Brigham's Blog: October 2011

31 Oct 2011

Trivia question: When was the last time John Lennon and Paul McCartney jammed with each other after the Beatles breakup, and where did it happen? London? New York City? The answer is in this link. And yes, as you might guess, it happened in Burbank or I wouldn't be asking.

We didn't get the huge Saturday snow storm that the Northeast did in Northern Virginia - we got rain all day, with big, wet snowflakes falling but not accumulating. As it was 40 degrees and rainy I didn't even try to look for yard sales. We stayed in the house just about all of the day and wrapped wedding gifts to ship to Meredith and worked on fixing the drywall around the master bath tub.

I watched a bunch of movies:

Night and Fog (1955) - A half-hour French documentary about the Holocaust, mixing present day shots of concentration camps with archival footage with narration. The most moving and gripping work on the subject I have ever seen.

I (Heart) Huckabees (2004) - This is a film like Napoleon Dynamite; it is reportedly difficult for the Netflix software to make predictions about whether or subscribers will like it, so for that reason I checked a copy out at the library - to see. The Netflix software, based on my 2,000 reviews of other films, predicted I'd give it one star. In other words, I'd hate it. I did. I got about twenty minutes into it and gave up. My wife lasted another ten minutes or so. We both agreed that it sucked. Silly nonsense; not funny at all.

Sputnik Declassified - A NOVA production about how the Russians initially won the first stage of the Space Race by putting a satellite in orbit. However, it is now apparent that Werner von Braun's team in the U.S. could have done so months earlier if Eisenhower had chosen. As it turns out, Eisenhower was very interested in getting cameras into space to spy upon the Russians, so he commissioned a Navy team to work on a satellite project - which failed. Von Braun's team, however, was successful. There was also a political concern: Eisenhower worried that the Russians might consider a satellite orbiting over Russia a violation of their airspace. However, the Russians did us a favor by launching Sputnik and making the whole subject moot. (If they can launch an orbiting satellite over many nations' airspaces, it must not be a problem, right? And thus a legal precedent was set.) An interesting production.

The Deer Hunter (1978) - A dreadful, dreadful movie. Overlong at three hours - the first hour is nothing but a wedding - it could and should have been edited into a 90 minute film.

The Russian roulette scenes were ridiculous... was this popular in Vietnam? Were there actually "professional" Russian roulette players? (And, if so, do they have long careers?) I think not. I got the distinct impression that the filmmaker actually wanted to make a film about Russian roulette, and overlaid Vietnam onto it as a supporting framework. Daft.

And DiNero's beard... what was that about? A decorated U.S. Army Ranger Sergeant wearing a beard with his full uniform? Please.

I wanted that three hours of my life back after seeing this. And yet - this stinker won five Academy Awards. Why? I think I know: it was the first big budget production about Vietnam to be made by Hollywood, and the adulation was more due to guilty emotions about the war than to the quality of the film. In other words, the director happened to have the right subject matter at the right time. But it's awful. Worst 'Nam film, ever. Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, We Were Soldiers, Hamburger Hill... all of these are better.

And no, I am not watching Coming Home. I don't do Jane Fonda films.

The Rape of Europa (2006) - We all knew that the Nazi gang (as Churchill called them) were among history's biggest killers, but this film makes clear that they were absolutely first class thieves as well. This film deals with the chaos the Germans inflicted upon the art world via their practice of looting European museums and trotting the goods off to Germany for Hitler's envisioned art museum. The confusion of who legally owns what and what famous paintings are where (if not destroyed) is still very much with us. For instance, a few years ago it was announced that the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia has 70+ German works of art that were taken by the Red Army at the end of World War II. The Germans want them back. One Russian points out, "The Germans began the war. Over twenty million Russians died as a result of it. For them to insist upon the return of those works for 'moral' reasons is obscene." You must admit, the fellow has a point. It will probably takes additional generations to sort this out once and for all.

On Saturday I bought an iPhone; an 8GB 4th generation one - not the recently announced 4S. I'm having fun dorking around with videocalls via Face Time and installing and removing apps. On an associated note, my son and his wife went to a Halloween party this weekend in Utah. He went as Steve Jobs and she went as an iPhone. Sarah calls Ethan's iPhone his "mistress" because he spends so much time with it; witht his party he has now succeeded in doing something no other husband has ever done: combining wife and mistress into one!

Elsewhere, in Burbank, my pal Mike presides over PumpkinFest 2011.

As for us... well, we'll be giving out candy. That's it. Without kids in the house Halloween has lost a lot of its interest for me.

28 Oct 2011

When the Germanic Anglo-Saxons had overrun Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries, and pushed the native populations to Cornwall, Wales, Brittany and the north, the archaeological evidence indicates that, for the most part, they did not occupy the old Romano-British cities, villages and settlements. Instead - probably because of superstition or a cultural bias - they used the building materials to build anew somewhere else. For instance, Roman Londinium was a thriving city. Yet, when the Anglo-Saxons arrived they did not occupy the city in what is today called "the Square Mile," or, definitively, "the City" - the oldest part of London. Instead, they founded a settlement about one mile west of Roman London and called it "Lundenwic." It's more or less where Covent Garden stands today. When I last visited London I paid a visit to the London Museum and stood in a reproduction of a Lundenwic home.

Why didn't the Angles and Saxons simply occupy the old dwellings and places? We'll probably never know for sure, but the old Anglo-Saxon language is unique in having a term to describe the contemplation of dust, dustsceawung. Why contemplate dust? My guess is that it's a sad reflection of past times and past people, things that were done that are done no more, and possibly a fatalistic look at the future. Certainly, fate - or wyrd - was very much a part of the Anglo-Saxon musings in Beowulf. It's in the national character; think of the playing of (the admittedly Scottish tune) Auld Lang Syne every New Year's Eve. Indeed, the very English director Michael Powell has a scene in a film - 1937's The Edge of the World - where the transparent ghosts of an abandoned Scottish island are showing walking by. It's an effective scene.

I had a dustsceawung experience somewhat like that last night. I visited the Springfield (VA) Mall to look for belts at the J.C. Penney, one of the relatively few viable stores in the mall. The mall is scheduled for a total remodeling, but that hasn't happened yet and there has been no firm date announced for the start. So the majority of the mall is covered by great tracts of blank drywall and is empty of shoppers. It's really depressing, because as I walked around last night I remembered taking my little son for a birthday party at the Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor, buying a stylus for my turntable at the Needle in a Haystack store (yes, they specialized in selling styli!), bringing the family to the highly anticipated "Wedding of Jean Gray and Cyclops" X-Men event, watching my youngest daughter do a cheer demonstration with her squad in an open area, going to see Fantasia with my mother and the kids in the early Nineties, etc. Mom's gone, the little kids have grown and the stores are gone. Dustsceawung. I'm not stepping foot in the Springfield Mall again until after they've renovated it. It's depressing.

A reader of mine called his readers' attention to a Halloween song entitled Skin and Bones. Somehow I've never heard it before! Perhaps it wasn't fashionable in the 1960's, when I was trick or treating. Cool song...

Hey! My pal Burbank Mike found an aerial photo of the neighborhood where I grew up! (Click here.) My house is in it! See that circular thing just to the left of the (eucalyptus) tree in the center of the shot? That's our above-ground swimming pool, and it enables us to date this image. We put the pool up in 1965 and took it down in February/March 1969 when we bought our in-ground pool, for which construction started in May 1969. In the wider shot, Mike thinks he recognizes a 1969 model year car, which would have gone for sale in about September 1968. So this photo was taken between around September 1968 and about March 1969!

