Heard In the News

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich and listening to the TV news and I heard the reporter say, “Breaking news – a dead jellyfish was spotted in the Indian Ocean.” Or something like that. I definitely heard the words dead, jellyfish, spotted, and ocean. I had a WTF? moment. I thought: am I hallucinating? Did a reporter really say that a dead jellyfish was found in the ocean? 

Those “come-again?” phrases seem to happen more often than ever. My favorite is one I heard today. Again, I was in the kitchen making a sandwich and I heard: excess reality. I don’t know if that is what was said, but it’s what I heard. And I like it. The opposite would be reality shortage.

That’s what I’m having nowadays – reality shortage. I’m unbusy. Inactive, unemployed, unengaged. Apathetic, dispirited, lethargic. All those things and more.

Sometimes when I’m stuck for something to write, I just write what I’m feeling. Letters flowed out of his fingertips, into the keyboard, and onto the monitor to form words, sentences, paragraphs, thoughts, stories, poems. Sometimes it forms the nugget of a blog post. Sometimes nothing comes of it.

Authors Anonymous

I’m not a movie reviewer, but I am a movie viewer. I recently viewed an independent film called Authors Anonymous. The movie’s executive producer was Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting who plays Penny on the CBS comedy, The Big Bang Theory. Fifty reviewers on IMDb gave Authors Anonymous an average rating of 5 out of 10. That’s probably fair, though I would have given it a 6 or 7. Women over 45 rated it highest – an 8 on average. The movie is a comedy and I have to say it made me laugh out loud more often than any movie I’ve seen in a long time.

There are comedies, and there are comedies. Some comedies, especially television sitcoms, are basically a running string of jokes. Every line is designed to be a joke, an innuendo, or a sexually suggestive double entendre designed to elicit a laugh. For me, that kind of comedy gets old fast.

The humor in Authors Anonymous was not so overt. It didn’t depend on gags. The script had characters, and most of them really were “characters” in the sense of being a little bit odd. As I watched the movie and got to know the characters, their behavior, actions, and reactions became more and more comical. We’ve all known people like some of these characters: people who have ridiculous expectations, who are jealous or petty or egotistical. And some of us are people that could fit right into this film.

The movie was shot as if it were a documentary, with a film crew following and interviewing members of a small group of aspiring writers who meet weekly to read and critique each others’ work. The movie starts off slowly with the documentary film crew (who you never see) interviewing members of the writers’ group. One day, ditzy blonde Hannah, played by Cuoco-Sweeting, becomes an overnight success, and the movie takes off and gets laughs. The way the members of the group respond to Hannah’s success is predictable, believable, and sometimes hilarious.

The movie is available on iTunes and will be in limited release in the USA in April and on DVD in the UK in May.

(Just to be fair, after reviewing it I give this blog post a 5 out of 10.)

Paper and Gold

A friend sent me a news article dated March 11, 2014, that began:

“On Monday the Oklahoma State Senate passed a bill that would legalize gold and silver as legal tender, moving the legislation on to the House for consideration.”

The article started me thinking about gold and silver currency. Behind the Oklahoma vote is the implied question, “Without gold backing, what gives our currency value?” The answer is: nothing. The only reason a dollar (or a Euro) has value is because people agree it has value.

But the same is true of gold and silver. Those are just metals, elements in the periodic table. Without people to assign it value, gold would have no more significance than any other element, and quite a bit less significance than some. Oxygen is certainly more important than gold, because it sustains life, whereas, apart from a few industrial purposes, gold is useful only in the making of shiny objects and a certain cinnamon schnapps.

How much is gold worth? It depends on what people think it’s worth at the time you ask the question. In January, 1980, an ounce of gold sold for $1975.*  In January, 1985, that same ounce of gold sold for $637, having lost two thirds of its value in five years. In April, 2001, it sold for $333. By February of this year  the price had climbed back to $1290. Those fluctuations in price are not because the dollar is going up and down in value. The price of gold goes up and down because people agree on different values at different times. People, and what people think about it, give gold whatever value it possesses.

In theory, the value of a dollar is determined by the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and the number of dollars in circulation. But in reality, a dollar is worth what people agree it is worth. The upside of gold is that, while people may disagree on what gold is worth, everyone agrees that it is worth something. The same may not always be said about pieces of green paper.

* Gold prices are in 2012 dollars. Price data from Macrotrends.

Flight 370

The American public doesn’t like waiting. We are a must-have-it-now society: instant communications with Facebook, Twitter, email, texting, chat; instant answers with our favorite search engines; one hour dry cleaners; fast food; instant coffee, instant tea, instant mashed potatoes, minute rice.

In the absence of knowledge about what happened to flight 370, we speculate. However, speculation has no lasting value. It doesn’t generate new facts. It doesn’t generate conclusions. It’s like licking a lollipop – it provides momentary satisfaction of our demand for answers, but then it fades away as we realize we don’t have any more answers than we did.

