“Youth ages, immaturity is outgrown, ignorance can be educated, and drunkenness sobered, but stupid lasts forever.” ~ Aristophanes

Vintage Christmas Card: Christmas Song Birds (1913)

                   

“The two most common elements in the universe are Hydrogen and stupidity.” ~ Harlan Ellison

Vintage Christmas Card: Germany (1901)

Monday, early evening, Webb Center computer lab, ODU.

I arranged to pick up Brett from school today at 4:15. My phone is still not working, so I was unable to find out whether or not he wanted to stay longer. Turns out, he did, so I decided to come to the lab for a bit and work on this blog while he hangs.

We are switching my phone back to our T-Mobile plan, which means replacing the sim card. I did that, but for some reason, it takes 24 to 48 hours for my phone number (which was originally a T-Mobile number) to be transferred back from the Straight Talk plan.

Just a word of caution for anyone who is thinking of switching over to Straight Talk: Don’t. The customer service is absolutely horrible, and the plan, while it seems fairly straightforward and simple, isn’t. We had thought about switching over everyone to the Straight Talk plan to try to save some money; fortunately, we tried it with my line first while keeping the T-Mobile plan for everyone else.

The problems just weren’t worth the small savings; hence my switch back to T-Mobile. Only problem is that I don’t have service yet.

Cox Communications, our cable and Internet provider, is now offering wireless service. I suppose we’ll check that out to see what they are offering. If we can bundle all of our services, we may be able to save a bit of money. Have to see what’s going on with that.

“I responded to this development with the kind of sophisticated language for which I am famous. “Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid crap.” ~ John Green

Vintage Christmas Card: Bringing Home the Tree (date unknown)

Sunday evening, home. Windy and cold.

It is now almost two weeks since I began this particular post, and you may be wondering to yourself, ‘why bother?’ Legitimate question. Let me just say that I had already picked out all of these wonderful quotes about stupidity, and I hate to waste a good quote. So we will now be rejoining our regularly scheduled program, already in progress.

Brett finished his exams last Friday; we’re waiting for final grades, but it looks like he may be getting two A’s and two B’s. Quite happy about that. And Eamonn told me last night that he got three B’s and one C, much better than last semester. His comment was that he didn’t even try; I did not come back with the expected retort of imagine how well he would do if he did try . . .

Since I began this post, quite a few things have happened. One of which is that we learned—much to our joint consternation—that the wonderful Straight Talk phone we bought several months ago when we decided to try the switch, that phone (which is a Samsung Gravity model), cannot be used with any other system, even though it is SIM-card ready. My new T-mobile SIM card will not work in the phone. Period. Corey found out this dismaying information after several wonderful conversations with the ST customer service people. (He had to make the calls as I refuse to deal with them ever again; he now understands why that is.) We even tried some Internet sources that claim to be able to unlock any phone; well, they can’t.

So my mother, who cannot stand that she is unable to call me several times a day, is buying me a new phone for Christmas. I found a great deal on e-Bay for a similar Samsung, not one of the newer gravity models, which is fine as I don’t really like touch screens or have  need for all kinds of apps.

Once again, a word of unsolicited advice from me to you: DON’T go with Straight Talk unless you have unlimited patience and never plan to move your service again.

“The difference between stupid and intelligent people—and this is true whether or not they are well-educated—is that intelligent people can handle subtlety.” ~ Neal Stephenson

Vintage Christmas Card: German Elves (date unknown)

In keeping with tonight’s theme, I want to mention a very entertaining blog that I came across on blogsurfer.us: Losers I’ve Loved and Lost. The blog isn’t stupid, far from it, but the responses from the individuals on match.com who contact the blog’s author . . . well let’s just say that they are a bit lacking in the functioning grey cells category.

Essentially, the blog is a running list of selected letters the author has received via match.com and her responses to said letters. Now I’ve never tried online dating, and I know that it has become a staple in the dating world for many reasons, not the least of which is the ability to cull through the chaff for the wheat via profiles and responses. I will be the first to admit that this system would never work for me, ever, ever, as I would correct grammar and be generally bitchy and condescending, that is, my normal self.

So when I began to read the letters and her responses, I found myself laughing out loud as matchmaker (the blog’s author) comes across as my kind of woman: She does not suffer fools gladly. For example, she specifies that she is short, that she smokes, that she is not interested in an older man, a divorced man, or a man with children. She also specifies a locale. Do any of the men who write her pay attention to these specifics?

Of course not.

