Monthly Archives: January 2009

RNF XV

Random Neuron Firings

  1. I’d like to meet the “neurosurgeons” who apparently allowed the Travoltas to think it was OK to take Jett off his seizure meds. I don’t know…maybe sometimes, doing nothing is better than continuing the fight to find something.
  2. Last night, I transcribed an arrangement for a Dinner Theatre tune using a YouTube video. I’d been working about 30 minutes on it, and paused it so I could write down more notes. When I released the “pause,” I got the message: This video is no longer available. Now that’s kinda weird, ain’t it? Talk about timing. Out of 30 bazillion videos on YouTube, mine gets the ax while I’m working on it. Terrific. Is this how my week is going to go??
  3. Girlz: what do you do when you absolutely must rock? (Hilarious — thanks, PK — I’m still trying to figure out whether or not it’s a joke!)
  4. There really is an animal that can break its own bones in order to grow claws. Would I lie?
  5. Ah, yes. The Thriller is happy.

All right, it’s 5:59. Quiet time’s done for this morning. Why does this hour always go by so fast?

Fink out.

A real nice clambake

Yeah, it’s been a fun vacation, but now it’s here — the day I’ve been both anticipating and dreading.

Back for Act II, where it really gets crazy.

Surprisingly, the flu thing is still hanging on by a thread. My intention is to just forget about it once rehearsals start.

Christmas Resolutions are in full effect. What resolutions have you made? Any?

Fink to the showers. Have a good Monday, fiends.

Sad – and bizarre

Of course, by now you’ve heard of the tragic death of Jett Travolta, 16-year-old son of actors John Travolta and Kelly Preston.

While doing some research on the boy this morning (I knew nothing about him), I was startled to find significant press about his affliction, which the Travoltas maintained was Kawasaki disease, brought on by fumes from carpet cleaner (how they arrived at this conclusion, or who exactly made the diagnosis remains a mystery, at least with regard to the research I’ve done thus far).

My absolute worst nightmare is losing one of my children. I cannot imagine the horror, the grief, the endless tears (and, as would be in my case, temporary assignment to the psych ward), the feelings of guilt and “If only I’d…” It’s all so ghastly to me, I have trouble even thinking about it. I have only sympathy for Jett’s parents and extended family. I can imagine no greater tragedy.

But, even in the wake of this horrible accident, the Scientology correlations are inevitable — especially the ones that draw attention to Jett’s autistic characteristics, and the fact that Scientology does not recognize autism as a “real” disorder. You cannot Google “Jett Travolta” without seeing them. I have to confess, it does make me wonder.

I’ll come right out and say that I believe Scientology — like many other religions, including some groups calling themselves “Christian” — is a cult. My family and a few close friends know my struggles with the organized church, and how I believe that some radical offshoots of fundamentalist Christianity can brainwash their followers, just like the occasional nutters in Islam, Judaism, Catholicism and other religions (and if you believe otherwise, you’re probably brainwashed yourself).

But Scientology pretty much takes the wackjob cake for me, as revealed in my post about it several weeks ago. The more I read about it, the more weirded out I became. And friend, you can read dirt about Scientology for a long, long, long time. And honestly — can you make out what this guy is saying?

I won’t provide any direct links here, but doing a search on the boy’s name with the added term “autism” or “Scientology” will reveal some provocative — and troubling — reading.

Crap. I hate it when kids die. My heart goes out to Jett’s parents, regardless of whatever else is said.

Fink out.

Yark.

Still fighting the nasty flu, although it’s a bit better than yesterday.

Sad news from a couple of days ago. It looks like the Carousel Dinner Theater in Akron is closing tonight, after 35 years. I’ve seen 2 great shows there (Fiddler on the Roof and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers); it’s a shame.

As I continue my recuperation on the sofa, I leave you with this pictorial review of 2008. And this one. What a year it was…

Fink, back underground

PS – Happy Birthday to Helen!

Cool TV V

However, the stomach flu is definitely *not* cool. Ugh. It’s been a long night. But hey, the show must go on.

Last night, before the nausea and other horrible things slammed me to the mat, I made a wonderful discovery: hulu.com has classic TV shows, in their entirety. How cool is that?

From 1967. I watched it faithfully.

I found every episode of The Time Tunnel, a series I watched faithfully when I was in the third grade or so (alas, the show only lasted one season).

Its premise centered around two scientists who run a government-funded laboratory beneath the Arizona desert, dedicated to the exploration of time travel. In the first episode, a senator comes to check on the facility to decide whether or not to pull its funding, because the scientists and military personnel stationed at the huge, futuristic lab have only sent animals into the tunnel — never to see them again.

Seven billion dollars in the hole, and in danger of being shut down, one of the scientists (Dr. Tony Newman, played by dreamy James Darren) decides to send himself through the tunnel to prove it can work on humans, and thereby save the project.

Then it all goes wrong.

Turns out, Tony is sent back in time all right, and he even arrives safely on the deck of a cruise ship. Only problem: the ship’s name is Titanic, and it’s the 14th of April, 1912. So the other scientist, for some inexplicable reason, gets dressed up in period clothing and tries to go after him to save him. Now they’re both trapped and can’t get back.

I thought it was tremendously cool back then, though. I loved all of Irwin Allen’s shows (Lost in Space, Land of the Giants, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea). They scared me, but had cute boys.

Anyway, check out these stills I pulled from the first episode:

Awesome set.

Poor guys wore the same costume in every episode.

Ever wonder where Robert Duvall got his start?

OK, back to the sofa with me. But there’s one good thing — I thought today was Saturday. I have more weekend left to get over this thing before school starts Monday.

Fink out.

Stills credit: 20th Century Fox Corp.