Rote and ashamed apology for the late Bleat yesterday. Remember, there's a good chance I uploaded it and forgot to tweak the redirect. Check the URL above - today is 23.html, it being the third day of the second week. If the indirect isn't right, try the URL - or the calendar on the index redirect page.
I will not be using the calendar next year, because it is a PAIN. A pain in the fundament. A pain in both spheres of the fundament.
Pleasant day. Took the drone up into the trees, as you see above. It fought the wind, and for a moment I thought it would land on the roof. It ran out of power and returned to my hand, an exhausted falcon. Earlier in the day I had my ideas and preconceptions completely upended by a simple click on a pane on an obscure page on archive.org. You will learn about this two weeks and two days. Why then? Oh you'll see. AND it dovetailed with something Daughter shared today, while we chatted. One of those moments: she said "Okay Dad you know about Steamed Hams"
"Yes, of course"
"Okay I have to send you something"
Wife is looking quizzical, because she has a busy job and plays lots of tennis and does not, in fact know about Steamed Hams.
Trust me, it'll be relevant.
I was watching a movie with subtitles on, which I frequently do. It was a British movie, “The Servant.” Just popped on Amazon Prime. A 1960s high-toned psychodrama. Dirk Bogarde in the titular role. Interesting period piece. It cannot show what it clearly intends, a cultural constraint that makes it more interesting. An absolutely mad third act. Anyway, not here for a midweek B&W World.
Although there’s this.
There’s our radio! The Bush.
And then there’s this fellow.
You know how someone’s face just lights up a part of your brain and you think where, where, where. Not so much who as where.
Instantly I think: I know him I know him but where WHERE
AH
Does this help? A brief scene from the office lobby the other day.
There are, I trust, a few of you who will figure it out.
The scene in the pub is full of interesting faces, and the camera makes sure this fellow is in focus:
He seems to be having a merry time:
That would be the author of the movie, a Mr. Harold Pinter. ANYWAY. The subtitles indicate sound cues for the deaf:
[Door slamming]
But then there’s something that makes you stop, and consider:
[Music playing]
This is the heart of the mysteries of life, put as succinctly as possible: an understandable, simple reference to something unknowable.
The person to whom these two words are offered has no idea what music is, right? Well, no, there are gradations. The profoundly deaf can sense rhythms. People with severe hearing impairments have experienced the shape of music; they can recognize its contours, if not its exact shape. Those of us who have full hearing still have to be told from time to time: music playing.
There is something great and grand before us at all times. We need constant reminder. The sight of the trees: [Music playing] The dance of cars at an intersection as you sit on a cold marble bench having a post-lunch cigar: [Music playing] Your daughter sends a text with a link to something she loved or found important: [Music playing]
It was one of those days when there was music playing - there's always music playing - but I heard it now and then, and that made all the difference.
It’s 1928.
I don’t see Blocton on my list of Main Street visits, so it must be gone. That can’t be, can it? Towns big enough to have newspapers don’t just go.
Checking . . . well, it’s there, but it’s sad. There’s enough for tomorrow, though, so stay tuned.
Front page funny:
What’s interesting is the utility pole and wires. Those weren’t ubiquitous in ’28.
"Walter" sig at the bottom? Wters? Don’t know who that is.
The great age of actual science. Not pseudoscience, not canals-on-Mars stuff, but long-range peering.
I believe the telescope is the Hale, which would not be in use for a quarter century. The article noted that the light that would hit the mirror had been traveling for “thousands of millions of years, long before man appeared on the planet, and when the earth was still young.” In case you thought everyone in Iowa in the 20s was a young-earthed.
Secular liberalization not proceeding as quickly as planned:
In case you’re curious, it would not be renamed Istanbul until 1930.
It should not have been renamed Istanbul. I mean, I’m in favor of calling it Byzantium.
Must I?
And why the devil would anyone in Alabama care about this? And why is his suit look like big rats munched on it?
Paul Henry Prehn (September 5, 1892 – May 7, 1973) was a wrestler from Mason City, Iowa, in the early part of the 20th century. He served in the Iowa National Guard during the Border War (1910–19) (as a hand-to-hand combat instructor). In 1919, Prehn won the middleweight gold medal at the Inter-Allied Games held in Paris at the Pershing Stadium.
Charles David Farrell (August 9, 1900 May 6, 1990 in Palm Springs, California) was an American film actor whose height was in the 1920s and 1930s and the Mayor of Palm Springs from 1947 to 1955. Farrell was known for his onscreen romances with actress Janet Gaynor in more than a dozen films, including 7th Heaven, Street Angel, and Lucky Star. Later in life, he starred on TV in the 1950s sitcoms My Little Margie[ and played himself in The Charles Farrell Show. He was also among the early developers of Palm Springs.
Do we have his TV show credits? We do.
Ohhhhkay
A) “Sand” indicates lost lingo. Slang for something. Perhaps a lot of nothing. B) A reaction to Held’s “Oh Margy”? It’s certainly better rendered.
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That'll do. Next for you: Chain Store Age returns to the restaurants.
