Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
My Cara Spoza, Sweet and Dainty
I attended a family gathering of mi cara spoza's; it was a small party this time, there were only 40 or so people with family, friends, friends of friends and moiself (that is French; and yes, you must figure out why I listed moiself (that is French) separately). As Li'l Iz was sick (flu, 103.4o temperature), I was not greeted, instead they looked at me, and asked politely, "Where's Diane?" (they were not impolite, so they didn't ask: "Who are you?") After I explained that she was looking after the sick girl, they coo awhile over EM ("She's soooooooooooooo sweet! She brought presents for her cousins!" because EM likes giving letters, drawings, and presents to her friends) and direct me to the food: "Eat! Eat! Eat!" No, they're not Italian, they're Philippinas.
Well, since Diane wasn't there, the subject of conversation naturally turned to her.
They must not get my sense of humor, because Diane is very sweet, pixie-like, one might say, but dainty? ... no. So, after a polite pause (yes, Diane's cousins are very polite, I already said they're Philippinas, right?), the conversation resumed.
This assent brought on much laughter and kibitzing (they call it tsizmis), and soon after eating some delicious cake, I excused myself to trade places with Diane to watch over the sickly child.
I then thanked all 40 hosts and hostesses, and on my way out, I was confronted by little Trish: Why aren't you gone yet?
Well, I guess I don't need to worry about separation anxiety ...
Well, since Diane wasn't there, the subject of conversation naturally turned to her.
Them: Oh, you must miss her!
Me: Yes, terribly
Them: Ahhhhh! ... what do you like most about her?
Me: Oh, that she's sweet and dainty!
Them, puzzled: Yes, quite.
They must not get my sense of humor, because Diane is very sweet, pixie-like, one might say, but dainty? ... no. So, after a polite pause (yes, Diane's cousins are very polite, I already said they're Philippinas, right?), the conversation resumed.
Them: Well, she may be dainty, but she has her own mind ... you wouldn't want to mess with her.
I agreed: Oh, you could mess with her, but only if you wanted to lose.
This assent brought on much laughter and kibitzing (they call it tsizmis), and soon after eating some delicious cake, I excused myself to trade places with Diane to watch over the sickly child.
Me: Elenas, I'll be going home now, and Mama will be coming here; you may stay and play with your cousin Trisha.
EM, playing with her cousin, Trisha, not giving me a backward glance: Okay
I then thanked all 40 hosts and hostesses, and on my way out, I was confronted by little Trish: Why aren't you gone yet?
Well, I guess I don't need to worry about separation anxiety ...
Let's Go Fly a Kite!
Following my Nana's funeral, my parents, Lola and Pepé, decided to give us a visit. And so they did. My poor dad was knocked out the whole time with some nasty bug, so it was odd: his jovian presence was not accompanied by his usually jovial self.
Git it? Jovian, Jove, Jovial, Jupiter (or, and the Romans would say: IVpiter, or, as not to offend him: IIIIptier) ... *SIGH* it's hard to be pater familias.
So, as my dear father was recuperating, we decided on a cherry blossom outing, being that the weather was fine, but then Lola decided to watch over Pepé, and not even the enticement of quantity time with granddaughters nor the promise of ditching the far, far distant cherry blossoms (they were 5 miles away in Washington DC) for the much, much closer promenade at Greensprings Gardens park (which was 3 miles away) would persuade her.
Ah, well! so we packed the kite that EM had made and the kite that Pepé had bought at a dollar store several years ago (so, with inflation, that kite was now an eBay goldmine -- I fancied a 50¢ profit from its sale if I could ever wring it from the hands of my li'l tykes). As we stepped outside, my cara spoza exclaimed: What a fine day, no need for coats at all, as we're going to Greensprings! I agreed and left behind my nice, warm, comfy leather jacket ... good thing I wore a sweater! because as soon as we entered the car, my dear, sweet-tempered dainty cara spoza declared: We shall go to Hain's Point, instead. You know, Hain's Point, that peninsula jutting into the cold, cold Potomac River as it thrusts itself into the black waters of the Atlantic Ocean? That one?
