First we had Palm Sunday. Now, after lying low for a couple of days, Holy Week kicks back into action with Maundy Thursday, a fairly good show if staged properly. Last Supper time supper time.
Maundy: from Middle English and Old French mande derived from the Latin mandatum, the first word of "Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos"("A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you") which is said or sung (call and response) while getting all kinky with somebodies' feet.
There is also maundsor which was a little basket or purse used by Kings to give alms to the poor. Maundsor is related to other words derived from a Latin term meaning "to beg".
Part of the disinformation campaign
Aha! It's about the poor, about giving money to the poor, about helping the poor. But the show then reveals that everything, and I mean everything, is going to be taken away from poorfolk. Literally. The altar is stripped bare. Oh, by the way, if you pick the right church, you'll get guys in drag with big hair hats waving censors of burning incense in a phony little "ceremony' in which they make you watch them take away everything they see.
Anyway, the thievery of the rich isn't really obvious to the poor peasant working class. Smoke and mirrors, lack of education. The reality is always censored. They keep the truth from us! If you keep up with the story, the central character gets all involved with rich folk and landowners. And then they have him killed because he doesn't own anything else they can take, and he probably couldn't pay the bill for that big supper. They have to get rid of him lest he tell everyone the truth. That'll end their lucrative little scheme. And upset the rabble.
Ah, Palm Sunday. Even though I live across the street from St. Michael's Episcopal, I didn't see a single palm anywhere. And no kids at all. Just older folks. If I lived a couple of blocks south, over by St. Michael's RC, maybe there would be a few kids with palms. When I was young, the Methodist Church once passed them out to both the Adult and the Youth choir before the start of the service. We got to make an entrance in robes, waving palm leaves around. (Hey, that was pretty heady stuff for Methodists.) At least I think that was real and not an edited memory.
Bethesda Methodist Youth Choir, Easter time 1958.
(Click to enlarge)
In case you're curious - there I am! I was 7 years old.
Back to St Michael for a minute. Why does Brattleboro have two churches named for Saint Michael? I don't know. I wonder if they do, or which came first. It's kinda the story of Brattleboro in a way. One shop moves in and is successful. Another shop with a similar theme moves in. The area is able to sustain one, but two simply split the business between them. Eventually, they both cease to attract customers and go out of business. So far, the balance here seems okay, except that at some point around the 1920s or 30s, the Episcopal church moved a few blocks north out to the edge of what was then town. I've been to both churches' websites and neither mentions their history, nor is their comment about St. Mikey. Hmm, I wonder if that was blasphemy? I should tread carefully here - Saint Michael is the biggie in the Archangel biz, after all.
Saint Michael, Archangel.
St. Mike shows up in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Ya know how there is a Prince of Darkness? Well, Michael is the Prince of Light. Captain of the Host of the Lord. On at least one occasion, Michael stood in for the Big Guy. Michael is the angel of forbearance and mercy. He taught Adam the skill of farming. He passed the tablets of Law to Moses on Mt. Sinai.. He rescued Abraham from the fiery furnace he'd been thrown into by Nimrod. It was Michael who led Lot and his family out of Sodom. Michael is in charge of the souls of the just, and it is he who will kill the Antichrist. He's protector of this that and the other thing, and if that's not enough to show you how seriously important he is, well, he's the head of The Watchers. (The Watchers were fallen angels who numbered about 200 and were known as the Grigori.)
My cousin Patricia with palm, and Easter Eggs
waiting to be hard boiled and colored, 1962.
So. Palm Sunday. Weeks, months, have been spent in preparations. Dad had already taken my brother and myself to Spinozi's in Woodstown to get new Sunday's best suits. Oh, God, fitted clothes (heavy sigh).Why 'Sunday's Best"? I mean, it's not like we had extras hanging around.
Anyway, the full Church choir, adults and youth, entered in procession singing Jean-Baptiste Faure's 'The Palms'. The Esty pipe organ's sound would swell with each step we took down the aisle; "O'er all the way green palms and blossoms gay (no comment), are strewn this day in festive preparation. When Jesus comes to take our sins away, ev'n now the throng to welcome Him prepare! Join All and sing His name Devine, let ev'ry voice resound with united acclimation, Hosanna! Praise be the Lord! Bless Him who cometh to bring us salvation!" Geez. I can still recall it all. Our church had an all wood interior. Parishioners would join in singing from a balcony as well as the church floor. The sound would reverberate leaving an almost a constant tone hanging in the air. To hear it was to be it, a level of universal consciousness. And may the Force be with you, too.
