It's a Fine, Fine Day......

I'd say it was a little like being blind, but that would be a horrible insult to the actual blind.

We had a blizzard here on Tuesday; you probably heard about it; it was in all the newspapers, and on The Weather Channel and junk. The predicted high winds, and blowing snow, and an accumulation of 1 inch.

LIARS.

Oh, they were right about the wind. And we weren't alone; apparently, my friends in Chicago were getting very rare Hurricane force winds. Of course, such things are what we refer to in the Northern State as "Spring."

But what they lied about was the accumulation. More like 6 inches, blowing and drifting and icing and oh boy that makes for an interesting commute.

Yes, I know what you're thinking.....and yes, I chose to live here. File it under, "The Things We Do For Love."

But the vicious wind took away the satellite dish at work, so we are without our multi-dimensional window to the world. And at a most inappropriate time, what with strange packages and stolen UPS uniforms and....

Oh. Once again, I'm not sure what's been on the news and what hasn't.

To repeat something I wrote to my friend Kizz...."Crap...uh...THESE AREN'T THE DROIDS YOU'RE LOOKING FOR!"

So, I have two computers fired up, each on a different news website, and the Ipod is playing music.....I started with Jeff Wayne's version of War of the Worlds, and then I moved to a soundtrack of a musical review of Stan Rogers' music...and now, I"m listening to Tony Carey.

I'm really feeling the tedium tonight my friends.

I suppose it's fortunate that these windows don't open.

The Gales of November Came Early.

I am a Michigander, born and raised.

And as such, we have a memory of a great many things; we can remember where we were when the Tigers won their last World Series, we can remember what we were doing when we heard that Jimmy Hoffa had disappeared; and we remember the storms.

November 10, 1975. The day started beautifully, and ended like Hell had come to Breakfast.

When the weather turns like it did today, I think of this song, and it's haunting chords.....

An open letter.

Dear Mr. President:

I've always said, and I continue to say, that I think my job is important, and am proud to serve, in this small regard, to insure that the country is safe.

I'll put up with the abuse from passengers who have had a bad experience with my Brothers in Arms; I'll try to turn their hearts, if I can. But I'll still make sure they understand that I'm doing what I can to make sure they don't have to worry.

I'll put up with the snarky comments from Faux News bubble-headed bleach blondes, who are only interested in the parts of the story that support their snarkiness.

And I'll be here, even when I feel like it's too much to deal with.

But I want to tell you, Mr. President.....if you could find a way to make my job obsolete, that would be something I wouldn't mind at all.

I've always wanted to be......a DANCER!


Sincerely yours,

HistoriClemo

I'm no Superman.

My friends, I'm tired.

Usually, I can occupy these small hours with chores of a kind; there's always some paperwork to do, or some report to read.....but today, it's a perfect storm of boredom. No paperwork, and only infomercials....or things I've seen before....or medical shows that simultaneously intrique and sicken me.

The only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that there are only 4 and a half hours to go.

Remind me to write about the unique pain that comes with the whole, "fall back" thing...yeah, and extra hour in the middle of the night.....you just know that if these damned window opened.....

Random Musings:

My organization has a place where everybody in the organization can offer ideas on how to improve the organization...it's called, 'The Idea Factory', and if you need a template of how this country is going, all you need to do is read this site for about fifteen minutes.

Seriously, you'll want to move.

And, given the fact that the people offering the ideas are, in fact, responsible for the security of aviation all over this great land of ours, you'll NEVER EVER want to get on an airplane AGAIN. EVER.

So, somebody suggests that there be some kind of physical fitness element put into our job descriptions. Seems like a reasonable request, given the planet-sized people that populate the airport checkpoints around the country. Surely, I can't see Officer Blubber doing anything but breathing heavy and complaining if something goes terribly wrong...

But...I'm reminded that this is America; and we are given by our Founding Fathers the right, nay the RESPONSIBILITY to be a bunch of slugs.

On to other things:

NPR fired a guy, and now everybody's got an opinion, although I'm fairly certain that the people who are complaining about this guy getting the boot never listened to NPR in their LIVES. But this is America, and we're given by our Founding Fathers the right, nay, the RESPONSIBILITY to have opinions that are not based upon any research, or fact.....but are given to us by the Holy Trinity of Limbaugh, O'Reilly, and Beck.

Sounds kind of like a brilliant double-play combination, doesn't it? Limbaugh, to O'Reilly, to Beck.

But anyway.....the fact is, NPR has a right to fire anybody they like. And if you don't like it, don't tune in.

Oh, yeah. Nobody does.

Oh, and just so I can say it.....Sarah Palin: if you have solutions, I'd love to hear them, but so far, you're really good at pointing out the problem. We know what the problem is, Sarah. Give us solutions. A nice list, written on your hand would be gratefully accepted.

In fact, if you don't have any solutions, people, please, please, please SHUT THE F**K UP!


Sorry. I'm just overwhelmed by the constant blah blah blah...and I don't get Comedy Central.