Well, then we needed to convince the tykes, because they, too, like their pater familias, had their hearts set on nice, quiet, warm Greensprings Gardens. But, no worries, the mere mention of a playground turned pouts of sorrow into squeals of joy, so off we went. As we arrived, ...
... we could see the waves white-capped by a strong breeze as they crashed over the breakers (I kid you not -- if you don't believe me, believe the three gentlemen of a certain age who pulled up beside us in their red caddie only to have their loafers and dress slacks soaked -- soaked! I tell you -- by a wave catching them as they walked along the sidewalk). A strong, cold, breeze greeted us as we opened the doors. Well, I had almost determined to remain, hermit-like, in the van, when my cara spoza brought out mac-n-cheeze for the kiddies (Ooo! they squealed, mac and cheezie, pleazie!) and sandwiches for the adults. What, food? Well, I was a bit peckish (famished, actually), so I decided to forego my embargo and go with them to the picnic tables to eat.
Then it was time for kite-flying, but first we had an interlude, as EM needed to take care of some business. Her Lola requested I abstain from discussing the particulars of the matter, but it's a 4-letter palindrome where the first two letters are the given name of one of the most famous Chinese poets (pronounced, as I learnt from my friend Grace, "Lee Buy").
So, off we returned to Go Fly a Kite (No, sir; I didn't mean you personally!). Here's how people fly kites at Hain's Point:
Me: Okay, tell me when you're ready!
EM: Okay, Papa, let it go!
Me, letting the kite go.
Kite, whoosing straight up into the air.
EM: Wheeeee! Look, Papa, I'm flying a kite!
That's what you get with a steady, strong, sea breeze: perfect kite-flying, or sail-boarding, weather.
Both EM and Isabel had turns launching and flying the kite. When Isabel flew the kite, I was relieved to note that the kite did not lift her up into the air and carry her away -- those wind elementals like to play with little girls younger than five. I also noticed that the kite needed to go higher ...
Me: Let out the string so the kite may fly higher.
EM: No!
Isabel: No!
... so there was nothing for to but for me to lift each girl in turn onto my shoulders. Eventually they did let out quite a bit of string, so as Diane brought the shivering Isabel, still sickly with flu, back to the van, I reeled in the kite, hand over hand. EM was interested in the process, but not interested enough to help more than one dangerous handful. After we (I guess I'm using the royal "we" in this case) reeled in the kite completely, EM and I returned to the van.
I explained, with emphasis, that I was not flying the kite, and with that point made and settled, we headed off toward home.
The End.
Me, asking all present at breakfast: Do you know why the Roman numeral for 4 on clocks is "IIII", not "IV"?
all present: gives me a blank look
Me: Because the Romans feared inverting the first two letters of their Pater Deity would offend him.
all present: continuing the blank look
Me: You know -- "Jupiter" from the Greek "Zeus". [because, of course, everybody knows there's no "J" in the Latin alphabet.]
all present: regard each other and resume breakfast.
Me: I always love to keep my audience riveted!
Git it? Jovian, Jove, Jovial, Jupiter (or, and the Romans would say: IVpiter, or, as not to offend him: IIIIptier) ... *SIGH* it's hard to be pater familias.
So, as my dear father was recuperating, we decided on a cherry blossom outing, being that the weather was fine, but then Lola decided to watch over Pepé, and not even the enticement of quantity time with granddaughters nor the promise of ditching the far, far distant cherry blossoms (they were 5 miles away in Washington DC) for the much, much closer promenade at Greensprings Gardens park (which was 3 miles away) would persuade her.
