Detour?

     Supposedly the definitive low-budget noir film, Detour is in the public domain -- clicked on a video at the Wikipedia page and instead of the trailer I expected, the entire film started playing.

     Haven't watched it but it looks interesting. 

Tired Of Name-Calling And Doom

    Really, I'm over it.  It's bad enough the Parties Of Treason are running self-caricatures for the Oval Office; there's no need to add to it with the kind of name-calling that makes third-graders giggle.  If you can't comment here without saying "Drumpf" or "Hitlery," please Go Away.  Both of them have various idiotic polices and positions, both of them say plenty of foolish or terrible things, and you can damned well do your homework and point to that kind of stuff when you want to underscore your distaste.

     Likewise, if you genuinely believe It's All Over if the wrong lizard wins this go-round, why are you even on the computer instead your rooftop -- or an airplane bound for Elsewhere?  Seriously, it's been over; the knee of the curve from "republic" to "empire" was, in my opinion, around 1913.  Empires generally last a long time; it's a smooth, gradual slide and crossing the Rubicon is really barely a bobble.  Short-term, things will waver between "kinda good"and "kinda bad;" long term, there are centuries before wolves and barbarians (but I repeat myself) go howling through the empty streets of the Capitol.  Preachings of Imminent Doom are risible.  Small-scale doom, especially if you happen to live in the wrong neighborhood?  Count on it.  But it's been happening; you just didn't notice as you drove past.

     And as for the assorted morons stealing campaign signs from people's yards, I'm in favor of caning and would not be too horrified at paintballs (even if it was the Worse Lizard's sign).  You don't like the person somebody put up a sign for?  Don't rip it down -- go home and put up two signs for the candidate you prefer!

     Grow up.  Put on your big-boy pants and go wave Hi to the neighbors.  They vote for the wrong lizard, they have no idea of the right hues to paint a house and their groundskeeping is, frankly, inept; but they are indeed your neighbors, breathing the same air, and you're going to have to get along or move out.  Standing there on the sidewalk with your thumbs in your ears going, "Nyah-nyah!" isn't a useful move.

Idle Debate Thoughts

     I watched some of the Presidential debate the other night.  I wasn't impressed; both candidates were their usual selves, only more so, and as near as I can tell, fans and foes of one or the other found their opinions unchanged afterward.

     There have been a shortage of imaginative nicknames for Ms. Clinton; you can find plenty of directly-insulting tags for either candidate, but only Mr. Trump has proven colorful enough to pick up monikers like "Cheeto Jesus."  So I was amused to realize, after watching for several minutes, that Ms. Clinton was indeed The Woman In The Iron Hair.  That stuff remained as immovable as a casting!  Between her Max Headroomesque 'do, Mr. Trump's interesting hair arrangement and Lester Holt's understatedly-sleek looks, a stranger watching without audio might be excused for wondering if this wasn't a pair of hairstyling victims defending their choices before an expert.

     Alas, no.  This match was for Leader Of The Free World and listening with the sound on was depressing.  I am slightly comforted by the thought there'll be a do-over in four years, and by the generally mediocre-to-bad performance of the genuinely bright in the Presidency.  Then I remember how much both of them remind me of Andrew Jackson and I start fretting again.

Low-Rent Cinema -- And The People Who Kept It Afloat

     I was looking for a movie last night, something to entertain me during a light dinner when a woke up after an afternoon nap.  Short staffing in my department meant I worked Monday on the early-early shift and will (probably) be on days the rest of the week, and that left me hungry and with a couple of hours to fill.

     PB&J and beef consumme was ideal for hunger; searching around Amazon Prime Video, I found Up In The Air, a 1940 mystery/comedy set in the studios of a fictional radio network, starring a couple of personable minor players, plucky Frankie Darro and the lovely and talented Marjorie Reynolds (best known from a little duet you might remember dreaming of in Holiday Inn) as an ambitious studio page and a rising young singer, and, third on the bill, Mantan Moreland.

     Who?  --The introduction only deepened the mystery, as an African-American film historian spoke of Moreland's career, a rising arc from vaudeville through film, and lauded Monogram Pictures* treatment of him.   Now I was wondering what I was about to see.

      The titles rolled and it started out as a typical B-movie of the day: workmanlike photography, basic but adequate sets, decent acting, snappy dialog.  Mantan Moreland shows up early, as a stereotyped-appearing porter, Jeff, playing second fiddle to Frankie, rolling eyes and all.

     But there's altogether more to Jeff than meets the eye; he's revealed as a skilled piano player and the voice of caution in Frankie's wild schemes, with plenty of rewind-worthy lines; auditioning for a radio comedy spot opposite Frankie in particularly embarrassing blackface (that scene probably didn't age well even when it was brand-new), he asks in annoyance, "You don't expect me to do dialect, too, do you?" and is visibly relieved to be told, "No, you're the straight man."  The entire bit they audition, a series of interrupted, unfinished sentences, was Moreland's own, and Darro struggles with the timing.  The murder-mystery plays out in 1940s-Hollywood fashion, with Jeff and Frankie tangling with police detectives as they attempt to unravel the mystery, clear Reynolds, and possibly launch their own radio careers.  Despite occasionally hokey dialog, Moreland sneaks in multiple zingers (his comedic timing is really remarkable) and even gets to foil the murderer in the end! 
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* Monogram was one of the "Poverty Row" B-movie studios, of which Republic Pictures is probably the best-known.  Radio fans enjoy pointing out the prevalence of Hallicrafters radios in Republic films and this Monogram work is even more that way -- I think Bill Halligan may have pioneered advertising by means of "product placement." Mantan Moreland was a box-office draw for Monogram and they darned well knew it.

