More Reading With Fakename

It’s hard to believe that the last time I did an update on this topic was June 24th, although I did do an interim post on Nothing To Lose, a book by Lee Child, who was recommended to me by WordPresser ptfan1.  That was a strange book, but it did keep my interest enough to give Child another try.  Therefore I just finished his latest book, Gone Tomorrow, and I’m glad I gave it a try.  This was a book I would say is one of the tops in its genre (thrillers).  Although it did have the most graphic torture scene in it I’ve ever read, and I of the normally iron stomach had to exercise a lot of control to keep from throwing up.  Let’s just say it ranks right up there with the scene from Hannibal, involving a certain dinner shared by Hannibal and Clarissa. 

I also finished The Cure For Grief (so-so); True Detectives, the latest Jonathan Kellerman novel and one of his best; and a book called The Memory Collector, by a writer named Meg Gardiner.  It’s also a thriller, but it has to do with anterograde amnesia…the inability to form new memories.  I was fascinated by that condition after learning about the most famous and studied case of it, that of Henry Molaison, known only as H.M. until his death last year.  I’ll look for other books by Gardiner too. 

I wasn’t planning to go back to the library, because on Monday of this week, “Brian” (of Flirting With Fakename fame) showed up early in my office and announced that over the weekend, he had been in the used book store and found a couple of books he’d already read but thought I might like, so he bought them for me to read.  (Oh.  My.)  The first book is A Prayer For Owen Meany, by John Irving.  (“Brian” generally reads better literature than I do.)  The second is Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady, by Florence King.  I’m pretty sure I read that once, but I don’t remember it so it might as well be new.  I decided to start with that because I needed a break from chase scenes and nauseating torture. 

Confessions is a humorous autobiography, in which King details her grandmother’s attempts to turn her into a Southern Lady.  She notes that mostly it didn’t take, however, she had to admit that in later years, “No matter which sex I went to bed with, I never smoked on the street.”  Which is not exactly the rule…(and she does correct it later in the book).  The rule is that you can’t WALK with a cigarette.  It’s permissible to smoke outdoors, you just have to be sitting or standing still. 

I only know this from a friend who started her college career at what used to be called Mississippi State College for Women.  My own Southern Lady training was deficient.  My friend was in a sorority there, and they took Southern Lady training very seriously.  There was another smoking rule, which was that if you had to light your own cigarette (a seriously desperate situation, since that meant there was no man around to do it for you) and you had to use a match (very tacky), the match was always to be SHAKEN to put it out.  Never, ever blow out a match.  I guess blowing was too suggestive.  I guess they also missed that old joke about how blowing is just a figure of speech. 

As it turned out I went to the library anyway, and I stocked up on three more John Irving books:  The Hotel New Hampshire, Cider House Rules, and I decided to reread The World According to Garp.  That and A Widow For One Year are the only Irving books I’ve ever read.  I also got a new Jeffrey Deaver book, just so as not to wander too far away from my thriller roots. 

But the real reason I went to the library is that they called me today and told me the book I put on reserve for Nick was in.  It’s called The Shack, and every copy in every branch is continuously checked out, even though the book is a couple of years old.  Must be some book.  I’d like to mention that it was pouring down rain when I went to the library.  Also, it was uphill both ways.

That Whole Gates Thing

I know, I know, it is (hopefully) about to be old news…”It” being the arrest of Henry Louis Gates, Harvard professor, by a Cambridge police officer for disorderly conduct on his own front porch.  If you don’t know the details of this incident, you have a) been in a coma, or b) are presently in a coma.    If you’re awake now, you’ll have to catch up on your own, because I’m going straight to commentary.

I’ve read opinion pieces about it from all sorts of people and sources I respect.  That includes Leonard Pitts of the Miami Herald.  Probably one of the best things I read is the NY Times blog called The Opinionator–which gives you samples of what’s happening in the blogosphere from both sides of any particular issue.  The entry for July 27th is called  How To Talk To A Cop.

But by far the person who totally got it right was Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post, in his July 28th column entitled Pique and the Professor.  It was about power.

So here is the Fakename take on it.  Gates was having a really bad day.  He was sick, he had bronchitis.  He was returning from a trip to China, and was probably jet-lagged to death, and jet-lag does seriously bad things to your brain.  It must have seemed like the last straw to him that when he got home, his front door was jammed.  Little did he know that that was just the next to last straw.  So when the police officer asked him to step outside and produce ID, implying of course that he might be a burglar, he snapped.  Not to put too fine a point on it, he became an asshole, but under the circumstances, it’s understandable.  The real problem is that being an asshole is not against the law. 