Palm Sunday, 1962. Cousin Patricia was 3. I was 11.
In yesterday's post, I didn't get around to describing my Kafkaesque encounters with The Prudential Insurance Company, the Post Office and their tax on the poor, nor my (lack of) interaction with whatever they're calling Food Stamps these days. And I'm not going to do it now. Today is Hans Conreid's birthday. He was a fixture of my youth, playing Uncle Tonoose on The Danny Thomas Show, the Slave in the Magic Mirror on tv's Disneyland show (and probably the inspiration for Jombi but if you don't know, don't ask), Captain Hook in Disney's Peter Pan, the host of Fractured Flickers (and the voices of Sidney Whiplash and Dudley Do-Right), a constant guest on the Ernie Kovacs show, English tutor Percy Livermore on I Love Lucy, and often showed up on The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show as the psychiatrist. As if he wasn't already a Stevil favorite, he definitely entered that pantheon with his performance as Dr. Terwilliker, the music teacher in The 5,000 fingers of Dr. T. He also taught me how to get dressed on a Happy Day.
Thanks, Mr. Conried, and Happy Birthday!
A couple of days ago, I was watching the evening news when there was a promo for the news magazine that follows. As footage of a young man and a young woman in a car chase was shown, an announcer intoned "The Real Life Bonny and Clyde, next!"
Wait - what? Yup. He said "The", not "A". I know this for sure because they repeated it again. It was as though the writers had no idea that there really was a Bonnie and Clyde. They were movie characters, after all.
This came to mind because I read in the news this morning, that Rick Santorum has created a Presidential Exploratory Committee (i.e. fund raising, money grabbing). It's okay, don't hyperventilate, I tell myself. He's just a tv actor in the news shows.
Meanwhile, back in Steven land, things took a turn for the worse. I keep a mailbox at the Post Office. I used to take a nice walk through town and end up there to get my mail. In the tsunami of September 2001, barricades were erected, blocking off that part of the street and sidewalk..
You weren't allowed to even park there. I stopped my pleasant walks. Too much stress and hassle. It's been years now since I've gone to the Post Office everyday. I generally get there about once a week or so. This past Tuesday, there were two envelopes whose appearance troubled me. One was from my landlord and contained a copy of the letter he handed me at 8:30pm March 31st. April Fool! Now what the hell did this mean? Was this sent recently to end his willingness to reconsider? No, as it urned out, it was mailed at the end of March as backup. Whew! The second envelope was from my Storage unit's provider. Unless I came up with a rather significant amount of money by April 25th, they would auction off my possessions.
Ooh, joy! Another fire to put out. Aside from family kind of stuff, there's over half of my Laser Disc collection, many many Cd's, books and kitchen equipment - and some of the choicest titles in my 16mm collection. Snow White, a museum quality Pinocchio, Rocky Horror, Fantasia (with the nude nymphs), Dumbo, Bambi, the 1939 Hunchback of Notre Dame, the beautiful prints of Stormy Weather and Casablanca. And the really, really, and I do mean really Real Imbition Technicolor reels from Singing in the Rain. ETC. By the time I got home, I was close to a full scale panic attack and had to take one of my lorazapams, even though it didn't help much. Well, a telephone call and a couple of days later, I had stopped the threat against my belongings and had negotiated a surprising low "settlement". I guess I've sold enough soap by now that things will be quiet for a week or so. I hope. Maybe. Sorta-kinda. No,. that's not negative thinking on my part, just stuff to keep my ratings up.
"The poor would no longer, under federal law, have a right to health care." (AP)
That quote kind-a stands out doesn't it? It's from a just published news story. The House Budget Committee has passed its version of a 2012 Federal Budget. The biggest cuts are to Medicare and Medicaid. Those cuts were probably deepened by the proposed Republican Income Tax cuts from 35% to 25% for individulas and businesses. The Obama health care law would be repealed. Medicare eligibility would (allegedly in the future) be raised to 67, giving those who are ill a chance to die and not be a burden to their country.