And yet cable news tries to satisfy our hunger for answers. The journalists talk to experts and talk with each other, rehashing countless times what we already know, which is very little. At the end of the day we know as much as we did at the beginning of the day.

A week and a half after the jet disappeared, almost any relevant question about it can be answered with the words, “No one knows.” Was it hijacked? Was its disappearance terrorism? Did the crew divert it? Was there a mechanical failure? Was there a fire? Did it land somewhere? Did it crash? Where is it now? Are the passengers alive or dead? All are reasonable questions, and all have the same answer.

No one knows.

In America in 2012, 34,080 people died in automobile accidents. That is 655 people per week, every week. In 10 days, the number of days flight 370 has been missing, 934 people have died on American roads. Almost a thousand people die in America from automobile accidents every 10 days – the last 10 days, the next 10 days, the 10 days after that. And it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t pause. If flight 370 crashed, that is a tragedy for families and friends of those traveling on it, and the cause will be a mystery we must try to solve to make flying safer. But is it logical for cable news to devote 90% of its airtime to a news story when there is no actual “news” – just a one-time tragedy to be recounted over and over? Is it logical to spend day after day reporting on an event that killed 239 people, when that same number of people are killed on American roads every two and a half days? No, it’s not really logical. But humans, when confronted with a mystery, have to solve it. And we want it solved now.

Until the jetliner is found, its story will be told over and over.  It’s the tune that is number one with a bullet; the book that stays at the top of the best-seller list. In lieu of instant answers, it’s what we have to have.

Catching Up

It’s day five since I wrote on my blog. I’ve been busy writing – just not here. Lots of stuff has happened in the world. For instance, the disappearance of Malaysian Airlines flight 370 has been in the news a lot. The TV journalists are calling its disappearance “unprecedented.” If by that they mean it’s the first Boeing 777 jet to disappear, they may be correct. I say “may” because the search is not over and the plane may yet be found. But if they mean it’s the first passenger plane to disappear without a trace, then I say, “Not so fast.” In fact, in December, 2010, I wrote about a missing airliner. I invite you to read about it here.

Meanwhile, here in central Virginia it’s 71° and sunny. I just returned from walking in the park across the street. I walked its asphalt figure-8 path for 40 minutes. Some kind of mineral mixed into the asphalt made the asphalt glint and sparkle in the sun as though there were tiny diamonds mixed into it. I walk to get in shape for the upcoming grass-mowing season. Spring, the vernal equinox, will be upon us in five days (March 20). But winter isn’t finished with us. Weather forecasters are calling for snow and sleet on Monday night, Tuesday, and Tuesday night. Monday’s high temperature is forecast to be 34°.

I received an email from my Congressman. He lamented the cold winter and the high cost of home heating. Then, trying to be helpful, I suppose, he told me I could keep my house warmer by opening the blinds on sunny days to let in sunlight. Yes, Congressman, opening the blinds on sunny days is a great idea for cutting my heating bill. I’ll go outside right now and rip the awnings off my home.

BZZZZ – thank you for playing. But I’ll stick with central heat until the day comes that the price of heating oil drives me to Florida. Now, go and read about that plane.

Tokelau

Tokelau consists of three atolls in the South Pacific located 300 miles (483 km) north of Samoa. Tokelau’s total land area is 4.6 sq miles (12 sq km). Its population numbers about 1400 people. They speak Tokelauan.

“E â mai koe?” (How are you?) 
“Ko au e mâlohi.” (I am well.)

I don’t know what Tokelauan cuisine is like, but I suspect it contains a lot of fish. I mean, a lot of fish. And coconuts.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”
”Fish. And for dessert, coconut.”
“Again?!!”

There is a Miss Tokelau contest. This is Meleka Mativa, Miss Tokelau 2010.

And here she is appearing in the Sarong and Talent competition at the Miss South Pacific Pageant.

I would have shown you the current Miss Tokelau, but when I ran a Google search for “current Miss Tokelau” I found a surprising dearth of information on the subject.

On the Internet, Tokelau has its own country code: tk. And they have a domain name registrar: Dot.tk. And that brings me to why I got interested in Tokelau in the first place. Dot.tk will give you a free domain name. Sure, lots of web hosting companies offer a “free” domain name if you buy one of their web hosting plans. It’s not really free; they simply roll the domain name fee into the web hosting fee. But Dot.tk really will give you a free domain name, no strings attached. You can configure it for domain forwarding, or map it to an existing URL, or use it for your own website. How cool is that?

I know what you’re thinking: “What the hell is he talking about?” Well, trust me, it’s pretty cool.

The Good Old Days

First rain, then sleet, then snow began to fall. For a little while it fell thick and heavy and reminded me of the days I spent living in southwest Virginia. Some winters there brought so much snow that the only way I could get in and out of my house was through the chimney. I kept a snowmobile parked on the roof during winter months. On weekdays I would get up early to defrost the frozen shower faucets with a hair dryer. Then I would bathe, dress, and head up the chimney to go to work. Popping out of the chimney, I would get on my snowmobile and follow the tops of utility poles into town.

