Category Archives: Arts

The Play’s the Thing (Complete with Music!)

I’ve decided to write a play specifically designed for off-off-Broadway. I wanted a theme everybody could relate to–something familiar yet somewhat of a challenge. Then the muse hit me–I tried to duck, but she still caught me on the chin.

I realized that no matter what you do, a significant portion of your time will be spent in meetings. It may be called a class, a board, a tiger team, a training session, church, basic training, or whatever–it’s still a meeting. Fortunately, Office Space and The Office have already laid the groundwork. I want to take it one step further and write it as a musical. Imagine——

The stage curtains are closed. The house lights dim and the orchestra begins the overture. [For those of you not musically inclined, overtures are a melodic mashup of the music used throughout the production. Today, we call it recycling.]

SCENE 1: The curtains open to show a conference table with chairs all along the upstage side (a concession to the acoustics in off-off-Broadway facilities). A spotlight is focused on a door, stage right. A man in a suit [the Boss] enters with an armload of papers and breaks into the opening number. “It’s My Meeting So I’m in Control” He dances toward the head of the table, leaving a random portion of the papers in front of each chair, reaches the front empty handed, looks at the various stacks of paper, decides one is slightly taller, dances back to that spot, takes the extras from that stack, dances back to the front of the meeting room and crescendos with the final line, a redux of the first line of “I’m in control.” The spotlight disappears, leaving the stage dark.

SCENE 2: The spotlight, collimated very tightly fades up on a man [the Nerd] with a short sleeved white shirt, out-of-style skinny black necktie, pocket protector, and taped glasses immediately begins singing the second number, “Oh, What I’d Do for a Doughnut!” When he finishes, the stage briefly goes black.

SCENE 3: The lights come up illuminating the table but leaves it dark upstage (behind). The conference table now has people sitting in all but the last chair. The Nerd comes through the door, ignores the looks of derision, grabs a powdered sugar doughnut, leaving a trail of white on people’s clothing. When he sits, the white powder mounds like a snow bank in front of him [special effects, but inexpensive].

The Boss bows and with an exaggerated sweeping gesture points toward the unlit back of the stage. A stern women [Stern Woman] in a business suit emerges from the shadows. As she walks toward the head of the table, with a big smile she begins to sing, “Death by PowerPoint.” The last line, a Capella, is “And My Laser Pointer!”

I don’t have room for everything. Suffice to say, the rest of the play leads to the grand finale with the Stern Woman between the Boss and the Nerd performs a dance number on the conference table surrounded by the entire cast dancing together and singing “Meetings Are Better than Work!

Now, if I can just find a patron.

 

 

Wuttchoo Say???

I like to read, but more than once I’ve been embarrassed when I mispronounced a word that I’d read often but had never spoken before. So, one of the many things in life that befuddles me is how we handle foreign words. It is especially vexing when the word is translated from a phonetic language. Theoretically, since that society has its own written character and does not rely on the English alphabet it would seem that getting the pronunciation–rather than the spelling–right would be important.

For example, the United States has a naval base at Yokosuka, Japan. It’s actually pronounced yuh-KOO-skuh. Why didn’t we spell it phonetically as Yokuska? Japan uses a combination of kanji and kana, which bear no resemblance to the English alphabet. Incidentally, they refer to their home as Nippon, even though we somehow mangled that into Japan.

Not too far from Japan is China, which, based on its size and population is hard to miss. If you forgot, we did not recognize China after World War II until Richard Nixon was President. Its capital is Beijing, but for years (or maybe centuries?), we wrote it as Peking for (pronounced pay KING). Did some cartographer forget that English actually has phonemes for “b” and “j”? I’ve tried saying Beijing many different ways, but no matter what I do, it never sounds like Peking.

The Arabic world has its own form of writing with 28 consonants, no regular vowels (they indicate some vowel sounds by a superscript), AND NO English letters. Nevertheless, when we translate Arabic names to English, we tend complicate them. For example, why did someone plunk an “h” smack dab in the middle Baghdad (the word, not the city)? For years we wrote the name of their sacred scripture as the Koran (which tells you how to say it), but now it is often written as Qur’an. I can pronounce Koran, but if I hadn’t seen that first, I’d be clueless as to how to pronounce Qur’an.

