When we were growing up and saw a Ray Harryhausen movie, we were interested in how it was done. But thank God we got to go through the magic of seeing it before we knew how it was done. You were able to get this beautiful, pure, visceral response to something without knowing too much about it.
--Tim Burton
It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you watch them on a screen.
--Anthony Burgess
I don't think you go to a play to forget, or to a movie to be distracted. I think life generally is a distraction and that going to a movie is a way to get back, not go away.
--Tom Noonan
That [The Wizard of Oz] was my one big Hollywood hit, but, in a way, it hurt my picture career. After that, I was typecast as a lion, and there just weren't many parts for lions.
--Bert Lahr
Several tons of dynamite are set off in this picture--none of it under the right people.
--James Agee (Sorry, don't know the exact picture he's talking about, but there are no shortage of examples, including some made long after Mr. Agee passed on--KJ)
Monday, November 28, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Archival Revival: Futures Market
(originally posted on 4/19/2009)
I once went to a psychic fair. I don't really believe in that stuff, but, like Fox Mulder on The X-Files, I want to believe. In anything. God, Zeus, Ouija boards, fortune cookies, eight balls, etc. If you don't believe in anything, then you're just stuck with, and stuck in, a cold, meaningless Universe, constantly seeking succor in soulless materialism. Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of soulless materialism. At least I am when I get my credit card statement. With that in mind, I set out on my spiritual journey. Holiday Inn. The Cypress Room. 12-8. $10 entrance fee.
I entered the Cypress Room, and sat down with the first available soothsayer. I had expected an exotic looking woman dressed like a gypsy, but this was just a 40sh lady in a blouse and slacks who looked like she could have been a cub scout den mother.
"What can I do for you?" she asked cheerfully.
"I want you to tell my fortune," I replied.
"Palm reading or astrology? I do both."
"Which is more accurate?"
"That all depends which one you believe in more."
"I'm not sure I believe in either."
"Oh, you don't believe? But you should always believe, because if you don't--"
"Give me those two choices again"
"Palm reading or astrology."
"You said palm reading first. I'll go with palms"
"That's an odd way to decide, but OK. It'll cost you $20.
"Um...Is astrology cheaper?"
"Nope. They're both $20"
I pulled $20 out of my wallet, and handed it to her. She took the money, and then my right palm, and studied it carefully.
"Ah, you have one line going across, and then a smaller one running parallel, and then one long slant. See?"
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, I had one line going across, a smaller one running parallel, and one long slant.
"So, what does that mean?" I asked.
"I won't know until I examine your left palm."
So I held out my left palm.
"Ah," she said. "You have two kind of parallel slants that fade away."
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, two kind of parallel slants that faded away.
"And?" I asked.
"Hold on," she replied. From under the table, she pulled up a soft cover book about half the size of the metropolitan yellow pages. It was titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Palm Reading .
"You're consulting a book?" I asked.
"Well, you said you're not sure whether you believe or not. I thought a book might seem more credible."
She lay the book out in front of me so I could read along. She flipped to a chapter or section titled RIGHT PALM, and from there to a subsection titled PARALLEL LINES and from there to a sub-subsection titled LONG SLANT, eventually coming to a drawing that sort of looked like my right palm, except there seemed to be more space between the parallel lines. Anyway, she went to a left palm box on the right hand side. She guided her index finger down until she came to sub-sub-subsection titled FADE AWAY. She turned to the next page, and found a sub-sub-sub subsection titled PARALLEL LINES. Underneath all that was a prediction:
You are due for a surprise.
"What kind of surprise?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't say. If you knew what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
"Well, when will this surprise happen?"
"The book won't tell you that either. If you knew the exact day and time of the surprise, you'd be expecting it, and there'd be no surprise."
"Can I see that book a second?"
She slid the book toward me.
I looked at the copyright. "This book came out four years ago. How do I know the surprise didn't happen in the last four years?"
She slid the book back toward her, and flipped through a few pages. "OK, it's right here in the introduction. 'Prophecies are not retroactive. Recipient must be fully informed'"
"I don't feel like I'm fully informed."
"Let me see what they mean by 'fully informed'. I'll look in the index."
"I'm surprised you're so dependent on a book. It kind of takes the mysticism out of it."
"Ah! Did you hear what you just said?! You're surprised! The prophecy came true!"
"What are you telling me? That the prediction is the prediction?!"
"As long as you heard the prediction before the prediction came true. There's nothing retroactive going on here!"
At that point I was ready to walk away in anger, except...the prediction had come true. I was surprised. But wait--when she first plunked that book on the table I was a bit surprised, and that was before the prediction. Of course, after the prediction, I was even more surprised that my surprise was the surprise.
"Do degrees of surprise count?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. You said you do astrology?"
"That will be another $20."
Another $20! I had already spent $10 to get into the fair in the first place, and then $20 on the palm reading. This spiritual journey was costing me more than soulless materialism! Still, when better to take the leap of faith then when you're in the hole? I gave her another $20.