To quote the Committee Chairman Rep. Paul Ryan (R-Wis); "We don't want to turn the safety net into a hammock that lulls people to lives of complacencies and dependencies, into a permanent condition where they never get on their feet," he said.
It's all a nasty piece of business which just gets worse with each proposal that gets press coversage. Isn't it great to live in the richest nation on the face of the earth, where money can be found to fund three wars, where giant corporations pay no taxes and still get tax breaks, where members of Congres have the best health care in America? I could go one with lots of boring facts and figures, but I think my point can be better interpreted by Billie Holiday, whose birthday is today.
Happy Birthday, Lady.
Today, April 7, is the 97th day of the year in the Gregorian calendar. There are 625 days remaining until the end of time.
About a month back, one of the medications I take to deal with depression needed to have its prescription renewed. As usual, I left a message for my doctor. When I picked it up, I noticed that one particular med had changed, was a lower dose, and was to be taken only once a day. What I didn't know was that my doctor was out on vacation at the time, and someone in his office made the change. This particular change was more than the dosage, it seems that it enters and reacts with the blood stream differently than the one it should have been. Last Friday was a doctor visit and the script was corrected. I picked it up on Monday, and am now feeling incredibly better. No more pity parties like that last post.
With the morning off before I have to go to work, I called my landlord and we had a talk. The big news is that he is willing to try to work things out so I can renew my lease. It was a well timed call. He is having lunch today with someone who is a big time benefits type from Montpelier. He asked for permission to talk about my situation - I didn't even take a second to say yes. We went over my income, my problems getting food stamps, the times I've been told there are no more Section 8s (housing help) available, etc.
The gods and curses that damn me please forgive my reaction, but things may be looking up.
My world is crumbling again. It feels kind of like the Old Met production of Samson et Delilah, where parts of the crashing temple are slowly flown into the rafters. It's very familiar. I know this feeling, I've been here before. And God, but I am tired of it. Ever since my rewarding career position as a cashier at a local supermarket cut my hours back last spring, it has been impossible to keep up with my bills. After three and a half years there, I still don't make even $10.00 per hour. My rent has been in arrears since last October. Everything gets paid late. And now my landlord has given me the required 60 days notice that he will not be renewing my lease when it expires at the end of May. I have no money. I have no car. And all too soon, it looks like I shall have no home.
My prescribing therapist asked me an interesting question at my Friday appointment. If I could get another part time job, would I be able to physically and mentally handle it? The fact is that I wouldn't. But then again, it's impossible. I never know my work schedule much in advance. Our hours are supposed to be posted on Thursdays for the week starting Sunday. Sometimes the hours don't get posted until Friday and it is not unknown to have them posted on Saturday. There is no set schedule. This coming week, I will be working two nights until 8:30pm. Last week, my schedule was all daytime shifts - then again, someone different did the schedule that week so I wasn't being punished by the bitch who makes up the schedule. If you ask for a special day off, which is permitted as long as it is two weeks in advance, you get a bad schedule the following week. If they have to do paperwork because you were late getting back from your unpaid lunch break, I'll find myself bagging groceries for an hour or more - even though they know that this will kill my back and I might have to call out the next day. They'd love that - I could then be fired. They claim they don't punish people this way, but everyone knows that they do - but there is nothing that can be done about it. If you complain, it gets worse. I asked my department's manager what would happen if I changed my hours of availability (so I could fit in another part time job). I was told that I would be moved down into a different part time position which would, of course, end my medical benefits. (There are three levels of part time employment - I am part time flex, which means that I can get up to 38.7 hours a week. The next level down would restrict me to 20 hours a week.)
It all gets messier. There are meds that I need that I no longer take because I just can't afford doctor visits and the cost of the meds themselves. This affects my energy, ability to sleep, breather properly, & etc. My skin condition is starting up with the little boils again. I have no real life outside of work - the rest of my day is spent on the computer, watching mind numbing tv shows, being warehoused in my one room apartment that I am about to lose.
I don't know how much more I can take.
I've begun to admire people who find the courage to commit suicide.
A few days ago, I spent at least 8 hours over 2 days trying to find one particular photo I know I have, or at least I think I have. And which seems to be lost in some file folder somewhere, spread over 3 hard drives and a few hundred gigabytes of storage space.
