Category Archives: Arts

Swearing Off

Over the years, I have sworn off various things. Actually, it was more of a worn off than sworn off. Television programs lost quality, although there was a vast increase in quantity thanks(?) to cable. Too many choices, not have enough time to actually follow a series, so now it’s the occasional Netflix.

I do watch the morning news for the weather forecast and traffic report. Unfortunately it seems to be 80 percent commercials, so I have to pay strict attention while shaving or else I miss it.

I used to love computers, which led to a fascination with the internet. Most of what is available online is best left alone. Let’s just say that it’s a bit worse than a naked stroll through a tick infested patch of poison ivy complete with brown recluse spiders and venomous snakes. I admit that I deny reality and look for decent content. Unfortunately, the best I find are things like YouTube videos showing me how to adjust the carburetor on my weed eater.

So, what does that leave? Reading, writing, experimenting, ham radio, guitar, drums, or puttering around the house.

All things considered, much better choices.

Oyay! Oyay, ye Rolling Stones!

Who would have guessed that in 1965, the most accurate prognosticators of the twenty-first century would have been the Rolling Stones?

I mean, give me a break!

“Hey, you get off of my cloud!”

Computer technology—which was quite limited in 1965—has today become so cloud dependent—forty-plus years after their warning.

More importantly, today there are hackers at every turn . . . . It’s almost eerie. How did Keith Richards and Mick Jagger know what was coming? They are the two most unlikely people . . .

Unless you’re a fan of Men in Black, in which case, that explains a lot.

On the other hand, Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones–as much as I love their acting–have always struck me as just a bit different.

Do you know what I mean?

Positions

No, not that.

There’s a great Monty Python bit in which the suitor is talking to his intended wife’s father. The abbreviated version would go something like this.

Graham Chapman: “Do you have a position?”

Michael Palin: (Snort) “I cleans public lavatories.”

Graham Chapman: “And is there a potential for promotion?”

Michael Palin: “Yeah–after five years they gives me a brush.”

We spend the first quarter of our life preparing to take on a position. The next two quarters of our lives, we define ourselves by our positions. Finally, we learn that our position is what we do, not who we are.

Jackson Browne (with, perhaps some help from his neighbor Don Henley) may have said it best in “Running on Empty”:

Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive

We are who we are and we do what we do–don’t confuse them.

 

Elites

While we often talk about elites, we tend not to use that term. Elites are the people in any society who enjoy special privileges.

For a long time, elites were entitled to such status as a birthright, the most obvious example being royalty. If your father was King, it must be God’s will, and therefore the son must be qualified as well. Personally I don’t think God gets involved in politics, but you never know.

John Adams predicted that even though our constitution prohibited titles of royalty there would still be an elite class. He figured that those with educations would prosper, ensuring that their offspring would be afforded education and any wealth that the family had amassed, although in many cases the younger elites ended up with an education and the family debt. Nevertheless, they enjoyed the status.

The American dream is that we’re a meritocracy—anyone can achieve through ability and hard work, and sometimes this works. In fact, there have been periods in our history, such as the 1950s, when this was common, Nevertheless, it is not guaranteed.

Today, many of the elites once again obtain their status by birthright. There are many young men and women as, if not more talented, than the children of Tom Hanks, Will Smith, or the Barrymore family. However, it is the children of the elites who seem to land the acting roles. Is Eddie Van Halen’s son better than the band’s original bassist? Cheap Trick sold many albums with Bun E. Carlos as their drummer, but Rick Nielsen—the guitarist now has his son filling that spot.  Julian Lennon didn’t have to work his way up from playing wedding and bar mitzvah gigs. How many Fords have been senior executives at their namesake auto company?

Do we as a society get our best value from this practice?

Schizophrenia as an Aid to Writing

Writers of fiction need to be a bit schizophrenic; they live partially in this world and partially in the world that doesn’t exist except as printed words. It’s the characters that are to blame. As I’ve mentioned before, when I’m writing, if I know my character—and for clarity’s sake, let’s stick to just a single character—when that character is placed in a certain situation, it’s easy to write, because I know what that character would do. I can even anticipate when that character is going to do the opposite of what would it would normally do.

As a writer I unconsciously develop the character’s back story. In the story I’m working on now, I’ve got a pretty good understanding of what the protagonist’s life has been like up till now. I may not have thought through details, but since I have the overview, the events that led to a particular trait reveal themselves fairly easily when I need them.

I wrote one column for nearly twenty years, and I knew one character intimately. On the other hand, these stories included a narrator—think Dr. Watson to Sherlock Holmes. The difference was that I never really knew who this narrator was. Was it me? Was the narrator male? Female? Caucasian? Ethnic? To this day, almost 33 years after I first began to write that story, I can’t tell you.

Why? I don’t know. Perhaps it encouraged everyone to identify with the narrator. It might have been that as a character, the narrator was merely a mechanism—like the plucky comic relief character in a movie. The narrator might have been the human version of Alfred Hitchcock’s McGuffin. Hitchcock explained that a McGuffin was something like the microfilm that all the characters tried to get; what is on the microfilm is unimportant.

For that matter, the narrator back then might even have been named McGuffin. Who knows?

Mayonnaise

As promised, in order to be completely politically correct, this blog is devoted to mayonnaise. Perhaps devoted is too strong a word, but it will be about mayonnaise—I don’t want anyone thinking I have some kind of mayonnaise fetish.

Wikipedia says that mayonnaise is, “a thick, creamy dressing often used as a condiment. It is a stable emulsion of oil, egg yolk, and either vinegar or lemon juice, with many options for embellishment with other herbs and spices.”

I say that mayonnaise is politically correct, non-controversial and slightly bland.

Many of us grew up being told that the most dangerous thing at a picnic was not the poison ivy, the fire ants, or even hungry bears. We were warned to avoid any potato salad that had been out of the refrigerator for more than ten seconds because it would spoil, cause food poisoning,  and we’d die a slow, painful death. Some years later I heard on the radio that because mayonnaise contains vinegar and/or lemon juice—both acting as preservatives—this was unlikely. Of course the guy on the radio might have actually intended to be a mass murderer and slaughter thousands of gullible listeners,wielding spoiled potato salad like a deadly weapon.

There’s phony mayo, labeled either “Salad Dressing” or “Phony Mayo.” Considering that a dab gets added to a sandwich filled with several kinds of meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles, and jalapenos, I’m sure most people couldn’t tell which dab had been added to  the sandwich they were eating.

Spices are often added because mayonnaise is slightly bland. You must be careful, though since adding things to mayonnaise, changes it. Add mustard to mayo and you have remoulade. Add chopped cooked potatoes, eggs and celery and you have deadly potato salad.

I hope you have enjoyed today’s politically correct, non-controversial, and slightly bland blog. Please do not leave this blog outside in the summer sun as it may spoil and kill you.

The Play’s the Thing

We went to The Perfect Crime, which has the Guinness record for the longest running play, with Catherine Russell as the leading lady since the play began in 1987 (she is reported to have missed four performances throughout that entire time).

The plot has so many twists and turns that they give you an answer key after the play so you can clearly understand who killed whom, how, when, etc.

Wouldn’t it be helpful if someone gave each of us an answer key from time to time? Here’s why you changed jobs; this is what your spouse is thinking; or even what your teenagers really mean.

On second thought, maybe it’s best to keep those things as unknowns.crime