03/26/11 continued....
Dear Readers ( should there actually be any ! ),
Having failed at a number of prescribed goals, such as succinctness and brevity, we must stagger on, pretending to dance as if the orchestra were still playing.
In trying to conclude 'Part One', I will mention only in passing, that, perhaps the very nadir of TeeVee had been reached on a program on MTV, in which a clothed, jock-strapped man sat against a wall while grapefruits, softballs, and other objects were as missiles thrown to hit his testicles; upon being hit, the man would yell in pain, and then laugh like a maniac. Later, during the closing credits, he chased the 'throwers' as if to attack them; That I watched this farrago for--perhaps--five minutes, can only be attributed to my complete disbelief that, a) it was actually happening, and, b) that anyone could possibly find it entertaining.
Mere TeeVee is not the culprit, for as Edward Murrow once said during a filmed documentary of the poor in America, " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves ".
Endless chatter by 'talking heads' abounds; and bad news is everywhere. Shocking news. Horrible news.
Is it any wonder--then--that any reasonably sane person would want to run from this onslaught? And to try to create for themselves some sort of hiding place, outfitted for comfort and designed to be reassuringly the 'same'.?
Those who drag home at days' end from jobs they too often find repellent, are too tired, too used up, too consumed to do more than pop a beer, and flop down on the sofa, kicking their shoes off at the door. They want a little comfort, a little quiet, a little pampering, and a LOT of peace and detachment from the world.
I once recall a time when there were only three channels, and all went off the air at 11:00PM. Nobody complained. Or, really cared.
Now there is--besides the computer, and the 'wild west web'--cable with 900 channels. And there's still nothing to watch.
And so, after supper has plopped out of the microwave, and the children dispensed with and the dogs let out to pee, the evening is wasted in the constant channel surfing up and down the dial.
Though they relax in it, unknowingly, they do not consider for one moment, and, as such, do not revel in it, that, in entering and shutting the front door, they are drawing a palpable line in the sand, intentionally separating themselves from the world outside; it is a retreat to the warmth of the fire in the cave at night, however dearly this 'cave' is costing them.
And so, at this post's end, I wish you all a quiet night, an untroubled sleep, and strength to face tomorrow. Goodnight all, Charles
Saturday, March 26, 2011
'The Postern Of Fate...':' The introduction that should have come first'
03/26/11
This--alas--is the long-awaited introduction to my blog ( what an odd name ! ), which should have been written first. I have, at once, in candor, rather than coyness revealed a true lack of understanding of computers in general, and this forum, in particular.
I was strongly advised to keep my entries short, and to the point; I was to eshew fancy language ( such as 'eshew' ), and--above all--to try to be interesting, so that once you found me, you would come back, dragging friends, relatives, and co-workers with you, to hark upon my every, ruby-throated word. And, to--upon occasion--offer up your own impressions/suggestions/and criticisms that might, in all kindness, change incontestably both the tone and direction of this enterprise.
I purposely went overboard on the biography so that I wouldn't have to trot it out here, boring you twice.
There are countless blogs out there already, each with its own voice, its own interests, and its own agenda(s). What have I to say?
"What shall we give the infant King?"
I have changed the font size so that I could read it better; for you out there in blog-land, it should--at worst--limit the length of my entries, but not the tone of them.
Though I am, at present safely tucked away in my own little world, as I had mentioned in the bio, 'The Postern Of Fate...' refers to all that lies on the other side of your own front door; all the marvels, the mysteries, and the unspeakable terrors, the former of which simply makes us want to stay in bed, covers over the head.
We all try to insulate ourselves, our families, and our friends from the utter madness that waits for us there; for there be monsters run amok that we cannot control, nor hide from, nor escape from, really.
Our homes have become our fortresses, our redoubts, our caves which we leave grudgingly, and return to most gratefully.
Try as we might, the outside world still touches us, as well-evidenced by the schlock and shock offered up nightly on TeeVee, and in the newspapers ( does anyone subscribe to them anymore? ).