The picture I can't find may not really exist. I have a memory of bumping into it and saving it, but after that everything grows dim. The picture was proof that an old Hollywood Myth type of story was true. The story went that when the 1963 Fox Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton "Cleopatra" opened on Broadway in New York City, there had been so much publicity due to scandals, cost overruns, nearly causing Twentieth Century Fox to go out of business, and etc. that the theatre didn't even bother putting anything on the marquee. They just put up a really huge billboard of Taylor and Burton - and that was all that was needed.
I did find a pic in my files that could be used to help describe what I mean when I say the sign was "huge". See, the exhibition and selling of movies was done very differently then.
Back then, there were "Event" movies. They were big budget extravaganzas which opened in only one theatre. Tickets were mostly purchased in advance, and were for reserved seats. Going to one was a special occasion that called for one's Sunday best, meaning ya got dressed up like the day your picture was gonna be taken at school. When the extravaganza's ticket growth slowed, the film would move on to second run houses, and then out into the "neighborhood" (read - "small town") theaters. The big city theatres where these 'roadshow' pictures opened were usually movie palaces where there were "an acre of seats in a garden of dreams"
The long gone Paramount in Times Square. If this is what a movie palace looked like from the outside, you can imagine what one looked like inside.
An example of a movie palace lobby. It's a bit stripped down - there should be paintings, sculpture and palms. The design above was copied from a Boston movie palace which had a theme based on the Paris Opera House. There should be someone selling souvenir booklets on the stand at the left. A staff of ushers should be flitting about, assisting patrons to their seats, etc.
The 1963 "Cleopatra" opened at the Rivoli Theatre on Broadway and ran for over 60 weeks. The Rivoli may have been a smaller capacity movie palace at a little over 2,200 seats (4,000 to 6,000 was the norm) but it had the largest indoor screen ever built. In the 1950's, the theater was outfitted for the new Todd-AO 70mm wide screen process. The 'Todd' was Mike Todd - Taylor's husband. Her contract for "Cleopatra" stipulated that it be filmed in Todd-AO. It seems that after his untimely death, Taylor owned Todd-AO.
The Rivoli's Broadway entrance was meant to invoke a Grecian Temple.
Postcard view of the Rivoli's interior when it opened in 1917.
The Rivoli newly fitted for Todd-AO. The screen was deeply curved to give viewers the perception of peripheral vision.
Just to convey the size of the screen, the above is from the Todd-AO introduction in Los Angeles. The Rivoli screen was larger.
Okay, getting back to the giant billboard story. It did exist, sort of. The Rivoli's entrance was on Broadway. The back of the theater was on 7th Avenue. That's where the billboard was. And it was just Taylor and Burton, and no title or credits.
Now, as it happened, Rex Harrison's contract stipulated that every time Burton's image was used in promotional materials, his own image must be included. After Cleopatra opened, Harrison went to court over the billboard and won. At first, they added a temporary portrait on the upper right hand corner.
For an idea of the size of this billboard, look just a bit above the Rex Harrison portrait. That's one of the sign painters.
The original artist, Howard Terpning, was called back and the painting was revised.
As for the Rivoli, it was eventually sold to the United Artists chain and was converted into a twin screen in the mid 1980's. The sculpted figures in the pediment were chipped away, the columns were cemented over, and the theatre did not get an historic site designation. In June 1987, after two weeks of "Munchies" and "Creepshow 2", the theater closed. A week later, it was torn down to make way for a gray glass skyscraper.
The other day, as I was writing much of this, there was a post on ibrattleboro which noted that the Kipling, a local multi-screen house that would have been at home in any mall of the mid 1990's, had closed. It started life as a Jerry Lewis Twin. Getting from there to here is a longish but very interesting story. I'll try to remember to get back to it some day. It involves all sorts of colorful characters, right up to and including a Very Important Vice President of a major movie studio.
In fact , most of what I've mentioned, from Todd-AO to the days when movie theatres were the stuff that dreams were made of, deserves and will hopefully get other posts.
For the last several days,I've been trying to find time (and energy) to post. Yesterday was Stephen Sondheim's birthday and I let it go by! (It was also Andrew Lloyd Weber's birthday, but the less said about that, the better.)
