Good morning Boys and Girls.

Now John Updike.

Damn. My heroes are falling off the planet's surface faster than I can replace them, and I resent it.

Updike might just have been the quintessential American novelist during past half-century. Witty, erudite, urbane - the man was to "the great American novel" as Coca Cola is to "the great American soft-drink."

My first exposure to Updike was "Rabbit, Run", the first of his "Rabbit" books. If I remember correctly, I "borrowed" it from my Dad's Dad when I was in high school - probably without his permission; certainly without my parent's; it was racy stuff. Rabbit - Harry Angstrom, a sort of anti-hero, was a former high-school athlete of renown who faces his life; a life he feels trapped in; with a combined sense of hope and doom, as his former greatness slowly fades - first into fond memories, then, as time passes, into something worse than irrelevance.

Harry wasn't a likable guy on all counts, but personally, I grew to love him during the thirty-plus years it took Mr. Updike to chronicle his oh-so-American life and loves - and even his death and its aftermath - in the four-and-a-half books he wrote about Rabbit and the rest of the Angstroms.

Not universally loved, over the years Updike has been called plenty of names. Norman Mailer called him a lightweight. Others have called him a racist and misogynistic, but having read so much of his work over the years, I'm convinced that Updike himself didn't harbor such qualities and/or attitudes. On the other hand, he certainly gave these attributes - and worse - to some of his more memorable characters. Some folks thought he was obsessed with sex, and perhaps that's fair - maybe he was. He certainly wrote about it a lot. To me, though, he seemed to capture the way people of his generation - my parents' generation - dealt with the subject. His women characters weren't super-models, nor were his men Adonises. He wrote about people that felt real; or they did to me. Mailer was right in some respects. Updike was a lightweight, in that didn't choose big topics to write about, but instead primarily wrote about fairly normal people dealing with life as they lived it, yet he did it with such care and beauty, that even the smallest things - seemingly minor events - took on the same importance for his characters that small things take on for the rest of us. -A trivial slight in a social setting years ago - or a kindness - is remembered a decade later; and, without the rememberer seeming the least bit petty. -That's reality, isn't it?

A master of description; he was a poet who most often used prose as his chosen meter. I always felt like he loved every single one of his characters, so careful was he in his introductions to us of them. We grew to know and understand his characters so very well, in fact, that toward the end of his stories, we readers knew how they'd react to upcoming situations; how they'd be affected. He'd set up our expectations and then fulfill them perfectly. However, having said all this; there was nothing akin to a soap opera-like quality in anything of his I ever read - it felt far too real to be trivialized like that. Maybe the difference was that very aspect I talked about earlier; that past events weighed so heavily on his characters the way they can and often do with all of us.

There was a movie made of "Rabbit, Run" thirty years ago starring Bruce Dern, Jack Albertson and Carrie Snodgrass. I saw it, but I didn't like it. The most famous movie made from any of Updike's novels was "the Witches of Eastwick", which was pretty good, but wasn't all that reflective of the novel - which itself was quite a departure for him. Perhaps the reason more movies haven't been made from his novels is that, frankly, his plots aren't all that exciting - never have been. -That's okay with me. I think he did that by choice, not because of any lack of imagination

I saw online yesterday that Updike has written fifty books, meaning there are at least ten or fifteen out there I haven't gotten to yet - including a new novel from just this past year, "the Widow's of Eastwick". I'll guess it's about the same women we met in his first Eastwick novel.

I'm glad of that.


Be good to everyone.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

Can't wait til Tuesday when Barrack Obama is sworn in.

Know why? It has nothing to do with the fact I supported him and gladly voted for him. It has to do with the fact I'm sick of him already. Sorry Barrack. Not your fault.

The coverage during the run-up to the election was overdone to be sure, but the coverage leading up to the inauguration has been both overdone and trite as can be, and I'm tired of it all. I didn't need to see two days worth of footage of the first-daughters' start at the Friends School; don't give a hoot. I don't care what kind of dog will replace Barney in the White house. I don't even care who is or is not going to host, and/or attend, or cater, any of the dozen or more inauguration parties. Sorry, just don't care.

Okay, so... (This is known as "a weak transition".)

Most newer audio books from the library come in a folder of between six and fifteen CD's, and some come unabridged on a single CD in mp3 format. My old CD player won't play those, so a couple of months ago for my birthday, SweetLady gave me a nice new one capable of playing mp3's. It's been great to use.

Well, the week before last, some a##hole stole it out of my jeep while I was working. My fault, but irritating nonetheless.

I'd left the thing unlocked, but because of the specific little project I was working on just then - and the fact I was only working about thirty feet away, making frequent trips back and forth to the jeep to retrieve supplies - leaving it unlocked had been a conscious decision. Obviously it was a bad one.