Ah, well! so we packed the kite that EM had made and the kite that Pepé had bought at a dollar store several years ago (so, with inflation, that kite was now an eBay goldmine -- I fancied a 50¢ profit from its sale if I could ever wring it from the hands of my li'l tykes). As we stepped outside, my cara spoza exclaimed: What a fine day, no need for coats at all, as we're going to Greensprings! I agreed and left behind my nice, warm, comfy leather jacket ... good thing I wore a sweater! because as soon as we entered the car, my dear, sweet-tempered dainty cara spoza declared: We shall go to Hain's Point, instead. You know, Hain's Point, that peninsula jutting into the cold, cold Potomac River as it thrusts itself into the black waters of the Atlantic Ocean? That one?
Mater Familias: Yes, that one.
Well, then we needed to convince the tykes, because they, too, like their pater familias, had their hearts set on nice, quiet, warm Greensprings Gardens. But, no worries, the mere mention of a playground turned pouts of sorrow into squeals of joy, so off we went. As we arrived, ...
EM: Papa, why are you driving so slow?
Me: It's "slowly," Elena, and I'm driving so slowly because I don't wish to get a ticket for exceeding the park's speed limit.
... we could see the waves white-capped by a strong breeze as they crashed over the breakers (I kid you not -- if you don't believe me, believe the three gentlemen of a certain age who pulled up beside us in their red caddie only to have their loafers and dress slacks soaked -- soaked! I tell you -- by a wave catching them as they walked along the sidewalk). A strong, cold, breeze greeted us as we opened the doors. Well, I had almost determined to remain, hermit-like, in the van, when my cara spoza brought out mac-n-cheeze for the kiddies (Ooo! they squealed, mac and cheezie, pleazie!) and sandwiches for the adults. What, food? Well, I was a bit peckish (famished, actually), so I decided to forego my embargo and go with them to the picnic tables to eat.
Then it was time for kite-flying, but first we had an interlude, as EM needed to take care of some business. Her Lola requested I abstain from discussing the particulars of the matter, but it's a 4-letter palindrome where the first two letters are the given name of one of the most famous Chinese poets (pronounced, as I learnt from my friend Grace, "Lee Buy").
No, I cannot resist the impulse.
So, EM and I drove off to the baño, ...
EM: Papa, why are you driving so slow?
Me: I'm driving slowly, Elena. Will you drive the van back to Mama, when the park police arrest me for endangering the lives of these joggers, bicyclists and roller-bladers?
EM: No, Papa! I'm not allowed to drive yet!
Me: Well, then, there it is!
... as it was some distance from the park proper, and as we approached this circular building of an imposing granite edifice, EM became less sure of her need to, you know, use the facilities. Well, I promised that I would wait for her, but that wasn't good enough, because after I did my business (hm, sun roofs for public facilities make them very warm, yes, and also remove the need for electric lighting, but this can make the restrooms very pungent!), I found her outside the ladies' room door.
Me: Are you finished already?
EM: No, I didn't go; let's go, Papa.
Me: Elena, I'll wait right outside your entrance.
EM: Promise?
Me: Yes.
EM: Really?
Me: Yes.
With these assurances secured, EM bravely entered the scary, scary restroom. A minute later, she called out to me.
EM: Papa, I need to poop!
So, if you haven't solved the palindrome yet, then you have the answer now.
The next crisis came when I commanded her to flush the toilet, something she normally does at home without issue, but here it was another story.
EM: Papa, I'm scared!
Me: Well, okay, no kite-flying for you!
EM: NoooooOOOooOoOOO!
Me: Well, then, flush the toilet.
EM: But, Papa, I'm scared!
Me: Okay, look, you can flush the toilet and then run right out to me; I'll be right here by the entrance.
EM: Promise?
Me, sighing: Elena, flush the toilet now.
EM, flushing the toilet and running out to me as quick as a bunny: Eeeeeeek!
Before we drove back, we spied two mallards, and EM hid behind me, as she feared being nibbled by their ferocious bills. Well, after I reassured her and showed her that they retreated when I approached them ...
EM: Why, Papa? Why do they run away from you?
Me: They're afraid of being caught and thrown in a pot of boiling water.
EM: Why?
Me: That's what some people do to ducks. Besides, would you wish to be thrown in a pot of boiling water?
EM: No.
... so that emboldened her to give chase to them herself. I think they lost some weight from the exercise.
