Blog number 337 **** 10 November 2009
We (Teresa and I) went to Mimi's this morn. Teresa ordered a cup of coffee and it was sitting there when a server came over with something - I don't know what - I was reading, when I heard the waitress say, "Do you want me to bring a napkin for that?"
I looked and Teresa's coffee had been spilled - Teresa says by the waitress. It ran under the plastic covering the table cloth, on to Teresa's book, and on the newspaper we had brought with us. Looked like almost a quarter cup or so of coffee.
"Maybe a mop," I said.
No I didn't.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
PEOPLE CAN CHANGE. CAN TOO!
Blog number 336 **** 08 November 2009
The author of the book I'm reading (see Blog number 335 below) seems to me to suffer from a bit of naivety. He seems like such an intelligent and thoughtful scientist that it surprised me no end to find that out. I can't get over it. What's the matter with that man?
Let me explain.
After WW II, and after the Germans had invaded the peaceful kingdom of The Netherlands and killed many innocent civilians and destroyed much of their property - all without provocation, much as has been done by another country to another country in our present time, the author states that since that time the Dutch have been less than enamored of their neighbors to the east (the Germans).
As an undergraduate of at the University of Nijmegen, he was taught by several German professors who spoke Dutch with a heavy German accent. One of these professors was a grumpy old man who was rumored to have been a concentration camp guard. Then the author goes on to say, "Obviously this couldn't be true, since he would now have been in jail or worse."
Well, that's good enough proof for me. How about you? O. J. didn't go to jail when he killed his ex, so he must have been innocent too. Right?
But wait. Besides being old and grumpy, was there anything else about that man that might make one suspicious of the truth of that rumor? Well, let's see.
"To make matters worse, this professor manually killed the mice needed for our anatomy practicum. He didn't believe in death by ether, and would simply take a box with live mice and stand with his back turned to us. A few minutes later, a pile of dead mice with cracked necks lay on the counter... you can imagine we found this professor a bit scary."
The author of the book I'm reading (see Blog number 335 below) seems to me to suffer from a bit of naivety. He seems like such an intelligent and thoughtful scientist that it surprised me no end to find that out. I can't get over it. What's the matter with that man?
Let me explain.
After WW II, and after the Germans had invaded the peaceful kingdom of The Netherlands and killed many innocent civilians and destroyed much of their property - all without provocation, much as has been done by another country to another country in our present time, the author states that since that time the Dutch have been less than enamored of their neighbors to the east (the Germans).
As an undergraduate of at the University of Nijmegen, he was taught by several German professors who spoke Dutch with a heavy German accent. One of these professors was a grumpy old man who was rumored to have been a concentration camp guard. Then the author goes on to say, "Obviously this couldn't be true, since he would now have been in jail or worse."
Well, that's good enough proof for me. How about you? O. J. didn't go to jail when he killed his ex, so he must have been innocent too. Right?
But wait. Besides being old and grumpy, was there anything else about that man that might make one suspicious of the truth of that rumor? Well, let's see.
"To make matters worse, this professor manually killed the mice needed for our anatomy practicum. He didn't believe in death by ether, and would simply take a box with live mice and stand with his back turned to us. A few minutes later, a pile of dead mice with cracked necks lay on the counter... you can imagine we found this professor a bit scary."
YEAH! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?
Blog number 335 **** 08 November 2009
I'm reading, "The Age of Empathy" by Frans De Waal.
Talking about the difference of opinion about social bonding amongst social biologists "recalls that famous dinner conversation between a Russian literary critic and the writer Ivan Turgenev: ' We haven't yet solved the problem of God,' the critic yelled, 'and you want to eat!' "
I'm reading, "The Age of Empathy" by Frans De Waal.
Talking about the difference of opinion about social bonding amongst social biologists "recalls that famous dinner conversation between a Russian literary critic and the writer Ivan Turgenev: ' We haven't yet solved the problem of God,' the critic yelled, 'and you want to eat!' "
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
CAN WE GET AN AMEN FOR REASONABLE LEADERS?
Blog number 334 **** 03 November 2009
I'm reading a history of The Simpsons. One story contains a remark by the first President Bush's Drug Czar, William Bennett.
Willie admitted that he had never seen [an episode of The Simpsons] adding, "I'll sit down with the little spike head [Bart Simpson], we'll straighten this out ...there's nothing that a Catholic school, a paper route and a couple soap sandwiches wouldn't straighten out."