He did produce ID.  And from the second the police officer knew he was who he said he was, and that it was his house, that should have been the end of it, regardless of how much verbal abuse Gates may have been heaping on him.  As the guy with the gun, it’s his job to defuse the situation.  Instead, in my opinion, he arrested Gates because he was pissed off, and because he could.  “Disorderly conduct” is a totally…excuse my language…bullshit charge.  So sure, they were both “wrong”, but the police officer was most wrong.  He had the greater burden to defuse the situation and he failed, because he let his personal feelings become involved.  Much has been made of the fact that the officer has taught courses in racial sensitivity or racial profiling or something.  I think they need to find a new instructor.  (Plus, look at him…he looks mad…and mean.)

So last night, I visited a friend and her sister and this was one of the topics of our conversation.  I will charitably describe all of us as middle-aged white women.  We all agreed….the police officer was wrong.  However, we also all agreed that we were glad it happened, because it gave us a break from reporting about Sarah Palin.

Strange Bedfellows

This is Fakename’s political comentary on last week’s notable events.  Sure, the event of the week was probably the farewell of Sarah Palin, but I will pass on that one.  Other than to say that the Cafferty blog on CNN asked the question, “Have the media been unfair to Sarah Palin?”  Among the comments were several which said, No, the media have been unfair to us by continuing to cover her irrational blatherings.  The very best comment, however, was from a guy who said that Sarah Palin’s ego wrote a check her brain can’t cash. 

No, today’s political topic arises as a result of my channel-surfing over the weekend, having nothing better to do, when I happened to cruise through the Fox News Channel a couple of times.  On one of those occasions, I happened to catch…The Mike Huckabee Show.  How could I resist?

I caught it at the very beginning, when Mike was enthusiastically telling us the exciting lineup of guests he had in store for us, including…..hold your breath…drum roll please…MC Hammer.  Say what?  Talk about your D-List has-beens.  Plus I was wondering if MC was going to perform and do the crotch-grabbing thing with half-naked dancers in the background on a talk show hosted by a Baptist preacher.  I really, really wanted to see that. 

Unfortunately, I was totally unable to make it that long.  The first guest was…another drum roll….former Vice President…Dan Quayle.  Please see above re:  D-list has-beens.  Dan Quayle!  Seriously–is there anybody in America who still wants to hear what Dan Quayle has to say?  Is there anybody in America who ever did?  Actually, a better question may be:  What percentage of Americans even know who Dan Quayle is?  Dan Quayle is like a bad “Jeopardy!” question.  The answer is:  Warren G. Harding’s vice president.  The question is, “Who was Elmore T. Snizzlepoof?”  Who the hell cares?

Apparently this was some sort of pilot program (I feel so lucky to have gotten in on the ground floor of this exciting opportunity!), since once Mike and Dan were seated, Mike explained that the entire audience consisted of Fox New interns.  “But Mike”, said Dan, “Don’t you find that young people always ask the most relevant questions?”  

“Why yes, Dan”, Mike replied, “I certainly do”.  I was so overwhelmed by the depth of this exchange that I almost electrocuted myself pushing the buttons on the remote control.  I think all remote control devices should have a button which says “Anywhere but here”.

I hereby invite all readers of this blog to help me start a list of cutting-edge guests we can suggest to Mike for his future shows (assuming there are any).   I’ll start with my personal favorite:  William Shatner.

Too Much Drama

This has to do with two seemingly unrelated stories.  Story Number One:  On Monday, July 20th, I arrived at work and read the local newspaper as usual.  The top headline was about a hostage situation the previous day  in a relatively affluent neighborhood.  I say “relatively affluent”  because it’s a “planned community”.  A planned community in the best sense of the word, in my view.  The developers did a good job in this case.  They didn’t develop a gated community, where the rich are insulated from the riffraff.  There are million dollar homes there, but they exist side by side with more modest homes, townhouses, and even apartments.  It’s more “real world”. 

The hostage situation described a standoff in one of the apartments, where a woman had allowed a man she knew from the Internet to move into her apartment.  The initial report said he had hit her in the face with a shotgun, but she managed to escape and was taken to the hospital and treated for “minor injuries”, then released.  Hold up, here.  How do you get minor injuries after being hit in the face with a shotgun?  I’m thinking broken cheekbone, broken nose, broken eyesocket, missing teeth.  One of two things happened here–the newspaper got it wrong, or she exaggerated what happened.  Maybe both.  In any case, after she escaped, the guy barricaded himself in the apartment for 3 1/2 hours but was finally talked out by the police department’s tactical team. 

