Weblog 70
June 10, 2007~12:30am
Ever wonder what the terminally ill see when they are inches from death itself? I came across this photo (yes, it's a photo, not a painting) and it grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. I can't tell you 'exactly' what it does to me as I study it, but I finally decided that it reminds me of a person getting a glimpse of an impossibly strange looking 'god' on the other side of an opening curtain...the other stage, the great mystery. It's a picture that's rapturous, disturbing and comforting all at once, and I believe it's these contradictory feelings being pulled out of me all at the same time that's created my fascination. I wrote a short poem after studying it. (This picture is my computer wallpaper now...that's how weird I am.)
Nature of the Godhead
God cannot
in his counting room
know
the longing.
And I believe that is true....we're all 'dog tongues' hanging out over what it will be like- the passing over, the mystery- the place beyond. And what if we find it has a strange and pony-tailed, hunched over giant leprechaun like this-- doing an arcane something at a table-- sitting in the light of his own eternity? Scary perhaps...but more mystifying than anything.
These are the June thoughts of a tired mind. I went to a graduation picnic today, and then the Sunday shopping got taken care of today as well, and I am tired. Mellow, tired, and contented. Watched three episodes of the Sopranos back to back, (the three before the last one scheduled for tomorrow night- and don't tell me how it comes out! I watch these on tape and avoid all Soprano talk and message boards to keep the surprises intact)- so after a day like this, it's no wonder I'm feeling philosophical. It feels like the world is shifting subtley, endings, ending and beginnings, and the symbolism of a picnic get-together with people I have spent my life with, all there celebrating and having our cake and hoping to eat it too- wishing that for the graduate.
Oh, and I fell today! LOL!!! The picnic grove area was locked up, and the only way into it was through an indoor concession stand. I tripped on the lip of the aluminum stripping and went sprawling on my face against the linoleum, left knee taking the brunt as I went down. I sprang right up, embarrassed and laughing, but "OUCH!", that sonofabitch hurt. Still does.
Holly and Gary and little Bill and Kay were there- Bill has had the first buzz cut of his life, and looks adorable. (He not only has soft eyebrows to stroke now when he's anxious, he has a whole HEAD!- and man, does he make USE of that comforting fuzz. LOL!!!) Unfortunately, the picnic grove was situated next to a water bumper-inflatable raft ride that he desperately wanted to try out. Nobody had money. LOL!! We'd all come just with our cards and gifts, and no thought to needing any. Today..........Bill learned the meaning of the word, 'broke'.
For some strange reason, it delighted him to hear us say, "Sorry, Bill. We're broke." He'd laugh at that like it was a big joke and everybody was joshing him, but today, it was true! Had I known, I would have stuck a twenty in my sock. He instead made up his own 'Bill Games' with his Kay-shadow following after in her lime green sundress, FOUR ponytails sticking up on her head like the tassels on those fancy throw pillows, and she was sticky and happy, just glad to be with her brother, as always.
Bill climbed on some rocks and laid down and told me he was being a snake. When I got close, he pantomimed taking a chunk out of my leg and announced, "You've just been bit by a VENOMOUS SNAKE!" "A broke, venomous snake, Bill...."- and he laughed. "No. I found this!"-- and he held up a shiny new dime, not nearly as bright as his face.
June 10, 2007~1:15pm
The internet is a great net that catches fish of every color, and keeps them seemingly forever, even when they begin to stink. (Even when they smelled like 'fish' to begin with...) - and with that thought in mind, let me introduce you to my Detractors Club.
This is the way they come across to me, tightly knit and 'different'- many of them with pointy heads- and for some reason, harbor a real hatred for me, though I've never joined their board nor posted there. I've been discussed at length three times: the initial one, after I took first place in the IBPC poetry contest in December of 2000 (back when I did such things)- and they were a participating board and posted the monthly winners as did all member boards. You can read the archived exchange right here in the net....everypoet.org. I can understand sour grapes, so I brushed it off.
However when out of nowhere- in 2002- I found yet another LONG discussion of my style- (along with copied and pasted poems of mine they were ripping to shreds and all because one of their members had posted a link to an editorial of mine entitled "Why I Hate Poetry Boards")- I got righteously pissed off and wrote a rant poem about the member who plucked the poems, and stuck that in my own website.
