The Oscars have come and gone, the gay Super Bowl. The annual event for us to admire and admonish our genetic/commercial/artistic superiors. Occasionally measure ourselves as their equal, before we slip back like Gollum or Thersites into our hard lives of beatings by aristocrats and/or slurping cold fish while singing songs to ourselves about how this makes us happy.
Brilliant
“Brilliant” has long been the British equivalent of our saying “awesome” or “tubular” in the 80s. So used for inanities, used to mock such inanities, then used in defiance of such mockery it has become a space filler in British pop culture.
When it’s used in the U.S. as a weird cultural sophisticate affectation, as I’ve heard it twice at lunch during a business conversation between strangers today, it buries the usefulness of the word for maybe half a generation. Gag me with a spoon.
Mr. Rogers: “Your thoughts and your feelings are your own.”
Read an excellent post at The A.V. Club about Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to start the day. Fred Rogers is a wise, serene presence. A role model in many ways. I don’t know if it’s a state possible (or worth) maintaining at all times. As humans we are wired for conflict and strife with our large adrenal glands. But Rogers’ demeanor is worth recalling when needing a model for calm.
The Lady Elaine puppet scared me as a kid. There. Got it out. Shaking it off my arms now. Better.
The A.V. Club article linked to a segment where Rogers chatted with Jeff, a child in a wheelchair who explains his medical condition, challenges, that he gets frustrated like other kids, and they sing together.
When Rogers was inducted to the T.V. Hall of Fame, a grown-up Jeff was there to present the award. Rogers is surprised and genuinely moved. Then he commands the room of hardened showbiz professionals, telling them to do better (the Presbyterian minister in him comes out). It’s quite a spectacle.
I believe human beings need coarse spectacles and entertainments and catharsis of a nature Rogers may not like. But his points are food for thought.
Switching from outdoor loafers to indoor sneakers, then back again when heading out, is still a trip.
Deltalina, the flight attendant, judges you
On a Delta flight a while ago, there was a moment in the safety video that made me laugh. My laugh was the only one I could hear, so I didn’t know if people were accustomed to it or they weren’t as struck by it. I attributed the humor to weird aesthetic on my part.
The flight attendant, with high cheeckbones, a highly worked-on face, and soft drag queen vibe wags her finger across the screen at you for even considering a smoke on the airplane (at the 1:50 mark).
On the return flight, I found myself eager to see that moment again. I was relieved to read the New York Times showing a picture of her and indicating that there’s a fan base built up. Not a convention I would attend due to apprehension over viewing a peer group in this context (when you gaze into the mirror/void it stares right back into you).
There’s a cute moment where a male flight attendant is given an artificial glint on his teeth after demonstrating how the seat may be used as a flotation device (at 4:01). This safety video has over 2.85 million views on YouTube. So, good job, Delta, at putting in little triggers that cause people to wonder “What WAS that?” and compel us to follow-up later.
ADDENDUM: After typing this up, I found a YouTube video of CNN covering “Deltalina” as a sensation back when the video only had 300,000 views in March 2008. The finger-wag and the glint in the teeth were deliberate hooks and are remarked on by the host, actress Katherine Lee, and the Delta marketing dude. So, cutesy little quirks, or deliberate research-based elements to play off the authority/captive dynamic?
Post-mortem endorsement
LinkedIn has a tool to make it easy to endorse people you’re connected to for particular job skills. A friend who died was among the options who came up. I gave an endorsement of one of her job skills. She was adept at it, and a record of it, somewhere, deserved to be made.
A funny post my smartphone wrote
I was texting (in a parking lot) then accidentally set the phone into an audio dictation mode and turned on a podcast. Later, looking at my phone, there was a kooky long text ready to send. I did not send it (choosing to not seem insane – this time) but have pasted it in here. The dictation barely resembles what was playing in the car. Maybe the phone is writing on its own behalf and asking for friendship:
“This dive deeper down the cabin then other people will always be around refuge the end of the day so you like what you like to do movies and TV shows I can picture of you do women I love you might actually like you can’t like what I like to know what would you say next something is going terribly wrong and that the man did you feed trying to run into the ground”
Nike+ helps me CRUSH IT (can it spritz Axe Body Spray?)
I got this new Nike+ getup, a GPS watch to track my workouts (where I go, how fast, elevation, gotta know how I’m rockin’ and gotta share it later) that works with a sensor in my shoe. If the GPS signal is lost, it can track the speed and distance with the shoe sensor ‘fo (short for “info”). Shoe sensor is the GPS watch’s boo.
I get back from doing my thing, plug the watch in to upload my workouts. I can Facebook it, I can Twitter it. Nike+ even gives me default Twitter text to brag to the world how I do it, player. Check it: “I crushed a XXmi run with a pace of XX’XX” with Nike+ SportWatch GPS. #nikeplus”
COOL! My auto-tweets back me up to testify that these feats matter, they are braggable. Solid. I do, indeed, crush it.
This is structured for running, I use it for walking. So, is boasting about a 20 minute mile something that will get me into the Olympics? Ha ha, you. No. For real, it shows I’ve got stamina. Ladies like that. I’m not a short burst kind of guy (unless you want me to be, let me know!).
So this stuff is from my SECOND walk today. People with strollers were all “Where’d that blast of wind come from?” ‘cuz I’m a walkin’ BLUR.
Me: “I’m lettin’ y’all know when that crosswalk light changes I am GONE, ‘cuz I CRUSH. IT. Every. Time.” The old people always applaud when I do that. Good to feel loved by my fellow citizens. Making a mental note to be that cool when I’m their age, like, 90 years from now. Watch the video!
Impressed, right? So I went different speeds, and even different elevations. That’s how I roll. And I did this TWICE. Once to get where I was going, then again on the way back.
All the way, got my groove on. A couple of podcasts. Then after a bunch of thoughts I went to tunes. Really digging Train’s “Drive By” and “50 Ways”. So good. And I listened to “Hero” by Nickelback, like, ten times in a row. Such a great song about Spiderman.
Now, if there were a button combo on this watch that would emit a on-the-go refresh of Axe Body Spray, I’d be good-to-go all the time.
Wish I had some Zima at my home (come back, 1995!) so instead I flavored up some vodka as a little pick-me-up reward. Got anything going on tonight? Text me and we’ll meet up and get this town going, G!
Kindle cracked
Saw a fracture on my Kindle case.
Pressed on it to make the crack longer because I could.
Goodwill towards men’s fashion
Dropped off maybe 40-50 pounds of clothes at Goodwill today. Part of the acceptance process that the 90s will not be coming back (my closet and personal history: “thank gawwwd!”).
1.) Several shirts I held onto for years because they were expensive and I liked the colors. There’s a difference between admiring colors from a distance and wearing something that makes you look like a pack of Fruit Stripe gum.
2.) My t-shirts breed like Tribbles. I’ve tagged the remaining t-shirts to track their movements and figure out what the heck they’re doing.
‘Pillar, ‘pillar burning bright
On the Amazon Trail in Eugene, I saw two caterpillars today. One alive, one dead. A poem:
A long wooly caterpillar slinked o’er a jogging trail.
Its steady undulations puffed “I cannot permit a fail.”
It focused its ambition on crossing to the low cool green,
And got there, relieved now to be beyond the human scene.
A shorter wooly, charged one-third the way, gasped, then upturned.
Feet to the sun, its plumpness biding pick up by a bird.
Drying, its spirit whispered as it passed our mortal sight:
‘I burned life’s candle at both ends, and gave a lovely light.”