Travels....

I had a hard time believing that this house was still standing; it was on it's last legs twenty two years ago, when I lived on the second floor.

My roommate Steve and I called it "The Treehouse", because it was the second floor, and it had all the things a good Treehouse should have: comic books, junk food, and bottle rockets. I'm pretty sure we had dart guns and plastic swords, as well.....

There were some subtle differences from an actual Treehouse. Our policy allowed girls. At the time, both Steve and I were in relationships. He married his.

I can't begin to tell you the fun that comes from my memories of this particular place....Steve was an undergrad at the time, but a theatre undergrad was busy enough, but I was attempting to do a three year program in two years, so I was always running like the proverbial headless chicken. But, in the Treehouse, there was Monty Python and Doctor Who, all manner of Halloween and Friday the 13th films, and egg salad sandwiches; oh, and laughter. The kind of laughter you don't find often enough.

And twenty two years later, I stood in front of the house hand in hand with the girl I didn't marry, and we laughed until we cried. And then, we went to find some food.

It should have been egg salad.

That would have been just about perfect.

Travels with Historiclemo, Part I.

On a bluff above the city of St. Petersburg, Missouri (a euphemism, mind you), stands a statue of the great man.



He looks out over the mighty river, the life's blood of the Midwest.



And in this place, above the Mississippi, and beneath the bronzed gaze of the great writer, is the quietest place I've found in a long time.

Along with a sandwich and a cold glass of cola, it was as near to a perfect afternoon as I can remember.

One thing....leads to Another.....

As in life, while writing sporadically in this venue, one thing leads to another....a kind of stream of unconsciousness. Not really a stream, even. A trickle.

For Example:

Today is the birthday of Playwright Lee Blessing, who wrote a very good two-hander back in the mid-eighties, titled, A Walk in the Woods. It was a series of conversations between the American and Soviet Ambassador, who would take time off from the negotiations to walk in the woods and talk. I hope, one day, to do this play. Sam Waterston and Robert Prosky were the original cast.

Which led me to:

When I was first certifying in Stage Combat through the Society of American Fight Directors back in the early nineties, this play came to me as the basis of the scene my partner and I had to fight through. For those of you that don't know the test, you have seven minutes to do three meticulously rehearsed fights (in this case, hand to hand, rapier and dagger, and quarterstaff) and they must be integrated into a scene that will support the altercations. It's to make sure that you are not only a good fighter, but can justify the movement within an acting exercise. My partner and I decided to be the Soviet and American Ambassadors, who have finally reached the moment when they decide to f**k decorum, and kill each other.

The funny footnote to this.....five days before the test, the Soviet Union fell, which threw our scene into a bit of turmoil. But, we adjusted; we added a line about "New Government" and "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss" and we were off to the races.....

Another thing:

Dick Tracy debuted in Newspapers on this day in 1931. I drank my morning coffee (my morning coffee being consumed at around 9 pm last night, mind you) from a Dick Tracy coffee mug, given to me by a lovely redheaded woman I dated while in Missouri, back in the early nineties. The mug was part of the publicity campaign for the movie in 1990.

And another:

Jimmy Hoffa was elected President of the Teamsters Union on this date in 1957. Back when I was a citizen of the Detroit Metropolitan Area, I often ate at the Sly Fox restaurant where he allegedly ate his last meal. It's gone now, of course.

And lastly:

Janis Joplin died on this date in 1970. She is often quoted as saying, "Every night I go out and make love to 20,000 people, and then I go home alone." She is often imitated, but never equaled.....and while some people will pop in the DVD of THE ROSE to get the feeling again, I simply turn on the IPod, and turn on PEARL. Smoke and Jack Daniels and Passion.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Buster Keaton!

Sliiiiiiiiiding Cars!

The frost is on the pumpkin up here in the Northern State, and it won't be long before the temps really drop, and we'll hunker down, and wait for the Spring to come again.....

One of my favorite shows on television is INFOMANIA, on Current TV. I used to really enjoy SUPERNEWS, but they cancelled it. So, INFOMANIA and THE ROTTEN TOMATOES SHOW gets me through the long hours when nothing happens.

So, here, in honor of the coming winter....Sliding Cars!

Tick....ow...Tick....ow....Tick....owwwwwwwwww......

There's a special kind of desperation that comes with a terrible "just this side of a migraine" headache with six hours left to go on your shift.

Looking around for something sharp; trying to figure out the logistics of cutting your own head off and replacing it with the stapler. Realizing that cutting your own head off is much like trying to crucify yourself; the third nail is impossible.

So, I go home, rather than to the Fitness Center; I get into a hot shower rather than a cold bed. I eat cake instead of a bowl of cereal. I re-consider the whole, "cut my head off" thing.

And....again, abandon the idea as impractical.

But there's a HOUSE marathon on USA....and I can actually make the room pretty dark. And the cake is pretty good, though not as crunchy as the cereal.

Three more days until my vacation.