I find it disappointing that while other links survive, that thread is gone- which makes this thread- the IN-famous one -leaving me looking like a vengeful bitch, though I'd found their discussion by seeing a spike in visits to the October ezine, and followed the referring link back to them and thought, "Jesus Christ....again? "- then eventually removed the link back to the their thread because that link too- "mysteriously disappeared".
Vengeful, I was indeed; understandably so. I wasn't being a bitch, I was doing a Peckinpah
...Straw Dogs sort of thing.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm....must be like this other thread, which is now locked, and from which I am excising my favorite part, with 2,739 views...
"A newbie posted a poem that began like this:
I do not love you as if you were a salt-rose, or a topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Pretty soon after the post, a moderator and/or a few members of the site showed up to tell the newbie all the awful things wrong with the poem.
A bit of time went by before someone in charge recognized that this newbies poem was probably one of the 4555949894859 poems anyone serious about poetry has read, if not once at least 6850965 times, in the hopes of becoming a better writer. And shortly after the critiques, the poem and everything said about the poem "poofed" into the ether. I guess Neruda could have used some of the wisdom of the pffa to better himself too. Just as I read somewhere on the boards yesterday "mastering the art of grammar is the only way to mastering the art of poetry" and thought of mr. cummings, of course."
(Yes......that particular thread with the 'unrecognized Neruda' is gone as well. LOL!!)
Some places are like sharks just waiting for chum, and I love it when I hear of them making asses of themselves in their furor to tear apart. I've been around internet poetry long enough to know there are boards that take great delight in performing surgery on others, and my thoughts are that if you voluntarily sign up with them, then yes by all means- you can see the way things operate- and if that's to your taste, then c'est la vie.
But what I have never understood is their coming out of their holes to drag me into discussion for the sole purpose of ridicule, and with Google and other search engines around, these threads seem to float forever, so be aware that there are some threads that have been quite purposefully snipped away. This isn't the 'whole picture'- not by a long shot. Antigone507 went after me with a chainsaw in the thread that evaporated, that featured a number of my poems 'pasted' into their juvenile discussion. Not only the so-called critiquing of my writing, but as you see from the thread link above, ad hominem pot shots, and even nastiness about the way I look. LOL! Seventh grade......all over again.
So why am I posting this now? Because their threads are still out there and accessible, that's why; I wanted this one thrown into the mix as well, to float for however long there is a Google or a Yahoo search function. It's all about equal time, folks. Just equal time.
June 11, 2007~5:00pm
Well, DAY 1 of what I thought would me "the week from hell" is over, and if anything, it was a better Monday than usual. You see.......this is the week of the U.S. Open Golf Tournament which is being played a mere 5 MILES from where I work, and traffic was predicted to be HORRIFIC.
Oakmont country club is a beauty, though. Have a look at those crazy 'bunkers' it's known for, and read a little of its history. Oakmont Country Club My favorite part of the article is the blurb on how they've traditionally treated their caddies: "Oakmont values its caddies. There was the case of Old Mike. He finally couldn't take any more from one especially obnoxious member, so one day, crossing to No. 2 on the bridge that spans the turnpike and a railroad, he lifted the guy's bag over the edge and dropped it neatly down into a passing coal car. Oakmont's response: Mike wasn't fired, but a screen was built over the bridge to discourage future deposits." LOL!!! Attaway! Fore!!!
I love places with rich history- and I adore the fella who built that place way back in 1903, H.C. Fownes, who said- 1. "A shot poorly played should be a shot irrevocably lost." 2. "Let the clumsy, the spineless, the alibi artist, stand aside!"
Yep. I feel that way about 'life', too....and if you really want to have a look at what the place USED TO LOOK LIKE (that's the stuff I love)- here's a terrific slide show put together by KDKA. Lots of sepia, and interesting attire. Give me a pack of old photos, and kiss the day goodbye- I'm gonna be lost.
Much of the excitement is about 'Tiger sightings'- (the 'tiger' of course, being Tiger Woods, who has probably one of the loveliest smiles I've ever seen.) One of my bosses looked over last week in the health club gym where he works out every morning, to see Tiger doing some upper body repetitions....LOL!! He was like a little kid when he came into work that morning. Hell, I'm excited, and I couldn't tell you why.... I don't know a 'wood' from a 'driver', all I've ever done in my life is chip up the turf on a driving range once-- oh, and I play a rather snappy game of Goofy Golf, that's it. No 'Babe Zaharias' here...I can't even HIT the damn ball when I take a good swing. But here we are- Pittsburghers host to the muckety mucks, and all abashed- fretful about traffic, but mostly.....abashed. Life sometimes offers these strange things that make us happy without really knowing why. For me- it's history and that Oakmont Country Club has a stellar one, with lots of goodies. Do some reading in those links. It's a great, relaxing way to pass the time.
