Yes, that is a rather cryptic headline for today's post, but it is most apropos given the day's events. With yet another car bombing (this time in Glasgow) I fear my beloved UK is truly under seige. After watching the news report from the Glasgow airport, I kept thinking of a minor character from Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting. Jocky Linton's primary distinguishing characteristic is a tattoo of a Lion Rampant with "Scotland Forever" beneath it.
While I'm not going to rush out and get a tattoo like Jocky's, I share in his feelings. My heart lies in England, but Scotland is "part of the family," and She just got attacked. Today, we are all Scottish. Since I indulged in a little free-flowing reverie yesterday when London was hit by two (mercifully undetonated) car bombs, I think it only fair to pop in the cd of Brigadoon and reminisce about Bonnie Scotland...
I have flown into Glasgow and spent a little time there, but my main exposure to Scotland has been through the city of Edinburgh, which I have visited a couple of times. Actually, Edinburgh dispelled me of the delusion that there is no such thing as bad fried chicken. The KFC I visited served something grey and vaguely meat-like, but it wasn't the southern-fried goodness we all know and love. Who cares? I'd still eat a bucket of it today just because...
Edinburgh Castle is a great sight/site to see, and I especially enjoyed the Scotch Whisky tasting offered there...The Royal Mile is home to some amazing shopping. I got my mother a red serape cape there about 10 years ago, and I think Alabama has gotten cold enough to allow her to wear it 5 or 6 times so far. Oh well, it looks great in her closet...Aberdeen is another neat Scottish town, home of Loch Ness, where Nessie, alas, failed to appear the one day I visited her loch...perhaps she was getting her beauty sleep.
FLT3
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
God Save The Queen...
...and the rest of London. This morning was most distressing. I awoke to the news of a car bomb having been discovered in the West End of London. Within hours, Buckingham Palace had been sealed off and a second car bomb had been located in the Haymarket area, also near the West End. Apparently Al-Quaida is the obvious source of these instruments.
As usual, I am waving the Anglophiliac flag with pride. Today, I would honestly join the British Army if I could. Just the thought of someone attempting such a despicable act in what I consider to be the most wonderful city on Earth (in the most wonderful country on Earth) makes my blood boil.
Today has been a busy day, but I still took the time to say a little prayer and ask God to watch over the metrop. I have been humming "Rule, Brittania" all day, and will have a cup of tea in a little while (at 4:00 of course! :-)
Thinking lovely thoughts of Harrod's...Soho...Trafalgar Square...Shaftesbury Avenue...Hyde Park...Westminster Abbey...The Tower...Park Lane...Covent Garden...St. Paul's...Big Ben...The Adelphi Theatre, where I once saw Me And My Girl with a lovely British girl. (Yes, it was one of those nights when God was in His Heaven and all was right with the world.) Actually, it's a story that bears re-telling...
In 1991, I was in London for my 21st birthday (thanks, Mum & Dad!) with a friend of mine. He and I had separated for a few hours, and were due to meet at a particular pub at 10:00. By 9:45, when I realized I was hopelessly lost, I stopped a group of girls to ask directions. Well, as it turns out, they showed me where the pub was, and I asked them to join my friend and me for a drink. They accepted, and by the end of the evening, I had a date for the following night with (in my opinion) the loveliest of the bunch. While a gentleman never kisses and tells, I think her reputation will be safe if I only mention her first name, which was Joy. The date was, without exaggeration, idyllic. We saw the play, had dinner, had a drink, and took a long walk around the city. We wound up spending the next week basically attached at the hip. (Luckily, she and my friend got along just fine.)
Of course we made all the standard promises to keep in touch, and exchanged a couple of letters and a phone call or two (this was before email.) Eventually, we lost touch and I have often thought of her. I don't know if she ever realized how perfectly perfect she made the trip for me. I hope wherever she is, she's happy and remembers our week as fondly as do I.
The memory still makes me smile.