The news wires are reporting that Elizabeth Taylor has passed on. This isn't just the passing of a for-real old school Movie Star. It's an era saying its goodbyes.
When I first moved to New York City in 1972, I shared a studio apartment on the Upper East Side. The phone number started with what I later realized was "Butterfield 8".
One of my favorite tv moments involves Ms. Taylor's attempts at reading an endless list of producers at that year's Tony Awards. She was starring on Broadway in a production of "The Little Foxes" at the time...this must-a been around 1981 or 82? It was a kinda ballsy thing for her to do -she would have been about 50 at the time, and it was her first real theatre experience, if I am correct in my recollections. She played Regina. I'd have loved seeing it - another of my favorite actresses, Maureen Stapleton, played Birdie.
Well now. It seems NBC is feeling a little touchy these days.
As you may have noticed, the video from yesterday's post is now "blocked".
So, here's another post of it, while it lasts.
Sometimes, I get concerned about myself. I'm trying to consider whether or not I'm really beginning to lose my mind. Or maybe time is playing tricks on me for playing with it yesterday. It could be I've already had the breakdown and am sitting here in my ill-fitting but comfy green terrycloth robe in the common room at Shadey Rest instead of at home. That would explain the nurse with the 'Mildred Ratched' name tag who is approaching while prepping a needle.
When I woke up this morning, I was feeling all nice, warm and comfy snuggled all in with my 3 1/2 foot, white silk top hatted, teddy bear. Maybe there really is something to this "life is good" attitude. The top hat, by the way, was used in a Broadway show called "But Never Jam Today", a musical version of 'Alice in Wonderland'. Story for another day. Anyway, I made a quick trip to the bathroom and back, jumped under the covers, and thought how nice it would be to sleep, sleep my pretty, sleep. The clock displayed 7:06. I had woken up, so I knew everything was basically okay. I slowly got up, but doing so managed to be a significant victory for the day. I started the coffee making and moved on to the bathroom. I sat down and after a minute looked at the clock. It was 7:58. Wait. What? Where had almost an hour gone? Oh, no. No no no no no. That was yesterday. Was this a delayed reaction? Some trick? Was that the deja vu cat from the matrix? Did I get abducted and returned? I didn't feel probed, psychologically or otherwise. A flash back to Blue Sunshine?? I know I didn't fall asleep. Where did the hour go?
About a half hour later, reading the online almanac: it turns out that today is Einstein's birthday, which I suppose is only really useful to know as an example of the synchronicity of events.
At any rate, time's been parsing in linear mode just now, and I see that my email account is suddenly getting a much better class of spammers. I think it started after I got those "Browse foreclosed homes in the area" notices. I don't know how they got the idea that I was going to suddenly move up in financial standing from the underclass to join the extreme poor and have a little spending money. Then I started getting email from Canterbury Who's Who to update my listing. Now, for the last couple of days, I've been seeing emails from Rachel Ray, Jessica Alba, Ellen DeGenerous (oh, I do hope so baby, I do hope so please send money) and now -just now - Salma Hayak! I delete them all without reading them, of course. It's not hard to figure out.
So I'm not sure what time zone or plane of relativity I'm on, but things are starting to get a lot more interesting in a fun sort of way. I think I can handle it.
Okay. I've been listening to the community radio, a jazz program called Soundscape, while web researchurfing. Just as 10am arrived and the morning news show was starting, the theme music morphed into something a little more familiar to the listeners of my own show (Recycled Radio - Sat's 6-8pm). It was the opening of "Uncle Sam Presents : I Sustain the Wings". The announcer then introduced Major Glenn Miller who started talking. Okay, its 1944 all over the airwaves and I'm at home doing other things. Something somewhere seems to be off kilter. You know, they do keep saying that the earthquake in Japan moved the Earth's Axis. But no one has discussed that little item any further. And to make everything worse, one of those "alert" words just got used : 'Axis'. I don't know what to think. Did one of my old radio show recordings somehow make it into the station's automation software MegaSeg? Had the producers of Free Speech Radio News used a clip from my show as their opening? I mean that would be been nice, and I'd really like to believe it, but I doubt it, ya know? Then the sound stopped. 1944 played again and stopped in the same place. Then there was a sound like a needle at the end bump of a record - for what seemed like 20 minutes. 11am arrived, the station switched to playing Chamber Music, but there were no WVEW 107.7 call letters, no public service spots. Now, could this all be some strange track in MegaSeg, or it could be that at long last I have finally lost my mind? Just now, as I was wondering why this couldn't have happened in my early 40's when it would have been a lot more fun, Maxwell Lawyer's voice suddenly greeted everyone and announced that the station would play more chamber music.
