nobody's perfict

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Keith Olbermann's blind spot: he thinks "Family Guy" is the funniest thing on television.

Even thinking it's funny is a blind spot. This is real 20/1-billion-type blindness. Pity.
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boids

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After turning onto East Mountain Road on the way to pick up Sarah, I saw a flock of birds flying around in a clump, like it was forming a shape on purpose. The next day, there it was again. Third day, still there. The fourth day, I was looking forward to seeing it, and there it was.

By this time, I was starting to feel like I knew this flock, and I decided I would name it Flocky.

The next time I went by, no birds. Alas! Flocky, I hardly knew ye.
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jumbo fun

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It's been a few days. Sarah is generally sweet and obliging, if somewhat demanding and clingy. Other times, she is squirrely and relentless in dancing on my last nerve. We go from hugging each other to yelling. At bedtime, I call Cathy at her West Coast ALA convention, and Sarah is rapt in the world of the telephone, dancing all over the room with the phone to her head.

After the call is over, she cries. She wants Mommy back. Mommy is supposed to live here, with us! She is inconsolable. The more I try to comfort her, the longer she cries. Finally, she subsides and she's falling asleep.

On Saturday, we went to an animal show at the Exposition (Big E) grounds. After buying admission and eight ride tickets, I am suddenly without money. Sarah sees a ride to go on -- the pony carts (like a merry-go-round, only the little sculpted ponies are pulling little carts). Next, she moves to the adjacent fire engine ride, and then to the little boats that go around on a ramp with some up-and-down movement. Before she can proceed to the spin and whirl next to that, I count the tickets and decide that it's time for us to go ride the elephant. Sarah is willing to accompany me.

The line is long. We watch the gentle pachyderms make their single circuit of an area about the size of a school gym. There are two elephants, and they're continually busy with a load of four or five people. The camel line is non-existent, and the ship of the desert is resting casually on the floor, watching the elephants go around. If we had four more tickets (animal rides cost two tickets), we'd be taking a spin on the dromedary. But we don't. It's a big step onto the carrier atop the elephant. I'm almost flexible enough to make it. The attendant gives me a helpful push the rest of the way, and we're off.

I try, but there's no good way to get a picture of myself on top of the elephant. Three-fourths of the way around, the elephant gets its union-mandated drink of water. Sarah declares that something smells bad. I point out that there are animals all over the place. We come back to our starting point and slide off the elephant. I think they said her name was Elaine. I reach out and graze a big, bristly ear with my fingers so I an say I touched an elephant.

With one ticket left, Sarah now wants to go down the big slide. I'm all for this, as she went on one once before and was scared by it. Now she's bigger, and she wants to try again. On my lap. I search my pockets and find enough change to get another ticket, so up we go and we slide down together. Yes! It was FUN! After that, we walk around and I keep explaining to her that we have no money left. We run into a school friend of hers (who will probably be at her birthday party) and his family. Nick's dad calls me "Chris," but I don't correct him, since I have no recollection of his name at all. After some more walking, we go home.

The next day, Sarah tells Cathy we've had a BORING weekend. I am touched.

We do other stuff. We go out for sushi on Saturday. We have fish fillets that evening (Sarah has decided lately that she loves fish -- good). On Sunday, we have microwaved White Castle sliders together. Other stuff happens, like household chores and games of "Fish" with the deck of little cards I found for her after only months of searching.

Anyway, it's been a typical, fun-filled daddy-and-daughter time, with Cathy at a convention. Tomorrow night, she comes home.
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bard stuff

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I started reading The Shakespeare Wars by Ron Rosenbaum during the Christmas holidays -- Cathy's sister has a copy. After we got back, Cathy got me a copy via interlibrary loan so I could finish it, and I'm about 50 pages from the end. Along the way, I decided I wanted to find a copy of the works in the original spelling. Today at Barnes & Noble, I found out this wasn't as simple a matter as walking in and getting one. Even for just a single volume.

I went home and searched online. Books that seemed at first to be original spelling weren't really, on closer examination. Anybody out there know a one-volume Shakespeare that hasn't been modernized? Until I find one, there's the etext center at the University of Virginia Library, which has kindly provided me with plain text versions of five plays from quartos, and of the First Folio.

(I looked Rosenbaum up, and it turns out he's a right-wing commentator over at Pajamas Media. I'm happy to report I can more or less ignore this while I finish his book.)

So anybody else out there who's looking, now you know where you can at least find some to read. I've downloaded the lot, and will be copying it to my other computers soon (and a backup in my iPod). O, o, o, o.
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fakespeare

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I meant to include this in my earlier Shakespeare post. The MIT Shakespeare Ensemble page, where I got the link to the Quartos and Folio, also had a link to Parodies, which turns out to be by someone named Richard Nathan. The first one, "A Night In Elsinore," was also (by great coincidence!) the first one I looked into, and I got some smiles in the couple of scenes I examined. I pass it along in case it hold any appeal for lovers of Will, Julius, Leonard, Adolph, Herbert, and Milton.

BERNARDO
Horatio, do you know ought of the Ghost?

HORATIO
Well, I ought to. Hey, that's some funny joke,
eh?

BERNARDO
Come, come, Horatio. Do you know anything
of ghosts?

HORATIO
Sure, I knew an old ghost once. But that was a
long, long time ago. He's probably dead by now.

FRANCISCO
Look! It comes again! The ghost of our late King
Hamlet!

Enter the GHOST, a bright-eyed imp who happens to be mute.

BERNARDO
There is the apparition!

HORATIO
I don't believe it.

The Ghost and Horatio joyously embrace.

BERNARDO
Stay illusion! If thou hast any sound or use of
voice, speak to me!

The Ghost honks a horn.

FRANCISCO
Question it, Horatio.

HORATIO
Hey, Ghost, how ya doing?

The Ghost does a melodramatic death scene.

HORATIO
You're dead, huh? Gee, that's too bad.

The Ghost sits up and nods his head "yes."

FRANCISCO
Ask him about the war!

HORATIO
What war?

FRANCISCO
Ask him if we should go to war with young
Fortinbras!

HORATIO
Hey, Ghost, should we go to war with Fortinbras?

The Ghost shakes his head "no." He hold up ten fingers, and then three fingers.

HORATIO
No. He says Fortinbras is too many. He thinks we
should go to war with thirteen-bras.

The Ghost slaps his knee and goes into fits of silent laughter.

ps: Macbeth meets Star Wars in this video production made by some high school students almost ten years ago. Just because I haven't found time to look at it yet doesn't mean my friends list doesn't contain somebody more intrepid than I. Right?
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