January 22nd, 2007

krazy koati

If your limbs begin dissolving in the water that you tread

And incidentally it's a bit of a mean trick of Turner Classic Movies to show Sleeper (I wonder if they've got Bananas cued up just in case Fidel Castro ever does die), then The Mouse That Roared, and then It's A Mad Mad Mad Mad World on a day when you were planning to go out and do things instead. I didn't have any specific plans for what to do, mind you, but I did certainly have in mind the idea that I might go out and do something and then, well, you know, they're almost up to the nose-cloning scene ... and just a couple minutes of Grand Fenwick won't hurt ... why isn't the Tivo recording when I hit the ``select'' button? ... and so on. Grand Fenwick's plan to get rich through American reconstruction was probably funnier a half-dozen United States invasions ago. I thought it was a cute little joke that Grand Fenwick only had 48-star flags to wave around, but it turns out the movie was made in 1959 so that wasn't intended to be a joke on the cash-starved and ``whatever we had lying around'' nature of the city. I had the same deflating experience when I first moved to Singapore and discovered that ``zebra crossings'' weren't a bit of Douglas Adams whimsy.

I thought it was odd when my parents left that I couldn't find the Asbury Park Press anywhere. The Star-Ledger was tossed into improbable spots on the driveway (how do you toss the paper so it lands behind both cars?) but the Park Press? But it wasn't in the driveway, and the shelf under the mailbox was empty, so ... Ah, but today, I saw a paper stuck out there, and found the Park Press jammed in there. Not just today's, but yesterday's, the day before's, a week's worth. They must have been put in too far back in the shelf for me to notice. I'm lucky I didn't wake up some morning to find Ann-Margret in the guest room squeezing a teddy bear and destroying my Senatorial campaign. At least I think I'm lucky.

Trivia: In 1814, its first year of operation, Francis Cabot Lowell's cotton factory at Waltham, Massachusetts, sold $412 worth of cotton fabric. Source: Big Cotton, Stephen Yafa.

Currently Reading: World's Best Science Fiction: 1965, Edited by Donald A Wollheim, Terry Carr. It's kind of surprising -- of the stories in it, I only recall encountering Philip K Dick's ``Oh, to be a Blobel!'' before, though the stories are a rather good set, and one will creep me out for a while to come. ``Blobel'' is longer than I remembered: I had thought it ended when the lead -- a human who, as the result of war experiences, spends twelve hours of every day as a giant amoebic Blobel -- is set to meet with someone with a similar problem. But this goes on to more material, years later, bringing things to as O Henry-esque a conclusion as Dick could probably manage. I'm curious if the story was expanded form the initial short-short or if I just forgot the rest.