I just found out that somewhere between major network NBC and the Hulu site (of which they are part owner), someone seems to have censored the ending of Zac Galaifianakis' Saturday Night Live opening monologue. I'm not overly familiar with Mr. Galaifianakis and his sense of humour, so out of possible respect for a performer, and my dislike of riddiculous uses of censorship, I'm going to post the whole damn routine.
See, the way jokes, monologues, plot lines, and so forth used to be presented, there used to be a build up (exposition) and finale, joke, payoff, major tune in next year plot finale, et-cet-er-a. But you wouldn't get the payoff, the joke if you hadn't had the build up that set it up. That all changed with a tv show, "Laugh-In", which simply quick cut from punchline to punchline and/or finale. People still laughed. The set ups were all commonly known clues and the pattern for what was to come. But without them, those clues faded away from meaning and use. All you had was the laugh without reason, cut to the next line. And as sure as herd instinct gets everyone to the check out line at the same time, people still laughed, just without meaning. Action without understadning. By using the quick cut logic of if a,b, c (obvious pattern assumes cut right to) z, linear time changed slightly, or our perception of how we use it did. If those suseptible to it all mentally think a,b,c quick cut to z, then all have dropped maybe a billionth or two of a second in the mental process of perception. Where did that time go? If you add it all up does it reach an hour twice a year? And if I missed something and am a billionth-millionth of a second off from the perception time of others, am I then in the world of the shadow people? Am I evolutionly superior or inferior? Maybe I'm just doin the Billy Pilgrim thing. I did answer that ad about becoming a time traveller several posts back. Oh, before I forget it, thanks and Happy Birthday Al.
It seems that the new "in" thing is to have a breakdown. I mean, look (or don't) at Charlie Sheen. The media coverage involved has been very much a part of regular news reporting. as though this were real news. The way the guy himself is running it, however, is as entertainment. I have no doubt that most of my country's citizenry knows more about Mr. Sheen's breakdown than about the nuclear reactor melting core breakdowns in Japan as a result of the earthquake and tsunami.
And then there's Christina Aguilera's breakdown, but from what I don't know. I was under the impression that she hadn't done much the last couple of years other than be Christina Aguilera., which must get pretty taxing from what I gather.
Frank Rich is leaving the New York Times, which is a breakdown in the order of the editorial knowledge universe, but it is his right to move on. It's just that he is one of the few in this country who see politics through the lens of show business, and isn't afraid to tell you who's tinkering with the script, or having a hissy fit backstage. And the Times let him.
A few people at work had histrionic breakdowns over failing to adjust their alarmed linear time devices to the new order of things.
And I suppose I might as well go ahead and make Frank Rich's non pejorative abdication as the Times' voice of sanity a milepost marker for the approach of my own acute time-limited reactive stress, anxiety, and depression disorder.
Did you see last Sunday's Times editorial page? David Brooks, the paper's allegedly respected conservative/libertarian wrote in an editorial entitled 'The New Order';
"We’re going to be doing a lot of deficit cutting over the next several years. The country’s future greatness will be shaped by whether we cut wisely or stupidly. So we should probably come up with a few sensible principles to guide us as we cut. The first one, as I tried to argue last week, is: Make Everybody Hurt. The sacrifice should be spread widely and fairly. A second austerity principle is this: Trim from the old to invest in the young. We should adjust pension promises and reduce the amount of money spent on health care during the last months of life so we can preserve programs for those who are growing and learning the most."