So, off we returned to Go Fly a Kite (No, sir; I didn't mean you personally!). Here's how people fly kites at Hain's Point:
Me: Okay, tell me when you're ready!
EM: Okay, Papa, let it go!
Me, letting the kite go.
Kite, whoosing straight up into the air.
EM: Wheeeee! Look, Papa, I'm flying a kite!
That's what you get with a steady, strong, sea breeze: perfect kite-flying, or sail-boarding, weather.
Both EM and Isabel had turns launching and flying the kite. When Isabel flew the kite, I was relieved to note that the kite did not lift her up into the air and carry her away -- those wind elementals like to play with little girls younger than five. I also noticed that the kite needed to go higher ...
Me: Let out the string so the kite may fly higher.
EM: No!
Isabel: No!
... so there was nothing for to but for me to lift each girl in turn onto my shoulders. Eventually they did let out quite a bit of string, so as Diane brought the shivering Isabel, still sickly with flu, back to the van, I reeled in the kite, hand over hand. EM was interested in the process, but not interested enough to help more than one dangerous handful. After we (I guess I'm using the royal "we" in this case) reeled in the kite completely, EM and I returned to the van.
Li'l Iz: Papa, when you were flying the kite, I missed yoooooouoouuuououuu!
I explained, with emphasis, that I was not flying the kite, and with that point made and settled, we headed off toward home.
EM: Papa, why are you driving so slow?
Me: I'm driving slowly.
The End.
Li'l Iz: No! You can't say "The End" because you didn't say "Once upon a time"!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
God is bigger than the Woggie Man
My littlest, so far, has been parading around the yard singing loudly:
God is bigger than the Woogie Man
[hummed:]a-humma-hmm-hmm-hmhmh-hm ... and the TV
For God is bigger than the Woogie Man;
He's bigger than you and me!
... this obviously came from the Veggie Tales, but I only learnt the correct lyrics when her até joined the singing:
God is bigger than the boogie man,
He's bigger than Godzilla and the monsters on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the boogie man;
He's bigger than you and me.
... so I learnt two things today: God is bigger than the Woogie Man, and He's also bigger than the Boogie man, too.
That there is some big ol' God we got here!
God is bigger than the Woogie Man
[hummed:]a-humma-hmm-hmm-hmhmh-hm ... and the TV
For God is bigger than the Woogie Man;
He's bigger than you and me!
... this obviously came from the Veggie Tales, but I only learnt the correct lyrics when her até joined the singing:
God is bigger than the boogie man,
He's bigger than Godzilla and the monsters on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the boogie man;
He's bigger than you and me.
... so I learnt two things today: God is bigger than the Woogie Man, and He's also bigger than the Boogie man, too.
That there is some big ol' God we got here!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Answered Prayers
Some of us have had closer encounters with God, like, when prayers, real prayers, are answered. When that occurs, I suppose one is filled with awe: OMG! [they text to themselves] God does really exist!
The question for me is, however, why would God ever answer a prayer at all. A popular song asks about God's relationship to us in another way (I laugh at the earnestness of the the refrain: "What if God was one of us?". A simply question with a very simply given answer -- God, in the Person of Jesus, replies: "I AM" for in Jesus' two natures we find that God is one of us: fully God and fully Man.) This song gets it all wrong, of course: even without the saints and angels and archangels and cherubim and seraphim, God is never alone. God, Three Persons, One God, is complete onto Himself. We can add nothing to His Joy; we can take nothing away from His Glory. In short: God owes us nothing.
So, back to my question, why would God come down to our level and answer a prayer? I mean, does God change his mind because of our incessant supplication? (Lk 18:5) C.S. Lewis had a meditative twist to this: "I don't pray to change God; I pray so that God may change me." (This statement he uttered as his wife, whom he loved more than he loved his own life, was dying of cancer. Shadowlands and Passion of Christ are good views for this Lenten season, I believe). Of course not. When God's "anger burns hot" against me, it's not because: Ha! I "made" God angry with my disobedience! No, it's because my wrong catches fire when exposed to God's unchanging light. So, God doesn't need to answer our prayers, and we can't make God intercede because He owes us one.