Story Number Two.  About 15 minutes after I finished reading this story, “Brian” walks into my office.  “Brian” is a guy I previously made famous in my Flirting With Fakename series.  He’s been out of town since June 26, and he hoped to be gone permanently, but due to a glitch in the project he was in charge of, he has had to return.  Before he left, he told me he planned to spend a week in British Columbia, which I assumed was a vacation.  In the interim, a third party informed me that it was not exactly that…”Brian” was performing a chivalrous deed by accompanying a woman of his acquaintance to British Columbia where she was getting a divorce from a Canadian citizen.  She needed moral support.  I said, “I’m having a hard time putting ‘Brian’ and ‘chivalry’ in the same sentence.”  Third party guy says,”You think?  I think he is very chivalrous.”  Let that be a lesson in trusting other men to define what is and is not chivalry. 

My first words to “Brian” were, How was British Columbia?  His eyes got all shifty.  At last he says, British Columbia was beautiful, but the trip was hell.  He explains that he went with this woman to provide moral support while she got a divorce.  And he went because he said she isn’t “wrapped too tightly” and “never could have done this on her own”  and needed help.  During the course of the story, it becomes clear that he paid for her plane ticket and hotel room for a week. 

That’s another of your Hold up, Here moments.  How do you get a man to fly with you over 3,000 miles to a different country, and pay for it, and you are only acquaintances?  And you’re crazy too? I myself am only mildly crazy, and I can’t even get a man to take me to Starbucks!

Of course, you don’t.  At the conclusion of the week in BC, she announced that he was next….that if he did not accede to her wishes, she was going to accuse him of being abusive toward her, just like she had just done with her husband during the divorce.  He handled that by never being alone with her, and by reporting to security at every airport they landed at during the long trip home.  Then he said, Did you read the article in the newspaper this morning?  It was the same woman.  He said, I don’t know all the details, but I suspect she had something to do with driving that train.   

Later in the week, more details emerged. She alleges that the man in her apartment did not hit her in the face with the shotgun, but instead stuck the barrel in her mouth and asked if she was ready to die.  They met in an online support group for cancer victims:  she is a breast cancer survivor, and his ex-wife recently died of cancer.  He was clearly depressed and maybe suicidal, as several postings on his Facebook account implied.  She was just trying to do him a favor.  According to him, the whole incident began when she asked him to help her move a table.  When he refused, she began slapping him repeatedly.  Not that there is any excuse for what he did, but it’s probably not a good idea to provoke unstable people.

So now we know why “Brian” never asked me out for a drink.  He was “busy”.  If he ever does, I will have to decline, on the grounds of not being crazy enough for him.  I think he should take up hang-gliding or bungee-jumping, or some other less dangerous sport.

Unforgettable

That pairing on the Pepsi commercial of Bob Dylan and Will.I.Am reminds me of the first time I ever recall seeing a similar thing done.  It was 1992 (my memory had to be refreshed by the Internet).  It was an amazing production, but seeing it again today for the first time since 1992, what moves me most is not just the beauty of the song and the incredible talent of Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole.  It’s the love behind this young woman’s tribute to her father. 

Forever Young

Call me weird…okay, never mind, I realize you are already doing that.  But I love TV commercials, at least the smart and creative ones.  My favorite currently is the variation of Pepsi’s 2009 Superbowl ad.  In the shorter version you only hear Will.I.Am and not Dylan, but here’s the original.  And like the song says, May your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung!

News Flash: The CIA Lies

Who knew that a covert agency would do such a thing? 

Let’s start with the CIA failing to tell Congress about their assassination plan for Al Queda leaders.  First of all, is there anyone here who has a problem with that plan?  Okay then.  Moving right along.  The problem is not the idea…it’s the implementation.  This is the same agency which tortured people who turned out not to be terrorists at all.  The same agency which flew prisoners into countries we don’t even have diplomatic relations with, for God’s sake, so they could be tortured beyond what even the CIA was willing to risk.  Damn.  Don’t you just hate it when waterboarding isn’t good enough?

On the other hand.  You can understand why the CIA was reluctant to brief Congress on their plans.  If there is a more dysfunctional group of people anywhere on the planet, please let me know.  All you have to do is watch five minutes of the Sotomayor hearings to get the picture.  The very sight of Jeff Sessions questioning her racial impartiality was enough to induce seizures. 

This is the guy who is the “ranking Republican” on the Senate Intelligence Committee.  I vote they rename that committee.  I don’t care what they call it, as long as they leave out the word “intelligence”.

But let’s go back to “lying”.  Call me what you will, but  I’m okay with lying.  Especially since everyone does it all the time, and usually for a good cause.  It seems to be only if you are religious that the sin of omission is equivalent to the sin of commission.  Commision is doing something and saying you didn’t.  Omission is like, you thought about it but didn’t.  As far as I’m concerned, that isn’t lying. 

Let’s take the following example.  Your wife says, Honey, does this dress make my hips look fat?  I rest my case. 