You can see the nearby Vickroy Park in a detail from this shot, one of my hangouts. I climbed many a tree there. See that tall light pole in the sandy section at the right? It used to be the counting base for Hide and Go Seek games. And just to the right of it, looking like two whitish pillars, is the Shoe. I do believe I was the very first kid to play upon it when construction was finished in 1966; I made a point of climbing upon it when I bicycled home for lunch one day. The construction crew said I could. It was a source of amusement and satisfaction to me to take my son Ethan there to play upon the Shoe in 1985 during a Burbank. The park has been remodeled out of recognition, the shoe is gone and so is that funny little boy - dustsceawung.

You can also see Spector's grocery store in a detail; it was another one of my childhood haunts. I used to sit at the base of the spinner rack and read comic books there. Later on, I brought in malfunctioning tubes to test when I fixed our television sets (back in an era when consumer electronics were user-serviceable). My best Spector's story, however, involves canned whipped cream. When I was a boy I used to nonchalantly stroll down the diary section, remove one of the whipped cream in a can products, pop off the top and - KKKRRRRRRRR - fire some into my mouth and replace the cap. (NOTE: This was before they introduced tamper-proof caps, when it was apparent that somebody had previously opened the cap.) I guess I was about nine or ten.

Once, when I was incautious, one of the employees caught me doing this and dragged me before Mr. Don Spector, who looked at me sternly. "You owe me forty-nine cents," he said. "I expect it the very next time you come into the store." Well, never going into the store ever again to evade the payment was unthinkable; it was too much a part of my boyish lifestyle. So I fretted about how I would save up the forty-nine cents. Suddenly offering to do odd jobs around the house was unacceptable - it would raise suspicions. So I took all of my change and began roaming the vacant lots looking for discarded glass bottles to bring into Ralph's to exchange for money. (Small Coke bottles gained you five cents, a large bottle ten, as I recall.) Eventually I came up with the forty-nine cents and paid Don Spector. Having learned my lesson I never again sprayed whipped cream into my mouth at a store. But I have at home!

Warning: If you visit and we offer to put some whipped cream on one of Cari's pumpkin pies and you observe that it doesn't come out of a tub - decline.

Yard sales tomorrow? I think not; the weather killjoys are calling for rain and maybe even some wet snowflakes. Ugh.

Have a great weekend!

27 Oct 2011

Padam, padam, padam... a song with a beat that hammers in my head incessantly. Edith Piaf sang this back in the day. Check it out. She sings with the same dramatic power that Judy Garland was famous for, but, of course, in French.

Hey, look at this: a 250 year-old previously unencrypted document has been cracked - by a computer. Cool... the document seems Masonic.

I watched The Simpsons Movie (2007) last night, a library rental. It was okay. It seemed like a superior episode, but longer. I'm not the fan my son is - I didn't grow up with it on TV as he did - so my enthusiasm is muted. Actually, we didn't watch it in the house when the kids were little. I had the notion that Homer Simpson, a wretched excuse for a father, wouldn't do us any good as depictions of fatherhood. My son mostly saw episodes in friends' homes, or on the sneak. I once wrote a short article entitled "Father No Longer Knows Best," and pointed out that the last good television father I can think of was Bill Cosby. There may be one on nowadays, but as I don't watch broadcast TV I wouldn't know.

I suppose it goes without saying that The Simpsons serve the same purpose as Punch did for the British in the early 1900's - a sort of national satirical bellwether. If there's an emerging national trend, the producers usually jump on it with some commentary. I'm expecting that the Occupy Wall Street mob will make their way into an episode at some point.

(Ever look up the word origin of "bellwether?" It's interesting.)

I also started to watch the Ridley Scott Robin Hood movie (from 2010), but gave up after about a half-hour. I'm interested in the setting and characters, but the movie appeared to be the same old Hollywood action production. (Especially with the inevitably mannishly tough-spunky-sexy Marian character using a bow and arrow. In Hollywood there are no females other than mannishly tough-spunky-sexy ones.) In other words, I've seen this film before more than once. I pass!

My bride and I also watched yet another episode of the superior Edward VII series. Queen "We Are Not Amused" Victoria gets fatter and more disapproving, and Edward gets balder and more idle. I always think about the Max Beerbohm caricatures of Victoria and Edward VII when watching this. Movies and teleplays about British monarchs are almost always good...

Somebody called my attention to this science photos slideshow. Favorites: Saturn's Aurora, Nanowires, Toucan thermal image, Computer-controlled beetle, Skeletons in love.

26 Oct 2011

When I was a teenager and interested in King Arthur legends and classical music, I happened upon a library Lp of Henry Purcell's semi-opera King Arthur while thumbing through the library bins. This one had an attractive Howard Pyle illustration of the title character on the cover. "Cool!" thought I, "This might be good!" Alas, no.

The opera premiered in 1691 and is a Baroque Epic (also called a Restoration Spectacular), complete with flying metaphysical characters like sprites, special effects, explosions, the Goddess Venus and a large cast. And, sadly, harpsichords, lutes and baroque music (which I consider to be like musical wallpaper). Not the kind of Arthurian thing I was interested in at all. For one thing, my King Arthur wasn't a king at all, but a gritty warrior leading Romano-British cavalry against invading Saxons. For another, the idea of his being portrayed by effete baroque ensembles was impossible. I returned the Lp to the library a sadder but wiser teenager.

Fast forward 38 years and I am again thumbing through a library collection, this time DVDs. I happen upon a recorded performance of Purcell's royal work, and this time decide to give it another chance. After all, I have learned a great deal about classical music and have much broader taste than I did as a teen. Accepting the baroque instrumentation and late 17th C. style for the piece, it might have something to offer, after all. Besides, as I am something of a completest, I'd like to be able to speak on the subject of the opera intelligently. This might be good!

Alas, no. While the musicians (led by Nicholas Harnoncourt, who specializes in baroque music and has solid credentials) are all top notch and well qualified to interpret baroque music, and while Purcell interpreted the Arthurian story as appropriate for the audience of his time (this is a story of Britons vs. Saxons with arias about love; there is no Lancelot or Guinevere), the 2005 staging is an abomination. It's a dumbed-down, colloquial, Eurotrash production featuring modern thrift store dress, lines bellowed, screamed and belched in German (revenge for World War II, I guess) and an over the top amount of absurdity. Worst opera staging, ever.

How bad is it? King Arthur is generally portrayed as a hapless buffoon. During a parley, Oswald, the Saxon leader, and Arthur pull out bottles of beer, which they proceed to pour into their trousers. "Oswald is sooooo hot!" and "Arthur for King!" is scrawled upon a wall as graffiti. At one point when the weather is freezing, everyone is dressed as penguins, and then, shortly thereafter, the cast strips down to modern beach clothes, holding tall drinks with little paper umbrellas therein. Three topless women have "Thor," Freya" and "Woden" painted upon their breasts. Merlin arrives in the audience to hold up the show and discourse about how people will complain about how the classics are treated in the music hall. (Well, yeah - what did you expect?) A loathsome gnome tempts Arthur from a sofa in the shape of a giant pair of lips. A pagan priest, wearing a tee shirt with "sex" written upon it, runs after Arthur's love interest Emmeline with the intent to ravish her. And so on. Concentrated awfulness. But don't take my word for it. Read all the one star reviews on the amazon link I provided above.

