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A Thread for Random Musings


Old Man

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Jimmy Hill passed away at the weekend.

Famous in the 70s to people watching Match of the Day as a pundit, he had been a footballer and the head of the players union. In the latter role he pushed for, and got, an end to a pay cap. He went on to manage Coventry City for five years taking them to the top division before quitting to work in television. He introduced pre match entertainment and the first full-fledged match programme which was in colour, the first electronic scoreboard, commissioned the first all seater stadium in England and the first to show a live match via 4 giant screens at Coventry.

He presented Match of the Day for 25 years notching up 600 appearances.

He was instantly recognisable by his beard and pronounced chin which led to him being a frequent target for characterisation in cartoons and by impressionists.

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On seeing a stage performance of the same show ...

 

One of the odd experiences of my youth was seeing The Sound of Music (film, Julie Andrews starring) in a US Army theater in Bremerhaven, Germany. When the scene came where the Nazi admiral shows up and orders Captain von Trapp to depart for Bremerhaven immediately, there were scattered hoots and cheers in the theater.

 

That was circa 1969, and IIRC we were seated in a building that had been seized for their own use by the victorious Allies about seven years after the Anschluss, the immediate fallout of which provides the deadly tension in the play/film. Being in my early teens then, and less removed in time from the historical event portrayed in the show than I am now from my sitting in that movie theatre, I grasped the overarching historical framework only superficially. It was only on our way out of the stage performance yesterday that I realized the basic fundamental reason I saw the film in that particular place was the same as the cause of the flight of the von Trapps.

 

I do not attach any cosmic significance to that recursion of cause and event, and it was too reasoned to have any feelings of deja vu, but it was a strange realization to have had forty-plus years later.

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For a dose of amusing and appalling, go to weather.gov and read the various weather warnings in effect for various parts of the country. It is hard to believe, but yes, there are places where people are bigger weather wimps than the folks here in the Seattle area. Also, there are areas where living there, IMO, is prima facie evidence of utter derangement and everyone still dwelling there obviously had their frontal lobes destroyed by cold long ago.

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I am at the core of the spiral, but is it expanding, or contracting? Is either good? Will the expansion tear me apart like a surreal drawing and quartering? Will the Contraction crush me like the depths of an invisible ocean?

 

Does the purple of my prose make me a king, or the joker? Does speaking in metaphors cry for attention, or conceal? Both? Neither?

 

How much structure belongs in a random musing anyway?

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A faq for employees:

 

Q: "Do you carry rice?"

A: No. Eating rice makes you Chinese. [Employee will now provide customer with impression of how Chinese people look, talk, sp. emph. on transposing "l" and "r.")

Q: "Do you carry tofu?"

A: No. Tofu is a hippy food. Are you a Communist? Have you ever been a Communist?

Q: "Do you carry milk?" 

A: "No. Milk is white. White food gives you mucus. Increased mucus imbalances your precious bodily fluids. Imbalanced fluids leaches away your vitality, and sex leads to babies, and we sell more stuff to people with babies. Why don't you have babies? You should have babies.

Q: "Do you carry disposable gloves?"

A: Of course not. Remember those 50s TV shows, with people doing dishes in those long dishgloves, people like Ethel and Lucy and Evangeline? Don't look at me that way: I don't remember names from old fifties TV shows. I'm not old. Why are you so old?

Q: "Do you carry protein powder?"

A: "They carry protein powder at health stores. Does this look like a health store to you? Have you been down our snack aisle?"

Q: "Do you carry bath towels?"

A: This is a grocery store. In a mall. An expensive mall, where floor space is at a premium. With a department store down the hall. You know, the kind of place where you go to buy home furnishings. So of course we carry bath towels. They're in our linen section, on our furniture floor, in our home furnishing wing. 

 

....

 

This random musing is dedicated to the idiot who came up with the idea of a "Compliments" store brand; and developed it into the idea of giving away "Free Compliments brand" products. Thank you, idiot, thank you. I dedicate this shift of taking one old person after another to the pop aisle and physically showing them the section of shelf dedicated to Compliments brand soda to you. 

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“The Theseus is only the first of a family of Bristol turbine units in which the primary objective is the attainment of the highest possible thermal efficiency consistent with reasonable weight and bulk.”

 

First of all, congratulations, 1945 engineer, for ruining the passive voice for the rest of us. Second, and pardon me if I'm misunderstanding you, you're saying that in the future, Bristol Aerospace will focus on building small, light, efficient engines. Instead of . . . ?

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Most esteemed neighbor,

 

I recognize that on Monday morning you were most upset to discover that someone who'd been over to watch the football games with you had taken your stash of pot, but standing in your front yard screaming at them over the phone at the crack of 11 on Monday morning, regaling them for being a thief and that you have no money with which to buy more, reveals more about your lifestyle* and your circle of friends than your neighbors really wanted to know. Screaming into the telephone is best done indoors, where, if we hear anything at all, we would be inclined to believe more charitable things of you, perhaps involving a more enthusiastic than usual game of Cards Against Humanity or maybe wild sex and screaming orgasms.

 

Your neighbor across the street and a house down,

Cancer

 

*Yes, I know marijuana is legal here, as the numerous shops on a nearby arterial advertise (the signs' bring-'em-in rate seems to be $75 an ounce). Coupled with the screaming, it still damages our collective delusions of middle-class decorum and respectability.

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