Thursday, April 16, 2009
Truer Words Were Never Spoken
From the Onion AV Club's review of the Jane Austen/undead invador mash-up novel, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: "Almost any endeavor these days, it seems, can be enhanced by the addition of pirates, zombies, or ninjas."
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
April Showers
I realize, of course, that in order for flowers to rise from the ground in proper abundance in May, there must be rain in abundance in April. I get that. Really.
Must it be so perpetually gloomy, though?
On my way into the building where I work, I ran into a coworker with the same lament: We were both tired of cool and damp. We wanted warm and dry--and sunny. Don't forget sunny.
The forecast is for clear skies tomorrow and significantly warmer temperatures by Friday. Then? Cold, wind-driven rain for Sunday and Monday.
Spring in Chicago is never a constant thing. Must it tease me so, though? Or should I enjoy what I've got while I've got it, know so many others have it worse? I still have a roof over my head to protect me and Olivia from the rain and cold, and our home isn't flooded.
April may be gloomy, but it's not been cruel. Not yet. I'll get by.
Must it be so perpetually gloomy, though?
On my way into the building where I work, I ran into a coworker with the same lament: We were both tired of cool and damp. We wanted warm and dry--and sunny. Don't forget sunny.
The forecast is for clear skies tomorrow and significantly warmer temperatures by Friday. Then? Cold, wind-driven rain for Sunday and Monday.
Spring in Chicago is never a constant thing. Must it tease me so, though? Or should I enjoy what I've got while I've got it, know so many others have it worse? I still have a roof over my head to protect me and Olivia from the rain and cold, and our home isn't flooded.
April may be gloomy, but it's not been cruel. Not yet. I'll get by.
Monday, April 13, 2009
RIP: Marilyn Chambers
Back in the days before every-fucking-body had cable, there were broadcast pay channels that ran recent video releases--and, late at night, after the kids were presumably asleep, edited porn.
Chicago had two such services competing for our consumer dollars: On-TV and Spectrum. Both shared space with normal UHF stations, switching over to the pay service around 7 p.m. My family never bought into either service. Hell, we didn't even get cable until later that decade, more due to Chicago's large volume of red tape (i.e., politicians with their hands out, screaming "Where's mine?") than my family's notorious lagtime in keeping apace with advances in technology.
If you adjusted your TV's "rabbit ears" just right, though, depending upon atmospheric conditions and individual skill and patience, you could get the pay programming for free--usually with intermittent sound and a distorted/fuzzy picture. Thus, for many kids my age living in Chicago in the early '80s, our first exposure to porn--and, consequently, to Marilyn Chambers.
Of course, I'd heard of her before then. Who hadn't? Like Linda Lovelace before her and Jenna Jameson after, Marilyn made her mark not just of the adult industry and its related subcultures, but on pop culture in general, mostly because she went from a straight modeling career (she appeared as the adoring mom on the Ivory Snow soap box) to hardcore (in the Mitchell Brothers' now-infamous Behind the Green Door). She tried to branch out from time to time, appearing in David Cronenberg's Rabid and a few straight-to-cable/video efforts and even tried to establish a singing career, but found her most frequent work in porn from the early '70s until the late '80s, returning to the industry sporadically after that.
Marilyn wasn't the most beautiful porn star ever, but she threw herself into each scene with abundant enthusiasm and looked like she was having fun, natural fun, which made her fun to watch, even through the blurry screen of illicitly acquired On-TV.
Sunday night, Marilyn Chambers was found dead of as-yet undetermined causes at her home in California. She was 56 years old.
Chicago had two such services competing for our consumer dollars: On-TV and Spectrum. Both shared space with normal UHF stations, switching over to the pay service around 7 p.m. My family never bought into either service. Hell, we didn't even get cable until later that decade, more due to Chicago's large volume of red tape (i.e., politicians with their hands out, screaming "Where's mine?") than my family's notorious lagtime in keeping apace with advances in technology.
If you adjusted your TV's "rabbit ears" just right, though, depending upon atmospheric conditions and individual skill and patience, you could get the pay programming for free--usually with intermittent sound and a distorted/fuzzy picture. Thus, for many kids my age living in Chicago in the early '80s, our first exposure to porn--and, consequently, to Marilyn Chambers.
Of course, I'd heard of her before then. Who hadn't? Like Linda Lovelace before her and Jenna Jameson after, Marilyn made her mark not just of the adult industry and its related subcultures, but on pop culture in general, mostly because she went from a straight modeling career (she appeared as the adoring mom on the Ivory Snow soap box) to hardcore (in the Mitchell Brothers' now-infamous Behind the Green Door). She tried to branch out from time to time, appearing in David Cronenberg's Rabid and a few straight-to-cable/video efforts and even tried to establish a singing career, but found her most frequent work in porn from the early '70s until the late '80s, returning to the industry sporadically after that.