I am hoping that some British impresario, conductor or musical ensemble leader sees this, utters "Damn Jerries!" and becomes mightily offended at seeing the Matter of Britain treated so, and stages a more conventional production of the work that pays some respect to the composer, librettist and subject matter. Covent Garden would be a good spot for it, I think.

Last note: The image above is from the DVD box. That's not Arthur on the cover. That's Oswald the Saxon King. If they had portrayed the production as it really is on the cover I'm convinced that nobody would buy the DVD.

And now a blast from my past: Do the Cigarette Mash! Hot girls dancing on cigarettes! It looked so "with it" in 1984... now it looks so... EIGHTIES.

Another video blast from my past: The Kraft Suspense Theatre title sequence (c. 1964), featuring the unsettling shadowy dude (well, I found him so when I was nine) and music by a young John Williams.

Last one: I recall seeing this title sequence on the late show with my Dad when I was about eight or nine. I was fascinated by it. Not enough to watch the movie, however. I recall also liking the music - which is hardly surprising as it's perfect film noir music. I love it when my taste is consistent across the decades...

25 Oct 2011

I watched a horrible movie the other night, Ken Russell's The Music Lovers (1970), an extravagant, zany and self-indulgent biopic about Peter Tchaikovsky.

Ken Russell is one of those directors whose work I watch and then think, "That was awful. This is the last Russell film I'll ever see." I recall feeling that way after seeing Tommy in 1975. But I should have known better... films about the lives of classical composers are often bad. Amadeus (1984 - about Mozart) and Immortal Beloved (1994 - about Beethoven) are the only two exceptions which come to mind. Russell also did films about Franz Liszt and Gustav Mahler I plan to avoid. Song of Scheherazade (1947), about Rimsky-Korsakov, was especially awful despite not being a Ken Russell work. In general, if you want to learn about the lives of composers, read a book.

I also watched a documentary, Winnebago Man (2009), about Jack Rebney. Do you know who he is? He's a viral video star on the Internet, which I suppose is a rung or two lower than being a television reality show star. Anyway, there's a celebrated series of video outtakes of him screwing up his lines and cursing violently (you might be forgiven for thinking he has Tourettes) in a Winnebago promotional from 1989 which have circulated among people ever since. It's on youtube, of course. He became known as the "angriest man in the world." It may come as no surprise that the documentary reveals that this foul-mouthed boor is also a foul-mouthed boor in real life. He has a condescending attitude about people and thinks he is a lot more articulate and intelligent than he really is, using highfalutin words when simple ones will do. (I used to work for a guy like that.) Oddly enough, the documentary is entertaining, if over-long. There is only so much old man anger one can take...

For me it served as a cautionary tale, however. I am 55 and can feel myself becoming more short-tempered and frustrated. While there is much for me to be angry about, there is more to be pleased about. And, as I pointed out in church last Sunday, there is always hope. So I plan to hold my tongue while driving and subject my poor wife to fewer Rebneyisms. Until the next SUV-driving Asian woman speaking on a cell phone cuts me off, that is.

Oh, no. I wrote "television reality show star." That caused me to remember Marguerite "God Warrior" Perrin, whom a young acquaintance once brought to my attention. Get out of my head!

I also watched Paranormal Activity, a cheapie indie horror film from 2007. It wasn't bad... I liked the rough and ready cinema verite style of it; it reminded me of The Blair Witch Project in that regard.

An interesting assertion was posed in that Michael Wood book I'm reading: "Every nation has its chief holy place." He goes on to cite Glastonbury as being England's, and Tara as Ireland's... there is also Jerusalem. So I asked on Facebook, "What is the chief holy place of the United States, do you suppose?" Because I'm a Mormon the first thing that popped into my mind was Salt Lake City, which I quickly disregarded. Somebody mentioned Arlington Cemetery... yes, that's it, I think. I also liked, "Anywhere from the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoly." Other suggestions: Gettysburg, Philadelphia, Lexington Green. A Brit said "Trinity, birthplace of modern American power" meaning a desert in New Mexico. One fellow insisted that it is NOT in Texas (agree!), another opined Las Vegas because so many people make pilgrimages there. A fellow Southern Californian insisted that it's Tommy's Original, on Beverly at Rampart, and his brother quickly agreed. I had an idea hamburgers would be introduced into this discussion.

24 Oct 2011

Yard sales: I bought two paperback books - that's it. It's thinning out towards the end of the season!

The Rugby World Cup was played yesterday, and the French, who have a reputation of playing up to the level of anyone they play (and playing down to the level of anyone they play), lost to the mighty, first ranked All-Blacks by only one point, 8-9. The New Zealand All-Blacks are once again the World Champions. Had a certain French penalty kick gone between the posts the result would have been different and the home nation would have been heart-broken. But in the very endgame the All-Blacks held possession of the ball, running out the clock, ensuring a victory. I can see why teams do that, but I hate it. I think it's not sporting at all.

I learned a couple of interesting things over the weekend.

Thing 1: I last week mentioned that I was watching a fascinating and well-done BBC docudrama about the evacuation of Dunkirk... quick, what was the contribution of the French during World War II? I put this question to my wife, who gave the answer pretty much everyone else would give: Other than some resistance by the Free French Underground, the French Army pretty much caved in to German Army pressure and ceased to be a force early in the war. Which is true. BUT.

But the BBC points out - and I salute them for doing so - that when, in May and June 1940, the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) was backed onto the beaches near Dunkirk with the German Army surrounding them and pushing hard, in the final phases of the operation it was the French Army who took over for the BEF and held the Germans off long enough for the Brits to finish evacuating the 250,000 unwounded members of their army (in addition to some French as well). Putting it in other words, when the Brits retreated, leaving their French allies to fight the Germans alone in continental Europe, it was the French Army who tactically allowed them to do so by covering the retreat! The French made it possible for thousands of BEF forces to arrive safely in England. Sort of puts a different light on this most English of national identity wartime achievements, doesn't it?

Thing 2: I am now reading Michael Wood's In Search of England. I've blogged about him before; Wood is a fascinating writer and television presenter who mainly works with historical and archaeological material. Nobody is better at it than he; his books and televised presentations are wonderful. In this book there is a chapter about the mythical King Arthur, and Wood looks at the earliest hard evidence for a real, historical fifth or sixth century Arthur who led the resistance to the invading Angles and Saxons.

The realization Wood came to is that the earliest evidence doesn't support a historical Arthur at all. As he puts it, "If a figure only appears in sources centuries after his presumed day, and then in only a semi-legendary guise, how can we justify taking him back into the real history of the earlier time when we have no evidence for it?" I have read this sort of thing before, of course. But where Wood differs in evidence and argument is as follows: the earliest, more or less contemporary, account of the happenings in sixth century Britain is in a work by a writer named Gildas. Wood pored over the relevant Latin passages repeatedly and also carefully inspected the punctuation (which differs from modern punctuation), and makes it clear that Gildas attributes the great victory at Badon (usually attributed to Arthur) to a leader with a Roman name, Ambrosius Aurelianus. Gildas credits him with the victory - no one else.

There is a lot more writing on the subject which I shall not include here, but Wood is persuasive. Whereas I used to believe that a historical Arthur probably did exist as the key fifth century leader of the Britons resisting the Angles and Saxons, now I am not so sure. It could be that an battle leader Arthur living back then really didn't exist at all - as Wood points out, there is no real, credible, contemporary evidence for it. Wood has turned me into an Arthurian skeptic!