Then of course there’s the Arabian Gulf State of Qatar, which I’ve been told can be pronounced “cutter,” “guitar” or “gutter,” without offending anyone. Somehow I think it would be polite to copy the pronunciation that those who live there use.

Of course, we’re just as imprecise with our own words, which is why Lima is pronounced LIE muh for the city in Ohio, but LEE muh for the city in Peru.

It’s no wonder that many people do not enjoy reading—or should that be
REDD ing, as in Pennsylvania?

A House Divided

It’s always good to reflect on the thoughts of great philosophers–Socrates, Plato, or Monty Python.

Graham Chapman: I think all right-thinking people in this country are sick and tired of being told that ordinary, decent people are fed up in this country with being sick and tired.
All: Yes, yes…
Graham Chapman: I’m certainly not! And I’m sick and tired of being told that I am.
MC: Mrs. Havoc-Jones?
Mrs. Havoc-Jones: Well, I meet a lot of people and I’m convinced that the vast majority of wrong-thinking people are right.

Since this was performed about fifty years ago, I wonder how they knew.

[There was supposed to be a picture here, but WordPress’s new improved editor wouldn’t accept the upload. Too bad, because it was silly, very silly.]

 

 

Chewie, We Hardly Knew Ye

 

Peter Mayhew/Chewbacca

As everyone knows, Peter Mayhew died.

Peter Mayhew, brought a humanistic flavor to Star Wars as Chewbacca. Although Chewbacca was not human, he was the ultimate sidekick–and the most human character. We loved Peter’s performance as Chewie so much that most of us never  broke the fourth wall to the actor.

As an actor, Peter, in his Chewbacca outfit, had only his body language and eyes to convey the character’s message. Chewbacca’s voice was added later utilizing various animal sounds. For an actor, that is a challenge. Peter did it well.

But, be honest, which of us would not love to have a friend as loyal and strong as Chewbacca was to Han Solo?

Anyone?

Anyone?

I thought as much.

Peter/Chewie, you will be missed. Thank you for everything.

 

WordPress Screws It Up, Yet Again

I had begun this post, stopped, worked with WordPress, and thought that the problem was resolved.

NOT SO FAST! PUT DOWN THE IDEA AND STEP AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD! KEEP YOUR OPIBIONS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!

(Sigh)

When something works, why do geeks (and yes, I’m a geek) insist on changing things? When I was in medical imaging, there was a Cardiac CT Scanner that was cutting edge technology. The problem was that the engineers kept improving it. That should be great, right?

Not so much.

Each scanner was slightly different than every other scanner because of the improvements. That meant that the parts, diagnostic routines, manuals, etc. were all different.

Play piano? Imagine if every keyboard you sat down in front of was laid out different. An 8 note scale? Nope, we like eleven (I would have used the numerals, but the WordPress program, in its infinite wisdom thinks it should be 11. Why?).

I remember when Japanese manufactured cars went from a novelty to the norm and every mechanic had to have both SAE (English) size tools as well as metric. I can deal with that; if you tell me the rules, I can follow them.

So, bottom line is that when I have a few spare minutes around job, family, chores, repairs, and the miscellaneous hurricane or other disaster, I want to jot down my  ideas and share them.

WordPress, if I wish to be frustrated, I have children and a job; I don’t need you to add to it.

(Sigh)

Oh, and I’m still looking for the draft of the post I wanted to put here.

(Sigh)

Putting Things in Perspective

University of Virginia Men’s Basketball
2019 Champions

I’ve lived in Virginia for most my younger children’s lives. My older son and his family live in Virginian. My daughter-in-law’s family lives in Virginia. My younger children are fortunate enough to receive their college educations at prestigious Virginia Universities. I love Virginia History from Sir Walter Raleigh, the Powhatan people, Washington, Lee, Jefferson, and NASA mathematician, Kathrine Johnson.

I love that Jefferson attended the College of William and Mary but had his tombstone celebrate:

Author of the Declaration of American Independence
of the Statute of Virginia for religious freedom
& Father of the University of Virginia

I consider myself a Virginian.

However, when TV sports experts announced that the recent UVA basketball championship “Will be remembered forever!” I saw a bit of exaggeration. With Americans, we’re talking about people who can’t tell you Virginia’s role in slave trading or why Washington, DC is half its planned size because they returned Virginia’s donation of land.

