Blog number 229 14 October 2008
When I was getting checked for my chest pains and was about to lie on a table and have photographs taken of my beating heart, the man-in-charge asked me if I wanted to listen to some music. "Sure," I said.
"Sinatra?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
At the time, I thought he might be a one of those strange Sinatra fans and wanted to listen to him, but as I got to thinking of it, I think he thought that, since I was an old man, I probably liked old time singers like Sinatra, Tony Bennett, et al. all of whom I hate with a passion.
We settled on Iron Butterfly.
This thought reminded me of when that fifteen year old girl asked my wife and me if we knew who the Beatles were. I think that to youngsters, they see themselves as living in the world and old people are "off there" somewhere, not attuned to what is really going on.
They are SO cute!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
PEG O MY HEART
Blog number 231 16 October 2008
I had my "heart conference" today. No operations of any kind to do. That's a GOOD to-do list. Soooo, not much to write about, but I promised. Kinda.
Th-th-that that's all, folks!
Posted by Don Reynolds at 3:34 PM 3 comments Links to this post
I had my "heart conference" today. No operations of any kind to do. That's a GOOD to-do list. Soooo, not much to write about, but I promised. Kinda.
Th-th-that that's all, folks!
Posted by Don Reynolds at 3:34 PM 3 comments Links to this post
SAME TO YOU!
Blog number 233 22 October 2008
A week or so ago I read a book called, "Waiter's Rant" about a waiters experience waiting on tables. The author mentioned reading a book called, "Waiting," by waitress Debra Ginsberg.
So I started reading that.
Debra mentions being told an anecdote concerning a group of patrons sitting at the same table where one of them kept cursing at the waitress for twenty minutes before one of the group told the waitress that the cursing patron had Tourette's Syndrome.
In case you don't know what Tourette's is, it's a syndrome whereby the sufferer of it uses offensive and dirty words shouted out in a loud voice.
I once saw a documentary about a Tourette's sufferer and he kept cursing, saying dirty words, and throwing haymakers that came awfully close to the documentarian's nose. At one point the documentarian nervously said, "You're not going to hit me, are you?"
Watching this documentary, I was struck by both the cursing and the haymakers. I wondered why, if the behavior was entirely involuntary, did the sufferer pick only obscene words? And why were the haymakers ALWAYS thrown toward the man making the documentary?
I'm not suggesting that those with Tourette's are consciously perpetuating this stereotype. What I am suggesting is that there might be an unconscious "bent," an unconscious passive aggressive drive causing the symptoms to be what they are. After all, it is difficult to conceive that the sufferer would think, "let's see now. I could say, "rabbit," or "look out," but I think I'll say shit. Yeah, that's what I'll do! Shit."
The laws of probability prevent the symptoms from being randomly produced, they are too orderly.
Posted by Don Reynolds at 4:02 PM 4 comments Links to this post
A week or so ago I read a book called, "Waiter's Rant" about a waiters experience waiting on tables. The author mentioned reading a book called, "Waiting," by waitress Debra Ginsberg.
So I started reading that.
Debra mentions being told an anecdote concerning a group of patrons sitting at the same table where one of them kept cursing at the waitress for twenty minutes before one of the group told the waitress that the cursing patron had Tourette's Syndrome.
In case you don't know what Tourette's is, it's a syndrome whereby the sufferer of it uses offensive and dirty words shouted out in a loud voice.
I once saw a documentary about a Tourette's sufferer and he kept cursing, saying dirty words, and throwing haymakers that came awfully close to the documentarian's nose. At one point the documentarian nervously said, "You're not going to hit me, are you?"
Watching this documentary, I was struck by both the cursing and the haymakers. I wondered why, if the behavior was entirely involuntary, did the sufferer pick only obscene words? And why were the haymakers ALWAYS thrown toward the man making the documentary?