FLT3
As usual, I am waving the Anglophiliac flag with pride. Today, I would honestly join the British Army if I could. Just the thought of someone attempting such a despicable act in what I consider to be the most wonderful city on Earth (in the most wonderful country on Earth) makes my blood boil.
Today has been a busy day, but I still took the time to say a little prayer and ask God to watch over the metrop. I have been humming "Rule, Brittania" all day, and will have a cup of tea in a little while (at 4:00 of course! :-)
Thinking lovely thoughts of Harrod's...Soho...Trafalgar Square...Shaftesbury Avenue...Hyde Park...Westminster Abbey...The Tower...Park Lane...Covent Garden...St. Paul's...Big Ben...The Adelphi Theatre, where I once saw Me And My Girl with a lovely British girl. (Yes, it was one of those nights when God was in His Heaven and all was right with the world.) Actually, it's a story that bears re-telling...
In 1991, I was in London for my 21st birthday (thanks, Mum & Dad!) with a friend of mine. He and I had separated for a few hours, and were due to meet at a particular pub at 10:00. By 9:45, when I realized I was hopelessly lost, I stopped a group of girls to ask directions. Well, as it turns out, they showed me where the pub was, and I asked them to join my friend and me for a drink. They accepted, and by the end of the evening, I had a date for the following night with (in my opinion) the loveliest of the bunch. While a gentleman never kisses and tells, I think her reputation will be safe if I only mention her first name, which was Joy. The date was, without exaggeration, idyllic. We saw the play, had dinner, had a drink, and took a long walk around the city. We wound up spending the next week basically attached at the hip. (Luckily, she and my friend got along just fine.)
Of course we made all the standard promises to keep in touch, and exchanged a couple of letters and a phone call or two (this was before email.) Eventually, we lost touch and I have often thought of her. I don't know if she ever realized how perfectly perfect she made the trip for me. I hope wherever she is, she's happy and remembers our week as fondly as do I.
The memory still makes me smile.
FLT3
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
PARIS IS LIBERATED!!!!
Today has been an excellent day. Paris Hilton has been released from jail.
Okay, before the cacophany of "you just say that because she's hot" begins...well, you're partially right, but that's beside the point... The law used (or misused) to justify her return to jail was shaky at best and illegal in all likelihood. The activism and overreaching of the judge was most egregious, and the slippery slope down which he may have started will be treacherous, indeed.
Enough said. La belle Paris est la fille de liberte. Magnifique! (Et oui, elle est tres belle, mais n'est pas importante...)
Francois le Trois
Okay, before the cacophany of "you just say that because she's hot" begins...well, you're partially right, but that's beside the point... The law used (or misused) to justify her return to jail was shaky at best and illegal in all likelihood. The activism and overreaching of the judge was most egregious, and the slippery slope down which he may have started will be treacherous, indeed.
Enough said. La belle Paris est la fille de liberte. Magnifique! (Et oui, elle est tres belle, mais n'est pas importante...)
Francois le Trois
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Blackpool And Parrish
As usual, I have let too much time pass between postings...my apologies to all four of my confirmed readers. (Paul, Andy, Jennifer and Aaron, thanks for reading!) If anyone else ever reads any of this, please respond. I'm thinking of holding an appreciation lunch for my readers in a single booth at Shoney's...
I have been cast in a VERY funny play, "Blackpool And Parrish." It is directed by a good friend of mine, Clay Boyce. So far, the cast seems extremely talented and FUN! Nice, nice people and a hilarious script. I know the show will be successful, and I am going to do my best to get lots of people in the theatre.
Not much else to mention...the CenterStage Rising Star workshop is going well...the kids will be performing "Grease" next Friday/Saturday night, and I am really proud of the work they are doing. It's a talented group, and even the one or two slightly mischeif-prone kids are so good-natured it's hard to fuss at them too harshly. Besides, it's summertime and they're having fun, so all is well.