But they will remember the 2019 Basketball Championship?

 

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is*

I’ve never been crazy about switching back and forth between standard time and daylight savings time. I realize that daylight savings time is worth billions of dollars to the outdoor grill and charcoal industries, the gulf courses, and–at least on Halloween, the candy manufacturers.

But why switch back and forth? Oh, I forgot, our Congress came up with that idea to save energy, even though it actually uses MORE energy and there’s a great loss of efficiency whenever we change.

Time is pretty arbitrary to begin with. If you set up a sun dial in your backyard, with precise orientation, the time at your location is very unlikely to match the time your clock/telephone/nuclear synched weather station, etc. We have time zones because the railroads needed it back in the 19th century–today I guess it’s for network television.

Take the Eastern Time Zone. It stretches from Qaanag (Thule), Greenland to Indianapolis, Indiana, USA. In Qaanag, sunrise today is at 0819 (8:19 AM) with sunset at 1912 (7:12 PM).

In Indianapolis–in the same time zone–sunrise is at 0758 (7:58 AM) and sunset at 1949 (7:49 PM). On the east coast of Virginia, sunrise is at 0719 (7:19 AM).

Since it is so arbitrary, anyway, why don’t we just stop switching back and forth. Personally, I’d prefer staying on daylight savings time–I like a little sunshine after I get off of work.

Hey! Haven’t We Seen Him Before?

reg

Reg Blank, Max Headroom, William Morgan Sheppard, and . . . Sheppard as a Klingon?

Everyone–or at least everyone of my age–has heard of the six degrees of separation (from Kevin Bacon). If you don’t know->click here.

I’ve read some reasonably academic(ish) articles about how people are connected, and in the entertainment world it is not the big-name actors who are the connectors, but the character actors. Why? Sylvester Stalone, Julia Roberts, Reese Witherspoon, or (add your favorite star here) carefully choose the roles they will undertake. John Wayne, for example, was an action figure–a cowboy hero, a military hero, etc.

Character actors, on the other hand, show up in a variety of movies and television shows. They get to play all kinds of roles. They also (probably) get to go to the grocery store without being accosted.

However, character actors still have roles that leave lasting impressions. One great character actor, William Morgan Sheppard, died in early January. You can check him out on IMDB if you wish–you’ll probably find something familiar.

As for me, of all the roles he played, my favorite was on Max Headroom. There was a group of nonconformists who refused to be connected to the computerized network and were not identifiable. To the network, they merely appeared as missing data–blanks–and Blanks were what they called themselves. Sheppard played one of the key blanks who even had his own radio program. His name? Reg Blank.

Great character acting. Great concept. Frighteningly prescient for a Facebook connected world. Here’s a peek.

Bill, if I may, thanks for adding your flavor to the world of entertainment.

 

Uniquely American

papers

I haven’t been writing much lately–well, actually I have, but just not blog entries. I’m mainly working on the story / book / whatever that I mentioned in the past. It’s not quite 200 pages, but still needs a lot of work.

In the meantime, I thought I’d focus on a uniquely American practice that I personally find irritating. I try to support hardcopy publications, such as newspapers and magazines. However, I get very frustrated when I sit down, look at the front page of the local newspaper and see four to six articles, with every single one continued somewhere within the bowels of the newspaper.

Magazines are worse, though, because they don’t number all the pages, and when they do, the page numbers are tiny and use fonts in colors that barely stand out from the background. It’s like holding a conversation with someone who (Continued on Page 6)

Oh, Woe!

I once had a cat, and when we moved from Louisiana to Florida, he got out of his travel carrier, got under my seat, and cried for hours, “Oh woe! Oh woe!”

That’s how I feel about not blogging much lately.

However:

Real excuses–I got in an auto accident. No big deal, except that when 3 of your cervical vertebrae (neck bones) are bolted together, the other four have to flex a lot more (Ouch).

I’m working on my story.

Things are crazy at work (but aren’t they always?).

Fake excuses:

It’s getting cold, the shift from daylight savings time to standard time is here, and [your turn to fill in the blank].

I’ve rewritten Chapter Two of my sorry a dozen times, at least. I may be done, but paraphrasing George Lucas, Leonardo Da Vinci, etc. “A story is never finished, only abandoned,”

So–and this is your part–if I share my story while it is in development, and it changes, you have t accept that.

