Hawk Overhead

During our afternoon perambulation yesterday I noticed that the small birds that usually are so conspicuous in our neighborhood were making themselves scarce. "I wonder if . . .," I began, scanning the skies. Yep, our old friend the Red-tailed Hawk was prowling about. I hoped that he would come down so I could get a good picture, but he soon flew off. At first I thought he might just be perched out of sight, but not long after that I began to hear birdsong and see the little guys flitting about. I guess someone gave the all-clear.

After that I tried to at least get a picture of a sparrow, but they were camera shy.

Such is the life of a bad birdwatcher.

Happy Day After Birthday

A day-late happy birthday to my younger brother who is now officially one year older than I am. He is considering a commission as regional governor of one of the Kingdom's oversectors. Or something like that, I forget. Whatever, I'm sure the Kingdom will benefit from his iron fist.

He's Spartacus! That Guy! The One With the Dimple!

I've been hearing about Spartacus all my life. It was one of those movies that I was embarrassed not to have seen. A great film, influential, huge, epic, beautiful, that sort of thing. So I finally get around to watching Spartacus.

It wasn't bad.

I guess you could say I am a little disappointed. Yes, some of the cinematography is beautiful. The scenes of fighting and the big battles are spectacular. Kirk Douglas is a great looking guy and Jean Simmons is beautiful (in a not-so-ancient but lovely mid-twentieth-century way). All good.

But (and forgive me for sounding like a dumb guy here) there just isn't enough of the action scenes to fill the over three hours of this movie. In between is lots and lots of, well, other stuff. Romance. Poetry. Politics. Social commentary. Pontificating. Plotting. Planning. After a while I was looking for the Roman equivalent of the kitchen sink.

It just tries to bite off too much. There is way too much time spent on pre-imperial Roman politics. For a while I began to wonder if this was the story of the Spartacus slave revolt or a prequel to Julius Caesar. The movie meanders along, seemingly forgetting that it is supposed to be telling us about a desperate struggle of a huge group of people fighting their way along the length of ancient Italy.

It might have been a better movie with tighter directorial or editorial control. The restored version is even longer that the original theatrical release as it adds back a homoerotic scene where Lawrence Olivier is trying to suggest something to young Tony Curtis (a little much for censors of the day). Actually, I'm glad I saw that part. It was pretty good.

Peter Ustinov steals the film. His hilarious portrayal of a slave trader is a joy to watch, and his scenes with Charles Laughton are priceless. Take Ustinov out and I wouldn't be able to recommend the film at all. That's how good he is (he won a well-deserved Oscar for this part). As it is I liked it. Not great, but pretty good.

One other note. Executive producer Kirk Douglas is to be eternally commended for breaking the blacklist by insisting that writer Dalton Trumbo get a proper screen credit. Kirk Douglas is a mensch.

Less Than Fully Supportive

I knew there was a problem when I heard the thud. I looked down and saw one of my chair legs lying on the floor. Not used to seeing a chair leg in this position I jumped up, which is rather fortunate, as the rest of my chair then collapsed. Pity. I had grown rather accustomed to the old thing. Is this a sign that I really need to lose weight, or is it that I spend too much time sitting at my desk?

It's possible that there is some correlation between those two possibilities.

Now I need a new chair. Perhaps a visit to IKEA is in order.

Mitzvah

Here's a tiny true tale for those of you who might be losing your faith in humanity. This afternoon I had to walk a few blocks on an errand. Cold doesn't usually bother me as much as it does most people (in warm weather I wilt like spinach in a sauna), but it was about thirty degrees and I was walking into a stiff wind. I had my hands jammed into my pockets and probably looked a bit grim. A little old lady stopped me on the sidewalk. She had a strong eastern European accent, so at first I didn't catch what she was saying. She had noticed that I looked cold and, having an extra scarf in her bag, she was offering it to me. I thanked her, of course, and told her I was okay. Sometimes you don't need a scarf to feel warm.

Self-Appointed Guardian of the Pantry

Meet Ginger-Pickle -- usually underfoot, here overhead. Note the glowing golden eyes, from which she can shoot death-rays. Other than that she is a very nice kitty.