To wit:

Letter (intro paragraph): May I have the honor of inviting you for a dinner or lunch in San Francisco (I work in downtown) or a dinner in Berkeley (my neighborhood has all the celebrated restaurants)? I really enjoyed reading your relaxes but refreshing profile—you seem to be lovely person inside and out. (accompanied by photograph of obviously older gentleman)

Response (selected parts): dinner at a celebrated restaurant in berkeley sounds fantastic!  i love places that people celebrate or that others find celebrating or that celebrate regularly.  celebration is the essence of celebration.  the problem is i live in los angeles.  but it’s just a minor problem.  you sound very successful and i’m sure you could find a private jet to fly me up and back just for dinner.

i think you do meet all of the criteria for my partner.  except for the “within 5 mile radius of west hollywood” one, and the “between the ages of 34 – 39” one (as you’re 62).  and i’m glad you enjoyed my relaxes, because i relaxes a lot.  i relaxes all day if i can… and if i can’t, at least i make time to relaxes for at least half the day every day.

regarding me being a lovely person inside and out, well that’s a tough one.  i hate most people, pull the wings off of flies, and try to purse my lips in a frown like manner so people don’t approach me or try to talk to me as i don’t like strangers

See what I mean? She pulls no punches, which will offend some, alienate others, and put off those males looking for a traditional, sweet wifey type—which is obviously her strategy. And those of you out there who know me well know that I would take the same tack, which is why I am sooo glad that I don’t have to do this kind of thing. Visit LIL&L if you are into acerbic wit and rampant sarcasm.

“An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.” ~ Victor Hugo 

Vintage Victorian Christmas Card (via vintageholidaycrafts.com)

Let’s see . . . what else is happening? I have on my list of things to do addressing Christmas cards, with any luck, perhaps even tonight when I finish this post. May I just pause here to say that I am terribly saddened by the fact that no one, no one sends cards any more. To date, we have received two cards.

What is up with that? I read recently that more and more people are sending e-cards in lieu of paper cards. I know, a greeting of any sort is lovely, but I want that tactile sensation. I want to ooh and aah over the images, to read the short notes hastily scrawled inside in an attempt to be more personal. I mean, a recent study revealed that children are using less of their brain potential because they do not write with pens and pencils any more. We have an entire generation coming up that will have no idea as to how to pen a letter, literally.

Such a waste. I mean, what about doodling? All of those doodles with colored pens, matching your own name with some boy’s name, drawing little hearts and curlicues. Or the mad doodling in which the pen is pressed to the paper so hard that you form wholes and tears. A child who does not know how to take up a writing implement is being deprived, much in the same way as the child who is read to from an e-reader (another subject worthy of pages and pages of ranting).

Big I digress as usual . . .

Famous Louis Prant Christmas Card (ca 1882) via Card Museum

Holiday cards: Yes, that was the subject. No one sends them any more. It’s not like they are expensive. Boxes of beautiful cards can be bought at after-Christmas sales for a few dollars. I know because I’ve been doing that for years. And postage? Okay, send ten cards, just ten. It’s still about the same as the cost of a caramel machiato at Starbucks. Which one lasts, and which one goes straight to your hips?

Okay, before you accuse me of being the curmudgeon that I am, know this: I am a foolishly sentimental curmudgeon. And it’s not that I don’t embrace change. I love technology, love the gadgets and hoo-has, but I sincerely believe that in this, as with everything else, there must be balance. I mean, think about it. Are we going to progress so much that wedding announcements will be received via Blackberry and iPhone?

If you really don’t understand why I’m making such a big deal out of this, then you have never had a love affair with paper. You have never obsessed over the perfect pen. And if that’s the case, then there really isn’t any point in continuing this discussion.

More later. Peace.

Music by George Winston, “Variations on Pachelbel’s Canon in D”

“To sit alone in the lamplight with a book spread out before you, and hold intimate converse with men of unseen generations—such is a pleasure beyond compare.” ~ Kenko Yoshida

“Fourth Avenue Bookstore,” by Andreas Feininger (ca 1940s)

  

“I’ve never known any trouble that an hour’s reading didn’t assuage.” ~ Charles de Secondat, Baron de la Brède et de Montesquieu, Pensées Diverses

"Comic Book Readers, New York City," by Ruth Orkin (1947)

I really do miss the days of reading at least one book every weekend, but as with everything else in my life, I go through phases. Luckily for me, I’ve been in the mood to read lately. So just this week, I read two books that were as different from each other as is possible. Last week I read a collection of short stories.

I thought that I might do brief reviews of these three books, spread the wealth, as it were.