Deal?

Deal!

Thank you.

P.S. If I were to publish this after WordPress’s spell checker finished wiht it you would not be happy campers. Too bad they wanted their own (patent pending), cumbersome, crappy, system. I hope they never ACTUALLY PAID ANYONE TO SCREW UP A PERFECTLY GOOD BLOG.WEB SYSTEM! But, hey, that’s juet me.

Perception

Perception is a strange and wonderful thing. Many people live with the perception that “it will never happen to me.” Objectively this sounds foolish, if each of us included everything that could, indeed, happen to us, we would  be paralyzed with fear and spend our lives quivering under our beds in a fetal position.

However, since we are not data driven, realistic, computational intellects, we take totally unnecessary chances that make no sense and what do we have to show for it?

  • The ability to fly
  • Transplanting organs from a dead person to a living person
  • Automobiles, with gas stations full of highly flammable/explosive fuel located throughout the world
  • And a very humongous, etc.

On the other hand, a logical, realist would be naked and cold, banging stones together outside his cave because fire is just too dangerous.

 

The Story

I’ve been working on a story for a while, but writing it keeps getting in the way.

I’ve always admired Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s “Sherlock Holmes,” which was published as a serial in the Strand magazine, a monthly publication. My story–“The Story”–has been under development for a while. Like most writers, I d-r-a-g things out far too long as I write them. It’s a case of “Wait! It was a small dog, not a puppy!.”

As George Lucas supposedly said, “Movies are never completed, only abandoned.” The same is probably true of stories, so I’m going to publish–on this blog–at least a chapter a month. I make no promise that a particular chapter (including one that I may publish) will not be removed or eliminated.

Welcome to the wonderful??? world of writing. You may have the chance to experience my dreams, frustrations, pain, and stupidity, as I try to write a story.

I’ve already changed at least five chapters, but, interestingly, all of the characters remain, although their experiences might be different. If I share, I’ll try not to be too confusing (I’m not responsible for confusing myself).

If it’s worthwhile–I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One is coming soon.

Scandal!

zebra

Although we’re jaded by laundered money, gangland murders, fake news, and politicians, some things just go beyond the pale. A zoo in Cairo is suspected of painting a mule and passing it off as a zebra. What the . .  .?

Where is PETA when you need them?

It was only a matter of time.

I knew that body painting people wasn’t as innocent as we were supposed to believe. The “skinny jeans” that were painted on never fooled anyone–the number of nearby males copiously drooling immediately gave it away.

jeans

Artificial zebras–what’s next? Adding artificial necks to mules and passing them off as giraffes? Stapling horns on horses to sell as unicorns? A Monty Python world in which dead parrots are nailed to the perch in their cage to pass them off as Norwegian Blues? (Although Norwegian Blues do have lovely plumage.)

Next we’ll be making people believe that dinosaurs can be retrieved from their DNA. And as long as we’re doing dinosaurs, why not clone Fred and Wilma Flintstone?

It’s a sad state of affairs.

PLEASE! If you are thinking of buying a zebra, run it through the local car wash several times, just to be sure. The mule (or zebra, if it is authentic) won’t like it, but you must protect your investments. Otherwise Caveat Emptor!

You’ve been warned!

Interesting Facts

I try to stay out of politics for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I have a hiatal hernia and gaastro-esophogeal reflux disease. However, from time to time, I come across facts that are just too interesting to keep to myself.

However, beware, for as John Adams said:

Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.*

Anne Frank

—–Every western nation seems to be wrestling with the issue of immigration these days. Interestingly, there was a recent discovery by the Anne Frank House and the Holocaust Memorial Museum that Anne Frank’s father had applied–twice–for permission to move his family to the United States, but was turned down due to  “American bureaucracy, war, and time.” ** As everybody is probably aware, Anne Frank spent much of the war hiding in a secret room in the attic, was eventually found, arrested, sent to a Nazi concentration camp, and died only a few weeks before the British Army liberated the camp.