It'll be an 'early-to-bed' here for me (if I'm to make that 3:30 am wake up call, that is)- so 'before sleep reading' will be curtailed, as well as my electronic solitaire. Oh yikes! - (the price we pay for a little, measly, vicarious fame.........lol.)
June 12, 2007~5:00pm
First thing this morning, someone today sent me an email about the 'brown recluse' with graphic pictures of what can happen if you're bitten by one of these bastards.......
Now I don't know about you, but the last thing I need to be thinking about over a nice fresh pastry, on a day that rivals any for 'perfect', is a damn picture of someone's dessicated thumbflesh with the meaty chunks hanging out. I mean, wtf??? That's a great pick-me-up when you're reclusive to begin with, and live in a falling-down, cob-webby hovel of a house-- and are already just about as arachnaphobic as a body can be. CUT ME A BREAK, LIFE!!
In case you are wondering how to identify these often mistaken arachnids (boy, just what i need. MIS-identifying these)- here are the two definitive clues:
Close-up of the cephalothorax of the brown recluse spider, showing the pattern of 6 eyes arranged in dyads. (photo by R. Vetter ©)....and
A preserved brown recluse spider showing the strongly contrasting and well-defined violin pattern on the cephalothorax as well as the patternless abdomen covered with fine hairs. (photo by R. Vetter ©)
So there you go. If being bitten, be sure to inquire how may pairs of glasses the thing wears.
I have given up cable television. My set shows only snow, or the blue screen of death unless I slip a tape in or a DVD. I do not read the news. I circumvent my ISP's homepage to jump right to the nice and friendly Google page, sometimes with a jolly theme if it's someone's birthday or a holiday, I mean....it's perky.
I have done this for a reason. Besides economics (in the case of cable 'robbery' of us all)---- I have simply OD'd on BAD NEWS. My son was in Iraq for a year. That finished me with opening the internet with shaking hands and the heaviest sense of forboding. I am here to say, if Homeland Security EVER issues another m*therf*cking Code Red, I want to be oblivious to it. If anthrax is put in our water system, I want to gulp down a cold glass and BURP, ferchissakes, before I hit the floor. I am NOT a cautious person, and I don't want to give myself millions of reasons to be--- and in particular, not one hairly leg of the EIGHT horrible, sneaking ones those fuzzy dickheads have!---There. No more spam terror. Period.
In Control
Eliminate
possibility, eliminate
the wavy line, the undulant
crook of bookie's finger
laying odds
and odds are, following
the lines
you make,
corners nice and closed,
you'll not be exposed
to what you'll regret, and
you'll fret
less, yes.
Believe it.
June 13, 2007~4:00pm
Yesterday was the passing of Mr. Wizard, one of my childhood 'crushes'- Don Herbert, dead at 85 of bone cancer. He brought many enjoyable hours into my childhood by showing how ordinary everyday items can reveal the secrets of science. I used to envy those kids who were picked to be on the show with him, and I think that man was some sort of prototype for me: dark good looks, clean cut, patient, imaginative, fine sense of humor and equilibrium- someone who talks to you, involves you in his world. And yes, did I mention he was 'easy on the eyes'? lol.....
If you never had the opportunity to see it, he still has quite a following. Go click on his homepage, and you too can Watch Mr. Wizard! All the nice ones are dying off, all the bits of what I remember from television and movies....makes me feel more and more like a passenger on the Titanic. That's what it really feels like, doesn't it- like something is sinking, and you have the vaguest notion that it was all a mirage anyway. Well, goodbye, Don. You made- ('make')- the world more magical. Hope you're up there explaining US to THEM....
"Well, lets see....You're pure spirit, right? Light? Energy, thought? Well....they're not-- and, ah... let's see here, hand me-- you see that empty garbage can over there? Can you-- yes, thank you- There. Look closely. See how the sides are solid, opaque? Can't see through it can you?- nor can anything see out. Right? Now you take- EVERYTHING you can stuff-".....
LOL....that's the way it'd be, too.