“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body. It is wholesome and bracing for the mind to have its faculties kept on the stretch.” ~ August Hare

I was fortunate to win this first book in a Goodreads giveaway, and doub ly fortunate because it was one of the books for which I submitted my name that I really wanted to read. James Rollins writes what is called thriller/adventure novels. I am a junkie for these kinds of books as they are easy to read and can be read in one sitting. That and the fact that these books appeal to me in the same way that action movies appeal to me. I am fully aware that they are fluff, but fluff can be a great distraction.

I have read two or three other Rollins’ novels, can’t remember exactly, but this one, The Doomsday Key, is probably my favorite. One thing that I like about Rollins is that he always tries to base the plots of his books in some kind of historical fact. He also employs twists and devices that seem a bit far-fetched, only to reveal in the notes at the end that these things actually exist, take for example, WASP daggers.

The Doomsday Key is based on The Domesday Book, which was commissioned by William the Conqueror in 11th century England. King William sent royal commissioners to all parts of his kingdom to conduct a survey of the lands and properties, supposedly to measure the taxes owed to the crown. The completed book became an incredible source of information about Medieval life.

Rollins again uses his Sigma Force and recurring characters in an adventure that includes avalanches, polar bears, and honey bees. The book does not pretend to be anything but what it is—a romp through Rollins’s world of heroes and villains, and those who straddle the middle.

(526 pages, HarperCollins)

“When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has a meaning for me, and it becomes part of me.” ~ William Somerset Maugham

"Kisling's Atelier," André Kertész (1933)

On the other end of the spectrum is Proust’s Overcoat, a true story about one man’s obsession with all things Proust.

Written by Lorenza Foschini, this small biography (literally at 144 pages) is a captivating tale about Jacques Guérin, a Parisian heir to a perfume company. Guérin’s passion lay not in perfume but in collecting rare books, manuscripts, and papers. After spending the day in the factory, he would stroll through Paris in the evenings, frequenting small bookstores, looking for treasures. That is how he came to find a proprietor who happened to have corrected proofs of Marcel Proust.

Ultimately, the book tells Guérin’s tale, as well as that of Proust, his brother Robert, Robert’s wife Marthe who bore no love for her brother-in-law, and the family shame over Proust’s homosexuality. It was this shame that led Marthe to destroy many of Marcel’s papers after his death, only later to realize that these papers and notebooks were valuable.

Foschini’s retelling of Guérin’s search for and amassing of Proust’s papers, furniture, and his famous overcoat reads lyrically: “Proust’s homosexuality surrounded him like an invisible and insurmountable wall. His family’s unwillingness to understand led to a history of silences that mutated into rancor. This in turn was transformed into acts of vandalism—papers destroyed, furniture abandoned” (71).

Proust’s Overcoat is a lovely afternoon read, one that can be appreciated by bibliophiles and historians alike.

(144 pages, black and white photographs, Imprint of HarperCollins)

“It is not enough merely to love literature, if one wishes to spend one’s life as a writer. It is a dangerous undertaking on the most primitive level. For, it seems to me, the act of writing with serious intent involves enormous personal risk. It entails the ongoing courage for self-discovery. It means one will walk forever on the tightrope, with each new step presenting the possibility of learning a truth about oneself that is too terrible to bear.” ~ Harlan Ellison

"New York City," André Kertész (1950)

And finally, there is The Dark End of the Street, a collection of short stories featuring the work of Lee Child, Joyce Carol Oates, Amy Hempel, Michael Connelly, and many others.

Edited by Jonathan Santlofer and S. J. Rozan, this book includes nineteen stories that take a new look at the old themes of sex and crime, violence and darkness. The stories feature serial killers, characters who fancy themselves killers, wives who have been wronged, cruel sadists, and characters who are just plain pitiable.  A few stories read a bit like detective true crime stories from the old magazines, but for the most part, the stories are evocative and intriguing, a memorable collection crafted by an enviable group of writers.

Plot twists abound. For example, Lee Child’s “Me & Mr. Rafferty” features a serial killer and a cop and their fixation on each other. Then there is the revenge with a twist in Laura Lippman’s “Tricks.” The idea of sadism is the focus in Lynn Freed’s “Sunshine,” as well as S. J. Rozan’s “Daybreak.” But my favorite story out of the collection is Jonathan Letham’s story, “The Salon.” I love the premise of a hair salon being a serial killer’s milieu. Letham’s narrator is deftly drawn, just dripping with sarcasm and a sardonic wit.

(291 pages, black and white illustrations, Bloomsbury)

“A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.” ~ Franz Kafka

I have three more books lined up for this weekend. Good times for me. Now go read a book.

More later. Peace.

Music by Chris Isaak, “Blue Moon”