That may seem like a trivial example, but the principle is the same.  If I worked for the CIA,  Hell (which I don’t believe in) would freeze over before I would tell Congress any more than I absolutely had to.  I wouldn’t trust that somebody like John Ensign or Mark Sanford  wouldn’t  whisper little sweet nothings into the ear of a foreign agent. 

It’s like the old joke about people keeping a secret.  Two people can do it as long as one of them is dead. 

In conclusion, never let it be said that I don’t change my mind based on new information.  That new information came in the form of this weekend’s Opinionator op-ed in the New York Times.  It’s a summary of  opinions from the blog world about current events.  It made me very uncomfortable.  I would prefer that Democrats not act like idiots, so as not to undermine the big picture.  I guess we don’t get that luxury.

Some of the conservative bloggers suggested that Leon Panetta did the whole “I shut down the program and now I’m telling you about it” thing as a  politiical move to protect Nancy Pelosi.  SadlyI’m starting to agree.

The Opionator

The Business of Death

For some reason I haven’t been able to win any converts over to a guy named Davis W.  whom I’ve listed on my blogroll.  I don’t get it….I really don’t get why this guy hasn’t been nationally syndicated.  He’s funnier than Dave Barry, which is high praise coming from me. 

One of the things he routinely does, besides fake news reports, is website reviews.  The most recent of which is www.mortuary.com.  I was in stitches.  Seriously, you will have to read for yourself, because I can’t do him justice, but just one quote:  Speaking of one CEO’s message regarding a “growing customer base”, Davis says, In other words, they look forward to a day when everybody is dead.  See it here:  Davis W.

However, I was inspired to do my own search about cremation containers.  There is just something bizarre about keeping ashes, the ultimate biodegradable entity, in permanent receptacles.  Don’t even get me started on the necklaces you can wear that hold small amounts of the ashes of your beloved relative/friend/pet. 

So for all you need to know, go to www.memorials.com.  There you will find “Discount Urns”, starting at $27.95.  I guess those are for people or pets you liked, but not too much.  I mean, assuming that you are dead and won’t care, but how would you feel if you only rated a Discount Urn? 

Some of the best are the “Sports Urns” (starting at $197.95).  Your ashes can be kept in a ceramic replica of a golf bag.  Nothing says “I love you” like that. 

However, my favorite is “Biodegradable Urns” (starting at $97.95).  As previously mentioned, ashes are already about as biodegradable as you can get.  Why not just bury them in the back yard and skip the $97.95?

I actually get the part about keeping the ashes, at least for a time.  It just gives you a little longer to say goodbye.  But like…a Ziploc bag works just fine.  That could be a new marketing strategy for them, what with that growing customer base.

Four Good Reasons To Sleep With A Cat

It’s soothing.  It’s well-known that petting animals, at least dogs and cats, lowers your blood pressure and has a mentally calming effect.  I’m not sure how that would work if you were petting a Boa Constrictor.  But cats have a clear advantage over any other animal, as far as I’m concerned, because they purr.  There is just something about that vibration that is relaxing. 

In case you need to wash your hands.  Just when you are at that ready-to-fall-asleep stage, when all is quiet and the cat is peacefully purring next to you, the cat will feel an urgent need for a personal grooming session.  The only advantage is that if you insert a body part in front of the cat’s tongue, it will seamlessly switch between cleaning its paw and cleaning your hand.  This is very useful when you’re half asleep and too lazy to make it to the sink.  Unless you have a problem with cat spit. 

In case you have a flea.  Part of the cat-grooming process involves switching from licking to putting all their teeth together and chomping on what may or may not be a flea.  There doesn’t seem to be any real flea-detection involved.  It just seems like Step 2 in the Cat Grooming Manual.  This can be quite disconcerting, but the good part is that if you did have a flea, it’s gone now.

They will protect you from spiders.  Say what?, you ask?  That’s a new one on me too.  But last night, while stretched out on the couch, watching TV (the USA channel had a House marathon on…it doesn’t get much better than that!), the cat suddenly went into full Cat Alert mode.  Ears perked up, neck stretched, eyes sweeping from side to side.  Suddenly I saw the reason—timidly creeping over the edge of the couch was a Daddy Long Legs spider. 

Normally this would result in all-out assault by the cat, and she would eat the intruder.  Apparently a Daddy Long Legs is a poor excuse for an adversary.  She just clamped her left paw over it and left it there until I assume it suffocated. 

Now not all cats are created equal.  There are some cats you should probably avoid sleeping with–like this one.  But poor baby–he is so scared. 

A Tribute to the Bad Boys

I totally can’t believe that Jim Croce has been dead since 1973.  Still, whatever you do, don’t mess around with Jim…I mean Slim.