Rest in peace, old friend.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Ever wonder what the terminally ill see when they are inches from death itself? I came across this photo (yes, it's a photo, not a painting) and it grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. I can't tell you 'exactly' what it does to me as I study it, but I finally decided that it reminds me of a person getting a glimpse of an impossibly strange looking 'god' on the other side of an opening curtain...the other stage, the great mystery. It's a picture that's rapturous, disturbing and comforting all at once, and I believe it's these contradictory feelings being pulled out of me all at the same time that's created my fascination. I wrote a short poem after studying it. (This picture is my computer wallpaper now...that's how weird I am.)
Nature of the Godhead
God cannot
in his counting room
know
the longing.
And I believe that is true....we're all 'dog tongues' hanging out over what it will be like- the passing over, the mystery- the place beyond. And what if we find it has a strange and pony-tailed, hunched over giant leprechaun like this-- doing an arcane something at a table-- sitting in the light of his own eternity? Scary perhaps...but more mystifying than anything.
These are the June thoughts of a tired mind. I went to a graduation picnic today, and then the Sunday shopping got taken care of today as well, and I am tired. Mellow, tired, and contented. Watched three episodes of the Sopranos back to back, (the three before the last one scheduled for tomorrow night- and don't tell me how it comes out! I watch these on tape and avoid all Soprano talk and message boards to keep the surprises intact)- so after a day like this, it's no wonder I'm feeling philosophical. It feels like the world is shifting subtley, endings, ending and beginnings, and the symbolism of a picnic get-together with people I have spent my life with, all there celebrating and having our cake and hoping to eat it too- wishing that for the graduate.
Oh, and I fell today! LOL!!! The picnic grove area was locked up, and the only way into it was through an indoor concession stand. I tripped on the lip of the aluminum stripping and went sprawling on my face against the linoleum, left knee taking the brunt as I went down. I sprang right up, embarrassed and laughing, but "OUCH!", that sonofabitch hurt. Still does.
Holly and Gary and little Bill and Kay were there- Bill has had the first buzz cut of his life, and looks adorable. (He not only has soft eyebrows to stroke now when he's anxious, he has a whole HEAD!- and man, does he make USE of that comforting fuzz. LOL!!!) Unfortunately, the picnic grove was situated next to a water bumper-inflatable raft ride that he desperately wanted to try out. Nobody had money. LOL!! We'd all come just with our cards and gifts, and no thought to needing any. Today..........Bill learned the meaning of the word, 'broke'.
For some strange reason, it delighted him to hear us say, "Sorry, Bill. We're broke." He'd laugh at that like it was a big joke and everybody was joshing him, but today, it was true! Had I known, I would have stuck a twenty in my sock. He instead made up his own 'Bill Games' with his Kay-shadow following after in her lime green sundress, FOUR ponytails sticking up on her head like the tassels on those fancy throw pillows, and she was sticky and happy, just glad to be with her brother, as always.
Bill climbed on some rocks and laid down and told me he was being a snake. When I got close, he pantomimed taking a chunk out of my leg and announced, "You've just been bit by a VENOMOUS SNAKE!" "A broke, venomous snake, Bill...."- and he laughed. "No. I found this!"-- and he held up a shiny new dime, not nearly as bright as his face.
June 10, 2007~1:15pm
The internet is a great net that catches fish of every color, and keeps them seemingly forever, even when they begin to stink. (Even when they smelled like 'fish' to begin with...) - and with that thought in mind, let me introduce you to my Detractors Club.
This is the way they come across to me, tightly knit and 'different'- many of them with pointy heads- and for some reason, harbor a real hatred for me, though I've never joined their board nor posted there. I've been discussed at length three times: the initial one, after I took first place in the IBPC poetry contest in December of 2000 (back when I did such things)- and they were a participating board and posted the monthly winners as did all member boards. You can read the archived exchange right here in the net....everypoet.org. I can understand sour grapes, so I brushed it off.
However when out of nowhere- in 2002- I found yet another LONG discussion of my style- (along with copied and pasted poems of mine they were ripping to shreds and all because one of their members had posted a link to an editorial of mine entitled "Why I Hate Poetry Boards")- I got righteously pissed off and wrote a rant poem about the member who plucked the poems, and stuck that in my own website.
I find it disappointing that while other links survive, that thread is gone- which makes this thread- the IN-famous one -leaving me looking like a vengeful bitch, though I'd found their discussion by seeing a spike in visits to the October ezine, and followed the referring link back to them and thought, "Jesus Christ....again? "- then eventually removed the link back to the their thread because that link too- "mysteriously disappeared".
