Friday, June 16, 2006
Barefoot in the Park. Well Sorta!
In 1967, Neil Simon’s play Barefoot in the Park was brought to the big screen. There is a recurring theme of people about to have cardiac arrests after walking up five flights of stairs. When I lived in Vienna in 1968, we had to walk up 102 steps everyday. We eventually adjusted to the challenge. But, almost every day we saw people making their way up those stairs with their luggage, almost on the verge of physical collapse. They all could have been stand-ins for the ‘67 movie. In the movie, Paul Bratter (Robert Redford) is asked to prove his love for Corrie Bratter (Jane Fonda) by standing barefoot in the park. He refuses, but in the end he does relent and Corrie and Paul live happily ever after.
Way back in 1076, a personal feud broke out between Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor, and Pope Gregory VII. Both were strong-willed and both thought they were the top dog in Europe. Henry, as was his custom appointed priests and bishops at his pleasure without consulting the Pope. Church positions were filled with his appreciative cronies. One never knew when a friend in the pulpit might come in handy. Or when a priest might need to look the other way, when one's sins begin to pile up like gift wrapping on Christmas day. Now, Gregory was not the sort to look the other way at transgressors. He was determined to bring every sinner in Europe to his knees—especially the high and mighty and pretentious Henry IV. So the Pope ordered his Royal Highness to stop appointing people to church positions. When he received his cease and desist orders, Henry laughed. He thought, “Who does this Gregory guy think he is?” “Was he born yesterday?” “Doesn’t he know that kings have been appointing friends and associates to lucrative positions for years?” “The next thing you know, he will be asking us to actually send the tithes to Rome!” So Henry decided to show his strength by appointing a new batch of church leaders.
When word of these appointments reached Gregory he was furious. So furious that he excommunicated Henry. The Holy Roman Emperor lived by the creed, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”—not even if they come from the mouth of the Pope himself. Now Henry was not a particular popular monarch and his subjects seized on the excommunication issue to rise up in rebellion. In a few short weeks Henry was an Emperor without an Empire. The Pope seemingly had won. But, Henry thought of everything as a temporary setback. He was determined to track Gregory down and ask for forgiveness. He went looking for the Pope, but the Pope did not wish to be found. For several months there took place one of the most memorable games of hide-and-seek in human history. But, in January 1077, Henry found Gregory in the small Italian town of Canossa. For three days Henry stood barefoot in the snow, crying crocodile tears and begging forgiveness. The last thing the Pope wanted was to forgive dear old Henry, but what choice did he have. Either he must forgive the old reprobate or tear the concept of forgiveness from Church doctrine. So he forgave his enemy. And his enemy returned to Germany to put his Empire back in order, and then headed back to Rome to teach the Pope a little lesson of his own. To make a long story short, Pope Gregory died in exile. In retrospect, Canossa was not a victory for the Pope, but a win for his Royal Highness.
Standing barefoot in the snow really gets one’s emotions flowing. At least that seems to be what an Ann Arbor, Michigan, man was thinking back in early June. True, there was no snow, but he must have seen Robert Redford. The man had just proposed and been turned down by his girlfriend who pleaded that she did not think she was ready for marriage. What could he do to change her mind? In a twinkling it hit him like an excommunication order. He jumped out his first-floor window and stripped off his clothes to prove his love. Now, admittedly he wasn’t exactly barefooted. He was just bare. Suddenly he realized that someone is approaching and jumps into the bushes. A man seeing the bushes moving and bare feet sticking out from beneath them, takes out a gun and orders the man to step out from behind his erstwhile fig leaves. Now, we don’t know what our suitor was thinking when he saw the gun, but we can be sure that he had completely forgotten about his marriage proposal. Feeling cold and embarrassed, he tried to flee the scene. For some strange reason the second gentleman started firing his gun at the fleeing suspect. Now, at this point we can be dead certain that our suitor’s mind had wandered far from the annals of love. The “lover” was eventually captured by the police and released after they heard his story. No mention has been made about whether his girlfriend changed her mind. But the moral of this story is simple. The shoes ma’am, just the shoes!