That brings up a point of philosophy I have been pondering lately in re CenterStage...for those unfamiliar with the Bham theatre scene, let it suffice to say that there is a LOT of theatre and as many philosophies as there are companies. Schools of thought range from "we're all here to have a good time" to "this is as serious as a heart attack." I think we (as a company as well as a collective of individuals who love theatre) have found a nice balance between the two. On one hand, you don't want to just goof off and do a crappy fraternity skit, but at the same time you don't want to make the process so opressively harsh that the final product, while good, is borne out of drudgery. It's a hard balance to strike, but I think we succeed.
"Futurama" is coming on now...got to run.
FLT3
I have been cast in a VERY funny play, "Blackpool And Parrish." It is directed by a good friend of mine, Clay Boyce. So far, the cast seems extremely talented and FUN! Nice, nice people and a hilarious script. I know the show will be successful, and I am going to do my best to get lots of people in the theatre.
Not much else to mention...the CenterStage Rising Star workshop is going well...the kids will be performing "Grease" next Friday/Saturday night, and I am really proud of the work they are doing. It's a talented group, and even the one or two slightly mischeif-prone kids are so good-natured it's hard to fuss at them too harshly. Besides, it's summertime and they're having fun, so all is well.
That brings up a point of philosophy I have been pondering lately in re CenterStage...for those unfamiliar with the Bham theatre scene, let it suffice to say that there is a LOT of theatre and as many philosophies as there are companies. Schools of thought range from "we're all here to have a good time" to "this is as serious as a heart attack." I think we (as a company as well as a collective of individuals who love theatre) have found a nice balance between the two. On one hand, you don't want to just goof off and do a crappy fraternity skit, but at the same time you don't want to make the process so opressively harsh that the final product, while good, is borne out of drudgery. It's a hard balance to strike, but I think we succeed.
"Futurama" is coming on now...got to run.
FLT3
Friday, June 08, 2007
FREE PARIS!!!!
I cannot believe this...out in LA, Judge Michael T. Sauer has sent Paris Hilton back to jail. I have never seen a more egregious and absurd display of judicial abuse of power. Driving with a suspended liscence...oh yeah, she's a menace to society. I can only hope that the citizens of Los Angeles create a sufficiently loud outcry to force this moron from the bench. If I lived in LA, I'd already be there with a picket sign.
I'm sure many of my readers (both of you) think I am merely taking Paris' side because she's beautiful (I suppose I should say "hot.") I'll admit that if she looked like Ernest Borgnine I may not be as passionate about the case, but the legal issue would remain...the sheriff had the right to release her to house arrest. This bastard judge is merely trying to make a name for himself, and I hope it will backfire. Hopefully he will become the most reviled figure in the California legal system.
O.J. walks free after killing two people, yet the system (and the imbecile on the bench) decide to make an example of a socialite with a traffic violation who couldn't hurt a fly. Where is the justice?
Today is day one of ParisWatch. Hopefully we won't even make it to day two. FREE PARIS!!!
FLT3
I'm sure many of my readers (both of you) think I am merely taking Paris' side because she's beautiful (I suppose I should say "hot.") I'll admit that if she looked like Ernest Borgnine I may not be as passionate about the case, but the legal issue would remain...the sheriff had the right to release her to house arrest. This bastard judge is merely trying to make a name for himself, and I hope it will backfire. Hopefully he will become the most reviled figure in the California legal system.
O.J. walks free after killing two people, yet the system (and the imbecile on the bench) decide to make an example of a socialite with a traffic violation who couldn't hurt a fly. Where is the justice?
Today is day one of ParisWatch. Hopefully we won't even make it to day two. FREE PARIS!!!
FLT3
Sunday, June 03, 2007
How do you set the Blogspot Clock?
It is now 12:10am on 4 June, but my last post, which is only minutes old, says that it was posted at 8:58pm. I'm so confused.
FLT3
FLT3
I'll be 36 for another hour...