I read another interesting (but flawed) book recently... You Wouldn't Want to be a Civil War Soldier - A War You'd Rather Not Fight. My review of it is here. I keep looking for the definitive Visitor's Center bookstore kid's book about the Civil War... I guess I'll have to write it myself. Frankie the Yankee.

Yesterday I had some fun shooting some family photos of my pard Chris with his wife and three kids. Stressful! We went to George Washington's Grist Mill, not far from Mount Vernon, and encountered the World's Grumpiest Mill Guide. This guy was ragging on us about blocking a little foot bridge from the non-existent crowds, blocking a doorway from, once again, crowds that weren't there, encouraging us to take photos in the morning rather than when the light is perfect nearing sunset, etc. I bet when school kids arrive on a field trip he goes into heart palpitations.

Anyway, what was funny was trying to get a good shot - everyone looking at the camera and smiling. The four oldest look fine but the baby has his hands over his face. In another shot four are fine but the eldest son has his eyes closed. (The kids have become bored with posing and are now far more interested in throwing sticks in the little creek.) In another, a perfect photo save that Dad's looking at one of the kids, etc. We have a couple that came out okay and one composite I made by removing the eldest son's head from one shot and putting it in another. Anyway, Chris has his family photo.

21 Oct 2011

More wedding photos. These are from the professional photographer in Las Vegas on the temple grounds. You can put in any old address to get in...

I tried to watch Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland (2010) last night, but gave up when a character used the word "foretold." Burton turned Lewis Carroll's delightful, whimsical work into a hopeless and soulless muddle that seemed like a portentous sword and dragon fantasy. Bleah.

The best Alice for my money is the 1999 television production starring Tina Majorino, although I even like the Disney 1951 animated version better than Burton's film!

So I tramped upstairs to my computer where I watched the absolutely perfect 2004 BBC docudrama Dunkirk. One would expect the BBC to do a good job with something so important to the British national identity as the evacuation of Dunkirk, and so they did - it is excellent. Like the superb Overlord (1975), made with the assistance of the Imperial War Museum, it combines modern footage with real World War II footage - I thought this was especially effective.

The Prime Minister's cabinet scenes with Winston Churchill were crackling. You wouldn't know it to look at that pudgy face and rotund figure, but Churchill had the true warrior's heart: implacable, fierce and unbeatable. It is no wonder that in a recent poll Britons voted him the Greatest Briton of All Time.

Looking around at the news (Fox, of course)...

1.) Libyan thug Muammar Qaddafi is dead, and there is now a new Libya. Vexollogists have reason to celebrate; the new government has gone back to the Kingdom of Libya flag in use from 1951 to 1969. It replaces Qaddafi's absolutely boring plain green flag, shown above.

Why green? Do Libyans love the Toyota Prius and recycle paper? No... green is the traditional color of Islam. I've blogged before about the green turban - worn by lineal descendants of the Prophet Muhammad - and how an estimated upwards of 70% of all Americans could wear one if they so chose. So I reckon Qaddafi's flag was a sort of "We're more Islam than you!" kind of statement. Whatever... he's dead. Good riddance. Sic semper tyrannis, to quote my state's motto. North African thugs and gangsters will no longer be having their coffee with Qaddafi. Okay (looking around), which tyrant is next?

2.) Carhenge is for sale for just about the same price you’d pay for a townhouse in many parts of Northern Virginia. I’d write, “Seems like a good deal,” but you’d know I’m lying.

3.) General Motors' Car of the Future, circa 1969: the Holden Hurricane. I echo Top Gear's Jeremy Clarkson: Why is it whenever somebody envisions the car of the future it inevitably has mechanically complicated gull wing doors? What’s wrong with ordinary car doors? Would they somehow interfere in a Carhenge design, for instance?

4.) Ailing elderly fugitive apprehended after being on the lam forty years after hot grease murder of husband. You can’t make up stuff like that, nobody would believe it.

5.) The world hasn’t been destroyed today, as predicted. Or, at least, it doesn’t look like it will. Of course, the day isn’t over yet. I hope we make it.

Assuming we do, have a great weekend! It’ll be nice to once again do yard sales... I just know there are all sorts of books and CDs waiting for me.

20 Oct 2011

Remember Bazooka Joe, the comic character with the Bazooka bubble gum you'd chew as a kid - the kid with the eyepatch (How does a kid wind up needing an eyepatch?) It occurs to me that he might be the reason Ralphie's mother is against the idea of buying her son a Red Ryder BB rifle for Christmas...
Last night I finished watching Psycho a Go Go (1965) - in fast forward. There's a climatic scene in the snow where the nutjob of the title receives his comeuppance via a gunshot wound to the belly and a long fall down a cliff. (Once again I was expecting an anvil to fall from the sky to dramatically and fully ensure his death.) So after that I cast about looking for likely Netflix streaming material to watch but found only Black Death (2010), a Sean Bean film about the infamous medieval plague and some witchcraft. I gave up on it after about twenty minutes because it didn't appear to be anything I haven't seen in other productions - especially when the flagellants appeared. We saw that in Ingmar Bergman's Seventh Seal and, most memorably, in Monty Python's Holy Grail film. In fact, it's almost a visual cliche for the Middle Ages now, isn't it? Once you've seen the Pythons marching along clunking themselves in the head with bits of wood the whole thing becomes unavoidably farcical. Best avoided entirely, I think. The screenplay didn't hold my interest, either.

So I played around with Apple's iTunes for an hour or so. Last week I took my penny jar into the grocery store machine intending to cash it in (I like all the noise it makes as the pennies slide down the chute), but noted that if you took an iTunes voucher instead of cash, you don't pay the 9% fee. So I had just over $6 to buy iTunes music. What did I get? Petula Clark hits from the Sixties - you know, those well-produced, catchy and boisterous monster pop hits:

Downtown
I Know a Place
Don't Sleep in the Subway
Call Me
A Sign of the Times

Great stuff... pop doesn't get much more fun than this.

I also downloaded the Spinners' Greatest Hits. I made a digital version of my cassette, but I decided I liked this music so much I wanted it in remastered digital form. Could it be I'm falling in love/wit chew you, baby... Of course I burned a CD copy of the downloaded tracks. To me, you don't really have a copy of the digital tracks unless they exist in a tangible, separate and storable form like a CD. Call me old-fashioned, but I have seen too many hard disks crash.

Knowing that an IPhone generation 4 (but not the 4S) is in my future I also looked around in the Apps section and downloaded a bunch of free apps: a Wall Street Journal news reader, Mormon stuff, a Google interface, a compass, a New York City classical music station feed, a Pandora music interface, and a Youtube app. When I get the thing I'll canvass my friends and family for what they think is essential. I neither need nor want the cutesy stuff like the Star Wars light saber that goes whoo whoo when you fling the iPhone about or the beer glass that empties when you tilt the phone, etc.

19 Oct 2011

I swanned around the house for most of the day yesterday, yawning and napping now and then. The usual coming-off-of-Propofol thing... but I did something yesterday I have never done before: I drove a car under the influence. When you awake the nurse tells you that you aren't allowed to operate a car for 24 hours after receiving sedation, it's an illegal DWI. But, feeling fine and fully awake by 7 PM, I drove the mile and a half to a Webelos Den meeting anyway. So that makes me especially bad: I DWI'ed to a Cub Scout meeting!

