Sunday, January 30, 2005
Speaking of Newhart, I was listening to his skit, "The Uncle Freddie Show," last night. "Today we're adding the name of a new sponsor to our blacklist. We're adding the name of Pops, a new breakfast cereal. And, of course, all the members and boys and girls in good standing in the Uncle Freddie Club, that of course means you can't have Pops for breakfast in the morning, or play with any little boys or girls who do eat Pops." That cracks me up every time. Though it's all in the delivery, I suppose.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Not much going on around here besides Tanner. Mom's birthday was yesterday, I got her Everybody Loves Raymond on DVD, my sister got her a collection of DVDs about the Boston Celtics, and some books. We were going to go to happy hour at Claim Jumpers on Thursday, but with the dog's health issues, decided against it. I saw The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou last week. I enjoyed it well enough, though I didn't connect with it like I have some of his previous films. I would go on, but I watched The Good, the Bad and the Ugly the other night, and that tends to wipe all other films from my mind. My fitness resolutions for the new year are going along at a reasonable pace. Lost five pounds this month, and am gradually increasing my milage running. But I have been having trouble sleeping, which leads to a decrease in energy, which is holding me back a bit. But that seems to have improved just over the last few nights, so hopefully, especially as I get more exercise, my sleep habits will improve. I've had insomnia most my life, but have made great strides in eliminating it; I'd hate to have that monkey on my back again.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
So mostly I've just been keeping an eye on Tanner, and hanging around the house. We did have some excitement this morning, though. Turns out my sister is pregnant. So I'm soon to be Uncle Mike. Apparently they've been trying for a little while, just wanted to surprise us.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Saturday, January 15, 2005
So that's my new toy at the moment. I am ripping CDs at a decent clip. I've been watching season one of Gilmore Girls while I copy the songs, and was disturbed to see one of the discs was badly scratched in transit, apparently. Since I got it a few months ago, I don't think I can return it, but this screws up my intention of selling it on half.com when I was done watching it. Because while I find the show amusing enough, it isn't something I needed to own for all time. Perhaps I'll buy one of those scratch repair kits. But if you have never seen Gilmore Girls, you might want to give it a try sometime. It amuses me, though, watching the whole season in a short period of time, realizing just how many episodes involve one of the girls oversleeping something. You'd think they'd come up with some other device. Can't they miss a bus or have car troubles to cause some crisis? But I digress. The iPod's cool.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
I also read Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison: The Making of a Masterpiece. I must say it was a bit disappointing; the subject matter is interesting enough to make the shortcomings of the book forgivable, but the prose is at times painful, and the biographical background on Cash has been handled better elsewhere (and he at times misrepresents what Cash's autobiography says, for instance, regarding his drug use post '68). The description of the actual concert is interesting, but for the most part just confirms what could be easily inferred from the actual record. The background information on Folsom Prison itself is interesting, but could have been more developed; it often turns into a laundry-list of names and crimes. But if for nothing else, the book is worthwhile in telling the story of Glen Sherley, a prisoner at Folsom who wrote a song performed by Johnny Cash that night. He proved prescient in thinking that Johnny Cash would be his ticket out of Folsom, but much like some of the boys profiled in The State Boys Rebellion, institutional living left him ill-suited to freedom. The story of Johnny Cash's Folsom prison engagement brings together a lot of social issues and a lot of interesting aspects of Cash's life and career, but one will probably find a few listens of the album more rewarding than reading this book.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
I think the offer to sell me the plot is a face-saving mood, should family members show outrage after learning they sold their plot, located next to my mother's parents. I personally don't care. And I won't be buying the plot; I intend to be cremated in a frigidaire box. After reading Jessica Mitford's The American Way of Death, I'd be reluctant to make any pre-paid arrangements (though I suppose since the plot has been purchased already, the damage has been done). And if I was concerned about my final resting place, I doubt I'd want to be next to by grandparents (no offence). Besides, as I just recently discovered, there's isn't the best neighborhood. The neighborhood kids steal stuff right off your porch, as it were.
Of course, this is all academic, as I have no intention of ever dying. Death is just something that happens in the movies. And TV, I suppose. Which reminds me, watching the Twilight Zone marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel, I saw "I Sing the Body Electric" for the upteenth time, and realized that is a really fucked up story. Basically, the girl doesn't like the robot mother, because she's afraid it will die like her real mother. But the robot mother gets hit by a car and is unhurt, and so the girl loves her, because she will never die. So the moral, as I see it, is, "Feel free to love someone, as long as they will never, ever die." Words to live by. A somwhat darker philosophy by which to view Small Wonder reruns.