In 1967, Neil Simon’s play Barefoot in the Park was brought to the big screen. There is a recurring theme of people about to have cardiac arrests after walking up five flights of stairs. When I lived in Vienna in 1968, we had to walk up 102 steps everyday. We eventually adjusted to the challenge. But, almost every day we saw people making their way up those stairs with their luggage, almost on the verge of physical collapse. They all could have been stand-ins for the ‘67 movie. In the movie, Paul Bratter (Robert Redford) is asked to prove his love for Corrie Bratter (Jane Fonda) by standing barefoot in the park. He refuses, but in the end he does relent and Corrie and Paul live happily ever after.
Way back in 1076, a personal feud broke out between Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor, and Pope Gregory VII. Both were strong-willed and both thought they were the top dog in Europe. Henry, as was his custom appointed priests and bishops at his pleasure without consulting the Pope. Church positions were filled with his appreciative cronies. One never knew when a friend in the pulpit might come in handy. Or when a priest might need to look the other way, when one's sins begin to pile up like gift wrapping on Christmas day. Now, Gregory was not the sort to look the other way at transgressors. He was determined to bring every sinner in Europe to his knees—especially the high and mighty and pretentious Henry IV. So the Pope ordered his Royal Highness to stop appointing people to church positions. When he received his cease and desist orders, Henry laughed. He thought, “Who does this Gregory guy think he is?” “Was he born yesterday?” “Doesn’t he know that kings have been appointing friends and associates to lucrative positions for years?” “The next thing you know, he will be asking us to actually send the tithes to Rome!” So Henry decided to show his strength by appointing a new batch of church leaders.
When word of these appointments reached Gregory he was furious. So furious that he excommunicated Henry. The Holy Roman Emperor lived by the creed, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”—not even if they come from the mouth of the Pope himself. Now Henry was not a particular popular monarch and his subjects seized on the excommunication issue to rise up in rebellion. In a few short weeks Henry was an Emperor without an Empire. The Pope seemingly had won. But, Henry thought of everything as a temporary setback. He was determined to track Gregory down and ask for forgiveness. He went looking for the Pope, but the Pope did not wish to be found. For several months there took place one of the most memorable games of hide-and-seek in human history. But, in January 1077, Henry found Gregory in the small Italian town of Canossa. For three days Henry stood barefoot in the snow, crying crocodile tears and begging forgiveness. The last thing the Pope wanted was to forgive dear old Henry, but what choice did he have. Either he must forgive the old reprobate or tear the concept of forgiveness from Church doctrine. So he forgave his enemy. And his enemy returned to Germany to put his Empire back in order, and then headed back to Rome to teach the Pope a little lesson of his own. To make a long story short, Pope Gregory died in exile. In retrospect, Canossa was not a victory for the Pope, but a win for his Royal Highness.
Standing barefoot in the snow really gets one’s emotions flowing. At least that seems to be what an Ann Arbor, Michigan, man was thinking back in early June. True, there was no snow, but he must have seen Robert Redford. The man had just proposed and been turned down by his girlfriend who pleaded that she did not think she was ready for marriage. What could he do to change her mind? In a twinkling it hit him like an excommunication order. He jumped out his first-floor window and stripped off his clothes to prove his love. Now, admittedly he wasn’t exactly barefooted. He was just bare. Suddenly he realized that someone is approaching and jumps into the bushes. A man seeing the bushes moving and bare feet sticking out from beneath them, takes out a gun and orders the man to step out from behind his erstwhile fig leaves. Now, we don’t know what our suitor was thinking when he saw the gun, but we can be sure that he had completely forgotten about his marriage proposal. Feeling cold and embarrassed, he tried to flee the scene. For some strange reason the second gentleman started firing his gun at the fleeing suspect. Now, at this point we can be dead certain that our suitor’s mind had wandered far from the annals of love. The “lover” was eventually captured by the police and released after they heard his story. No mention has been made about whether his girlfriend changed her mind. But the moral of this story is simple. The shoes ma’am, just the shoes!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Just Kidding!
