I saw it with my own eyes in just a fleeting moment. Right along the sidewalk downtown. A little kid, just a little guy, maybe 3 feet tall and 40 pounds, had some sort of what looked like an elastic band around his waist, and he was tugging his rather large mother or maybe grandmother along with his head leaning out forward in front of his little body like he was pulling a school bus in an iron man competition, or leading a team of huskies into a blinding blizzard. Mush!
I just bet they have an invisible fence at home for the little guy. And perhaps his name is emblazoned in bold letters on his cereal bowl.
Just looked up at the flower store calendar pinned to the wall next to my framed photo of Ollie looking sternly at a shame-faced Stanley in a completely destroyed kitchen in the aftermath of a gas-oven explosion, and noticed the fine print listed on the 26th.
Now, I don't have one, a mother-in-law no, a ramshackle kitchen yes, but I'm imagining all men from sea to shining sea that do, and how right at this moment they are wondering why 'mother' is now standing at the front door hands on hips, and are now gripping their tv remotes tighter and forcefully thumbing the volume button, and fantasizing about the eject button.
Simply another reason to always read the fine print.
It is said that eating pizza can lead to bad dreams.
It surely do. And mine last night was about pizza don't you know.
I misunderstood the girl taking my order over the phone - lots of static, like maybe a phone call from a grave?, and instead of free delivery...my pizza arrived free deliverance.
So, yes, as you've probably guessed by now, it actually was that banjo-playing kid from the movie Deliverance, squinty and shirt buttoned to neck, arriving shortly thereafter at my front door holding the box out at me with something dripping....some mucous-like phlegm dripping out of the corner of the box. And Ned Beatty had driven the poor inbred-alien to my place, and was waving frantically from the door-less driver's side and squealing like a pig.
Oh, folks, it was a nightmare. I'll never eat pizza again.
"That would be a terrible job to tackle. Just how would you start to cut up a human body?"
So L.B. Jefferies(James Stewart) ponders in Hitchcock's Rear Window, based on the Cornell Woolrich short story, It Had to Be Murder.
Jefferies, a photographer with his leg in a full cast (from possibly wandering right out onto a racetrack to get a better shot as cars speed by), is confined in his apartment with nothing better to do but look out his second story window.
Then, here's what happens: He looks out..no, he peers out across..well..he..and Grace Kelly..he has this telephoto lens..ah, hell, I'll just let James Stewart tell you the rest..
My favorite Hitchcock film. Got one of your own, Fellow Vagabond?
Beautiful Edie Adams died yesterday - that fetching actress, budding Opera singer, and comely lady in the Muriel Cigar commercials.
Strange me though. When I heard the news on the radio today the first thing I thought of was that Trio of perfectly-timed gorillas in derby hats and overcoats, with husband Ernie Kovacs and his cigar, Jack Lemmon with the timpani mallets, and Edie on piano.
It's raining now, and sadly it is stripping the bright orange leaves off one of my favorite trees in the courtyard to, happily, tumble into on an impending chilly day.
The Indian Summer ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From his pipe the smoke ascending Filled the sky with haze and vapor, Filled the air with dreamy softness, Gave a twinkle to the water, Touched the rugged hills with smoothness, Brought the tender Indian Summer To the melancholy north-land, In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.
At a press conference in Washington, D.C., on April 9,1959, NASA introduced the Mercury Seven to the public. After a thorough, exhaustive, extensive and careful look into government documents, I have determined without a shadow of a doubt that actor Don Knotts was, in fact, chosen as one of the original Mercury astronauts.
In photo A you will notice that Don has been airbrushed out of his spot third from the right:
In photo B you will notice that the remaining seven are wearing their official white hats that are identical to the hat in photo C which Don kept after 'leaving' the astronaut corps:
You can also see in photo B that Wally Schirra(third from the right) is visibly upset as he receives the news of Don's departure. Deke Slayton(right) appears to be receiving the bad news as this photo clearly indicates.
But, as you know, Don went on to bigger and better things:
Ahhhh.....well....it's just a theory.... Besides...my investigation connecting Obama and William Ayers soaping windows together in Chicago came to a dead end.
(i) QUALIFIED BICYCLE COMMUTING REIMBURSEMENT- The term `qualified bicycle commuting reimbursement’ means, with respect to any calendar year, any employer reimbursement during the 15-month period beginning with the first day of such calendar year for reasonable expenses incurred by the employee during such calendar year for the purchase of a bicycle and bicycle improvements, repair, and storage, if such bicycle is regularly used for travel between the employee’s residence and place of employment....
I don't know. When I heard on the radio this morning that Section 211 of the socialist bailout bill was for bicycle reimbursement, the first thing I thought of was....
O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if the were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-- For the grapes' sake along the all.
My favorite month is here at last. Happy October, Dear Reader.