Yes, that's right. I am about to turn 37. Tomorrow (4 June) is my birthday. I am getting older, which kind of bites, but is, as they say, "better than the alternative." (Unless the aletrnative is living forever in some sort of Peter Pan-style Neverland, where one remains mid-20's in perpetuity. That could be nice.)
Anyway, I decided I would spend the last hour of my 36th year doing something I love...writing. This post will most likely be somewhat lengthy, rambling, and intermittently interesting. I can't promise cohesion of plot or even linear thought. Read at your own risk.
I spent a few hours this afternoon with my mother, which was very nice. We went shopping and stopped in at the World Market, which is sort of an importer's warehouse-ish "everything store." I, of course, wound up in the British food section, and eventually (with some help from Mum) found several tiny jars of Devonshire Clotted Cream. For those who have not tasted clotted cream, ignore the name. It sounds disgusting, which even those of us who love it will freely admit. When spread on a scone or shortbread cracker,however, it tastes beyond delicious. I didn't even wait to get home...I spread some on a cookie and dug in. Although my body was at the Galleria, my taste buds were at Harrod's. The best way to describe the taste is...well...just to say that it tastes British. That's the highest compliment I can give, and the only one that fits. Of course, that really doesn't describe the taste, so I'll do my best and describe it as a slightly sweet cream-cheesy-buttery-whipped-cream-icing-ish taste. Good stuff.
That taste took me away to London just as effectively as What's Up? took me to Manteo. (If you don't know what the hell that last sentence means, read the post from a few days ago titled What's Up?.) It's interesting that I would have two experiences of such a nature so close together in time. I suppose taste is another great memory trigger. Smell certainly is...if clotted cream tastes British, deisel fuel smells British. Any time I smell deisel fuel, it smells like Trafalgar Square...all the traffic helping to create a very specific (but not unpleasant) eau de metrop.
Twenty minutes into the hour, and I haven't yet started to ramble beyond all hope. This is a good sign.
I have been wrestling a lot with death lately. (No, I'm not, to my knowledge, dying.) Actually, that's the problem...none of us are "dying" in the sense of progressing in an orderly, predictable manner towards a specific and scheduled demise. It's all so random...the teenage kid in perfect health drops dead for no reason, while an octegenarian proudly attributes his longevity to drinking, smoking, and enjoying a high-cholesterol diet...a child is murdered and dies at 10 while another person dies in a car crash at 95...and so forth. It's the sheer randomness that I find so terrifying, yet oddly intriguing. There's an old Southernism, "you can't take the devil to the ground lest you got a hold of him first." That is exactly what makes death the rat-bastard that it is. You can't get a hold of something that follows no real pattern. (Okay, yes, as someone gets older, the likelihood of death increases, but the actual "when and how" are still capricious to say the least.)
Onward, onward...we're at the half-hour, and it's time to get on to cheerier subjects.
I saw the tail end of a news report on the Democratic Presidential Debates. I am holding my breath, but I honestly believe Hillary can get the nomination if she doesn't make any major blunders. My guess at this point is that it'll come down to Hillary vs. Rudy. As much as I hate to say it...I'm afraid she'd lose. Rudy is gonna ride that 9/11 train for all it's worth, plus he's the one Republican in the race who is completely detatched from Bush.We may have some hope that Rudy's famous temper will flare at the wrong time, and he'll be the new Howard Dean...aaaaaarrrrrghhh!
Hillary can beat John McCain or Mitt Romney. Bill Richardson should just go ahead and concede at the Republican Convention if he happens to win the nomination (unlikely.) Not sure who among the dems could beat Rudy at his best...maaaaaaaaybe John Edwards, but he'd have to play up the Kennedyesque resemblance to the hilt. If anything, Rudy is less attractive than Nixon, so maybe that would give Edwards an added edge. Personally, I think a Clinton/Edwards ticket could be formidable. It would be like having the second comings of Bill Clinton and JFK. (We should all be so lucky...)
A quarter to it, as Scrooge would say. I'll be 36 and writing for 15 more minutes.
Kelly Ripa really is hot. Just thought I'd mention that.