In Tortilla Flat Pilon (Spencer Tracy) tells his friend to throw some rocks at a fishing boat. The fishermen must retaliate, so they start hurling fish back. Presto! Dinner is served. An implausible scenario? Not necessarily so! On Saturday, June 10, the Coast Guard sent a raft into the small boat harbor at Valdez to do a boom check to make sure there would not be another oil spill. Two workers asked their boss what the Coast Guard was doing in their harbor. “I have no idea,” he explained. They then asked what they should do. Obviously with something more important on his mind, he replied something to the effect: “I don’t know. Why don’t you go throw some rocks at them.” Not wishing to seem the least bit insubordinate, they did just that. Unfortunately, they hit an officer who was not amused. The two workers and their boss were all terminated. This was the Coast Guard—not Tortilla Flat. They were maybe expecting the Coast Guard to heave some king salmon at them.
Only two days earlier a student at Walled Lake, Michigan, told his chemistry teacher that he was going to make some TNT for his final class project. The teacher must have been having a bad day. He said something to the effect: “Sure! Go right ahead. Make my day!” The student was frantically at work mixing chemicals in three beakers trying to cook up some of the explosive from an Internet recipe. The teacher walked by and asked him what he was working on. In short order the lab was evacuated and a bomb squad called. The student explained that he only wanted to make enough to blow up a watermelon. Now every experienced teacher I know would never tell a teenager to follow though on some hare-brained idea. Too many “bomb squads” have been called in in the past.
Back in December, 1924, Benito Mussolini complained about one of his Socialist opponents. When some of his buddies asked what they should do. IL Duce remarked, “Why don’t some of you take him for a little ride.” Now, you just did not joke with Mussolini’s Blackshirts. They were not the joking types. So they took Mr. Matteoti for a little ride. His friends found his body a week or so later. The ensuing scandal almost destroyed Mr. Mussolini.
Now for a word to the wise. Even if you don’t live in a glass house, don’t go throwing rocks at the Coast Guard. They won’t like it. If your son asks if it is ok to mix up a little TNT, don’t respond with “Go ask your mother!” And never, but never, go for a “little ride” with anyone wearing a black shirt or with several loose wires hanging out from his shirt. True, they might be stereo wires, but you never know if the bomb squad will be around if you really need them.
In Tortilla Flat Pilon (Spencer Tracy) tells his friend to throw some rocks at a fishing boat. The fishermen must retaliate, so they start hurling fish back. Presto! Dinner is served. An implausible scenario? Not necessarily so! On Saturday, June 10, the Coast Guard sent a raft into the small boat harbor at Valdez to do a boom check to make sure there would not be another oil spill. Two workers asked their boss what the Coast Guard was doing in their harbor. “I have no idea,” he explained. They then asked what they should do. Obviously with something more important on his mind, he replied something to the effect: “I don’t know. Why don’t you go throw some rocks at them.” Not wishing to seem the least bit insubordinate, they did just that. Unfortunately, they hit an officer who was not amused. The two workers and their boss were all terminated. This was the Coast Guard—not Tortilla Flat. They were maybe expecting the Coast Guard to heave some king salmon at them.
Only two days earlier a student at Walled Lake, Michigan, told his chemistry teacher that he was going to make some TNT for his final class project. The teacher must have been having a bad day. He said something to the effect: “Sure! Go right ahead. Make my day!” The student was frantically at work mixing chemicals in three beakers trying to cook up some of the explosive from an Internet recipe. The teacher walked by and asked him what he was working on. In short order the lab was evacuated and a bomb squad called. The student explained that he only wanted to make enough to blow up a watermelon. Now every experienced teacher I know would never tell a teenager to follow though on some hare-brained idea. Too many “bomb squads” have been called in in the past.
Back in December, 1924, Benito Mussolini complained about one of his Socialist opponents. When some of his buddies asked what they should do. IL Duce remarked, “Why don’t some of you take him for a little ride.” Now, you just did not joke with Mussolini’s Blackshirts. They were not the joking types. So they took Mr. Matteoti for a little ride. His friends found his body a week or so later. The ensuing scandal almost destroyed Mr. Mussolini.
Now for a word to the wise. Even if you don’t live in a glass house, don’t go throwing rocks at the Coast Guard. They won’t like it. If your son asks if it is ok to mix up a little TNT, don’t respond with “Go ask your mother!” And never, but never, go for a “little ride” with anyone wearing a black shirt or with several loose wires hanging out from his shirt. True, they might be stereo wires, but you never know if the bomb squad will be around if you really need them.
