Category Archives: Random Neuron Firings

RNF XXIX

Random Neuron Firings

Just about everyone is tired of jawing about the potentially criminal circumstances surrounding Michael Jackson’s death. Ready for some closure, I’d think — especially for his family.

But I read an article this morning on where Dr. Conrad Murray got the propofol that ultimately killed the singer, and once again I marveled at how anyone could actually receive that drug and function with any normalcy afterwards. FYI to those who have never had surgery: it takes you a LONG time to wake up after propofol. And when you first come to, the feeling is like no other.  One doesn’t just wake up, throw off the blanket and say, “Welp, time to start the day!” Rather, you feel like somebody laid a school bus on top of you. You can barely move or think; you struggle to form words. Sometimes you get sick to your stomach; other times, you just fade back into unconsciousness for another hour or so, and nothing that anybody might do would shake you awake. Propofol decides; not you.

So again, I have to wonder: why on earth would Jackson choose to use that drug to go to sleep? You don’t sleep with propofol…you black out. I think there’s a big diff.

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Oasis of the Seas - the world's largest cruise ship

I just…I can’t…I mean…never. No way, no how. *shudder*

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Since Facebook added a status function, Twitter’s pretty much passé, although as a running headline service, I’d say it’s better.

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I am 99% finished with Christmas shopping for my family. No joke. Ozzum.

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Prof sent my thesis back — only minor corrections to make. The finish line is ever closer…

Have a fab weekend, fiends. I’m off.

Image credit: Reuters

A cautionary tale

Confession: I like Nicolas Cage. Always have. There’s something about him — the dopey cuteness, the “aw, shucks” mannerisms, the 3-foot-wide grin — can’t explain it. He’s just always been cool (unlike some of his movies, unfortunately).

So it bothered me when I learned that he was suing his former manager for swindling him out of millions. According to Reuters:

In a lawsuit filed in Los Angeles Superior Court and first obtained by celebrity web site TMZ.com, Cage said he had now been forced to “sell major assets and investments at a significant loss” because of the actions of his business advisor and accountant over the past seven years.

The lawsuit said the advisor had also failed to alert Cage to the fact that his money was running out, and had over-extended his lines of credit with banks.”

Well that is awful. Seriously. It has to be unnerving (I’d think, at least at first) to entrust your entire financial health to someone else. Talk about trust, yeesh. It’s probably not outrageous to say that financial handlers are right up there with surgeons. Some folks put their lives in these people’s hands; sometimes it doesn’t work out.

So I had me a pity party for Nic. But whoa, stop the press – who is that? Why, it’s the ex-manager, firing back with a countersuit. Seems there’s a dark side to this sad scrilla saga…

[Ex-manager Samuel Levin] countered Cage’s claim that the actor was left in the dark about his finances.

“Levin repeatedly warned Coppola [Cage’s real surname] that he was living beyond his means, urged him to spend less, and warned him that financial disaster loomed if he continued to spend uncontrollably,” Levin’s filing said.

“Levin described the folly of several other well-known entertainers who compulsively overspent their way into bankruptcy, and warned Coppola ‘it could happen to you,’ ” the filing said.

Cage should have known about his debt because “he signed every check for every monetary transaction throughout the relationship,” Levin said.

Now that’s a man making an awfully big claim. Is it true? (And do big fish really “sign checks” anymore?) Remains to be seen. But there is obviously a bigger question: Who made the nutjob buy all this stuff — and why on earth could he have possibly thought he needed it? This makes Imelda Marcos look like Mother Teresa. Behold:

“In 2007 alone, Cage’s ‘shopping spree entailed the purchase of three additional residences at a total cost of more than $33 million [including two castles in Europe –Two? CASTLES?]; the purchase of 22 automobiles (including 9 Rolls Royces); 12 purchases of expensive jewelry; and 47 purchases of artwork and exotic items,” Levin’s filing said.”

You have to read the whole article. It’ll knock you out.

So back to the issue. Was Cage so consummately clueless about the absolute simplest principles of financial management (e.g., money in must exceed money out) that he actually believed he could afford a Gulfstream jet, a flotilla of yachts, and no fewer than 15 personal residences? Honestly, who could afford to live like this besides a sheik? I guess we’ll find out in February when the case goes to court in LA.

The “cautionary” part of this tale, I think, is that we all wear the results of our choices. In other words, if Cage signed check after check and never once thought to ask, “How’m I doing financially?”, then he’s as much to blame as Levin. Don’t spend like there’s no tomorrow, and then blame others when the well runs dry. Doesn’t matter if you paid someone else to take care of the bills; you’re still responsible for running them up. Don’t pretend you’re not an adult. Just like everyone else in this world: make the choices, live with the consequences.

This series of events is especially unfortunate, given that Cage reportedly changed his last name to avoid unfair treatment by filmmakers who tied him to his famous uncle, director Francis Ford Coppola. Presumably, he wanted a square deal; to work for what he got and make it on his own. And now all this.

Ah well. All fine and good for me to pontificate from afar, here in my own little castle. But I try to keep all things modest, lest I be revisited by Kaptain Karma. He’s realer ‘n Santa Claus, believe it.

FO

Round 2 underway

Last night at 10:43, I submitted the penultimate draft of my thesis. Praise God and Jesus. I will get it back one more time, fix what I hope are minor errors, then resubmit in 2 weeks. Then it’s over. Almost three years of constant study — over. Like that *snapping fingers*.

I have thought many times about what I will actually do with myself. I’m not kidding. I mean, I know I’m going to see Justin and Jake more; I’m really looking forward to that. My goal is to see them every day, actually. But…they go to bed at like 7:30 – 8:00. What then? I’m not being silly, honest. My life has been so ordered — so ruled by my BU schedule in nearly all aspects — that it’s kind of creepy to think of how I’ll fill the time. I refuse to be a sofa spud or disappear in books all night. Oh well. No biggy. I’ll have Dinner Theatre starting in January to keep me busy, and I won’t stop until I get home from NYC the night before Easter. But, after that….hmmm.

Maybe I’ll develop a new hobby. Hey! How about video production? I’ll make movies with my Flip! Whaddya think, Artillius? In fact, here is my debut. (I know, more Justin — but he’s a great subject, don’t you think?)

I’ve never seen anyone so delighted by his image in the mirror (well actually I have, but I won’t mention his name since he’s 50 years old and who knows, he might read this). It’s the cutest thing ever!

And now, my world premiere — all 24 seconds of it (I know, title graphics need work): Babies Like Mirrors.

:-)

Whither art thou, sleep?

What is up with THIS? I think I have too much on my reptilian brain. Up with the night creatures at 3:30 a.m.

Don’t you hate that? What do you do to go back to sleep? I think I try too hard. When everything backfires, I just get up. I think I might be giving up too easily, although I actually woke up today at 2:58. I just spent the next half hour trying to reverse the process. Nice.

Truthfully, there are issues weighing on my mind. Don’t you wish you could turn them off at bedtime? If you can, I’d appreciate hearing how you do it (pharmaceuticals really aren’t an option for me…not that I have anything against sleepy drugs, mind…I just can’t wake up enough to go to school the next day).

This is going to be the Week of Taking Care of Stuff. You just wait and see if it ain’t.

*yawn* I think I’ll officially hoist the white flag and go make some coffee. Happy Saturday, fiends. (It is Saturday, right?)