Vengeful, I was indeed; understandably so. I wasn't being a bitch, I was doing a Peckinpah
...Straw Dogs sort of thing.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm....must be like this other thread, which is now locked, and from which I am excising my favorite part, with 2,739 views...
"A newbie posted a poem that began like this:
I do not love you as if you were a salt-rose, or a topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Pretty soon after the post, a moderator and/or a few members of the site showed up to tell the newbie all the awful things wrong with the poem.
A bit of time went by before someone in charge recognized that this newbies poem was probably one of the 4555949894859 poems anyone serious about poetry has read, if not once at least 6850965 times, in the hopes of becoming a better writer. And shortly after the critiques, the poem and everything said about the poem "poofed" into the ether. I guess Neruda could have used some of the wisdom of the pffa to better himself too. Just as I read somewhere on the boards yesterday "mastering the art of grammar is the only way to mastering the art of poetry" and thought of mr. cummings, of course."
(Yes......that particular thread with the 'unrecognized Neruda' is gone as well. LOL!!)
Some places are like sharks just waiting for chum, and I love it when I hear of them making asses of themselves in their furor to tear apart. I've been around internet poetry long enough to know there are boards that take great delight in performing surgery on others, and my thoughts are that if you voluntarily sign up with them, then yes by all means- you can see the way things operate- and if that's to your taste, then c'est la vie.
But what I have never understood is their coming out of their holes to drag me into discussion for the sole purpose of ridicule, and with Google and other search engines around, these threads seem to float forever, so be aware that there are some threads that have been quite purposefully snipped away. This isn't the 'whole picture'- not by a long shot. Antigone507 went after me with a chainsaw in the thread that evaporated, that featured a number of my poems 'pasted' into their juvenile discussion. Not only the so-called critiquing of my writing, but as you see from the thread link above, ad hominem pot shots, and even nastiness about the way I look. LOL! Seventh grade......all over again.
So why am I posting this now? Because their threads are still out there and accessible, that's why; I wanted this one thrown into the mix as well, to float for however long there is a Google or a Yahoo search function. It's all about equal time, folks. Just equal time.
June 11, 2007~5:00pm
Well, DAY 1 of what I thought would me "the week from hell" is over, and if anything, it was a better Monday than usual. You see.......this is the week of the U.S. Open Golf Tournament which is being played a mere 5 MILES from where I work, and traffic was predicted to be HORRIFIC.
Oakmont country club is a beauty, though. Have a look at those crazy 'bunkers' it's known for, and read a little of its history. Oakmont Country Club My favorite part of the article is the blurb on how they've traditionally treated their caddies: "Oakmont values its caddies. There was the case of Old Mike. He finally couldn't take any more from one especially obnoxious member, so one day, crossing to No. 2 on the bridge that spans the turnpike and a railroad, he lifted the guy's bag over the edge and dropped it neatly down into a passing coal car. Oakmont's response: Mike wasn't fired, but a screen was built over the bridge to discourage future deposits." LOL!!! Attaway! Fore!!!
I love places with rich history- and I adore the fella who built that place way back in 1903, H.C. Fownes, who said- 1. "A shot poorly played should be a shot irrevocably lost." 2. "Let the clumsy, the spineless, the alibi artist, stand aside!"
Yep. I feel that way about 'life', too....and if you really want to have a look at what the place USED TO LOOK LIKE (that's the stuff I love)- here's a terrific slide show put together by KDKA. Lots of sepia, and interesting attire. Give me a pack of old photos, and kiss the day goodbye- I'm gonna be lost.
Much of the excitement is about 'Tiger sightings'- (the 'tiger' of course, being Tiger Woods, who has probably one of the loveliest smiles I've ever seen.) One of my bosses looked over last week in the health club gym where he works out every morning, to see Tiger doing some upper body repetitions....LOL!! He was like a little kid when he came into work that morning. Hell, I'm excited, and I couldn't tell you why.... I don't know a 'wood' from a 'driver', all I've ever done in my life is chip up the turf on a driving range once-- oh, and I play a rather snappy game of Goofy Golf, that's it. No 'Babe Zaharias' here...I can't even HIT the damn ball when I take a good swing. But here we are- Pittsburghers host to the muckety mucks, and all abashed- fretful about traffic, but mostly.....abashed. Life sometimes offers these strange things that make us happy without really knowing why. For me- it's history and that Oakmont Country Club has a stellar one, with lots of goodies. Do some reading in those links. It's a great, relaxing way to pass the time.