After a year or so of dwindling interest, when much of broadcast 'entertainment' devolved into torture of the most hideous kind, I simply stopped watching TeeVee, and, in time, gave away the two sets I had in the house. And, while I freely admit that it is now with greater slowness that I am informed of events both here and abroad, I could find nothing but distaste at any of the, 'What would you do for $50,000.00 USD ? shows. Eat worms ? Share a glass coffin teeming with roaches?
First, it beggared the self-answering fact that, 'hell yeah, I could use $50,000.00 !' We all could. In point of fact, there have been too many occasions when $500.00 would look good, and would help carry us to the end of the month.
But these shows, for amusement's sake took these hapless contestants and humiliated them; they not only went home penniless, but did so after sharing the glass coffin teeming with roaches.
When the stately, and posing rectitude of 'Jeopardy', was overrun by 'Weakest Link', the boxer's gloves came off to fully reveal the greed and conniving of the contestants, and the unutterable snottiness of the Host. That its tag line, 'You are the weakest link', was later used as a catch phrase across the nation, culminating in an homicide, shows only too well how cruel, selfish, and mindless such shows can be.
Thankfully, such productions soon--though, often, not quickly enough--burn themselves out, others race to fill the void.
Part One Of Two.
This--alas--is the long-awaited introduction to my blog ( what an odd name ! ), which should have been written first. I have, at once, in candor, rather than coyness revealed a true lack of understanding of computers in general, and this forum, in particular.
I was strongly advised to keep my entries short, and to the point; I was to eshew fancy language ( such as 'eshew' ), and--above all--to try to be interesting, so that once you found me, you would come back, dragging friends, relatives, and co-workers with you, to hark upon my every, ruby-throated word. And, to--upon occasion--offer up your own impressions/suggestions/and criticisms that might, in all kindness, change incontestably both the tone and direction of this enterprise.
I purposely went overboard on the biography so that I wouldn't have to trot it out here, boring you twice.
There are countless blogs out there already, each with its own voice, its own interests, and its own agenda(s). What have I to say?
"What shall we give the infant King?"
I have changed the font size so that I could read it better; for you out there in blog-land, it should--at worst--limit the length of my entries, but not the tone of them.
Though I am, at present safely tucked away in my own little world, as I had mentioned in the bio, 'The Postern Of Fate...' refers to all that lies on the other side of your own front door; all the marvels, the mysteries, and the unspeakable terrors, the former of which simply makes us want to stay in bed, covers over the head.
We all try to insulate ourselves, our families, and our friends from the utter madness that waits for us there; for there be monsters run amok that we cannot control, nor hide from, nor escape from, really.
Our homes have become our fortresses, our redoubts, our caves which we leave grudgingly, and return to most gratefully.
Try as we might, the outside world still touches us, as well-evidenced by the schlock and shock offered up nightly on TeeVee, and in the newspapers ( does anyone subscribe to them anymore? ).
After a year or so of dwindling interest, when much of broadcast 'entertainment' devolved into torture of the most hideous kind, I simply stopped watching TeeVee, and, in time, gave away the two sets I had in the house. And, while I freely admit that it is now with greater slowness that I am informed of events both here and abroad, I could find nothing but distaste at any of the, 'What would you do for $50,000.00 USD ? shows. Eat worms ? Share a glass coffin teeming with roaches?
First, it beggared the self-answering fact that, 'hell yeah, I could use $50,000.00 !' We all could. In point of fact, there have been too many occasions when $500.00 would look good, and would help carry us to the end of the month.
But these shows, for amusement's sake took these hapless contestants and humiliated them; they not only went home penniless, but did so after sharing the glass coffin teeming with roaches.
When the stately, and posing rectitude of 'Jeopardy', was overrun by 'Weakest Link', the boxer's gloves came off to fully reveal the greed and conniving of the contestants, and the unutterable snottiness of the Host. That its tag line, 'You are the weakest link', was later used as a catch phrase across the nation, culminating in an homicide, shows only too well how cruel, selfish, and mindless such shows can be.
Thankfully, such productions soon--though, often, not quickly enough--burn themselves out, others race to fill the void.
Part One Of Two.
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