscasts, *growl* but now it has crept into the print media.  Is there no hope for us?

The offensive line? 

"We reached out to . . . "  Of course we left a message but the source we wished to contact did not return our call.  Smart source, unless someone wants to be misquoted in the press.

Here's an idea, Ms. Reader, or Mr. Reporter as the case may be.  Why don't you "reach out," grasp your throat firmly with your hand and throttle yourself?

Rant over.

have you smiled today?

Let Me Entertain You, 1956

Look at some of the names set to entertain you on the big screen.
Gary Cooper, Susan Hayward, Richard Widmark,
William Holden, Brian Donlevy, Audie Murphy,
George Raft, Gene Tierney, Ginger Rogers.

Need daytime tv entertainment?  How about "My Little Margie," or "Our Miss Brooks," "Captain Kangaroo," "Arthur Godfrey"?

Time is of the Essence

"Redeem the time."  This injunction was repeatedly voiced by my male parent.  In keeping with his instruction, I have made some adaptations to my television viewing routines.  I have read after or have been told by numerous people that they save much time by recording their favorite programs, then skipping the commercials when they view.  Most seem to estimate the time saved at one-third the total length of the program.  I believe I have made a major improvement on this technique.

By recording the program then skipping the show and watching the commercials I save twice as much time as my friends save with their approach.  Additionally, another benefit accrues to me.  I get the greater amusement, for the advertisements tend to be much more entertaining than is the programming! 

This one cracks me up every time.

Forty-five days 'til, , ,

A week ago, Vee was longing for the end of the election cycle.  Well, it has ended, and her wish to see the last of the electioneering has been granted.  (I hope she is not still getting phone calls from party hacks, but with technology, flawed as it is, who knows?)

We do know, however, that the commercials for the candidates have been removed from the airwaves and the fibers.  (Unless, of course, you live in Louisiana.)  But with what have the commercial slots been filled?

Yep, you guessed it.  Do you reckon six and a half weeks will be long enough to make us weary of Christmas?

nomeny down

nomeny down

nomeny down

Indulgences

Rainy morning, driving home from the post office, Jefferson Street, half block east of Main.

The cute little vehicle in front of me sports a vanity plate.  At first glance, I thought it read "Mini Bug."  It doesn't.

I followed Mimi Bug through town.  At the fork she followed the highway,  I continued straight on Jefferson Street.

I have probably mentioned here in the past that I used to purchase vanity plates.  It is sort of like giving free money to the State.  But then, I suspect most of us, Self included, fritter away money on sillier things.

I once bought a 46" flat screen TV.  Account for that.  Frittering money away.

Unending, too, because I pay a monthly fee for a cable feed. I have several rants related to that, but I'll spare you for the moment.

Televangelism and the Written Word

I don't much watch television preachers.  I am likely to spend the time I might have done reading after bloggers who put their sermons and messages in writing and share with any who will read.  A few examples of writers in this realm whom I consider worthy of reading would include Matt, and Sarah, and Ken.

My reasons for avoiding most tv ministers are my own.  I see nothing to be gained by criticizing men and women who are engaged in the activity.  I encourage discernment and wisdom in selecting those with whom you spend your time and from whom you receive spiritual guidance.

I do, though, occasionally take time to watch that little white haired Louisiana dandy, Jesse Duplantis.  I watch him for the pure entertainment value of his presentation, and sometimes there is a bonus of enlightenment.  The man is funny.  The man could well have made his livelihood as a comedian, had he chosen the secular field of endeavor.

Once in a great while, and when there is nothing else on the Sunday afternoon tube, nothing other than football, that is, I will tune in to see what Freddy Price is on about.  That 's entertainment, too.

Disclaimer:  The mention of these ministers, whether bloggers or televangelists, is in no wise to be construed as an endorsement of their theologies or viewpoints.  I have already suggested wisdom and discernment.

As he told it:

Jesse:  Let me tell you something!
Cathy (Mrs. D): You listen to me.  I am not that naive little girl you married thirty-nine years ago!
Jesse:  I miss her.
Cathy:  She's dead!

Truth: His sermon on spousal interactions was excellent.  Oh, vanilla, do learn from it.

Looking Good

While I was not watching Sunday Morning, I was in the other room attending to a minor task which allowed me to listen to the program with one ear, and the requisite half-mind it takes to follow tv programming.

The segment was about someone named Ethan Hawke whom the interviewer referred to as "the face of Generation X."  The first thing that caught my ear was Mr. Hawke's statement to the effect that when one was shooting pool, for instance, the important thing is not to make the shot, but to look good while making the effort.

Yes.  Characterization of Generation X.  The accomplishment, or failure to accomplish, is not important so long as one looks good in the endeavor.  Form over substance.