It'll be an 'early-to-bed' here for me (if I'm to make that 3:30 am wake up call, that is)- so 'before sleep reading' will be curtailed, as well as my electronic solitaire. Oh yikes! - (the price we pay for a little, measly, vicarious fame.........lol.)
June 12, 2007~5:00pm
First thing this morning, someone today sent me an email about the 'brown recluse' with graphic pictures of what can happen if you're bitten by one of these bastards.......
Now I don't know about you, but the last thing I need to be thinking about over a nice fresh pastry, on a day that rivals any for 'perfect', is a damn picture of someone's dessicated thumbflesh with the meaty chunks hanging out. I mean, wtf??? That's a great pick-me-up when you're reclusive to begin with, and live in a falling-down, cob-webby hovel of a house-- and are already just about as arachnaphobic as a body can be. CUT ME A BREAK, LIFE!!
In case you are wondering how to identify these often mistaken arachnids (boy, just what i need. MIS-identifying these)- here are the two definitive clues:
Close-up of the cephalothorax of the brown recluse spider, showing the pattern of 6 eyes arranged in dyads. (photo by R. Vetter ©)....and
A preserved brown recluse spider showing the strongly contrasting and well-defined violin pattern on the cephalothorax as well as the patternless abdomen covered with fine hairs. (photo by R. Vetter ©)
So there you go. If being bitten, be sure to inquire how may pairs of glasses the thing wears.
I have given up cable television. My set shows only snow, or the blue screen of death unless I slip a tape in or a DVD. I do not read the news. I circumvent my ISP's homepage to jump right to the nice and friendly Google page, sometimes with a jolly theme if it's someone's birthday or a holiday, I mean....it's perky.
I have done this for a reason. Besides economics (in the case of cable 'robbery' of us all)---- I have simply OD'd on BAD NEWS. My son was in Iraq for a year. That finished me with opening the internet with shaking hands and the heaviest sense of forboding. I am here to say, if Homeland Security EVER issues another m*therf*cking Code Red, I want to be oblivious to it. If anthrax is put in our water system, I want to gulp down a cold glass and BURP, ferchissakes, before I hit the floor. I am NOT a cautious person, and I don't want to give myself millions of reasons to be--- and in particular, not one hairly leg of the EIGHT horrible, sneaking ones those fuzzy dickheads have!---There. No more spam terror. Period.
In Control
Eliminate
possibility, eliminate
the wavy line, the undulant
crook of bookie's finger
laying odds
and odds are, following
the lines
you make,
corners nice and closed,
you'll not be exposed
to what you'll regret, and
you'll fret
less, yes.
Believe it.
June 13, 2007~4:00pm
Yesterday was the passing of Mr. Wizard, one of my childhood 'crushes'- Don Herbert, dead at 85 of bone cancer. He brought many enjoyable hours into my childhood by showing how ordinary everyday items can reveal the secrets of science. I used to envy those kids who were picked to be on the show with him, and I think that man was some sort of prototype for me: dark good looks, clean cut, patient, imaginative, fine sense of humor and equilibrium- someone who talks to you, involves you in his world. And yes, did I mention he was 'easy on the eyes'? lol.....
If you never had the opportunity to see it, he still has quite a following. Go click on his homepage, and you too can Watch Mr. Wizard! All the nice ones are dying off, all the bits of what I remember from television and movies....makes me feel more and more like a passenger on the Titanic. That's what it really feels like, doesn't it- like something is sinking, and you have the vaguest notion that it was all a mirage anyway. Well, goodbye, Don. You made- ('make')- the world more magical. Hope you're up there explaining US to THEM....
"Well, lets see....You're pure spirit, right? Light? Energy, thought? Well....they're not-- and, ah... let's see here, hand me-- you see that empty garbage can over there? Can you-- yes, thank you- There. Look closely. See how the sides are solid, opaque? Can't see through it can you?- nor can anything see out. Right? Now you take- EVERYTHING you can stuff-".....
Rest in peace, old friend.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
...
. or pay a visit to my Audio site to hear things
I've written- 
Some are just 'jotters', thoughts as they fly- going
nowhere but where they are. If you stop and read a few~ or post a
few~ thanks for
the perusal. Last of all, if you've a hankering for rants and raging,
try making a stop at my other blog- 
