Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
When I'm feeling bad I listen to music or watch a favorite movie to a) escape whatever's bringing me down and b) adjust my frame of mind so I can think more clearly.
I have my regular go-to sources, an eclectic cache of music and movies that are like security blankets: I know what I need when I need it and I have it at the ready.
The never-fail options are: Surfer Rosa, Combat Rock, Nevermind, Dr. Stranglove.
Things are pretty bad in Trillville, so last night I pulled out the big guns.
Better than any therapy or any drugs any doctor could administer, Kubrick once again saved my life. Every time I watch it (which is a lot) I gain some new insight to the movie and to my life and to the world in general. I feel so much better today. I laughed (a lot), I shed a few reverential tears to Kubrick and Sellers (and Scott), and I had a deep cleansing breath of perspective. Such is the brilliance of the film.
I've viewed the movie during every presidential term since I was a teenager and for every president there has been an appropriate defining reference that adroitly encapsulates the entire presidency. Which is a deeper layer to Kubrick's genius: It's prophecy. Even beyond Cold War presidents, there's a line/scene that aptly sums up a presidential term. Yep, watch it yourself if you don't believe me. You'll find that for every president since the debut of this film there is a poignantly prophetic moment/line in the film.
It takes a few years of a presidency for the defining scene/line to present itself, but so far Kubrick has not let me down. After last night's viewing it was made obvious to me that it's safe/time to bestow the honor on our current president. Without further ado I present the Merkin Muffley Presidential Showcase Defining Achievement Award to President Obama:
Perhaps it might be better, Mr. President, if you were more concerned with the American people than with your image in the history books.