Meredith and Chris' D.C. and reception photos are now up on the photographer's page: D.C., the reception. Handsome couple, no?

I started and watched some films:

The Diary of a High School Bride (1959): "It's not true what they say - we married for love!" ...as opposed to having to get married, which is the gossip a jealous schoolmate starts in the world's oddest high school coffee house (where flamenco guitar is played non-stop). A lame film but an interesting cinematic time capsule nonetheless. The high school bride is so hapless and inept the wonder is she doesn't accidentally stab herself in the heart with a kitchen knife or throw acid on her face. Her parents attempt to sabotage the wedding by buying them a suite of furniture - yeah, that'll do it. The high school punk who attempts to molest the bride is electrocuted at the end, and then falls several stories in a freight elevator. I was expecting an anvil to then drop on his head to really ensure his death, but that didn't happen. An odd film.

Young and Wild (1958): A JD flick. It was neither young (as usual with these 1950's flicks, the teens look and act older than real teens) nor wild. At one point there's a chase scene involving a convertible Ford Edsel! It's true... the front end on those really does look like a Ford swallowed a goat. At one point the JD's steal a ponderous Ford and there's a hit and run scene with an old lady. Weirdly, the police fail to recognize a blood smear on the front of the car.

Detective (fingering smear): "What's this?"
Police lab technician: "We don't know yet."
Audience: "It's blood, you idiots!"

Psycho a Go Go (1965): Okay, I admit, I was lured by the movie title. How good a film is this? Well, in an IMDb review the son of the movie's producers wrote: "If you take this movie serious, you are wasting your time watching it, or you are some moron who just graduated from the New York School of Movie Ratings and need to find a new job." Precisely. I found some interest in the 1965 shots in and around Los Angeles - that's my L.A.! - but, in the end, that couldn't sustain interest and so I gave up. I may resume watching at a weak moment.

My wife and I are now watching a long British TV series from 1975: Edward VII. You know, the monarch who had to wait forever for Queen Victoria to die (she holds the record) in order to become king. As is almost always the case with a British production about a British monarch, it is excellent. Annette Crosbie plays an especially creepy looking Queen Victoria, what with the high forehead and all. I'm looking forward to her becoming fatter and more imperious as the series progresses.

The Rugby World Cup final is this weekend: it's France versus New Zealand, in New Zealand - a powerful home pitch advantage as Kiwis are very vocal supporters. New Zealand should prevail; they are the consistently better team. BUT. As the All-Blacks learned to their sorrow on 31 Oct 1999 in a wondrous come-from-behind upset in a World Cup match, the French are predictably unpredictable. They can be doggy, uninspired and average or motivated, thrilling and play with elan and grace. Which players will the French bring to the game? I can't wait to see...

18 Oct 2011

Endoscopy went fine; the doc says my Barrett's is looking good. I next do one of these in three years. Propofol is cool... he also said that he and I had a conversation about the Redskins and that I counted backwards from ten twice - I don't remember that. But the conversation about the Redskins must have been very, very short.

The lawn crew started work on getting our yard re-graded and re-sodded today.

And I'm buying an electronic copy of a book on Cari's e-reader; she has to read it for her book club. We've looked and looked and can't find it anywhere. $11.99. Totally not worth it.

I watched Young and the Wild (1958) earlier today, a JD flick. It was neither.

Naptime!

17 Oct 2011

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARI! No, I'm not telling how old. We may be going out to Mike's American Grill in Springfield for lunch today, but I'm not positive. Mike's: A guaranteed great meal since 1987...

I did the Cedar Creek reenactment on Saturday and Sunday... it was... okay. About a five on the Event-O-Meter. The weather and company were pleasant, but I guess I've tired of this event just as I have of New Market in May. I've done them too many times. It's the same thing every year. Or perhaps I'm getting burned out with Civil War reenacting - again. Or maybe it's because I was sleep deprived by some idiot artillerists firing their guns at 3:10 AM Sunday morning WAY too early for the needless dawn tactical (an excuse for Rebs to burn powder). Captioned photos here. Or it could be that I was just mentally checking off the boxes by attending this, coming from a major family event like a wedding and mulling over some problems my kids are having. My heart just wasn't in it.

At the event we listened to a federal artillerist tell us a story about how the bagel and the crescent-shaped croissant became a symbol of how Christianity once overcame Islam at some battle, the bagel representing Polish stirrups and the croissant the Islamic crescent on their banners. (This fellow expressed a desire to serve croissants to unsuspecting Muslims.) Sounded a bit fishy to me, so I checked it out. He was referring to the Battle of Vienna in 1683, when the Poles and the Holy Roman Empire took on the Ottoman Turks and won. The bagels and croissants? That's a culinary legend which may or may not be true.

Oh, yeah: I saw a pick up truck in the reenactment parking lot with a bumper sticker which read, "All I needed to know about Muslims I learned on 9/11." No, I saw not one "COEXIST" sticker.

I attended the Trademark Expo at work last week and saw Chubby Checker (with an enormous sweat stain on the back of his shirt) twisting. Actually, he seemed a lot more interested in getting employees to twist, but that's unsurprising since he's been at it for a half-century and is in his seventies. He wants everyone to know that at chubbychecker.com you can get legitimate, trademarked Chubby Checker goods and services. (Admit it: You didn't know there were Chubby Checker goods and services, did you?)

I was handed a giveaway five hour energy drink at the Expo - you, know, one of those small bottles. So I slugged it down before the Saturday battle. Big mistake! It gave me the worst case of heartburn I've had in a long time. I'm not sure which one of the beneficial, energy-producing supplements in it (Taurine? 8333% RDA vitamin B-12? Amino acids? Yes, probably those...) did it, but that's the last time I'll have one of those!

I watched a fascinating and yet funny documentary recently: Encounters at the End of the World (2007), a work about Antarctica by German director Werner Herzog. It's fascinating because of the unreal qualities of the place and the photography; there are underwater scuba scenes taken under the ice shelf which are absolutely weird and otherworldly. But it's also funny because Herzog narrates it, and he often comes off sounding unexpectedly haughty and dismissive - German, in other words - in attitude. For instance, he'll interview one of the agreeably oddball types who finds him or herself at McMurdo Base. In the process of the fellow retelling a lengthy bizarre anecdote, Herzog cuts him off with, "This story went on forever." It's worth watching just to listen to Herzog's narration!

Some of the scenes were oddly unforgettable: there's the plumber of Mexican heritage who has two middle fingers of equal length and two outside fingers also of equal length, a genetic feature which he says an academic described to him as being a sign of ancient Aztec nobility. The fellow smiles at the camera and places the tips of his fingers on his hands together as a sort of benediction, or a farewell. Almost as if to say, "Remember me." And we do.

Or there's the Vulcanologist who describes the technique for staring down into the lava pit of a churning active volcano and avoiding being struck by flung-off blobs of lava ("bombs"). Don't simply run off - look up and follow the bomb downwards with your eyes. That's the trick of it!

Or there's the individualist suicidal penguin who turns not to the right (to the sea) or to the left (where the rookery was) but resolutely waddles off towards the far off mountain range to his eventual death. If he's picked up and retrieved he'll simply keep waddling back towards the mountains. Why? wonders Herzog. No one can tell him. This work is highly recommended. IMDb slideshow here.