I'm not suggesting that those with Tourette's are consciously perpetuating this stereotype. What I am suggesting is that there might be an unconscious "bent," an unconscious passive aggressive drive causing the symptoms to be what they are. After all, it is difficult to conceive that the sufferer would think, "let's see now. I could say, "rabbit," or "look out," but I think I'll say shit. Yeah, that's what I'll do! Shit."
The laws of probability prevent the symptoms from being randomly produced, they are too orderly.
Posted by Don Reynolds at 4:02 PM 4 comments Links to this post
AND A GOOD DAY TO YOU TOO, SIR!
Blog number 234 24 October 2008
Today I had one of those experiences that comes to one every once in a while. You know - the kind that warms the heart, the kind that is in a way, a "secret" because there is no way to transmit it to another human so that they will understand - the kind that belongs just to you and to no one else.
The lovely Teresa took me to the new Fry's Grocery and Vacuum Cleaners and Radios and DVDs and Tool Bins and Starbucks on Pinal Avenue. While Teresa shopped, I sat and drank a cup of four-shot espresso and read the most delicious novel translated from Japanese. At one point I raised my head and stared off into space, thinking about what I was reading.
A mother walked by, trailed by her slight four-or-five year old boy. It seemed the boy was looking at me, but I wasn't sure - my eyes aren't all that good, and the boy had pale eyes. I waved at him to check it out. He quickly turned his head away from me and caught up closer to his mother. So he WAS looking at me.I followed him with my eyes and just before he went behind a display, he looked back at me and gave a big shy smile.
We connected and nobody else in the whole wide world, including his mother, was aware of this.I don't think he would ever tell anyone about this, because to a little boy, it was nothing. So up until I started writing this entry to my Blog, only two people knew of this event and only one (me) thought anything about it.
That event is mine and nobody else can have it.
No use begging, either.
Nope.
Today I had one of those experiences that comes to one every once in a while. You know - the kind that warms the heart, the kind that is in a way, a "secret" because there is no way to transmit it to another human so that they will understand - the kind that belongs just to you and to no one else.
The lovely Teresa took me to the new Fry's Grocery and Vacuum Cleaners and Radios and DVDs and Tool Bins and Starbucks on Pinal Avenue. While Teresa shopped, I sat and drank a cup of four-shot espresso and read the most delicious novel translated from Japanese. At one point I raised my head and stared off into space, thinking about what I was reading.
A mother walked by, trailed by her slight four-or-five year old boy. It seemed the boy was looking at me, but I wasn't sure - my eyes aren't all that good, and the boy had pale eyes. I waved at him to check it out. He quickly turned his head away from me and caught up closer to his mother. So he WAS looking at me.I followed him with my eyes and just before he went behind a display, he looked back at me and gave a big shy smile.
We connected and nobody else in the whole wide world, including his mother, was aware of this.I don't think he would ever tell anyone about this, because to a little boy, it was nothing. So up until I started writing this entry to my Blog, only two people knew of this event and only one (me) thought anything about it.
That event is mine and nobody else can have it.
No use begging, either.
Nope.
LESS ARTISTS, MORE CRAFTSMEN
Blog number 235 25 October 2008
Today is Sunday. Tonight I get to watch "Dexter," "Mad Men," and "Entourage." Goody.
These programs are produced, written, directed and acted by craftsmen.
On the other hand we have "Crash," a new series with nice camera shots, nice opening credits, lots of money invested. And then it all goes to crap. I knew from the first scene that there were going to be problems with this turkey. It opens with a long sex scene. Obviously a precursor to what is coming.
So humans have sex.
Amazing!
The problem with this series is that nobody cares. A cop with no stripes on his sleeves starts ordering other cops around like a top sergeant, and then when he is out on patrol, he wears sergeant stripes.This same cop hassles a sexy Latina after accidentally ramming into her car, feeling her up, going to her house and kissing her while her husband is out of sight, but in the same room, and then has sex with her on the side of his car while stopped at a stop sign. And she obviously hates him. Guess you have to really insult a woman if you wanna have quick sex with her.