The subject capped the interview with a summary of his philosophy.  Succinctly stated, he said that if one pursues his art with dedication it is all good, whether or not the efforts culminate in achievement.

Draw your own conclusions.

Bob's TV Reviews

Check Bob Warr's peek at two or three of the offerings for the new tv season.  Vanilla invites you to click here to visit Bob today.

There I Go Again

Sometimes for no good reason except to vent, I find a rant tumbling from the ends of my fingers onto the keyboard. These ravings are often unfiltered, and probably unthought.  But, oh! how good it feels to get it out of my system. So far, so good. But then I find myself sometimes without a blog post for the morrow, and I stick one of these rants in the blog. Forgive me, please. This is one of those. You may choose to save your time and move along to the next post in your reader. That’s okay. (Or “okeh,” as a pedant I once knew insisted.) 

The day of interactive everything. Except of course for face to face interaction with another human being. Even the comic strips have to be interactive. Read the funny, write a comment. Who cares? The cartoonist came up with something, drew a picture, added some dialog, expressed an opinion or an idea, perhaps. I am intelligent enough to get what he is saying, or not, but I don’t need help in interpretation; and besides if I don’t get it I can ask my wife! Further, while the first commenter may address the cartoonist’s notion, the whole thing quickly degenerates into a garbage-flinging, name-calling slime fest completely unrelated to the original idea. Who needs that? 

Interactive television? You must be 1) joking, or 2) totally out of your mind. What exactly do you suppose I care about Miranda Moron’s opinion. If the opinion of the “audience” determines anything to come, forget it.

 How about commenting on the articles on the op-ed pages? Now that is opinion, and your opinion is still your opinion, and though you may be angry with the writer, leave him alone. He’s an idiot, too. If you agree with him, well, you know. What to do? Ignore the stuff, move along. Nothing to be seen here, or if there is, it isn’t edifying.

Conversation with Bob

Bob Warr was digging along the edge of the yard.  There was a flat of marigolds sitting nearby.  I stopped to pass the time of day.  He seemed pleased to entertain the interruption.  He stood and leaned against his side of the fence.

We chatted generally about the weather, as guys are wont to do.  This led to Bob's observation about the news reader the previous evening reporting on the floods in Texas.  "She was reading along and as she neared the end of the report she said, 'The rain fell at a rate of two inches per hour and the rivers overflew their banks.'  That," he continued, "was the first time I had ever heard of such a thing.  Imagine what I was seeing in my mind's eye as I tried to picture rivers overflying their banks!"

That is just wrong on so many levels.  Grammatically, editorially, educationally, meteorologically, and in general fluvial and riparian behavior.  Ah, the joys of the twenty-first century.

Bob's report is accurate.   BBBH and I were tuned to the same newscast.  We both heard the same thing.

Gorgeous Redhead, Exotic Voice

I'll say it again:  1934 was a very good year.

Tatiana Josivovna Chermova  Blacker was born in New York City, Februrary 11, 1934.

Her career included nightclub singer, recording artist, film actress, stage actress, television actress.

She currently lives in the city of her nativity.

Happy Birthday, Miss Louise.

Good Evening, Hometown

 

Shortly after we were married, Beautiful found herself ensconced in new surroundings.  She had only recently retired and had moved to a new community.  It does not require a stretch of the imagination to picture her need to find satisfying activities.  I mean other than pleasing and entertaining me. 

We had occasion to meet the manager/producer for the one-man Hometown Television operation.  Jim and Beautiful hit it off and the upshot was that she became the hostess for a variety program which would air once a week.  There were promises of a new set and who knows whatever else, because I stood around in the background and paid them no nevermind.

Now for a period of weeks, finding interesting and talented guests who were willing to go for their fifteen thirty minutes of very limited fame was not a difficult task.  Please understand that in addition to finding the guests and hosting the program while remaining upbeat there was no stipend involved, and other than operating the camera when the program was taped, Jim provided no assistance to speak of.  In fact, when the spouse requested assistance from the "producer" in locating guests for future programs since the hostess herself was not well-acquainted with the community, it was made clear to her that it was her responsibility to locate and secure guests.

Then, too, when our living room became the rent-free studio and vanilla had to repair to his den while the house was invaded by boy-band or pipe organ builder it became evident that someone was giving more than she was getting.

Clearly, this was not going to work long-term.

BBBH loves performing, and being in the public eye is nourishment to her spirit.  But even with that being on her plate, she could not continue to devote the unreimbursed time to do what she felt she could not do unassisted.  The community had the pleasure of viewing several programs, and quite interesting they were, too, but it had to end.

I guess what BBBH got in the long-run was the ability to say truthfully, "When I had my TV show..."