911

—–NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, is an organization formed among western nations in 1949 for their mutual protection. Article 5 of the NATO treaty that essentially says that an attack on one member nation would be viewed as an attack on all the NATO members.  Interestingly, Article 5 has only been invoked once, with the other NATO nations coming to the aid of the United States after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.***

 

* Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/john_adams_134175

** https://www.click2houston.com/news/national/anne-franks-family-tried-in-vain-to-flee-to-the-us

*** https://www.nytimes.com/2001/09/13/us/after-attacks-alliance-for-first-time-nato-invokes-joint-defense-pact-with-us.html

 

A Diversion

logo

As much as I like to write, I like to read even more.

Years ago, for Christmas, I had surprised my wife with an iPad–even though my son told me it was a waste, because she’d never use it. In actuality, she is rarely without it.

For Fathers’ Day, my wife surprised me with an iPad, and–except for at work–I, too,  can rarely be found without mine. So, where does that lead me? Why, things to see and read, of course.

Sometimes, I’m drawn to  a book, perhaps through its adaptation as a television series. For example, I happened to stumble across the series The Magicians on Netflix (although I understand it started on the ScyFy Network). I found it intriguing, albeit a bit hard to keep the characters sorted out. I watched all the episodes that Netflix had, which was apparently two of four planned seasons, and enjoyed them, but figured that there was more, and potentially better available.

It’s a writers’ bias thing.

In any case, I downloaded the three Lev Grossman Magicians books (one at a time, of course) and have read two and a half of the three over the last two weeks.

So what’s my point?

The images that appear in my mind when I read a story are–at the very least, so much more personal–and possibly so much more real than what any screenwriter, director, or actor could produce, no matter how talented thay are. Imagnation is so much better than reality.

Nevertheless, I appreciate and enjoy both the books and the videos. Thank you authors, screenwriters, actors, movie and television crews for such wonderful diversions.

Ummmmmmm?

I haven’t been writing much lately because it’s hard to find an interesting topic that won’t piss off someone, somewhere.

Politics? Absolutely not!

International relations? Nope!

Helping the poor? Puhleeze!

Religion? God, no!

And so on and so forth, etc., etc., etc.*

In the musical album Thick as a Brick by Jethro Tull, one of the first lines is “I can make you feel, but I can’t make you think.”

I endeavor to make people think, not to cause eruptions of angst, fear, repulsion, or whatever. Emotions are a beautiful thing and when I write stories, I count on connecting with people’s emotions. However, this blog is to elicit thought.

Why do I differentiate?

When I’m angry, concerned, anxious, stressed, or, whatever, I do not think clearly. When I can at least control those emotions, I can think clearly. I do not wish to disrupt others’ ability to think.

 

*Ben Franklin and John Adams in 1776

Twenty-First Century Bare Knuckle Fighting

th3ILF0YAI

The big thing today is bare-knuckle boxing–a throwback to the days when women were expected to stay home, and prohibited from voting; when horse manure in the street was normal and every house smelled like stale cigars, and brass spittoons (or tin cans for the less affluent) were standard furnishing.*

As a philosopher-at-large, I should claim that this was fully expected, but unfortunately, I was blinded by my faith in the human species. Sorry about that.

Honest disclosure–I never thought two people trying to beat each other up was entertainment. I was never a fan of schoolyard bullies, bar fights, gang fights, or boxing. I never watched professional wrestling–even though we all know it is choreographed ballet for muscle-bound males.

In any case, at a time in which everyone over the age of three has their own smartphone; when cars drive themselves with the same skill as humans (“Lookout, we’re gonna crash and die!”); we have suddenly become fascinated with 19th century sports.

Don’t get me wrong, The 19th century gave us many things, including, including some of the best paintings, sculpture, and literature. Fisticuffs, on the other hand, is not on my list of positive accomplishments.

However, we seem to have an overdeveloped fascination with beating one another senseless.

How weird is that?

* I remember the tin can behind the couch at my grandparents’ house—–yuck—–never mind.

The World Stage

First_Folio,_Shakespeare_-_0212_(All_the_world's_a_stage)

William had a way with words, but more importantly, a way with thoughts. Most of us, unfortunately, didn’t enjoy Shakespeare because in high school literature class we read his plays, not as plays but as stories. They’re great plays. They’re TERRIBLE stories.

It’s like trying to sing a blueprint or mime an equation. It just don’t work.

However, he had some great thoughts.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

If we are the actors (players), to some extent we get to choose–or at least imagine–our audience. As the curtain opens, for whom are we performing? Facebook? Snapchat? The 24-hour news cycle? Reality TV producers? Our moral compass? God? The choice is ours.