The Priest at today's Mass had an enlightening position: God answers our prayers to prepare us for our cross, and to prepare us for The Cross. God comes down to our level when He answer our prayers, but what good does that do us? The good is that it strengthens us to face our crosses, because when we are raised up on our crosses, when we are cruxified, that's when we meet Jesus, face-to-face, on Calvary: we become the good robber to whom Jesus said: "This day you will be with me in Paradise."
For, what is our final end? Many argue the final end is death. The purpose of our life is to live our life because oblivion is all that awaits. In short, our life's final end is nothingness -- we are meant for nothing. But this is not true; not at all. We live our life for some good, and judgment, based on our disposition in this life, determine our final end in the next. God answers our prayers, so that we may have the strength to take up our cross, during this Lent and during our lives, so that we may follow Him.
Today's Gospel was the Transfiguration. Notice, this occurred just before they departed to Jerusalem, just before Calvary. Jesus shows his divinity to Peter, James and John (the "Sons of Thunder") before the darkest hours. Why? To prove to them that He's God? As if his many miracles haven't already set him apart ("set apart" is one translation of "Holy"), no, it's to strengthen them so that even though they fail the trial that is to come, they do not descend into despair.
What does this mean for us? It means suffering: when God chooses His own, that means nothing but suffering -- God's chosen race, the Jews, have a well-documented history of oppression from their inception. It's funny, in a way, atheists have it hard -- they have nothing but themselves to know and have the excuse of everything, from the weather to pure perversity, to get them off the hook. But we Christians have our comfort in the Lord. This comfort is even harder, however, because we can cast our burdens on the Lord, but God chooses to chastise the ones He loves.
It takes faith to make sense out of suffering, but it takes strength to persevere in faith in the midst of that suffering.
The question for me is, however, why would God ever answer a prayer at all. A popular song asks about God's relationship to us in another way (I laugh at the earnestness of the the refrain: "What if God was one of us?". A simply question with a very simply given answer -- God, in the Person of Jesus, replies: "I AM" for in Jesus' two natures we find that God is one of us: fully God and fully Man.) This song gets it all wrong, of course: even without the saints and angels and archangels and cherubim and seraphim, God is never alone. God, Three Persons, One God, is complete onto Himself. We can add nothing to His Joy; we can take nothing away from His Glory. In short: God owes us nothing.
So, back to my question, why would God come down to our level and answer a prayer? I mean, does God change his mind because of our incessant supplication? (Lk 18:5) C.S. Lewis had a meditative twist to this: "I don't pray to change God; I pray so that God may change me." (This statement he uttered as his wife, whom he loved more than he loved his own life, was dying of cancer. Shadowlands and Passion of Christ are good views for this Lenten season, I believe). Of course not. When God's "anger burns hot" against me, it's not because: Ha! I "made" God angry with my disobedience! No, it's because my wrong catches fire when exposed to God's unchanging light. So, God doesn't need to answer our prayers, and we can't make God intercede because He owes us one.
The Priest at today's Mass had an enlightening position: God answers our prayers to prepare us for our cross, and to prepare us for The Cross. God comes down to our level when He answer our prayers, but what good does that do us? The good is that it strengthens us to face our crosses, because when we are raised up on our crosses, when we are cruxified, that's when we meet Jesus, face-to-face, on Calvary: we become the good robber to whom Jesus said: "This day you will be with me in Paradise."
For, what is our final end? Many argue the final end is death. The purpose of our life is to live our life because oblivion is all that awaits. In short, our life's final end is nothingness -- we are meant for nothing. But this is not true; not at all. We live our life for some good, and judgment, based on our disposition in this life, determine our final end in the next. God answers our prayers, so that we may have the strength to take up our cross, during this Lent and during our lives, so that we may follow Him.