There may or may not be a blog update tomorrow. I have to be at the medical facility at 8:45 AM for a 9:45 AM endoscopy. That's where the doc knocks me cold with Propofol - the Milk of Amnesia - and sticks a tube down my throat to see how my Barrett's Esophagus is doing, whether it's the same as last year or worse. Or better. The Propofol makes me nap on and off all day... it's great stuff. I can see why Michael Jackson liked it.

14 Oct 2011

I watched two films last night, did two scrapbook pages and loaded 40 blank rounds for the reenactment - a productive evening!

Film #1: Sin Nombre (2009) - I guess it might be classified as an illegal alien/MS-13 action drama. I have seen this same basic plot - on the lam from the Mob - used in film noir many times. You're supposed to be rooting for the MS-13 killer turned repentant and his girlfriend trying to smuggle themselves into the United States, but I couldn't. I am tired of becoming a stranger in my own country. While the film was well cast, acted and directed, make no mistake, it is still left-wing pro-amnesty propaganda.

Film #2: The Long Rope (1953) - A British whodunit of sorts set in a picturesque village. The primary attraction is the setting and the time; it's cool to look at old Bovril advertisements. I'm a bit confused over the film's original title, The Large Rope. Makes no sense, which is why it was replaced by The Long Rope, as in, I guess, a hangman's rope.

This morning the Trademarks business unit at the Patent and Trademark Office where I work is holding its annual Trademark Expo, wherein various costumed characters such as the Pink Panther, Dennis the Menace and GEICO's gecko - trademarks all - tromp around the premises. But I'm primarily going to see Chubby Checker dance the Twist, which he introduced in 1960. 51 years ago! I well remember the craze - when I was little, I did it wildly. So did Dad and Mom, sort of. At last year's Expo I got a really cool Penguin Books poster which is now on the wall of my office. Always liked me a Penguin paperback...

By the way, are you aware that Chubby Checker's name is a pun? From wikipedia: "...Evans got his stage name from Dick Clark's wife, who asked Evans what his name was. "Well", he replied, "my friends call me 'Chubby'". As he had just completed a Fats Domino impression, she smiled and said, "As in Checker?" That little play on words ('chubby' meaning 'fat', and 'checkers', like 'dominoes', being a game) got an instant laugh and stuck, and from then on, Evans would use the name "Chubby Checker."

Checker appears as himself in two films: Twist Around the World (1961) and Don't Knock the Twist (1962) - both of which I have seen (I get a kick out of those early rock and roll movies). In fact, since 1959 he has portrayed himself in no less than 56 movies and television shows. Good gig for simply gyrating around!

I tweaked the Meredith and Chris Wedding photo album yesterday; it now makes more narrative and chronological sense. I'll add the professional photographer's photos when I get them. The bride and groom are still in the Bahamas - they return to Salt Lake City where they'll make their home on Sunday. Meredith is still learning how to spell her new last name, "Wolslagel." Her father told me that it was originally spelled "Wohlschlagel." Whew! My other daughter married a "Hofer." Germans abound!

I stepped on the scale this morning: I lost 6.8 pounds in the last two weeks without intending to. Must have been all that walking in Vegas...

Have a great weekend!

13 Oct 2011

The drive into work sucked this morning: 56 minutes, about twice as long as it normally takes. The reason: rain. So what have I learned? When it's raining, stay off of I-395 and take the Metro instead. But I knew that already; you can't live in the D.C. area and not acquire that bit of driving lore.

Last night my wife and I ate at a Mexican restaurant which is nearly always filled near where I work, Guapo's. We paid $42 for two dinners which were just okay - we won't be going there again. Afterwards we went to my office and hung up all of my many framed pictures. My opinion is that if you;'re going to spend eight hours a day in an office, it might as well be a pleasing place to be in.

I listened to a Smokey Robinson CD, which made the time go by more quickly. Have you ever wondered how he got the name "Smokey?" According to Entertainment Weekly, "when he was 6 or 7, his Uncle Claude christened him "Smokey Joe," which the young William, a Western-movie enthusiast, at first assumed to be "his cowboy name for me." Some time later, he learned the deeper significance of his nickname: It derived from smokey, a pejorative term for dark-skinned blacks. "I'm doing this," his uncle told the light-skinned boy, "so you won't ever forget that you're black."

I posted many more photos to the wedding album. More to come.

One more Vegas vignette: When we were all in the Excalibur hotel room getting ready for the wedding, I cracked open the 24th floor window and demonstrated to my son Ethan how I used to toss paper airplanes out when I was a kid on "vacation" with my parents. (We invariably went to such thrilling venues as Las Vegas or the racetrack.) Most of the planes simply flew straight downwards. I happened upon a design, however, which would catch the updraft and hover about for amazingly long periods of time. While this was going on my son-in-law Tommy was in a hot tub down below. "Did you see any paper airplanes flying down from the 24th floor?" I asked. In fact, he did. He followed one with his eyes which hung in the air and even turned the corner around the building, and wondered where on earth it came from - ha ha!

The worst parts of the Vegas vacations when I was a kid was when my parents went to a favorite North Las Vegas casino. As there was absolutely nothing else around I was condemned to either sit in the car or hang out in the vestibule (watching people enter and exit, as I couldn't step foot on the casino floor) while they were gambling, for what seemed like an eternity. So I've always harbored a sort of mental grudge against Vegas; frankly, if I never go there again I'm fine with that.

After a delayed flight which caused Meredith and Chris to miss their connecting flight to Charleston, SC and the Carnival cruise ship dock, they just made it in time on another flight to get on the boat. They are now honeymooning in the Bahamas. I hope that young man takes good care of my baby (wiping tear from eye).

Last night I watched Ivan's Childhood (1962), a Soviet era film about a twelve year-old partisan boy with vengeance in his heart. While the black and white cinematography was often stunning (a scene among a forest of birch trees was amazing), the film itself was rather dull. You can't really set a film during World War II using only five or six actors... it just looks cheap.

I've been thinking constantly about the events of the past week - my daughter's wedding - but I have to put in my head in a different place this weekend: the Civil War. Yes, it's October, which means that it's time once again for the annual battle reenactment at Cedar Creek. This time I'll only be going with my pard Don; Chris will be on duty with his Boy Scout patrol at a Camporee. I'm really not up for this yet... frankly I'd just as soon stay home and work on the leaky wall near the bathtub. But there will be time for that next week. Mister Lincoln Calls!

12 Oct 2011

WHEW.

I am tired! This was one of those vacations where I need a vacation from the vacation - lots of early mornings, late nights and frantic rushes to get to airports, hotels, receptions, wedding logistics places (cupcakes, flowers, hair curling irons, photographic prints), etc. Lots of driving, often bumper-to-bumper. Vegas is a miserable place in which to get around. They were doing work on I-15 so that was jammed...

I added some more photos here - more to come as the photographers get files to me, and I'm able to collect them from family members who brought cameras.

We had our Virginia reception last night; it went well despite many people ignoring our mailed request for RSVPs. (Just plain rude. We want to feed you, and are paying a caterer to do it. Just tell us if you plan to come. That's all. Always, always respond to an RSVP. Okay, got that off my chest.) The reception was in the Ft. Belvoir Officer's Club, a very nice place to hold receptions and parties. There was one room called the "castle room," which reminded me of Guildhall in the London Square Mile - heraldic crests on the walls, arched wooden ceiling, etc. We were in the Belvoir Room which had a lovely view of the Potomac... which we couldn't see because the reception was held at 7 PM in a Fall month; the sun had set. Oh, well.