"First off," she said. "When's your birthday?"
"December 15."
"So you're a Sagittarius. What year were you born?"
"1961"
"What time?"
"I don't know the exact time. It was in the morning."
"Predawn or post dawn?"
"Um, predawn, because I remember my father once telling me he was about to go to bed, when he suddenly had to rush my mother to the hospital."
The fortune teller nodded, reached under the table, and produced a book titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Astrology. Again, she laid the book out in front of me to see. She flipped the pages to a section or chapter titled, not surprisingly, SAGITTARIUS , then to a subsection titled DECEMBER, 15, then to a sub-subsection titled 1961, and to a sub-sub-subsection titled MORNING, and finally, a sub-sub-sub-subsection titled PRE-DAWN . Underneath all that was a prediction:
You shall experience sorrow.
"What kind of sorrow?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't tell you."
"Now, why not? There's no surprise involved!"
"Maybe not. But if you know what the sorrow is, you'll steel yourself against it, and it won't be as sorrowful."
"OK, this is enough psychic phenomenon for me. I'm sorry I even came."
"Ah! Did you hear yourself? You said you were sorry!"
"So?"
"The word sorry is derived from sorrow. Or sorrow is derived from sorry. One of the two. Sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow!"
I guess she had me there. I had come in contact with the supernatural. If only the supernatural hadn't ended as soon as it had begun.
"I don't suppose you read tea leaves?" I asked.
"Oh, I left that book at home."
I once went to a psychic fair. I don't really believe in that stuff, but, like Fox Mulder on The X-Files, I want to believe. In anything. God, Zeus, Ouija boards, fortune cookies, eight balls, etc. If you don't believe in anything, then you're just stuck with, and stuck in, a cold, meaningless Universe, constantly seeking succor in soulless materialism. Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of soulless materialism. At least I am when I get my credit card statement. With that in mind, I set out on my spiritual journey. Holiday Inn. The Cypress Room. 12-8. $10 entrance fee.
I entered the Cypress Room, and sat down with the first available soothsayer. I had expected an exotic looking woman dressed like a gypsy, but this was just a 40sh lady in a blouse and slacks who looked like she could have been a cub scout den mother.
"What can I do for you?" she asked cheerfully.
"I want you to tell my fortune," I replied.
"Palm reading or astrology? I do both."
"Which is more accurate?"
"That all depends which one you believe in more."
"I'm not sure I believe in either."
"Oh, you don't believe? But you should always believe, because if you don't--"
"Give me those two choices again"
"Palm reading or astrology."
"You said palm reading first. I'll go with palms"
"That's an odd way to decide, but OK. It'll cost you $20.
"Um...Is astrology cheaper?"
"Nope. They're both $20"
I pulled $20 out of my wallet, and handed it to her. She took the money, and then my right palm, and studied it carefully.
"Ah, you have one line going across, and then a smaller one running parallel, and then one long slant. See?"
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, I had one line going across, a smaller one running parallel, and one long slant.
"So, what does that mean?" I asked.
"I won't know until I examine your left palm."
So I held out my left palm.
"Ah," she said. "You have two kind of parallel slants that fade away."
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, two kind of parallel slants that faded away.
"And?" I asked.
"Hold on," she replied. From under the table, she pulled up a soft cover book about half the size of the metropolitan yellow pages. It was titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Palm Reading .
"You're consulting a book?" I asked.
"Well, you said you're not sure whether you believe or not. I thought a book might seem more credible."
She lay the book out in front of me so I could read along. She flipped to a chapter or section titled RIGHT PALM, and from there to a subsection titled PARALLEL LINES and from there to a sub-subsection titled LONG SLANT, eventually coming to a drawing that sort of looked like my right palm, except there seemed to be more space between the parallel lines. Anyway, she went to a left palm box on the right hand side. She guided her index finger down until she came to sub-sub-subsection titled FADE AWAY. She turned to the next page, and found a sub-sub-sub subsection titled PARALLEL LINES. Underneath all that was a prediction:
You are due for a surprise.
"What kind of surprise?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't say. If you knew what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
"Well, when will this surprise happen?"
"The book won't tell you that either. If you knew the exact day and time of the surprise, you'd be expecting it, and there'd be no surprise."
"Can I see that book a second?"
She slid the book toward me.
I looked at the copyright. "This book came out four years ago. How do I know the surprise didn't happen in the last four years?"
She slid the book back toward her, and flipped through a few pages. "OK, it's right here in the introduction. 'Prophecies are not retroactive. Recipient must be fully informed'"
"I don't feel like I'm fully informed."
"Let me see what they mean by 'fully informed'. I'll look in the index."
"I'm surprised you're so dependent on a book. It kind of takes the mysticism out of it."
"Ah! Did you hear what you just said?! You're surprised! The prophecy came true!"