The Simpson writers responded, "If our Drug Czar thinks he can sit down and talk this over with a cartoon character, he must be on something."
I'm reading a history of The Simpsons. One story contains a remark by the first President Bush's Drug Czar, William Bennett.
Willie admitted that he had never seen [an episode of The Simpsons] adding, "I'll sit down with the little spike head [Bart Simpson], we'll straighten this out ...there's nothing that a Catholic school, a paper route and a couple soap sandwiches wouldn't straighten out."
The Simpson writers responded, "If our Drug Czar thinks he can sit down and talk this over with a cartoon character, he must be on something."
Sunday, November 1, 2009
WISH I COULD WRITE LIKE THAT
Blog number 333 **** 01 November 2009
I'm reading a kind of a biography by James Lipton - the "Inside the Actor's Studio" guy?
James was an actor when he met Harold Curman - the name's not important. Harold was a greatly respected acting teacher. Harold would talk with the students after classes, telling stories, One night James asked him, "Weren't you a play reader for the Theatre Guild in the Twenties?"
When he said that he was, one of the other students asked him what were the greatest plays he ever read.
He said the best was one that he never went beyond the title page because nothing could equal it.
"It said, Act one, Scene one; Ten million years before the first living creature crept out of the primordial ooze.
Act one Scene two; Two weeks later. "
Hah! Delicious!
I'm reading a kind of a biography by James Lipton - the "Inside the Actor's Studio" guy?
James was an actor when he met Harold Curman - the name's not important. Harold was a greatly respected acting teacher. Harold would talk with the students after classes, telling stories, One night James asked him, "Weren't you a play reader for the Theatre Guild in the Twenties?"
When he said that he was, one of the other students asked him what were the greatest plays he ever read.
He said the best was one that he never went beyond the title page because nothing could equal it.
"It said, Act one, Scene one; Ten million years before the first living creature crept out of the primordial ooze.
Act one Scene two; Two weeks later. "
Hah! Delicious!
Friday, October 30, 2009
I'M PRETTIER NOW
Blog number 332 **** 30 October 2009
Back in the seventies and early eighties, I could ask a mother if I could hold their babies and they were always pleased with the request. Then danger started increasing in the Good Old United States - going to a high of slightly over 32%, and suddenly I could no longer touch the little dears out of the fear held by the mothers.
I used to only stare at babies because I couldn't touch them and they would usually look at me with a blank face. It took me awhile before I realized that the blank stare they gave me was not interest, it was usually fear. I found that out as soon as they started crying. I guess to them I looked like a predator looking over a menu. At least that's what Teresa told me.
I went to slightly more than twenty years without holding a baby. Then I got a buzz cut haircut, and the first day with it, babies started smiling at me right away, and I was approached and hugged by two babies. Last week I was hugged by still another.
So the mothers might be afraid of me, but it looks like the babies love me. And all because of a different haircut. Beauty may be only skin deep, but that's deep enough for me.
Back in the seventies and early eighties, I could ask a mother if I could hold their babies and they were always pleased with the request. Then danger started increasing in the Good Old United States - going to a high of slightly over 32%, and suddenly I could no longer touch the little dears out of the fear held by the mothers.
I used to only stare at babies because I couldn't touch them and they would usually look at me with a blank face. It took me awhile before I realized that the blank stare they gave me was not interest, it was usually fear. I found that out as soon as they started crying. I guess to them I looked like a predator looking over a menu. At least that's what Teresa told me.
I went to slightly more than twenty years without holding a baby. Then I got a buzz cut haircut, and the first day with it, babies started smiling at me right away, and I was approached and hugged by two babies. Last week I was hugged by still another.
So the mothers might be afraid of me, but it looks like the babies love me. And all because of a different haircut. Beauty may be only skin deep, but that's deep enough for me.
NO WONDER HE LOOKED LIKE AN ALIEN
Blog number 331 **** 30 October 2009
This morning we went to see "This Is It" at the movies, and he was.
We saw the Michelangelo of sound. Amazingly amazing, brilliantly brilliant.
What a guy.
This morning we went to see "This Is It" at the movies, and he was.
We saw the Michelangelo of sound. Amazingly amazing, brilliantly brilliant.
What a guy.
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