Worse, I'm pretty sure I saw the guy who stole it just seconds after he did it. He was walking too quickly but I didn't realize what he'd done until later.

So it was that the other day, while driving to work, I was listening to an older audio book someone gave me years ago that I'd never listen to, that was on cassettes, when the batteries in my trusty old Walkman cassette-player died right in the middle of tense court-room scene. Even though I had spares in the little storage compartment between the front seats of the old beater, I'm responsible enough not to attempt to change them while I'm driving, (and besides, it's really hard to open the little hatch and fiddle with AAA batteries while eating a sandwich, drinking coffee, shaving, lighting a smoke, talking on the phone and weaving in and out of traffic.)

I exhaled in disgust and turned on the Radio. The last time I'd had it on was on my way back from Des Moines a couple of weeks ago and the station to which I'd had it tuned was out of range, so I hit the seek button and caught Rush Limbaugh mid-sentence. "...Yes, I hope he fails. I don't WANT him to succeed. I'm not like the drive-by media. I'm not like these weak Republicans who say they'll support Obama 'for the good of the country.' No. I'm honest. I want him to fail. I want to WIN...." and so on. He was talking about Obama, of course, and that if Obama is successful, his "liberalism" will surely doom the country to 50 years of Democrat(ic) rule. (Yawn.)

I listened to his idiotic rant for another few minutes, 'til I lost track of the lies. His lies are hard keep track of, let alone count, because... Well, here's the question: if something MIGHT be true, assuming the root statement from which it derived is, or was - which is rarely, if ever, the case with this moron - then is a possibly-accurate extrapolation from a lie also a lie itself?

Tough call. Semantics.

I swore loudly, started to change the station, but instead switched off the radio and carefully changed the batteries in my cassette player - while driving. As I did it, I swear, this thought went through my head, making me laugh out loud.

If I had gotten into a car accident while changing those batteries, could I have legitimately blamed Rush Limbaugh? Hmm.

"Your honor, I couldn't help myself. I could not listen to one more second of that bullshit just then. My head would have exploded. Pardon me?... Oh... Well, that's a good question. I didn't switch radio stations because, what if he was on the next one too? The jerk is everywhere. You know that. Don't I have a right to self preservation? You wouldn't want me suing Limbaugh for causing a stroke, would you? Sir?... Don't you think this little fender bender is a far happier result?"

Be good to everyone.

Good evening Boys and Girls.

Well I did it. -And in the stupidest way.

For an hour and a half this morning, then for another full hour when I got home this afternoon, I worked on a post. I even read some of it to SweetLady over the phone just before I'd finished it. Then, like a complete moron, when I went to look up something to finish the last line just so, I forgot to open a new browser window, thereby completely losing what I'd written by navigating away from Yahoo. (I write my posts in Yahoo mail so I DON'T ever lose another one in the tBlog composer.)

Oh sure, while I worked, Yahoo even asked me five or six times whether I'd like to save what I had so far as a draft, but, as always, I declined. Why? Because I'm not too bright, that's why.

Oh well. It was cute idea, and eventually, if I get over the frustration of losing two and a half hours worth of effort - maybe in a few days when I can look upon the project as writing it fresh, as opposed to trying to remember each line I wrote earlier today, and becoming annoyed with myself cuz it's just not quite the same, or nearly as good - well, maybe then I'll try it again.

Oh well. So...

AuntConi reminded me that I was supposed to write about her bringing her Wii system over to my house this past weekend so she could kick my ass bowling.

Okay.

AuntConi brought her Wii system over to my house this past weekend so she could kick my ass bowling.

Feel better AC? Do ya? Huh?

-Friggen sandbagger.

I know. Like me, you're probably asking yourself what the hell an old woman is doing with the newest and hottest video game system on the market. Well, let me tell ya. She claims it's for her grandkids to play on when they come to her house, but she lies. It was purchased for one reason and one reason only: she bought it specifically to humiliate me; something - because I am so very kind - I let her believe she did.

I just want to say here and now that AuntConi is a very old woman, (did I say that already?) meaning it stands to reason she probably has a very weak heart. Therefore, again, because I am such a compassionate human being, after careful thought, I decided I couldn't bear to beat her. It would have been cruel; maybe even dangerous to her fragile health.

So, I let her win. Every time; just like I let PastorDave beat me at pool a couple of years ago - because he too is old and fragile.

I also told this... this.... "person", AuntConi, that she is never, not EVER, to bring that damn game system to my place again. Why? I'll tell you why. Because it is highly addictive and fun, and I don't believe in being addicted to anything. It is wrong and shows weakness. So, as a matter of principle, I am NOT going to allow myself to be tempted into becoming weak. (Wait a minute. I can't type while I cross my arms and affect a smugly superior facial expression.)

Damn it. Who stole my lighter?...


Be good to everyone.