Almost

     Monday, back to work.  After being as sick as I was, I'm almost happy about it.  Still not 100% but I think I can fake it.

Yikes

     Just -- yikes.  I feel like I went trekking past the back of beyond or something.  Beat up.  Tired.  Triumphal.

     I have been sicker.  I have been ill longer.  But I don't think I was that sick for that long since the age of five.  I'm sore and weak but, as Tam pointed out, I am more chipper this morning than I have been in quite some time.

     Oh, yeah -- today is the last day of my vacation.

Say What You Will About "Nipper*"

     Once the Victor Talking Machine Co. hired the iconic image, he stayed with that company and all its successors until the bitter end  -- unlike some spokesbeings I could mention.

     What could have caused this?  Not "search for the woman" -- she's still working for T-Mobile, isn't she?  -- but "chercher l'argent."  Also, the schtick had pretty well run its course.
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* Charmingly, the name "Nipper" came from the little dog's habit of biting visitors on the backs of their calves.  I knew there was something that worried me about Nipper -- but that's not it.

    

Yesterday I Learned

     I learned that Libertarians -- and libertarians -- are evil, right-wing, liberal, short-sighted, exploitative, pot-head schemers who will get the wrong lizard* elected.  No matter who the person saying so thinks is the wrong lizard.

     That's a pretty easy trick when neither of the Two Big Parties managed to run a non-wrong lizard.  Sure, there's plenty of reasons to argue one of them is wronger, but I'm not obliged to choose from just those two and if the one you like least wins, it won't be because of my vote.  Get over it.
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* So what's with all this "lizard" business, anyway?  It comes from Douglas Adams.

But Of Course

     There was stupidity last night.  Great.

     I'd like to tell you that at least 21st-Century rioting in the U. S. was over something more substantial than chariot racing, but it turns out the riots I was thinking of were, too.

     Go, lemmings, go.  Wotthehell, why leave the Red Chinese anything to build on when they show up to pick up the pieces, anyhow?

Hey, Look--

     Be nice to one another today, please?  You shouldn't be a doormat, but give people a little room, all right?  Morons are gonna moor but you don't have to sink an anchor next to 'em and croon along.

Enough Princessing About!

     Slept all night with the usual interruptions.  ("Stay hydrated!"  Getting degree-of-difficulty points on that one.)  Got up, fed cats, temperature spiked and I went back to bed, out like a light; woke up a couple hours later, fed myself, got the nasty sweats and became horizontal likewise for a few hours more.  Took the multi-symptom cough syrup instead of the suppressant that makes me dizzy.

     Noon-thirty, I woke again and didn't feel as lousy.  Unloaded/reloaded the dishwasher, felt short of breath and hot, and sat down for a bit.  Rustled a little lunch when I felt better -- microwave tomato soup, crackers and coffee -- and ate it slowly.  Overheated again but not as bad; relaxed 'til I felt chilly and did a major cat-litterbox change to everyone's relief, and yeah, my temperature spiked and I fell to panting, but I slowed down and kept moving and finished.

     I think I'm on the mend.  It's about time.  That frikkin' pea under the mattress is getting on my last nerve.  Don't know if I'll be out of the house any today, Tam may get delivery pizza as a welcome-home dinner and perhaps that would be best anyway, but things are looking up.

Yeah, Well

     Didn't go anywhere or, really, do anything Monday.  I'd feel guilty about that but it appears to have been the right thing to do.

     Meanwhile, the world spun on: nitwit bombs in NYC and NJ, another nitwit with a knife in Minnesota (and shot dead by an off-duty policeman...who happened to be a firearms trainer), another hinky-looking* police shooting in Oklahoma, and so on and so forth.

     It's a violent world.  It has always been a violent world.  There was a time when living in the right neighborhood, having enough money or having made a good choice of grandparents would insulate a person from most kinds of violence.  Then we invented TV and the Internet, and put it right on your desktop; and on the desktop of violent people, some of whom go to the mall with a knife or a gun and ill intent, or make and plant bombs, or set an innocent man's gas station on fire with him inside, or shoot cops, or become bad cops....  You're not insulated.  I'm not insulated. Lots of people never were.

     And there's nothing much to be done, one on one, except to be decent and friendly to everyone you meet and always have a plan to protect yourself if they or circumstances turn ugly.  Smile and memorize the exits.

     Your ancestors knew this, in their bones and their scars and the churchyard graves.  Now it's our turn.  You can't hide from it; the government can't wrap you in cotton batting and make you safe by main force.  It's on you and me.
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* You have some different opinion?  Great, there's all kinds of differing opinions and that's precisely why I call it "hinky."  If eighty percent of the people who saw the recording said it was one way or another, it probably wouldn't have ended up on the news. It'd be fun to pretend there's no problem, and almost as much fun to claim to to know just what the root problem is, let alone how to fix it.  The truth is, "it's complicated" is as close as anyone's got for a general answer.  Erosion of mutual trust?  That's just a symptom and a damned thin reed to hang so many deaths -- black, blue or just-wandered-through -- and so much rioting on.