Then we have a Black architect trying to get a job designing some alterations a white woman wants on her house that her husband is very much against. You just KNOW the Black man and the white woman is going to have sex. Because it's cutting edge, you see. And sure enough, they do.
Then a Black poet is talked into doing rap for a powerful music mogul even though he insists he is NOT a rapper, that he writes poetry, period. So after no rehearsal, he proceeds to wow the crowd and is promised that he is going to be "the next big thing."
Crash could have been up there with Dexter, Mad Men, et all. You can see it has the potential, but the insistence on sex, juvenile nonsense and carelessness makes it into nothing more than a teenage sex thriller.
Obligatory sex scenes are like car chases, hand to hand combat and gunfire. They eat up the time while adding nothing to the story. You can almost hear the director saying, "I need something here. I know! I'll put in a sex scene (chase scene, fight scene, gun battle scene).
"I don't really like being a critic, but if not me, who? Somebody's got to say these things. Otherwise trash will tend to propagate its self.
Today is Sunday. Tonight I get to watch "Dexter," "Mad Men," and "Entourage." Goody.
These programs are produced, written, directed and acted by craftsmen.
On the other hand we have "Crash," a new series with nice camera shots, nice opening credits, lots of money invested. And then it all goes to crap. I knew from the first scene that there were going to be problems with this turkey. It opens with a long sex scene. Obviously a precursor to what is coming.
So humans have sex.
Amazing!
The problem with this series is that nobody cares. A cop with no stripes on his sleeves starts ordering other cops around like a top sergeant, and then when he is out on patrol, he wears sergeant stripes.This same cop hassles a sexy Latina after accidentally ramming into her car, feeling her up, going to her house and kissing her while her husband is out of sight, but in the same room, and then has sex with her on the side of his car while stopped at a stop sign. And she obviously hates him. Guess you have to really insult a woman if you wanna have quick sex with her.
Then we have a Black architect trying to get a job designing some alterations a white woman wants on her house that her husband is very much against. You just KNOW the Black man and the white woman is going to have sex. Because it's cutting edge, you see. And sure enough, they do.
Then a Black poet is talked into doing rap for a powerful music mogul even though he insists he is NOT a rapper, that he writes poetry, period. So after no rehearsal, he proceeds to wow the crowd and is promised that he is going to be "the next big thing."
Crash could have been up there with Dexter, Mad Men, et all. You can see it has the potential, but the insistence on sex, juvenile nonsense and carelessness makes it into nothing more than a teenage sex thriller.
Obligatory sex scenes are like car chases, hand to hand combat and gunfire. They eat up the time while adding nothing to the story. You can almost hear the director saying, "I need something here. I know! I'll put in a sex scene (chase scene, fight scene, gun battle scene).
"I don't really like being a critic, but if not me, who? Somebody's got to say these things. Otherwise trash will tend to propagate its self.
BABIES ARE MORE THAN YOUNG HUMANS
Blog number 236 28 October 2008
We went to Phoenix today for our weekly visit. A good baby day, it turns out.
As we were led to our booth in Mimi's, I saw in the first booth, a cute little girl, about two years old, brunet page boy, laying her head on her mother's shoulder, sleepy eyes, slowly rubbing her mother's pregnant belly.
A few minutes later, getting up to go out to the car to get my pen and paper which I had forgotten to bring in, I passed the child's booth where she was now sitting up, eating. I put my hand on her head and she gave me a beautiful smile. She smiled again at me as I came back through there on my way back from the car and as I sat down, she said, "Hi." I said "hi" back.
Sweet!
************
When we lived in California we occasionally went to a Catholic mass that always had SRO. Along the whole back of the circular room, adults would be standing, holding babies which very often squawked and talked. Again, sweet!
