Monthly Archives: February 2009

Morning harangue

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What’s a girl to think?

So this morning, I hit the Reuters site, looking for some *good* news. Well, keep moving, folks. Nothin’ to see here.

President Obama sends more soldiers to Afghanistan. GM and Chrysler are closing plants and laying off workers, while asking for just a little more money.

Once again, Alan Greenspan brings up the big one. I remember my dad and grandmother talking about it like it was yesterday. Many of you who have parents or other relatives who survived the Great Depression know what I mean — strange behaviors like not being able to break the habit of pouring water on breakfast cereal instead of milk, or getting a storage container for exactly seven leftover green beans, or saving bacon fat to cook in later. There may be a huge case of “everything old is new again” on our horizon…

We’re finding out how incredibly easy it is to operate massive, ongoing frauds and Ponzi schemes with monolithic hubris — right under the nose of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Some folks are just ate up. I mean really.

Donald Trump’s casino business is going under. No surprise, given the economy the way it is, but man I love Atlantic City casinos. Actually, I love all casinos. As the RtB faithful already know, the Thriller and I save up money throughout the year to make a Christmas Day pilgrimage to Detroit to have some casino fun. You also then know that it didn’t happen this year because we used the money to buy the 56-inch television that now sits in the living room. (Actually, the TV is cool and I don’t mind at all.)

But a world without video poker…where is the hope, friend? What the heck?

OK, gimme some good news. That’s the challenge today. I covet your sunny-side thoughts.

FO

How cool is this?

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Hey – bet you thought I forgot about RtB today. Nothin’ doin’. Just haven’t gotten to it until now.

I read an article last night about a time capsule that was found underneath the Paris Opera House. It contains wax gramophone records of music of the time (1907), which will now be digitized and re-released by EMI. How cool is that?

Makes me think of Alessandro Moreschi, the “Last Living Castrato,” whose voice I heard on one of those scratchy Edison records from 1904. He was in his seventies by then, and largely unable to control his voice, but you could still hear the raw power of a man’s body supporting a female-sounding voice. It’s amazing. You can hear it here.

And now, fiends, I must study before it’s time for bed. Miles to go before I sleep…

Fink out.

If 50 is the new 30…

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…then my day is made.

As anyone who knows me already knows, I think about aging. A lot. Probably too much. I also tend to bristle ever so slightly at those who wave me off and say, “Aw, just enjoy it. Be who you are and don’t worry about what you look like.”

Do you know what a “pet peeve” is? Yeah.
~
Truth is, there are some realities that make the “50 is the new 30” thing a bit of a stretch. I know that. In an article from the Richmond Times-Dispatch (URL no longer active), we get the following skinny:
~

“We’re considering middle age now to be about 40 to 65 years of age,” [physical therapist Margaret] Herning said. “People are living so much longer.”

Although people may think and even act 30, their bodies won’t do what 30-year-old bodies can do, experts say.

Even people in top shape need to recognize they’re not kids anymore, says Dr. John Morley, chief of geriatrics at St. Louis University School of Medicine. “You cannot be at 50 what you were at 30.”

I know, I know. But it doesn’t mean I don’t try. I fight age every single day, and I will until they throw the dirt on me. Still…
~
The things we used to do without thinking about it become a little more complicated, a little more painful, a little more difficult, and we become aware of our need to make changes…At this point in life, whether it’s 50, 51, 55, a lot of things change,” [Morley] says. “And those changes can take you by surprise.”
~

And how. But some people continue to defy the odds. Look at Susanna Hoffs of the Bangles. She and I are the same age. Hmm. Of course, she has an infinitely larger resource pool for plastic surgery than I do, but she looks wonderful all the same.

I know. I’m starting a fund. Save the Fink’s Face. Please contribute. I covet your generosity in my time of need.

All right, back to augmented sixth chords. As you know, my life is a friggin’ party.

Fink out.

RNF XVII

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Random Neuron Firings

  1. Hey, I said it before he did. Silly writers, copyin’ the Fink. So why isn’t the Times offering me a job? (Please, let me stew in my delusions for awhile, OK?)
  2. Last night, the Thriller and I watched Iron Man on pay-per-view (I don’t think that’s what they call it anymore, but it’s all I can think of at the moment). I must say, Robert Downey is dreamy, even though I’m certain they enhanced his cute-boy looks with contact lenses with a large, dark iris, giving him a softer, more innocent appearance. They do that a lot, I’ll bet, because as naturally beautiful as many actors are, not all are born with huge, shiny, crawl-in-and-drown Bambi eyes. I want me some of those.
  3. If I hear the word stimulus one more time, I am going to commit a felony. Then I’m going to ask to be bailed out.
  4. Yikes. Robin Williams just ordered one of these. Ross, have you researched this one yet?
  5. Why would you ever, ever, ever park your truck on the ice, especially with your kids in it?
  6. How would you feel if the police told you they couldn’t intervene until the person stalking you did something more serious? Nice.
  7. Regardless of your political affiliation, you should follow this series on Ted Kennedy.

And now, it is time to start my Sunday. I wish I weren’t feeling so lazy today…

FO

A little music geek humor

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Sometimes, it’s irresistible.

I actually don’t appreciate “inside jokes” that exclude others. But when I received this from my friend Todd in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t resist posting it here.

Even if you’re not a musy, you can probably infer some rather indelicate suppositions about the composers listed.

THE MOZART EFFECT

A recent report now says that the Mozart effect is yet another
charming urban legend. The bad news for hip urban professionals:
playing Mozart for your designer baby will not improve his IQ or help
him get into that exclusive preschool. He will just have to get
admitted to Harvard some other way.

Of course, we’re all better off listening to Mozart purely for the
pleasure of it. However, one must wonder: if playing Mozart
sonatas for little Tiffany or Jason really could boost his or her
intelligence, what would happen if other composers were played during
the kiddies’ developmental time?


LISZT EFFECT:
Child speaks rapidly and extravagantly, but never really says anything
important.

BRUCKNER EFFECT:
Child speaks v-e-r-y slowly and repeats himself frequently and at
length. Gains reputation for profundity.

WAGNER EFFECT:
Child becomes an egocentric megalomaniac. May eventually marry his sister.

MAHLER EFFECT:
Child continually screams–at great length and volume–that he’s dying.

SCHOENBERG EFFECT:
Child never repeats a word until he’s used all the other words in his
vocabulary. Sometimes talks backwards. Eventually, people stop
listening to him. Child blames them for their inability to understand
him.

IVES EFFECT:
The child develops a remarkable ability to carry on several separate
conversations at once, in various dialects.

GLASS EFFECT:
The child tends to repeat himself over and over and over and over and
over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over
and over again.

STRAVINSKY EFFECT:
The child is prone to savage, guttural and profane outbursts that
often lead to fighting and pandemonium in the preschool.

BRAHMS EFFECT:
The child is able to speak beautifully as long as his sentences
contain a multiple of three words (3, 6, 9, 12, etc). However, his
sentences containing 4 or 8 words are strangely uninspired.

CAGE EFFECT:
Child says nothing for 4 minutes, 33 seconds–exactly.

Heh. Maybe they’re not so funny after all. But I actually laughed out loud at the Philip Glass one. Nixon in China, anybody?? (I know, that was John Adams, but the whole minimalist thing just tickles me to death for some reason.)

Fink out.

PS – Happy Valentine Day! Buy your hunny something sweet.