Today's Gospel was the Transfiguration. Notice, this occurred just before they departed to Jerusalem, just before Calvary. Jesus shows his divinity to Peter, James and John (the "Sons of Thunder") before the darkest hours. Why? To prove to them that He's God? As if his many miracles haven't already set him apart ("set apart" is one translation of "Holy"), no, it's to strengthen them so that even though they fail the trial that is to come, they do not descend into despair.
What does this mean for us? It means suffering: when God chooses His own, that means nothing but suffering -- God's chosen race, the Jews, have a well-documented history of oppression from their inception. It's funny, in a way, atheists have it hard -- they have nothing but themselves to know and have the excuse of everything, from the weather to pure perversity, to get them off the hook. But we Christians have our comfort in the Lord. This comfort is even harder, however, because we can cast our burdens on the Lord, but God chooses to chastise the ones He loves.
It takes faith to make sense out of suffering, but it takes strength to persevere in faith in the midst of that suffering.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Waka Laka time
From an email dated December 4, 2007:
... my kids are always asking me: "Do you find it funny when I say the words .... 'WAKA LAKA'!" ... Now you know why I roll on the floor laughing in response.
... some silliness to match what I'm doing here at work ...
Loves Dougs
and then:
Le Shaque d'amour
... oh, yes! I did go there. I think I've found my new favorite music video.
I've packed my juke-box money and am looking for glitter on the highway.
... Okay, I'm done. Really.
Doug, once again.
... and then from an email dated October 31, 2007:
I have finally found my philosophical centre
... pronounced with a frenchy-nasalised 'san-TRrr'
my new title: `pataphysicist
heh!
Lyrics:
Waka Laka's a thing to play forever
Just to be together (Just to be together)
Waka Laka's a place to be forever
Waka Laka love and fantasy
(Waka Laka, Waka Laka... etc.)
See Waka Laka when you need a flight of fantasy (Fantasy)
Ecstasy (Ecstasy)
Rhapsody (Rhapsody)
See Waka Laka when you want a love so tenderness (Tenderness)
Waka Laka make you fly
See Waka Laka when you're going to feel so sad and blue (eh?)
Just for you (oh yeah!)
Never blue
See Waka Laka and a funny bunny'll free your life
Now it's Waka Laka time
I wanna live (I wanna live)
A bright new day (A bright new day)
Go far away (Go far away)
To Waka Laka place
A Waka time (A Waka time)
To feel so fine (To feel so fine)
A Waka Laka flight
Waka Laka's a thing to play forever
Just to be together (Just to be together)
Waka Laka's so magical and tender
Musical and wonder fantasy
Waka Laka's a never ending story
Glory, glory, glory (Glory, glory, glory)
Waka Laka's a place to be forever
Waka Laka love and,
Waka Laka love and,
Waka Laka love and fantasy
... my kids are always asking me: "Do you find it funny when I say the words .... 'WAKA LAKA'!" ... Now you know why I roll on the floor laughing in response.
... some silliness to match what I'm doing here at work ...
Loves Dougs
and then:
Le Shaque d'amour
... oh, yes! I did go there. I think I've found my new favorite music video.
I've packed my juke-box money and am looking for glitter on the highway.
... Okay, I'm done. Really.
Doug, once again.
... and then from an email dated October 31, 2007:
I have finally found my philosophical centre
... pronounced with a frenchy-nasalised 'san-TRrr'
my new title: `pataphysicist
heh!
Lyrics:
Waka Laka's a thing to play forever
Just to be together (Just to be together)
Waka Laka's a place to be forever
Waka Laka love and fantasy
(Waka Laka, Waka Laka... etc.)
See Waka Laka when you need a flight of fantasy (Fantasy)
Ecstasy (Ecstasy)
Rhapsody (Rhapsody)
See Waka Laka when you want a love so tenderness (Tenderness)
Waka Laka make you fly
See Waka Laka when you're going to feel so sad and blue (eh?)
Just for you (oh yeah!)