At the end of the services the priest always called the young up to stand around him and be blessed. After services The priest would stand out in the yard and greet the parishioners as they left, and the children he would engulf in a big hug. It's the only time I ever felt envious of not being in the priesthood. I wanted to do that!
One service I was sitting on the aisle and Teresa was to my right. To her right was a couple that had an active one year old. The baby tried to climb over Teresa's leg to get out and Teresa moved her leg so the baby couldn't. The baby, noticing this, looked up at Teresa with big puzzled eyes and kept trying, like a duckling trying to climb over a high step.
Teresa asked the dad if he wanted me to hold her. The Dad agreed, so all through the rest of the service I got to cuddle that sweet, sweet child. That was a good service!
Another time I was watching this two year old boy ahead of me and across the aisle. He was giving his dad fits, squirming and trying to get loose. I noticed him give his Dad a "look" and he quieted down. I knew what was coming, so as he made a sudden dart up the aisle for the back of the room, as he went by me, I scooped him up and gave him to his dad who had just begun the chase.
The Dad sat him down, and every once in a while the boy would look back at me. Trying to figure out my place in his scheme of things, I guess. I would just grin at him.
I think of those two experiences a lot. Highlights in my life.
We went to Phoenix today for our weekly visit. A good baby day, it turns out.
As we were led to our booth in Mimi's, I saw in the first booth, a cute little girl, about two years old, brunet page boy, laying her head on her mother's shoulder, sleepy eyes, slowly rubbing her mother's pregnant belly.
A few minutes later, getting up to go out to the car to get my pen and paper which I had forgotten to bring in, I passed the child's booth where she was now sitting up, eating. I put my hand on her head and she gave me a beautiful smile. She smiled again at me as I came back through there on my way back from the car and as I sat down, she said, "Hi." I said "hi" back.
Sweet!
************
When we lived in California we occasionally went to a Catholic mass that always had SRO. Along the whole back of the circular room, adults would be standing, holding babies which very often squawked and talked. Again, sweet!
At the end of the services the priest always called the young up to stand around him and be blessed. After services The priest would stand out in the yard and greet the parishioners as they left, and the children he would engulf in a big hug. It's the only time I ever felt envious of not being in the priesthood. I wanted to do that!
One service I was sitting on the aisle and Teresa was to my right. To her right was a couple that had an active one year old. The baby tried to climb over Teresa's leg to get out and Teresa moved her leg so the baby couldn't. The baby, noticing this, looked up at Teresa with big puzzled eyes and kept trying, like a duckling trying to climb over a high step.
Teresa asked the dad if he wanted me to hold her. The Dad agreed, so all through the rest of the service I got to cuddle that sweet, sweet child. That was a good service!
Another time I was watching this two year old boy ahead of me and across the aisle. He was giving his dad fits, squirming and trying to get loose. I noticed him give his Dad a "look" and he quieted down. I knew what was coming, so as he made a sudden dart up the aisle for the back of the room, as he went by me, I scooped him up and gave him to his dad who had just begun the chase.
The Dad sat him down, and every once in a while the boy would look back at me. Trying to figure out my place in his scheme of things, I guess. I would just grin at him.
I think of those two experiences a lot. Highlights in my life.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
IT'S NOT MY FAULT I'M IGNORANT
Blog number 221 17 September 2008
Judge Joe says to the defendant, "You know that the constitution prohibits incarceration for debts."
The defendant responds, "No. I didn't know that."
Judge Joe, incredulously, "you didn't know that the constitution prohibits anyone from being thrown in jail for owing money?"
Defendant replies, "No. I was educated in Kansas."
Judge Joe says to the defendant, "You know that the constitution prohibits incarceration for debts."
The defendant responds, "No. I didn't know that."
Judge Joe, incredulously, "you didn't know that the constitution prohibits anyone from being thrown in jail for owing money?"
Defendant replies, "No. I was educated in Kansas."
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