Blog #240                                         October 14, 2021

 

He did it.  William Shatner, Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise went to space yesterday in one of Jeff Bezos’ toys.   At 90, Shatner was the oldest person to fly in space, replacing Mary Wallace Funk who was 82 when she flew a few months ago, but I wondered if Shatner was the first Jew in space, so I looked it up.  It turns out, he wasn’t.  My research showed that the first Jew in space was actually a Russian, Boris Volynov, who flew in the Soyuz Program in 1969.  But then I dug even deeper, and uncovered evidence revealing that the first Jew in space was actually Noah.  Yes, that Noah.  When Noah’s wife heard he had brought two of everything on board, including two hookers, she kicked his kosher ass so hard he was in orbit for three days.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and trying to find something entertaining and exciting.  Let’s see, what exciting, uplifting and optimistically thrilling things happened to me today?  I went to the library to pick up a book and I had my corns shaved.  If that isn’t Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, what is?

 

The International Day of the Girl was celebrated this week.  I was underwhelmed. I have a wife of 54 years, three daughters and four granddaughters.  It has been the Day of the Girl in my house every day for half a century.

 

I’m a Walmart guy.  Well, I used to be.  In the past few months, Walmart has turned into a third-world experience.  Their shelves are in disarray and there are no checkers.  I can work the self-checkout machines -- they’re fairly easy -- but I abhor that those machines replace the jobs which actual people should have.  It does not make any sense to make things more efficient and more profitable if people don’t have jobs or, even worse, don’t want jobs.  People need to work – to support themselves and to promote a feeling of self-worth.  For the sake of the laborers, it would be sheer cruelty to afflict them with excessive leisure.  That’s what it says in Brave New World by Aldous Huxley.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  O brave new world, that has such people in ‘t! (The Tempest).   Isn’t it strange how so many familiar phrases and book titles come from plays written by that old man who stole my name?  I, myself, have written a few plays:  Antony and Cleo-cat-ra, Comedy of Purrs and Romeo and Mewliet.  Purr.

 

Back to Walmart.  The problem with the self-check was that the bags into which I planned to place my scanned stuff could not be separated from one another.  I had two Walmart employees (yes, I found 2) telling me the bags were impossible to separate as they helpfully ripped and shred clumps of useless bags.  This is the largest retailer in the Solar System and its bags don’t open!  How much more evidence do you need that the world is broken beyond repair?  James Taylor had a great song called Everybody’s Got the Blues.  Count me in.  Huey Lewis had another great song called I Wanna New Drug.  Count me in on that one too.

 

Let’s talk about art.  I have to admit that, when it comes to art, I am a boor and an ignorant troglodyte.  First of all, I cannot draw at all.  I hate playing those games where people have to guess what someone else has drawn.  Everything I draw comes out looking like a Big Mac.  Therefore, I appreciate the talent an artist needs to make splotches of paint look so realistic and colorful.  But when it comes to more modern forms of art, I don’t get it.  My theory is, if I can do it, it’s not art.  I can take a canvas and cover it with red paint.  Anybody could, but I can’t tell you how many times I have seen such “art” displayed in museums.  I was in a museum in Arkansas once, staring at a canvas that was completely covered in one shade of blue.  I moseyed (I can mosey when I have to) over to a docent and asked what he thought was the attraction of this piece of art.  He smirked, shook his head slowly and replied, “Beats the hell out of me.”

 

So you can imagine my chagrin when my wife told me we were going to some Van Gogh event.  Mind you, she did not ask me; she told me.  The way she put it, I did not have a choice:

 

“It’s a stunning immersive event

And the whole thing is held in a tent.

It’s a fabulous show

And we have to Van Gogh.”

So I got all dressed up and Van Went.

 

Yes, I Van Went to the Van Tent.  There were no paintings, only a large empty room covered in canvas material upon which a panoply of projectors streamed a continually changing array of Vincent’s art work accompanied by music.  It was an impressive accomplishment and, I thought, very entertaining.  I still don’t like Van Gogh’s work and don’t care about his ear or his horribly depressed life.  But I was definitely entertained by the show. 

 

Troglodyte is our Weekly Word.  It means a person who lives in a cave, or is otherwise known for being reclusive (Guilty as charged!) or having outmoded tastes (Ditto)! 

 

In addition to being a troglodyte, I guess I am a prude as well. We had dinner at my daughter’s house one night this week.  After dinner, the kids sat down to watch television.  I was horrified at the kind of shows they were allowed to watch.  Just imagine if, when we were kids, we were allowed to watch shows where:

 

·        Father Knows Best has an affair with his secretary; 

·        Hoss Cartwright gets caught with a sheep;

·        Carol Brady raises money for the PTA by selling nude photos of Marcia;

·        Howdy Doody has a woody;

·        Dr. Cliff Huxtable drugs and assaults 29 women.

·        We find out that “Kemosabe” really means “Steaming Stud Muffin.”

 

Alright, it’s time to go now.  I have to sweep out the cave and wash my brain out with soap.  See you next week.  Stay calm, stay well and count your blessings.

 

Tonto                                      Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com