Never blue
See Waka Laka and a funny bunny'll free your life
Now it's Waka Laka time
I wanna live (I wanna live)
A bright new day (A bright new day)
Go far away (Go far away)
To Waka Laka place
A Waka time (A Waka time)
To feel so fine (To feel so fine)
A Waka Laka flight
Waka Laka's a thing to play forever
Just to be together (Just to be together)
Waka Laka's so magical and tender
Musical and wonder fantasy
Waka Laka's a never ending story
Glory, glory, glory (Glory, glory, glory)
Waka Laka's a place to be forever
Waka Laka love and,
Waka Laka love and,
Waka Laka love and fantasy
Juxtaposition and Irony
Just a free association -- 'cause that's what I'm a bundle of.
"Lina Lamont" -- the platinum blond in "Singin' in the Rain."
"Marilyn Monroe" -- the platinum blond in "There's No Business Like Show Business"
Two "different" girls admired because they are fameous and nothing else. (The quote that sticks out in my mind from "There's No..." as "Marilyn" does a "song and dance" number (she stands in place while everyone else sings and dances around her ... just as Frank "Swoon"atra did in "Guys and Dolls"): "Well isn't it obvious why anyone would fall for her?" -- My answer: "Um, no." -- and this line was delivered by Ethel Merman to Donald O'Connor, both of whom could barely keep their eyes from rolling as it was being said).
I just wish "Singin' in the Rain" came after "There's No ...", but I suppose that would have made the irony too obvious.
Irony, n., as defined by Testaments Betrayed (this, along with this essay, should be required reading by all philosophers, that is to say, by everybody (because, after all, everybody should be asking themselves "why are we here?", shouldn't they? as they are living their lives)), is saying something with complete sincerity, while living the complete contradiction. Just as, recently, Jodie Foster lamblasted "Sin City" for its gratuitous violence towards children. Her statement caused quite a stir of righteous indignation. All I can think, as I read that piece, was what Milan Kundera would say, barely suppressing the rolling of the eyes: "Um, hello?" (which is French (because he's Czech, don't you know) for "... irony, anyone?")
Putting "Marilyn Monroe" in the light of "Lina Lamont" makes me wonder why anyone would ever desire to imitate this chimera (caveat link-follower: do yourself a favor, mute your computer) ... oh, wait; nevermind.
"Lina Lamont" -- the platinum blond in "Singin' in the Rain."
"Marilyn Monroe" -- the platinum blond in "There's No Business Like Show Business"
Two "different" girls admired because they are fameous and nothing else. (The quote that sticks out in my mind from "There's No..." as "Marilyn" does a "song and dance" number (she stands in place while everyone else sings and dances around her ... just as Frank "Swoon"atra did in "Guys and Dolls"): "Well isn't it obvious why anyone would fall for her?" -- My answer: "Um, no." -- and this line was delivered by Ethel Merman to Donald O'Connor, both of whom could barely keep their eyes from rolling as it was being said).
I just wish "Singin' in the Rain" came after "There's No ...", but I suppose that would have made the irony too obvious.
Irony, n., as defined by Testaments Betrayed (this, along with this essay, should be required reading by all philosophers, that is to say, by everybody (because, after all, everybody should be asking themselves "why are we here?", shouldn't they? as they are living their lives)), is saying something with complete sincerity, while living the complete contradiction. Just as, recently, Jodie Foster lamblasted "Sin City" for its gratuitous violence towards children. Her statement caused quite a stir of righteous indignation. All I can think, as I read that piece, was what Milan Kundera would say, barely suppressing the rolling of the eyes: "Um, hello?" (which is French (because he's Czech, don't you know) for "... irony, anyone?")
Putting "Marilyn Monroe" in the light of "Lina Lamont" makes me wonder why anyone would ever desire to imitate this chimera (caveat link-follower: do yourself a favor, mute your computer) ... oh, wait; nevermind.
The thought for the day: Algernon Moncrieff: Cecily is the sweetest, prettiest girl in the world; I care not a fig for her societal prospects. Lady Bracknell: Never mock society, Algy; only those who can't get in do that.
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