Marilyn wasn't the most beautiful porn star ever, but she threw herself into each scene with abundant enthusiasm and looked like she was having fun, natural fun, which made her fun to watch, even through the blurry screen of illicitly acquired On-TV.
Sunday night, Marilyn Chambers was found dead of as-yet undetermined causes at her home in California. She was 56 years old.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Friday is Bring Your Fertility Symbol(s) & Savior to Work Day
Today is Good Friday, though, as an agnostic, I've never understood why it's "Good," since it's the day Christ was crucified. (Perhaps one of my Catholic or Lutheran friends can explain this to me.)
It is certainly "Good" in the sense that it is Friday--which means the week ends (one hopes), it's Easter weekend (bring on The Ten Commandments!) and, of course, it's Bring Your Action Figure to Work Day.
Little Bunny Froo Froo, who has served as an Easter decoration at La Casa del Terror for quite some time (I think Mom got him as some sort of fabric softener premium and passed him on to me) and has been contentedly munching his carrot at my workstation all week, though the Pez dispensers are a brand-new addition.
(Isn't it interesting that the two holidays devoted to Jesus--Christmas and Easter--have appropriated so many pagan fertility symbols, like evergreens, eggs and rabbits?)
A less obvious, but vitally important, participant in today's display, however, is an action figure of the Man himself, tucked subtly onto the shelf of my cube so as not to offend coworkers who might think I'm being flip or disrespectful by bringing in a Jesus doll to work.
I intend no such disrespect, especially with this figure who, though He wasn't actually manufactured by the legendary Mego Corporation, was made using molds left over after Mego went out of business in 1983, and therefore is a pretty high-quality representation of Christ. He looks gentle, wise, friendly--just how I how I'd hope He would be.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Sparrow Story
While standing on the Loop el platform waiting for CTA to accommodate me and send a Brown Line train my way, I saw a sparrow hopping around on the planks behind me. It was small, as all sparrows are, but plump for its species.
Nonetheless, the sparrow appeared to be pecking for whatever crumbs some careless commuter might have dropped on the hurried way into the pausing-none-too-long maw of the el car. Finally, it found something worthy of the effort--from my vantage point, it appeared to be a Wheat Thin or some other kind of tiny snack cracker.
Just as it had begun to fill its beak with no-doubt morsels, two pigeons, each easily dwarfing the sparrow, landed on either side of the feasting area and began consuming the sparrow's hard-won meal.
This would not do.
After the sparrow had fled to a rusting support beam about 10 feet away, I walked over to where the pigeons were busily working away at the cracker. I did not yell, stomp my feet, kick or swing my workbag or hat. I just stood there, too close for comfort for the pair of avian interlopers.
I've been told that I'm an intimidating physical presence. I imagine that the effect is magnified for birds, for the two pigeons edged away from me, then took flight for heights or depths unknown.
I picked up the cracker and carefully moved over to the decaying support beam, where the sparrow remained patiently perched. I set the cracker down a few feet away and slowly stepped back. It eyed me warily until I'd moved far enough away for safety, then bounced over to its prize, scooped it up in its tiny beak and flew away.
Exactly.
Nonetheless, the sparrow appeared to be pecking for whatever crumbs some careless commuter might have dropped on the hurried way into the pausing-none-too-long maw of the el car. Finally, it found something worthy of the effort--from my vantage point, it appeared to be a Wheat Thin or some other kind of tiny snack cracker.
Just as it had begun to fill its beak with no-doubt morsels, two pigeons, each easily dwarfing the sparrow, landed on either side of the feasting area and began consuming the sparrow's hard-won meal.
This would not do.
After the sparrow had fled to a rusting support beam about 10 feet away, I walked over to where the pigeons were busily working away at the cracker. I did not yell, stomp my feet, kick or swing my workbag or hat. I just stood there, too close for comfort for the pair of avian interlopers.
I've been told that I'm an intimidating physical presence. I imagine that the effect is magnified for birds, for the two pigeons edged away from me, then took flight for heights or depths unknown.
I picked up the cracker and carefully moved over to the decaying support beam, where the sparrow remained patiently perched. I set the cracker down a few feet away and slowly stepped back. It eyed me warily until I'd moved far enough away for safety, then bounced over to its prize, scooped it up in its tiny beak and flew away.
Exactly.
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