Saturday, April 08, 2006

If the World Were a Classic Movie

San Angelo, TX - How lazy am I? I stole this from myself.

April 12, 2004 (taken from the Angelo State Ram Page)

As I write this very moment, the only things I can hear (besides the persistent click-clack of a keyboard) is the soft pitter-patter of rain on the window and the distant, but strangely relaxing, rumble of thunder.Aside from the weather, all these new fangled “conveniences,” like the fluorescent lights, do nothing but give me a headache. But this loathsome weather, in its timelessness and almost surreal state, changes things. It makes me relax and become very laid back. Lightning flashes.

Suddenly…Magically, if only for a moment, the keyboard sounds like a typewriter and my recklessly casual attire transforms into an opulent suit topped by my gray fedora with a press pass shoved carelessly through the hatband. I’m dragging on a stogie like there’s no tomorrow while at the same time, ironically, I’m hashing out tomorrow’s headlines.

Then, the wooden door creaks open and, in the glow of a dull desk lamp, I see red shoes and long, voluptuous legs. And then she walks in (cued perfectly to a thunder clap, of course) adorned in that red satin dress that just screams sin. I greet her and stroll confidently to the phonograph. Calmly, coolly, I place a Glenn Miller record on the machine. As the tinny trumpets and string bass start to…

Stop it. Just snap out of it. You live in 2004, remember? Now save what you’re writing on a disk and then check your e-mail on the Internet before flicking off the fluorescent lights, heading out the door and speeding home in your fuel-injected, air-conditioned vehicle. You don’t live in a classic movie.But I can dream, can’t I? It’s my honest contention that the world would be a much, much better place if we all lived within the framework of a classic film.

Of course, a few guidelines exist that we would have to follow.The first is easy. It would always have to be raining. Some of the greatest classic movie moments happen in the rain.Rick Blaine in the rain on a station platform getting his insides “kicked out,” Audrey Hepburn in the rain with a taxi and a cat with no name and Gene Kelley stomping his feet in puddles, dancing his way through the rain and intoimmortalization on the Silver Screen. So that’s a no-brainer. Bring on the rain, and lots of it.

Number two. We must always dress immaculately, no matter where we go.Like Rick Blaine in “Casablanca,” the men must wear a tuxedo or suit and tie at all times. To accompany the outfit, a hat of choice, cuff links, pipes, you name it. Also, wing-tip shoes are a must. For the women, elegant attire is the name of the game. And hats, big ones, with no apologies for their size or gaudy nature. As far as accessories for the women, we mustn’t forget gloves with every evening gown. Nothing says “elegant” like satin gloves that stretch all the way from a woman’s hand to her bicep (a la Audrey Hepburn).

Thirdly, we must have manners that are unparalleled.Every time a woman enters the room, men must stand and introduce themselves. Placing a title in front of each and every name is also extremely important. Mister, Misses, Mademoiselle and Monsieur, just to name a few. Also, men don’t shake women’s hands in a classic-movie world. They take women’s hands, and then kiss the back of them.

I don’t like number four, but it’s all part of the film-noir genre. To truly live in a classic film, we must smoke, and smoke all of the time. Every time we take a breath without cigarette smoke pouring out of our mouths and noses, we run the risk of unclassic-izing ourselves. Additionally, when a woman places a cigarette to her lips, three lighters must immediately come out of nowhere to “offer her a light.” (Please understand, I am not glamorizing frequent cigarette use. Humphrey Bogart died at the age of 57 after a slow and painful bout with throat cancer— caused by cigarettes, no doubt.)