Bird TV

If you get a chance try to catch the latest presentation of the PBS series Nature. Raptor Force has some of the best video of birds of prey I've ever seen. Some of the slow motion shots of Peregrines in action are breathtaking. I thought I knew a lot about these birds, but I learned quite a bit from this documentary. I could have lived without the bits that compared birds to fighter jets, but that may be more your cup of tea. If you're keen on birds you shouldn't miss it.

Goodbye DJ

The headline said "Ex-NBA Star Johnson Dies at 52." Johnson is a common name. It can't be Dennis Johnson. I click the link. Not DJ, can't be. Of course, it is.

It felt getting kicked in the head. DJ. #3. One of the smartest and toughest guys ever to play the game. He was the indispensable man who always got himself into the right place at the right time. I can still hear Johnny Most: "Now there's a steal by Bird, underneath to DJ, lays it up and in!" Well, Johnny's gone, Red's gone, and now DJ is gone too. And with them dies a little bit of my youth.

Lost Loons

Disturbing news from New Hampshire. Three percent of that state's population of Common Loons just dropped dead.

You Need Fluff, Fluff, Fluff

Today's lunch was that New England classic, the Fluffernutter. If you're from around these parts you know what that is. If you do not have the good fortune to come from New England, allow me to introduce you to a staple of our exotic cuisine.

The Fluffernutter is a sandwich. The ingredient list is short.

Two slices of white bread
Creamy peanut butter
Marshmallow Fluff

Fluff is a brand of marshmallow creme that you can find in every grocery store around here. I'm told that in other parts of the country you can get a similar product from Kraft. I wouldn't know about that. Proper Fluff is made from sugar, egg whites, and vanilla flavor. That's it. It is sweet, sticky, and good.

The bread must be white sandwich bread. I prefer Pepperidge Farm Hearty White, but that's up to you. The peanut butter should be smooth. Chunky is a popular variant, but I think it is a mistake. This sandwich should stick to the roof of your mouth, not get things stuck between your teeth.

The rest is child's play. Put it together as you would a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with the Fluff taking the place of the jelly. I like to spread both about half an inch thick. If I'm making my sandwich to put in a lunch box I like to spread a thin layer of peanut butter on the edges of the Fluff side, then load the Fluff into the middle. Spread it out, but not all the way to the edges. This way you can make a seal around the Fluff. By lunchtime it will spread out evenly.

There you are. Delicious, reasonably nutritious, and cheap. What more could you ask for?

The High Point of My Day? Family Guy.

Which isn't saying much because it was only an average episode of Family Guy. Which is to say it was better than most of what we see on the tube. Still, Stewie's turn as Eartha Kitt was delicious. Purrrrr.

Oh, and to you, oh Best Beloved Reader -- olive juice.

My First and Last Political Post

When I was a little boy I used to watch wrestling on TV. It was great stuff. Heroes and villains, good versus evil; spandex clad and leaping off the top rope every Saturday afternoon. "Man, those guys really hate each other," said I to dear old dad one day. Dad glanced at the glowing screen and said "You know, after the audience leaves those guys have a cup of coffee and a big laugh." A sceptic was born.

Well, not right away. I wanted to believe that all the effort and passion I saw on the small screen meant something. Eventually I had to acknowledge my father's wisdom. It was all theater designed to distract the audience from the fact that it was merely a poor form of entertainment -- no more real than what we today call "reality television."

When I was a young man I studied the way government worked. I know because it says so on my diploma. Democracy. Statecraft. The noble calling of public service. Democrats and Republicans did battle in the arena of public opinion. Government, of, by, and for the people. It was great stuff.

Then I began to notice some things that bothered me. I noticed that actions were taken and legislation enacted simply to score political points, regardless of what happened to people. I saw people who had the power to make things happen making a great show of doing nothing and pretending as if it were otherwise. I saw news media playing along because they didn't know any better or didn't care. I saw the political classes displaying a horrific disregard as to the consequences of their actions.

There is no difference between the parties. The pursuit and advancement of truth, justice, and the greater good are not reflected in their actions.

Case in point: The Surge.

The voters are agitated. They are upset by what they see happening in Iraq and want someone to do something to make it better. The administration announces that they have a major new plan. They call a press conference. They say that troop levels will be increased by about 21,000. They even have a cool name for this new strategy. They call it a "surge." That sounds good. It sounds strong and at the same time temporary. We have a new major policy change. Your government is responding to your needs. Don't you feel better?