But even worse was the cold. One winter it was so cold, chickens walked into the KFC and hopped into the pressure cooker. It was so cold, I saw a dog wearing two cats as ear muffs. It was so cold, flashers in the park were handing out photos. It was so cold, I spent an entire day inside a walk-in freezer to stay warm.

But we didn’t mind. In fact, we liked it. We thrived. People were tough then. Those were the good old days, and we knew it. Friends often said to me, “Isn’t it great to be living in the good old days?”

Even better than my good old days were my parents’ good old days. For example, when I was eight months old my parents drove from Florida to Virginia in an old pickup truck. There were no interstate highways then so we drove hundreds of miles on a three-lane highway. The center passing lane, used by traffic in both directions, was called the suicide lane. My dad drove while I slept in my mother’s arms. In those days seat belts were unheard of, and everyone knew that if you have a collision in a vehicle without seat belts, you want to be holding a baby in your arms – it will soften the blow when your body hits the unpadded steel dashboard. But even if my mother had been wearing a seat belt, in a head-on collision I would have shot through the windshield like a rocket. And we liked it that way. It was survival of the fittest. And the luckiest.

Today’s snow stopped after dusting the ground with a paltry three inches of whiteness. In my day, we called that frost. Around the water cooler at work you could have heard:

“Say, that was a heavy frost we got this morning, eh?”
“Yep, I almost decided to wear shoes today.”

Nowadays, a storm is on the local news for a week before and another week after it hits. People today are soft. In my day we walked five miles barefoot through snow to get to school. And did it again to get home. It was uphill … both ways. And we liked it.

Winter Storm Redux

February has traditionally been the month for wild weather in central Virginia. Now it’s two days into March but February hasn’t finished messing with us. Today is sunny and the temperature is 77° at 2 PM. Nice, right? But here’s the forecast: Tomorrow, expect snow, sleet, and a high of 37°. Tomorrow night, expect more snow, with a low of 9°. The day after tomorrow will be sunny, with a high near freezing. We pay in spades for the occasional nice day in winter. I’m not complaining. In fact, there’s no point in complaining about the weather, as no one can do anything about it. I’m just making an observation. This time of year has whacky weather. After tomorrow’s snow we may get two sunny days, then on Thursday – a chance for more snow. Yay.

It occurred to me to drive to the Martin’s store and pick up a few food items. Mostly, I wanted to get out of the house. So I did. Drive to the store, that is. Apparently, half the city had the same thought, because they were all there, too. I had gone to Martin’s the day before the city’s first snowfall of the season, and I recalled that while the store was crowded, customers were in good spirits. This approaching winter storm is – well, I’ve lost count, but it’s not the first nor the second nor the third, and I would no longer describe the store’s customers as being in good spirits, or excited, or anticipating. I would describe them as resigned. The novelty has worn off.

I wanted to buy a package of small sirloin steaks, but the store was out of sirloin. Wandering the aisles, I discovered a cooler of pork tenderloins on sale and bought a $22 tenderloin for $9. There’s going to be slow-cookin’ pig tonight, and I’m already anticipating the house slowly filling with the fragrance of delicious pork barbecue. Oh, yeah!

I stopped at the salad bar and fixed myself a mixed green salad in one of those small, clamshell-type, clear plastic containers that always ends up upside-down in the grocery bag. I poured a little balsamic vinaigrette dressing on the salad, blissfully unaware that most of the dressing was destined to leak out of the plastic salad container and into the plastic grocery bag on the drive home.

And on the drive home, as I waited at the exit of the store’s parking lot, waited for the traffic light to turn green, a girl drove past me in a car with no hood (if you’re British, a car with no bonnet). It’s not unusual to see older cars on the road – heck, I drive one. Nor is it unusual to see older cars with various defects: a missing hubcap, a cracked windshield, mismatched paint. But a missing hood – that was a new one. I momentarily wondered what effect six inches of snow and ice would have on her car’s engine. Maybe she’ll throw a tarp over it.

It’s 3:15 PM. I can’t spend a winter day writing when it’s 77° outside. I’m heading out for a walk. ‘Til next time.

 

EDIT : I’m back. I walked around the ‘hood, and I encountered a young couple, early twenty-somethings, also walking but with definite purpose, as if they had somewhere to be and didn’t want to be late. The young man was dressed in black head to toe. I guess he hasn’t heard that orange is the new black. The young woman wore a Lil’ Bo Peep costume: a  pink and white plaid dress hemmed above her knees, matching headwear, and white stockings from her toes to just above her knees. She was a city Bo Peep – instead of carrying a crook for catching wayward sheep, she wore a Hello Kitty backpack (perhaps holding her “real” clothes). Where were they headed? A costume party? A weird sex party involving beloved fairy tale characters? We’ll never know.