My childhood superhero fascination has been mildly re-ignited with the new Spider-Man and Fantastic Four sequels at theatres. I haven't seen either of the movies, but the surrounding advertising blitz has kept the characters in my face for several weeks. These were my two favorite comic books as a kid, so at least I recognized the costumes. It's interesting to me how sequels/recreations change the whole frame of pop culture reference...for instance, if someone mentions the character of Spider-Man, I immediately think of the comic books of the 1970's, while someone in his 50s would probably think of the original comics. A kid of 10 would probably think Tobey Maguire of the films. All three of us would be correct, given our frame of reference.
Five minutes of 36-hood left.
I really doubt that most "firsts" are remembered in equal proportion...I mean, I remember my first kiss, first car, first job, etc., but I couldn't tell you who my first best friend was, or what I ate for dinner on my first date, or the name of my first pet. I'm sure there are people who remember the exact "firsts" I have forgotten, and vice-versa.
One minute...okay, song lyrics...
"Forty-Seven Ginger-Headed Sailors"
Now there's a good ship, HMS Cock-Robin,
On her home trip. Up and down she's bobbin'
Well, the sea is so rough, the crew is so tough,
They're all fed up and say that they've had more than enough.
And then her father, he's an able seaman
And they call him Red-Haired Tom.
He wired to say "I'll meet you,
And with your friends I'll greet you,"
And who'd you think he's got a message from?
Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors,
Coming home across the briny sea.
When the anchor's weighed and the journey's made,
We'll start the party with a
"Me hoady hearty!"
Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors,
You can bet you're going to hear them when they hail us!
An old maid down in Devon
Said "My idea of heaven
Is forty-seven ginger-headed sailors."
( From the BBC Television series Jeeves And Wooster. )
Wow...I've been 37 for 4 minutes. So far, so good... :-)
FLT3
Anyway, I decided I would spend the last hour of my 36th year doing something I love...writing. This post will most likely be somewhat lengthy, rambling, and intermittently interesting. I can't promise cohesion of plot or even linear thought. Read at your own risk.
I spent a few hours this afternoon with my mother, which was very nice. We went shopping and stopped in at the World Market, which is sort of an importer's warehouse-ish "everything store." I, of course, wound up in the British food section, and eventually (with some help from Mum) found several tiny jars of Devonshire Clotted Cream. For those who have not tasted clotted cream, ignore the name. It sounds disgusting, which even those of us who love it will freely admit. When spread on a scone or shortbread cracker,however, it tastes beyond delicious. I didn't even wait to get home...I spread some on a cookie and dug in. Although my body was at the Galleria, my taste buds were at Harrod's. The best way to describe the taste is...well...just to say that it tastes British. That's the highest compliment I can give, and the only one that fits. Of course, that really doesn't describe the taste, so I'll do my best and describe it as a slightly sweet cream-cheesy-buttery-whipped-cream-icing-ish taste. Good stuff.
That taste took me away to London just as effectively as What's Up? took me to Manteo. (If you don't know what the hell that last sentence means, read the post from a few days ago titled What's Up?.) It's interesting that I would have two experiences of such a nature so close together in time. I suppose taste is another great memory trigger. Smell certainly is...if clotted cream tastes British, deisel fuel smells British. Any time I smell deisel fuel, it smells like Trafalgar Square...all the traffic helping to create a very specific (but not unpleasant) eau de metrop.
Twenty minutes into the hour, and I haven't yet started to ramble beyond all hope. This is a good sign.
I have been wrestling a lot with death lately. (No, I'm not, to my knowledge, dying.) Actually, that's the problem...none of us are "dying" in the sense of progressing in an orderly, predictable manner towards a specific and scheduled demise. It's all so random...the teenage kid in perfect health drops dead for no reason, while an octegenarian proudly attributes his longevity to drinking, smoking, and enjoying a high-cholesterol diet...a child is murdered and dies at 10 while another person dies in a car crash at 95...and so forth. It's the sheer randomness that I find so terrifying, yet oddly intriguing. There's an old Southernism, "you can't take the devil to the ground lest you got a hold of him first." That is exactly what makes death the rat-bastard that it is. You can't get a hold of something that follows no real pattern. (Okay, yes, as someone gets older, the likelihood of death increases, but the actual "when and how" are still capricious to say the least.)