The fact is that troop levels have increased and decreased several times in the last couple of years. In that time the number has ranged between 127,000 and 160,000. This "surge" will not even bring the number back up to the 160,000 mark. A moderate reinforcement is being sold as a new strategy to distract the country from the otherwise obvious fact that the administration has no idea how to make the situation better.

What is the response from the opposition? Do they point out that the emperor has no clothes? Do they propose new plans or strategies? No, they pass that great Congressional oxymoron, the non-binding resolution. They call it a major blow to the administration. It's a repudiation of the President's new strategy. It signals a change in direction.

It does nothing.

The President does nothing and says it is something. Congress responds with nothing that they say means something. Partisans of both sides spit hot wind and verbal vitriol while spinning dervishly. There was sound. There was fury. It signified nothing. And lives are being destroyed. People are literally dying for our leaders to do something substantial, yet they are engaged in political kabuki.

Republicans. Democrats. A plague on both their houses. The real differences are so minor they might as well form the Republicrat Party and be done with it. It's all the same to me.

It makes me angry, frustrated, horrified, and sad. And I don't like that. I don't have an answer and I don't think I'm going to find one. So I'm going to tend my garden. I'm going to focus on those things that bring me joy and fulfilment. I will pursue truth and good and beauty and bliss. And personal sanity. That's why this is my last political post. Because I just can't take it anymore.

Supercalifragilisticexpiali-scary

This afternoon my friend Charlene told us that Mary Poppins is one of her favorite movies. I agree, it's terrific. But beware -- for when the east wind blows . . .

Stop & Strike

Three days ago I was at my local grocery store and I heard the employees talking union stuff. I wondered why. Now I know. I might end up doing all of my shopping at Trader Joe's.

Timing is Everything

Finally, snow. The Bay State has not had any measurable snowfall this season. I've lived here all my life (so far) and have never seen a less wintry winter. For those of us who are used to the rhythms of the seasons, this is the winter of our discontent. The last couple of months have been characterized by a growing and pervading sense of wrongness. This is New England. This is winter. Where's the snow?

Here's the snow. A little St. Valentine's Day snowstorm. When we left the palace this morning there were a good couple of inches on the ground.

And me without boots.

It doesn't speak too well of my brainpower, does it? I mean, it had to snow eventually.

Well, not to worry. Just a couple of inches. Not really a problem. Unless the weather gets worse.

It got worse.

Snow became sleet. Sleet became heavy, wind-driven, freezing rain. The footing became dreadful. Slush everywhere. Mushy snowbanks. Minor street flooding. Puddles inches deep. Slush. And more slush.

How would I get about? How would I get home without destroying my shoes and soaking my feet? Who would save me?

Then my hero, rock steady FedEddy, our FedEx guy, trudged in with a delivery from the fine people at L.L Bean.

My new boots! My fancy new boots with the Gore-Tex lining and the Vibram soles. Just in the nick of time.

They fit. They are comfortable. I worked in them for a while and felt good. Then I braved the streets. I got soaked.

Puddles, rain, muck. Soaked to the skin. The only part of me that stayed dry was my feet. People were slipping and sliding. Not me. Those fancy soles are as advertised. I was a mountain goat. I felt great.

There's just something about a good pair of boots. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Lunch Blogging

Yeah, soup is good.

A Video Valentine From Jean-Luc

Don't have a Valentine for your sweetie? Give the gift of song.

A Simple Breakfast

Is that so much to ask? "Simplify, simplify," urged Mr. Thoreau. I will start at breakfast. A very good place to start. Do I need seven grains, ten grains, clusters, bunches, shapes, marshmallows, fiber pellets, value added cereal? Now with quadrotriticale! What was wrong with corn flakes?

I like corn flakes. So I go to the grocery and start reading the ingredients. The list is a lot shorter than on some other boxes, but one thing jumps out at me. High fructose corn syrup. It's a sweetener that I'm trying to avoid. The famous brand has it. It's competitor has it. Even the store brand has it. When did they put that crud in my corn flakes?

And then I go to Trader Joe's. Good old Trader Joe's. Joe has his brand of corn flakes. I read the box. No high fructose corn syrup.

So I'm eating corn flakes for breakfast. A simple thing, but it makes me happy.

Flash! Amen!

Work continues on the steeple for the First Church of Flash Gordon, Scientist.

Thoughts This Morning

I note that so far this month I have lost one pound. If this trend continues I will be weightless by 2029.