This morning my wife got Chris and Meredith - aka "the kids" - off to the Baltimore airport to make their flight to Charleston, SC, where they get on a Carnival cruise ship and head for a honeymoon in the Bahamas for five days. Nice!

So now I have three married adult kids. Things change... we deeded Meredith the Honda she drives, and are taking her off our cell phone coverage. This enables me to get the iPhone which my son has been urging me to get ever since the latest model was announced. I plan to get an 8 GB generation 4 model, but not the latest S version. The gen 4 is fine. I can do Face Time video calls with it.

It appears the government has screwed up my FERS "military buyback," the scheme whereby I paid money in 1993 to buy back my four years of military time to get credit for retirement. OPM - the Office of Personnel (Mis)Management - has no record that I paid nearly $900 to do it. I have a photocopy of a check, but, sadly, not a photocopy of a canceled check. So I've got to move mountains of government bureaucracy to get that investigated. It could be that I'll need to pony up more than a thousand dollars more, due to interest. Grrrrr.

Physical therapy session on my shoulder today... since it's now been eleven weeks since the surgery we can now safely start strength training. Been there, done that. Ouch. But my shoulder is feeling pretty good, despite the fact that I've been inadvertently lugging luggage around with it for the past few days.

The Rugby World Cup has sorted itself out to four nations playing one another in the semi-finals: Wales vs. France and Australia vs. New Zealand. The France/Wales match is a tough one to call as the French are always predictably unpredictable. You never know which XV they're bringing to the pitch: the brilliant, fast, inspiring one or the Surrender Monkeys. I think I'll predict Wales for this one. I started out the tournament favoring Australia, but now I think I fancy New Zealand, seeing as how they have a home pitch advantage. So the final will be Wales vs. New Zealand, and New Zealand will prevail. I think! As I wrote before, I am the world's worst rugby and political pundit. But we shall see.

That's all, Brigham Out.

10 Oct 2011

We're back from Las Vegas; the wedding and reception were lovely. My baby is now a married woman!

No photos yet (just these); I was a primarily a participant, not a photographer - and, like an idiot, I left my camera in the hotel in the rush to get the bride and groom to the temple on time, DRAT. But we hired a professional photographer to shoot photos on the temple grounds, so those will be coming.

We're not entirely finished as we have a reception to do here in Northern Virginia tomorrow and a photography session in D.C. today, so there are all sorts of logistical activities and preparation going on.

While the wedding itself took place in the Las Vegas Latter-Day Saint Temple, there was a lot of touring around on the Strip, of course. The Temple and the Strip are places that are separated by not only some miles, but by light years in meaning and attitude. The Temple itself is a place of spiritual significance, peace and tranquility. I found a nice sofa in the foyer to wait for arriving family near a sort of interior garden, with a bubbling fountain. It was an ideal place for meditation.

Some Las Vegas notes:

- The place has really changed since I was a kid who used to get dragged there for "family" vacations. The Fremont Street downtown section where we used to stay - at the Mint Hotel - is now kind of dumpy. The center of attention and economic investment has now shifted to the Strip, specifically a section of the Strip centered more or less where Caesar's Palace is.

- We had a breakfast at an upscale place associated with the Paris hotel and casino. I saw a gal walking in at 10:15 AM clutching a bottle of Budweiser. 10:15 AM! Alcoholic.

- I'm not sure if these were prostitutes or if it was simply the default Las Vegas "night on the town" dress, bit I saw a lot of women wearing tight skirts ridiculously high, barely covering the vertical line of the buttocks cleft.

- We had a 6 AM departure time on the flight out, so we had to get out of the hotel and turn in the rental car at a ridiculously early time. At 3:50 AM I made my way to the registration desk (we stayed at the Excalibur) and saw a scantily-clad girl doing some kind of bump and grind dance on a platform. At 3:50 AM! Gahhh!

- My Burbank pal Mike drove out for the wedding reception; it was great seeing him. He reports that the drive from Burbank to Vegas is now only three hours due to highway improvements. Wow. It used to take me and my parents about five hours, as I recall. My other Burbank pal Bob came out from Utah as well. It was really cool to see them both at the reception!

- When we emerged from the posh Bellagio hotel and casino, we had to be careful not to step in vomit on the ground. It seemed like there was a lot of it. I saw the producer of it near the door, a skinny gal wearing a buttocks cleft skirt. Her boyfriend or John - I'm not sure which - was making a gallant but futile attempt to wipe her hand down with a cocktail napkin.

- There's a hotel-casino complex on the Strip called the New York New York; the exterior facade was set up to look like the New York skyline, with a large reproduction of the Statue of Liberty. (See above.) Wouldn't you know it?, there were Wall Street protesters gathered in front. How pathetic.

Got to go... things to do. More later. No update tomorrow, probably.

5 Oct 2011

Heavier than average traffic on I-395 this morning. It took me 35 minutes to drive to work instead of 25. It's still not an objectionable commute; I listened to Stevie Wonder's 1973 Innervisions album on the way in. An amazing work, especially when you consider that Wonder played almost all of the instruments on it.

I was mostly listening to classical music in 1973 - I wouldn't start listening to rock until I checked out an Alice Cooper album in early 1974 - but the song that seemed to be getting a lot of airplay which I associate with the year was the Spinners' Could It Be I'm Falling In Love?. But I blogged about them last month.

Last night I started watching what looks to be an outstanding BBC production about the British Army's evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940, serialized on youtube. I hope I can see all the episodes before whomever uploaded it is forced to pull it down due to copyright issues.

I'm in the market for an iPhone, and have been waiting for the new one to be released to get the previous generation model at a discounted price. Since Apple came out with the 4S instead of the much-anticipated 5 (and disappointed hordes of Koolaid sippers), I guess I'll be getting an 8 GB Gen 4 for $100. Okay, well, $99 - I hate that, prices which end in a "9." It's sneaky advertising, I think.

My friend Bob sent me an interesting article about the Rugby World Cup - and Ireland's innovative use of a new tackling technique called the "choke." Ireland shut down mighty Australia in an upset, so they have credibility. But can they beat the All-Blacks? I think not... not on the All-Black's home turf. But we shall see. And remember: I am the world's worst rugby and political pundit.

For years my wife has been encouraging me to try skiing. It is singular, I think, that I lived in Utah for four years when I attended college, where reportedly some of the best snow in the world can be found, and never once tried skiing. My fear was that I'd injure myself, have to recover and maybe miss a semester, and have to live in Utah longer. So I never tried skiing. However, in recent years I have learned to enjoy visiting Sundance during the off-season and taking the ski-lift as a ride. It's fun and very scenic. (See photos here.) Now there's a new reason for me to visit ski resorts: mountain coasters. Skiing I don't care about; roller coasters - that's different. I love those! It'd be great if Sundance installs one, but I suppose Robert Redford will yak indignantly self-righteously about the environment and nature, etc., etc., and kill the idea.

This will possibly be my last blog entry for a few days. As you may know, my youngest daughter Meredith is getting married and I'll be preoccupied with that. I may upload photos, as is my practice... At a wedding everyone takes photos and I try to collect CDs of them all and therefore bombard myself with files. Sifting through them takes time.

Vaya con Dios!