Lastly, and most importantly, we must always have the perfect line at the perfect time. The following is just a sampling of lines you should imitate in the pursuit of a classic movie lifestyle. Humphrey Bogart: “We’ll always have Paris.” Marlon Brando: “I could have been a contender.” Lauren Bacall: “You know how to whistle, don’t you?” Faye Dunaway: “I don’t get tough. My lawyers do.” And another Bogart: “What is it? The stuff that dreams are made of.”Of course, we can each add our own perspective to living life in a classic movie.That’s the beauty of it all.We can emulate our heroes. We can try and be the stuff of legends. We can strive to be as smooth and cool as all those iconic actors and actresses on the big screen. And every so often, in life, when it really counts, we all get a chance to nail our lines.The next time you find yourself in the rain, turn up the collar of your trench coat, pause for just a moment, say your lines and then let the rain drip slowly off the brim of your fedora. That is, if you’re wearing one.

That's the story of my life...

Blogger Disgusted by Urinal Incident, Also Taken on Magical Journey in Time

San Angelo, TX - I am not easily bothered by public toilets. After all, I've been using them for many years now; pretty much since I quit using diapers...which by my calculations was at least 8 years ago.

Here's the rub: I went into a grocery store, used the urinal and then experienced something I've never experienced before, nor since. I flushed the toilet like normal and then detected something unmistakable and inescapably wrong:

MIST.

That's right. I felt a slight mist coming from the urinal. For one very brief moment, I was carried away to a sunny spring afternoon by the East Quoddy light house in Maine, a candy-striped joy of a time many moons ago when I traveled up that way. But then, horribly, I was sucked back into the current situation: a flourescent, tiled, drab public restroom. And this was no ocean, the mist was coming FROM THE URINAL.

What can I say. By the time I had pondered the fact that it was misting on me, the damage had been done. I had been misted upon and there was nothing I could do about it. It was a catastrophic clash of paradoxical ideas: something so wonderful and rereshing as mist coming from something as utterly disgusting as a public urinal. Eck.

(A digression: I always loved those toilets that flush so hard they change the air pressure in the room, make your ears pop and creat a vacuum seal with the door...but that's another blog for another day.)

Anyway, after the fizzled soak, I retreated back into the store as though nothing had happened. One thing is for sure. I will someday feel a mist and think of urinals and most certainly next time I use a urinal I will think of mist.

That's the story of my life...

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Co-op in Trouble, Spastic Chickens Defect at Alarming Rates

Waring, TX - Okay. So apparently I am not any good at chicken farming. As you may have read earlier, I embarked on a journey several weeks ago by purchasing several chickens and opening a hen house called the Chicken Co-op. All was well the first several days, but all that changed rather quickly.

One night when I went out to close the door to my coop I noticed one of the chickens was missing. The next night, the other was as well. The only one who remained was my faithful rooster whom I call The Colonel. Just like that 66 percent of my chicken inventory had walked out. Fearing something ate them both, I called Carol (where the chickens came from originally).

To my relief, Carol informed me the chickens were back at her house, roosting with her chickens. My chickens had defected!!! The sickest, and perhaps most entertaining part of this story is that Carol's house is on the other side of F.M. 1621...so you guessed it, the chickens had to cross the road to get back to Carol' s hen house. Finally that ridiculous question had been answered once and for all.

But the story does not end there. Seeking to give The Colonel company, I traveled to Comfort, Texas, where I purchased two more hens for 1 dollar a piece. But, the lady who I bought them from failed to mention one minor detail:

These were spastic chickens.

How spastic? you ask. When I closed them into the henhouse with their new friend The Colonel they went bouncing off the walls, spreading feathers everywhere, turning over water jugs and even flinging spastic chicken poop all over the place. One finally ended up hitting the screened window of the coop so hard it flew open and the spastic chicken flew into the wild blue yonder (and by wild blue yonder I mean like 10 feet away in the yard.) Of course, the other spastic chicken followed suit and now both spastic chickens are loose in Waring. I saw them yesterday at Saur's welding shop and then later outside the post office. I have no idea where they are calling home, but it ain't the Chicken Cooperative.

We at the Chicken Co-op have switched to a very strict no spastic chicken policy. Good riddance.
Anyhoo, if you drive through Waring anytime soon and see two spastic chickens tell them hi for me...and then run over them.

That's the story of my life...
www.coolcounters.net