Last night I read a few pages from Faust, Part 2. Dearly Beloved looked up some of the classical allusions for me (we've got a lot of reference books). Since Part 2 is all about classical allusions it was pretty slow going.

I'm intrigued by Goethe's "Homonculus" character. I'm familiar with artificial beings like Pinoccio, Frankenstein's monster and Lt. Cmdr. Data. Homonculus is an artificial soul, a spirit without bodily form, created by alchemical process. He exists as a flicker of flame in a glass vial. Supernaturally aware of his surroundings, communicative, and mobile, he desires a body to house his spirit. I wonder at that. With a body would he not be limited? He would be subject to gravity, illness, and mortality. What an interesting concept.

I sought out Faust as part of my ongoing research into the concept of the accursed wanderer. Goethe's version of the scholar travels time and space with his devilish companion. Clearly an accused being, as his soul is in hock, Faust doesn't seem to care too much about this condition.

It's got me thinking about other accursed wanderers. The Wandering Jew, The Flying Dutchman, Elric, Peter Rugg -- these are all obvious examples. What about Frodo? His travels are usually seen, I think, as those of a hero on a quest. But what is it to bear the burden of the One Ring? It is an evil so great that it weighs down your soul. A tempter to you and those around you. A poison that weakens body and spirit. Surely Frodo is carrying the devil on his back. I think Frodo counts as a version of the accused wanderer, but a version unto himself. He willingly takes on the burden, not for his own benefit, but for the benefit of everyone else. Frodo is the redeemer of his world, the accused wanderer in imitation of Christ.

The General

We watched Buster Keaton's The General this weekend. Here's my review of the film. If you want to read more of my reviews you can visit The Glenncademy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

The General (1927)

Buster Keaton's work holds up better than that of any of his contemporaries. Perhaps it is because his style of under-reacting plays better on the cool medium of television. Maybe it is easier for us to empathize with an honest, long-suffering working man than with a tramp. I don't know. I do know that Keaton was great and The General is a great movie. Based loosely upon actual events, it tells the story of Johnny Gray, a locomotive engineer desperately in love with the beautiful Annabelle Lee. When the Civil War breaks out she tells him that she can only love him if he enlists in the Confederate army. He is rejected, but no one bothers to tell him that it is because he is more valuable to the South in his engine than in a uniform. Poor Buster.

Later on Annabelle Lee must take Buster's train north to the front to visit her wounded father. By a remarkable coincidence agents of the Union army are at that moment plotting to steal that very train and drive it north. Buster gives chase, and the movie takes off.

It's a chase movie! It's a war movie! It's an action movie! It's a love story! It's a comedy!

Wait a minute. A chase movie? On train tracks? Kind of dull, no? Ha, you reckon without the Keaton genius. There are twists, turns, and stunts that you won't believe. Buster did all of his own stunts. If you've never seen his stuff before prepare to be amazed. I've seen his stuff before and I’m still amazed .

All of the stunts and gags fit into the film organically. Often in action-comedies the plot has to take an illogical turn or a character has to do something stupid in order for the gag to happen. You never get that feeling here.

I could go on. I could write about how the subtleties of Buster's character driven comedy play against the broadness of his slapstick. I could talk about how funny and action-packed the whole thing is. I could even go on about Buster pulling off the biggest, most spectacular, and expensive stunt in the silent movie age. I'll spare you. Here's the deal -- this is one of the greatest movies ever made.

Mr. Gower Works At Your Drugstore Too

A follow-up on the earlier post. A couple of hours after we got home from the grocery store my Dearly Beloved took a look at the pills she got from the pharmacy there. They are the wrong pills. Rather, they are the correct medication, but the wrong strength. Not a good thing at all.

Today's lesson: Druggists make mistakes. Be careful.

Buying Stuff

It is another beautiful day here in the Kingdom. I decided to celebrate by opening my wallet and doing a little spending. With a storm on the way (it is supposed to be a bit damp on Wednesday) I thought it a good time to shop for boots. A saw a nice pair at L.L. Bean and they are now on their way to me. Perhaps it would have been more sensible for me to have ordered them earlier so that I might have a chance of wearing them for the storm. Ah well.

After a gourmet lunch featuring ramen noodles we went off to our nearest big chain grocery store. We picked up some essentials and I got some peanuts and some peanut butter. I think I'll make some cookies on my next day off from work.