Monday, June 12, 2006
When in Doubt!
Marijuana has been found growing on the courthouse lawn in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A local TV station had it tested to be sure it was the real thing. The official explanation was that seed must have been mixed in with dirt spread on the lawn. Sure. The stuff must get to a certain height before it can be recognized. And don’t they bother to mow the lawn up there in South Dakota. Keep the grass cut short and no one will ever notice.
Reminds me of an incidence in Columbia County, Arkansas, some years ago. The local sheriff got wind of some marijuana growing on an empty lot. He sent out his deputies and they started cutting away. They burned most of it. Some people with more experience in these matters wandered by and told the law officers that what they had was not the real stuff. The sheriff dismissed this unsolicited advice. Botanists from Southern Arkansas University were then called in and they categorically denied that the “vine” was marijuana. The sheriff still did not believe them.
Less than a year later some of his inmates were found growing marijuana in a storage shed at the jail. If memory serves me correctly, he denied that what they were growing was grass. At least it did not look like what they had been burning a few months earlier.
For a while we had a large sofa-size painting hanging on our wall. It was an okra plant, but ¾ of the people who saw it, thought it was marijuana. They had never seen an okra plant. Now, I know an okra plant when I see one. I have picked many a bucket of okra pods with long sleeves on. Now, if you have ever picked okra, you recognize the need for the sleeves. Most people are highly sensitive to the plant, which will sting almost as badly as a bull nettle if you brush against its leaves with bare skin. Not everyone can recognize marijuana, but anyone who has ever been stung by okra leaves can sure recognize that plant if they should ever see it again. For those who have never seen either plant, the okra pods are a good method of telling the difference. If you burn marijuana, it smells like a tow sack burning. (A tow sack by another name would be a gunnysack or a tow bag). And for a long time tow sacks were made of hemp. I don’t know if you can get high from smoking a piece of a tow sack or not. But, if you are smoking anything that even vaguely smells like hemp, stay away from Columbia County. And I would stay away if you were smoking anything that grows on a vine as well.
Now what advise can I give you about Sioux Falls? Smoke anything you want. Nobody can tell the difference there anyway.
Marijuana has been found growing on the courthouse lawn in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A local TV station had it tested to be sure it was the real thing. The official explanation was that seed must have been mixed in with dirt spread on the lawn. Sure. The stuff must get to a certain height before it can be recognized. And don’t they bother to mow the lawn up there in South Dakota. Keep the grass cut short and no one will ever notice.
Reminds me of an incidence in Columbia County, Arkansas, some years ago. The local sheriff got wind of some marijuana growing on an empty lot. He sent out his deputies and they started cutting away. They burned most of it. Some people with more experience in these matters wandered by and told the law officers that what they had was not the real stuff. The sheriff dismissed this unsolicited advice. Botanists from Southern Arkansas University were then called in and they categorically denied that the “vine” was marijuana. The sheriff still did not believe them.
Less than a year later some of his inmates were found growing marijuana in a storage shed at the jail. If memory serves me correctly, he denied that what they were growing was grass. At least it did not look like what they had been burning a few months earlier.
For a while we had a large sofa-size painting hanging on our wall. It was an okra plant, but ¾ of the people who saw it, thought it was marijuana. They had never seen an okra plant. Now, I know an okra plant when I see one. I have picked many a bucket of okra pods with long sleeves on. Now, if you have ever picked okra, you recognize the need for the sleeves. Most people are highly sensitive to the plant, which will sting almost as badly as a bull nettle if you brush against its leaves with bare skin. Not everyone can recognize marijuana, but anyone who has ever been stung by okra leaves can sure recognize that plant if they should ever see it again. For those who have never seen either plant, the okra pods are a good method of telling the difference. If you burn marijuana, it smells like a tow sack burning. (A tow sack by another name would be a gunnysack or a tow bag). And for a long time tow sacks were made of hemp. I don’t know if you can get high from smoking a piece of a tow sack or not. But, if you are smoking anything that even vaguely smells like hemp, stay away from Columbia County. And I would stay away if you were smoking anything that grows on a vine as well.
Now what advise can I give you about Sioux Falls? Smoke anything you want. Nobody can tell the difference there anyway.