Don't forget you can click to enlarge
Have I said this, yet? The war has already begun. What happened in Wisconsin is just a skirmish. The real battle target, by extension, is the destruction and annihilation of Social Security, Medicare, the 40 hour work week and so on via "cutting the budget". The next battles prepare while everyone else focuses on meltdowns at nuclear reactors in Japan, natural disasters, and the sudden heart warming emergence of "freedom" in the middle east... Let me see if I have this right, some nebbishy kid managed to tap into some big time computers, steal untold bazigabytes of confidential US documents, and is now facing the possibility of being put to death for treason. Meanwhile back at the truth ranch, an arrogant European nebbish guy published this material on his group's website, and' looks very much to be in the middle of a setup right out of cheap fiction as he extradites to a country which will render him here. In the meantime, the leaked documents haven't really revealed very much other than such dangerous things like calling a thief a thief. And from those leaked documents on the "real" Mideast, revolutions have sprung up out of the twitter blue, armed and almost ready. I can't quite remember the exact words anymore, but Charlie Chaplin wrote in his autobiography that in plot construction, an event being repeated once is co-incidence, twice convenience, and three times contrivance. I'll bet whomever is backing and directing this show never figured on teachers in Wisconsin, though. So now They know that We know. And, looking at the plotline, I'd have to say that they might be coming soon. The time left to arm and organize ourselves is fleeting before madness takes control.
I knew it! I knew it! When I posted the news headline in my last post, I was going to open with : 'This story will disappear like a dog electrocuted on a NYC sidewalk', but thought better of it. Anyway, this kind of stuff happens all the time. Then again, time itself is a little wonky, you know? Sometimes I think that the shadow people simply exist in a slightly different tempo of time, but that's a story for another day. If time permits. For now, let it suffice to note that at 2AM tomorrow morning, time is going to fast forward an hour. It doesn't do this everywhere, check your local oracles.
"CAIRO (AP) — Eleven people died in overnight fighting between Christians and Muslims in the suburbs of Cairo... The clashes broke out during a protest by several hundred Christians over the burning of a church in the village of Soul last week ..."
It's a day off and the stew is slowly stewing, the coffee has just finished making, the laund'ry should be finished drying soon, and Dean Martin is singing on TV. I had forgotten daytime TV. I'm seeing it now as an accident of timing. Of course, like everything else that was once good and/or wonderful, you have to pay extra to get it even though it used to be free. Dewey Martin! Dewey Martin is in this movie! Wait. Dewey Martin in a suit and tie? That's sooo wrong. The wonderful thing about having this movie, whatever it is, running on tv is that it is in the proper frame ratio and has been excellently restored. Rich Technicolor colours. Most of the outdoor scenes seem to have been filmed on a sound stage. This was just an everyday picture. A little story (usually very little), a little romance, amazingly good looking people, an occasional song and dance. It is not special. I doubt that it won any accolades (including at the box office). Well now, those shots were definitely filmed outdoors in Rome. Yikes - that set is so tacky that it must have been borrowed from Universal. Sudden whoa! - Triumph of design and scene composition time. Sigh, you always could count on MGM.
Well, as it turns out, my clothes are still wet. I have to do another 2 hour drying cycle. Way my days go.
The thing about the movie on tv is that it is entertaining. And the star is an entertainer, not solely an actor. Which makes me wonder, where are the entertainers today? They seem to be few and far between. So much now is big bucks blow 'em up action adventure scifi fantasy (and gawd, how I love it) or low budget alleged reality. And in real reality, the Muslims and the Christians are at it again. In CinemaScope, Technicolor and Stereophonic Sound. Now That's Entertainment.
Carnevale ended yesterday.
Today, in Christian Rites, is Ash Wednesday - a day of fasting (or the start of 40 days of it for some), confession, penitence and/or repentance. As though we hadn't just been thru February.
Even in my little world, the mask of yesterdays has had to come off. I have to be redeemed. I was "bad" at work again. I somehow ran the bill of two different customers together. (Customers often remove the divider between orders being processed via a "belt". When they do it, it is my fault for not catching it.) This incident was particularly embarrassing, as just two or three days earlier had been my annual "review". On all but two matters, I "meet expectations". My attendance and not properly timed break time clock punches (you're bad if you're early, you're bad if you're late) "need work". And, I had called in sick a couple of times, not that catching colds is realted to management/ownsership not providing heat in winter. And, after being given work that just hit the border of my Orthopedists "no no" list, I had once gone home early in an excelsius of pain: working 5 hours is too little to be considered a full day of work, so it counted as a sick day. I committed such sick day sin a total of 6 times within six months. I did not get the usual 6 written notices for this, all of which have to be signed. If not for two omissions, it would be 6-6-6. Not that that means anything. I'm just sayin'.