At the store I kept noticing guys with union pins talking to small groups of employees. Employees were talking amongst themselves about a meeting and an upcoming vote. I wonder what's going on.

Golden Tumors and Golden Mice

I read a few chapters of the Bible this last night. In 1 Samuel we learn that the people of Israel were conquered by the Philistines, who take the Ark of the Covenant. You remember the Ark. It was the MacGuffin in the first Indiana Jones picture. In that movie it was shown to have superpowers. Here it knocks over an image of Dagon (who later caused all kinds of trouble up the road from me in Innsmouth) and gives tumors to the Philistines. They don't want to be remembered as stubborn idiots like that Pharaoh in Exodus, so they load the Ark onto a cart, strap it to a cow, and send it on its way. First though they put five golden tumors and five golden mice on the cart.

What gives? The tumors and mice tell us a lot about the nature of the problem they were dealing with. Quick now, name an historically common, rodent borne illness that spreads rapidly, presents with tumors, and causes widespread death. If you said "bubonic plague" you've won a hundred GlennBucks. If not, you really should try reading books.

Okay, while in possession of the Ark their people get the plague. What makes the most sense for a learned person of that time and place? A bit of sympathetic magic. They figured they were on the wrong side of a powerful god so they would make amends by giving Him something of value. They gave Him gold in the shape of the things afflicting them figuring that would cause Him to take the troubles with him. To be completely sure they didn't give the cart a driver. If the cow went straight down the road to the nearest Israeli town then they would know that they had done the right thing. If it just wandered around then they would have to keep working on the problem. Since this story made it into the Bible I'll bet you can probably figure out what happened.

Great story. Really interesting insight into the minds and cultures of these ancient peoples. I just wonder what a golden tumor would look like.

Will the New Provost Be Professor Mephisto?

Today's headline reads "Faust named new president of Harvard." A fine and historic choice of course, but . . . well, I've been reading Goethe on my lunch breaks recently. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing between fantasy and reality. For a moment I was a bit confused.

Best Star Trek Music Video Ever

Seriously. Have you seen this thing? It's been around the web for a while now. I don't know who made it, but it's good. Feed your head.

And Here I Go Again

I just can't seem to stop. A form of graphomania I suppose. I just can't seem to stop writing blogs. I said I would quit, but here I am. Oh well.

This blog is different from my previous efforts (really, really it is). The other ones were, I think, a bit more serious and a bit removed from me. This one will be more personal.

Of course it will also be different because I am a different person from the Glenn who wrote all that other stuff.

After all, I wasn't a Philosopher-King in those days.

I occurs to me that an attempt to create a daily journal is a good idea. I don't know that reading one is such a good idea, but you, oh best beloved reader, are welcome to, if that's your idea of fun.

Why do we read journals? I suppose if I was was all that great a writer and wrote wonderfully readable prose that fans of a good read would flock to my journal. I imagine that if I was celebrated for something-or-other people might want to read my daily thoughts and might even take an interest in the minutia of my day.

Perhaps it is just the voyeur in us.

That might be it. Are we a nation of voyeurs? If so, are we not also a nation of exhibitionists? As I reflect upon it I think that I must admit the truth; there is something of the exhibitionist in me that is reflected in this need to blog. I am an extroverted introvert. Strange.

Well then, have at it. Here are the highlights of my day so far. I balanced my checkbook and updated my budget. I did my taxes. I vacuumed.

You still with me? Why?

Actually, the taxes were kind of interesting. Fraught with drama and such. Well, not really. I started them last night. I was a bit tired and on my first go-through I made a mistake. When I added everything up I found that I owed Uncle Sam over a thousand dollars. Pretty big money for a guy living close to the bone like me. The only thing that kept me from panicking was my great faith in my own ability to screw up. I must have missed something. I did. A big, fat, obvious, routine deduction. Now I get a nice little refund. No big deal, but nice to know.

State taxes were a bit of an effort. There are a few more deductions this year and I had to do a bit of research to get the numbers I needed. It paid off in the end as I will be getting a larger than usual refund from the Commonwealth. Shazam.

Tonight I think I'll put some jazz on the radio and celebrate the evening with a big pizza. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I may run an errand, do some cooking, perhaps even catch a movie. There's a Viking movie playing at the Glenntopia Nickelodeon this week. Sounds like fun.