4 Oct 2011

Sometimes a new thing can be a bit scary. I have changed job assignments at work (this was forced on me from above), which means that I am once again a supervisor - over a group of people who are doing things with which I am only vaguely familiar. So expertise doesn't play into it!

But I'll learn the work... in the meantime it's a bit like trying out for rugby and showing up at practice for the very first time (that was a harrowing experience!), or the first band practice as a new bassist, or the first day in college or, heaven help me, the first day in Marine Corps boot camp. There's the little voice of doubt in my head saying, "What right do you have being here? Where do you get off? Go back where you belong." But I'll adapt. As a seasoned Federal manager, I know what to do: display leadership where needed and don't attempt to manage things which don't need to be managed. Listen more, talk less. Take advice from talented subordinates, delegate. Take in the surroundings and culture and ease my way into it. After some time I'll be content. If there is one thing I've learned from life, it's that I can be adaptable.

Prime example: I recall, towards the end of USMC boot camp, feeling somewhat anxious about graduating - what would life be like then? True, the Drill Instructors had made life terribly fretful and difficult on an hourly basis, but I had become used to it. Sure, I looked forward to finishing boot camp and getting away from all the yelling and physical exercise and punishment, but after three months these had become known quantities. It was the unknown I was worried about. Weird, huh?

I tried a new commute this morning: I left at the usual time and rode the Metro train further north than usual, and then used the free shuttle at Pentagon City to get the building my new office is in. I got there at the same time I normally get in at the old office. Cool! I won't have to wake up any earlier! Or I can drive; there's free parking in my new building. Or I can go to Alexandria as I always have and take yet another shuttle into work... so there are three options.

I am in the process of organizing my office, having moved into a new one. I have the most well-thought out workplace office I know. My attitude is that if you're going to be in a place for eight hours a day, it ought to be an agreeable place. So I hang lots of pictures reflecting my family and interests, and place my lava lamp, moon phase clock, VW model collection, etc. Most people, when entering my office, say something along the lines of, "This is nice." I learned by living with the best - my wife.

Last night I watched a documentary about Abraham Lincoln, specifically the records of interviews which his friend William Herndon did with friends of Lincoln after Lincoln was killed. For many years historians tended to discount these records, but lately oral histories have received more credibility and interest, and so Herndon's interviews have been scrutinized afresh. I was stunned to hear a Lincoln friend, Joshua Speed, relate a story about Abe and a prostitute. Yes, Abraham Lincoln and a prostitute!

Turns out Abe was once interested in the services of a lady of common virtue, and received advice from his friend Joshua Speed about where to look. He met with the lady, got undressed and into bed and inquired about the cost. Five dollars, was the reply from the lady. Lincoln had only three, but the lady stated that Lincoln could owe her the other two dollars. Rather than accept her credit, Lincoln called the whole deal off, got dressed and left. When he returned to the office he didn't say anything to Speed, but the lady later told Speed that Lincoln was the most honest man she had ever met. A laudable virtue discovered in less than laudable circumstances!

Did you know that the ancestral home of the Lincolns, the home of Abraham Lincoln's sixth great-grandfather Richard Lincoln (1550-1620), is now a pub in Swanton Morley, Norfolk (scroll down)? It's called the Angel Free House Pub; here's a photo and here's the pub's history page. Interesting, no?

War is an awful thing, but I am happy to report that battle deaths are on the wane... dramatically so, in fact, if a chart I saw produced by some Scandinavians can be believed.

3 Oct 2011

October truly arrived to let us know that any semblance of summer heat is but a memory. Saturday morning in Northern Virginia was 48 degrees with a light rain (rugby jersey weather) - but still I found three yard sales. I got a Lenox Christmas ornament for fifty cents, a John Rutter choral CD for the same price and a cool gift for a friend for next to nothing.

I had planned to go somewhere historical that day, a battlefield or some other site, but didn't; it was just too raw and rainy. So I puttered around in the house doing some repairs. There's a section where the drywall got wet and cruddy near the master bath shower - I started working on that. It'll take us a few iterations to fix and re-caulk things...

My church - the Mormons - ran General Conference this week, the twice-yearly broadcast of talks from church authorities in Utah. This year my own personal message was contained in a talk about a tired general authority bumping into the president of the church in an elevator at the end of the day: Keep Looking Up. Yes, as simple as that. It also gibes with the cheery and memorable message delivered by the former "Star Hustler" Jack Horkheimer, who did little televised spots about what there was to see in the heavens that week. (He died not long ago; there are others doing his astronomical spots, but they aren't as colorful.)

I watched an unexpectedly amusing documentary with an unpromising title: The Parking Lot Movie (2010), about young, over-educated parking lot attendants in a lot in Charlottesville, VA. There they wax philosophical about people and the cars they drive. When boredom becomes interesting. One young wag said that people seem to think that once a driver has bought a car he thinks that a parking space should accompany it wherever the driver goes, as if it's a God-given right. Another stated that Prius drivers are the biggest vanity plate owners anywhere, and are smug. (I could have predicted that.) They all hate SUVs. Another fellow demonstrated the made-up game of "Flip Cone," where the attendants, when bored, attempt to flip the rubbery orange traffic cones atop one another. One fellow is shown wearing a cone over his head and on his arms and legs: Cone Man - a visual confirmation that young men get easily bored doing menial jobs.

Actually, I have spent much time in parking lots myself, now that I think about it. I distinctly recall being about seven when my friend Jimmy and I would bring hammers and pieces of brick into the grocery store lot behind our house. The idea was to pound the brick pieces into brick dust, which was valuable Martian soil. Five or so years later my pal Richard and I would hang out in the huge lot near the local large grocery store, where we'd tear off the baskets of shopping carts and give each other rides. (Once the basket was removed you could easily sit on the basket support.) Later, I wheeled these back home and gave backyard rides to the girl across the street.

Later, as a teen, I learned how to drive Dad's '65 Karmann-Ghia in that same parking lot; eventually I became adept at learning how to use a standard transmission ("stick shift"). Still later, in the church parking near the hills of Burbank, my friend Mike and I used to chase out people making out in the lot in parked cars. So I have rather fond memories of parking lots.

I watched the NBC broadcast of the Canada (ranked #12 in the world) vs. New Zealand (ranked #1) Rugby World Cup match, a predictable and lopsided 79-to-15 win for the NZ All-Blacks. The Rugby World Cup is fun, but at the same time somewhat boring. There are only eight or so Tier One nations. Everyone else is Tier Two. The relentless and predictable slaughter of the Tier Two teams by the Tier One powers every four years cries out for a restructured competition. Would it be such a crime to have a cup and, say, plate competition? Two levels to spark some real competition between the developing rugby nations like the U.S., Russia, Japan and Romania? The observation is that every Rugby World Cup competition eventually sorts itself out into a replay of the Tri-Nations Tournament (between New Zealand, Australia and South Africa) - with an occasional upset or entry of a fortunate Northern Hemisphere nation (usually England or France) into the proceedings. Yawn.

My wife and I watched a fascinating BBC Four documentary about Sister Rosetta Tharpe, gospel singer and guitarist par excellence. BBC Four also did an excellent and insightful doc about the career of Julie London - why don't these American musicians get their just due in America? Why is the BBC and not an American company doing the documentaries? Lady Gaga is stealing the publicity with her meat dress and meager talent, I suppose.

This will be a short week for me - my youngest daughter is getting married and I'm taking time off. It seems just yesterday that she was born...

Brigham's Blog