"What are you telling me? That the prediction is the prediction?!"
"As long as you heard the prediction before the prediction came true. There's nothing retroactive going on here!"
At that point I was ready to walk away in anger, except...the prediction had come true. I was surprised. But wait--when she first plunked that book on the table I was a bit surprised, and that was before the prediction. Of course, after the prediction, I was even more surprised that my surprise was the surprise.
"Do degrees of surprise count?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. You said you do astrology?"
"That will be another $20."
Another $20! I had already spent $10 to get into the fair in the first place, and then $20 on the palm reading. This spiritual journey was costing me more than soulless materialism! Still, when better to take the leap of faith then when you're in the hole? I gave her another $20.
"First off," she said. "When's your birthday?"
"December 15."
"So you're a Sagittarius. What year were you born?"
"1961"
"What time?"
"I don't know the exact time. It was in the morning."
"Predawn or post dawn?"
"Um, predawn, because I remember my father once telling me he was about to go to bed, when he suddenly had to rush my mother to the hospital."
The fortune teller nodded, reached under the table, and produced a book titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Astrology. Again, she laid the book out in front of me to see. She flipped the pages to a section or chapter titled, not surprisingly, SAGITTARIUS , then to a subsection titled DECEMBER, 15, then to a sub-subsection titled 1961, and to a sub-sub-subsection titled MORNING, and finally, a sub-sub-sub-subsection titled PRE-DAWN . Underneath all that was a prediction:
You shall experience sorrow.
"What kind of sorrow?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't tell you."
"Now, why not? There's no surprise involved!"
"Maybe not. But if you know what the sorrow is, you'll steel yourself against it, and it won't be as sorrowful."
"OK, this is enough psychic phenomenon for me. I'm sorry I even came."
"Ah! Did you hear yourself? You said you were sorry!"
"So?"
"The word sorry is derived from sorrow. Or sorrow is derived from sorry. One of the two. Sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow!"
I guess she had me there. I had come in contact with the supernatural. If only the supernatural hadn't ended as soon as it had begun.
"I don't suppose you read tea leaves?" I asked.
"Oh, I left that book at home."
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Quips and Quotations (Baby Boomer Nostalgia Edition)
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and they carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
--Buffalo Springfield
Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on, what's going on
Yeah, what's going on, oh, what's going on
--Marvin Gaye
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.
Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.
--Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, many others.
(Guess I'm just an old fogey living in the past. I'll have something more contemporary next time. Promise--KJ)
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and they carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
--Buffalo Springfield
Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on, what's going on
Yeah, what's going on, oh, what's going on
--Marvin Gaye
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.
Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.
--Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, many others.
(Guess I'm just an old fogey living in the past. I'll have something more contemporary next time. Promise--KJ)
Friday, October 7, 2011
Computation
With the recent passing of Steve Jobs, I felt I should say a few words about him and his legacy. After all, this blog does try its best to keep up with current events, and his demise made the front page in newpapers all over the world. In what newspapers his products haven't driven out of business. But what to say? I'm rather ignorant on the subject. You see, I don't own an iMac, iPod, Mac Pro, iPhone, MacBook Air, or iPad. I'm not even sure what some of those things are.
It's not that I wouldn't mind owning all that (according to some obits I've read) civilization-revolutionizing stuff. It's just that...
iMac............................................................................$1199
iPod.............................................................................$299
Mac Pro......................................................................$2499
iPhone.........................................................................$199
MacBook Air................................................................$999
iPad..............................................................................$499
...I'm on a budget.
My wallet could use some revolutionizing.
It's not that I wouldn't mind owning all that (according to some obits I've read) civilization-revolutionizing stuff. It's just that...
iMac............................................................................$1199
iPod.............................................................................$299
Mac Pro......................................................................$2499
iPhone.........................................................................$199
MacBook Air................................................................$999
iPad..............................................................................$499
...I'm on a budget.
My wallet could use some revolutionizing.
Monday, September 19, 2011
In Memoriam: Tom Wilson 1931-2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Dispatch
I was looking at one of those online news aggregate sites when I came across the following...
NEWS YOU MIGHT LIKE:
Woman Dies From Gas Fumes
Now, I ask you, why in the world might I like THAT? I have no quarrel with the woman. I never even met her!
NEWS YOU MIGHT LIKE:
Woman Dies From Gas Fumes
Now, I ask you, why in the world might I like THAT? I have no quarrel with the woman. I never even met her!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Quips and Quotations (Spiritual Enlightenment Edition)
So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn't know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I'll go and write the letter - and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:
Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send. Huck Finn.
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking - thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, 'stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and suchlike times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had smallpox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he's got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.
It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
"All right, then, I'll go to hell" - and tore it up.
--Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send. Huck Finn.
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking - thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, 'stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and suchlike times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had smallpox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he's got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.
It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
"All right, then, I'll go to hell" - and tore it up.
--Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
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