Onward, onward...we're at the half-hour, and it's time to get on to cheerier subjects.
I saw the tail end of a news report on the Democratic Presidential Debates. I am holding my breath, but I honestly believe Hillary can get the nomination if she doesn't make any major blunders. My guess at this point is that it'll come down to Hillary vs. Rudy. As much as I hate to say it...I'm afraid she'd lose. Rudy is gonna ride that 9/11 train for all it's worth, plus he's the one Republican in the race who is completely detatched from Bush.We may have some hope that Rudy's famous temper will flare at the wrong time, and he'll be the new Howard Dean...aaaaaarrrrrghhh!
Hillary can beat John McCain or Mitt Romney. Bill Richardson should just go ahead and concede at the Republican Convention if he happens to win the nomination (unlikely.) Not sure who among the dems could beat Rudy at his best...maaaaaaaaybe John Edwards, but he'd have to play up the Kennedyesque resemblance to the hilt. If anything, Rudy is less attractive than Nixon, so maybe that would give Edwards an added edge. Personally, I think a Clinton/Edwards ticket could be formidable. It would be like having the second comings of Bill Clinton and JFK. (We should all be so lucky...)
A quarter to it, as Scrooge would say. I'll be 36 and writing for 15 more minutes.
Kelly Ripa really is hot. Just thought I'd mention that.
My childhood superhero fascination has been mildly re-ignited with the new Spider-Man and Fantastic Four sequels at theatres. I haven't seen either of the movies, but the surrounding advertising blitz has kept the characters in my face for several weeks. These were my two favorite comic books as a kid, so at least I recognized the costumes. It's interesting to me how sequels/recreations change the whole frame of pop culture reference...for instance, if someone mentions the character of Spider-Man, I immediately think of the comic books of the 1970's, while someone in his 50s would probably think of the original comics. A kid of 10 would probably think Tobey Maguire of the films. All three of us would be correct, given our frame of reference.
Five minutes of 36-hood left.
I really doubt that most "firsts" are remembered in equal proportion...I mean, I remember my first kiss, first car, first job, etc., but I couldn't tell you who my first best friend was, or what I ate for dinner on my first date, or the name of my first pet. I'm sure there are people who remember the exact "firsts" I have forgotten, and vice-versa.
One minute...okay, song lyrics...
"Forty-Seven Ginger-Headed Sailors"
Now there's a good ship, HMS Cock-Robin,
On her home trip. Up and down she's bobbin'
Well, the sea is so rough, the crew is so tough,
They're all fed up and say that they've had more than enough.
And then her father, he's an able seaman
And they call him Red-Haired Tom.
He wired to say "I'll meet you,
And with your friends I'll greet you,"
And who'd you think he's got a message from?
Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors,
Coming home across the briny sea.
When the anchor's weighed and the journey's made,
We'll start the party with a
"Me hoady hearty!"
Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors,
You can bet you're going to hear them when they hail us!
An old maid down in Devon
Said "My idea of heaven
Is forty-seven ginger-headed sailors."
( From the BBC Television series Jeeves And Wooster. )
Wow...I've been 37 for 4 minutes. So far, so good... :-)
FLT3
Friday, June 01, 2007
Don't Cry For Me, Argentina...
Tonight was fun. I saw a local production of Evita, which was very nicely done. The director and half the cast and orchestra are friends of mine, so it was nice to see so many people I know. All in all, it was an outstanding production with a few minor flaws. (I feel compelled to mention the flaws just to avoid looking too easily impressed.) I definitely recommend it to anyone who may be considering going.
FLT3
FLT3
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