I was also found to "need work" on the handling of money. (Now I will have to watch a video before I can return to work.) I had been put on a "watch" list for a cash drawer which had been short of funds. I only found out when I noticed an audit and asked a bookkeeper about it. I was never informed via management. I was also one of several people who had been on that cash drawer that day - so we were all put on the watch list - except for the shift leaders who over assigned the drawer, that is.
And I sometimes don't give my full attention to the transaction finale - I forgot to give customers their stamps, or I didn't give them their coupons (which usually print out long after the customer has left), etc.
I protested having such nonsense in my file. I protested the use of such nonsense to restrict the amount of my raise - last year my raise was 14 cents "with their apologies ": due to the economy they couldn't afford more. Which made it rather silly of them to tell us in one of the news letters they send us how they turned a sizable profit last year.
It was also noted that my "rings per minute" were not up to company standard. My express line rings were especially low. Of course, they send shopping carts well over half full to express now. There is no place to put everything, so one bags a customer's groceries as one goes. It takes time. And, of course, there was no mention that I am usually one of the fastest cashiers there on a month by month basis, and until work hours were cut back, I regularly handled more customers than anyone else.
So I protested the several items. I even noted that "I am a damn good cashier" at one point.
Oopsie.
When I total a customer's order, I always announce the amount. When the customer hands me money, I always announce how much. I always count back the change. Somehow, in spite of my careful procedures, I ran two orders together. Management watched the camera tapes which monitor us to confirm that it was my mistake. I do not get to see the tapes. The receipt was shown to me, but I couldn't do more than give it a quick once over while both a manager and an assistant manager stood on either side of me: both playing bad cop. I felt like a bright light was being shined in my face. So, since today is my day off, within the next 15 minutes as I write, I have to call the front end's assistant manager of customer relations to tell them if I want to continue working there or not. If I do abase myself in this manner, then my next few months will be under extreme scrutiny. And I will have to sign letters about that.
During the three and a half years I've been working there, at least 2 bookkeepers, as well as a number of shift leaders, have found themselves in such position of scrutiny. Strangely enough, they had all filed complaints against the the front end managers. They are also all gone. Ashes to ashes. Both of the bookkeepers were somehow missing $100 at the end of their next to last day of employment. I should be clear, in case anyone from my place of employment should discover this post, that I am in no way accusing any level of the store's management of any skulduggery, display of dispassionatee ill will, or situational malfeasance in employee disappearances. I'm just sayin', is all, I'm just sayin'.
Welcome to the days of penitence and repentance.
And hey, if I really behave myself, maybe I can get into that new company housing being built out back where they tore down that homeless camp!
Every time I start to write in this blog, something happens. A long phone call. Writer's block. The antidepressants kick in. The antianxietals kick in. The computer starts spinning its hidden drives and refuses to do my bidding - I wonder what it's up to; paranoia kicks in. I start falling asleep from exhaustion. Something - anything - distracts. I open a window and am seduced by ephemera. My dear friend over at austanspace spends most of an oxycleaned post hooked on Led Zep. I stumble on the following image. Synchronicity of events. I start to post it, but something - anything - distracts. Just now it was a problem at the radio station. I renew my pledge to myself to dust... Oops. Gotta get ready for work... so here, then, for austanspace- just because.
I have come to realize that I don't much like Februaries. At the age of 60, I've been through enough of them to have a somewhat informed opinion. It is not playing with a full deck of cards as far as days of the month go, now is it? I wonder if it was simply shortchanged, or if the two days are missing due to some plot of the rich. Or the corporations. Or the Illuminati. Or the Gormagons. Some say that it's because both Julius Caesar and Augustus each took a day away to add to the months named for them in one of those "mine is bigger than yours" competitions (July and August, respectively)(sooo Italian). The root word involved is Februa, a Roman ceremony of Ritual Purification (or Purging). Yep, that sure describes the month. Whatever the explanation, I say the month became evil in February of 1819 when the United States bought Florida from Spain. And if that isn't enough to make a case against the month, I will also note that in February of 1912, Arizona joined the union. At this point in the post I need a punchline or a great graphic, and I don't have either. I have to go do the laundry.