On a real stage, the lights are so bright that it is almost impossible to see the audience. Since we don’t know who’s out there, we should play our parts as we believe they should be played.

The curtain is opening. Put your heart and soul into whatever role is yours to play.

Harry, Thank You and Godspeed

Harry

One of the most phenomenal gifts to magic left us today–Harry Anderson. He was a street performer, a delightful guest on Saturday Night Live, Judge Harry Stone on Night Court, and he played Dave Berry on Dave’s World.

How anyone could play Dave Berry is beyond me—but then Harry was also beyond me.

After television, he moved to New Orleans and opened a bar with a magic shop. When Hurricane Katrina devastated the area, the word is that he kept his place open to feed (important) and provide coffee (MORE important) to the first responders.  Later, he moved to Asheville, NC.

When I heard that he had moved, I did a search and found a Harry Anderson in Asheville, and wanted to send him a letter. I wanted to tell him that I enjoyed Night Court. I watched it here, In 1988, on my way to Antarctica, they only had a limited number of hours of television in New Zealand, but one program they had was Night Court–they must have enjoyed him, too. I think he would have liked that. I bought the DVDs. If you never saw Night Court #1, you need to.

Harry rekindled my interest in magic. I’m not much of a performer, but I love the art (and, yes, the science) of stage magic. It’s like the person who could never paint the Mona Lisa, but is dumbstruck by its beauty. Knowing how the magic is done only deepens my respect and admiration for those who perform.

The last performance I did was Thanksgiving, probably in the 1980s, in the basement of my parents’ home. My audience was my kids, parents, siblings, niece and nephews. When I did his trademark* needle through the arm (“It’s an illusion. It’s like–it’s like economic recovery. You think that it’s happening but it really isn’t!) my mother had to leave the room.

Harry would have approved.

I love magic, but to put it into perspective–I’ve seen Harry Blackstone, Jr. perform, and had a wonderful discussion with him after his show and got an autographed picture. (The picture faded but the conversation never will. He was a gentleman with class.) I would have loved to have had him as a next door neighbor.

I’ve seen David Copperfield several times; I suspect deep down inside he’s shy–in the lobby, after the show, he’d autograph memorabilia (including mine), but didn’t say much.

I saw Doug Henning on stage and the show was absolutely awesome, but never had the chance to talk with him.

I’ve been to the magic convention in Colon, Michigan and the Magic Castle in California, several times. I have to count the Safe House in Milwaukee as another great venue for magic.

But I never saw Harry’s show live and I never met him.

Doug Henning was wonderful, but we knew–KNEW–he wouldn’t drown upside down in the “milk jug.” David Copperfield’s illusions are so large that they defied description. We KNEW that the Statue of Liberty was still there and there was no passage through the Great Wall of China.

Then there was Harry. He told you it was an illusion. He told you that he really wasn’t pushing an 18 inch needle through his arm, BUT, we all knew a kid in high school who, for a few dollars would have done exactly that. That’s what made Harry’s performances so wonderful. You never could completely suspend the disbelief. Harry knew what was truly magic–and made us believe, even if just a little.

I’m sorry I never sent that letter. I might have made a friend, or one of us might have thought the other was a total jerk. But I never did, so I’ll never know.

How many opportunities do each of us pass on for no good reason? Maybe we should each take a chance on something before it’s too late.

Goodbye, Harry. I’m sorry I never sent the letter.

 

 

*Harry didn’t invent the illusion. It was once called Whodo Voodoo, which never made it because it was considered too gory, but Harry had the perfect story (patter) to make it work.

New Title

I have a day job, I write this blog, I do some community service, I have children, I write various other works, so in many ways, I’m a jack-of-all-trades, but a master of none. The last part is okay, because no person ever really masters anything.

All the things I do require a lot of thought. Many–but not all–include writing, but all are more mental than physical. I have decided, therefore, to acknowledge that with an appropriate title. George Carlin listed his occupation as “Foole,” so it’s not an original concept.

Therefore, I do now declare myself as a Philosopher, without Portfolio. In a nutshell, that means that it is my job to think, but I am not assigned any particular area of responsibility, so I can think of whatever I desire.