Septuagenarian Blues

Dreamed last night I was twenty-five.

Yeah, dreamed I was only twenty-five.

Woke up to find I'm seventy-eight,

But glad I still can jive.

They say seven's a lucky number.

I hear seven is a lucky number.

Now I got a lotta sevens,

So why's it feel like such a bummer?

Got those septuagenarian blues.

Oh mama, septuagenarian blues.

But I still got the jam

To wear my dancin' shoes.

Gonna boogie all day, boogie all night.

Boogie thru the day, boogie thru the night.

I may be an ol' geezer,

But my baby treats me right.

My baby said "You a septuagenarian.

Uh-huh, you a septuagenarian.

But Daddy, I am gonna love you

'Til you're a centenarian."

PD Writer Surfaces in California

POINTLESS DIGRESSIONS WRITER FOUND IN PISMO BEACH, CA

The senior writer for the syndicated blog "Pointless Digressions" has been located in the parking lot of a convenience store in Pismo Beach, California.

An executive of the internationally famous online feature said the writer had not been seen since leaving the Pointless Digressions holiday party.  "He said he was in search of inspiration," the executive said.  "He left the room wearing his party hat and carrying the punch bowl.  That was the last we saw of him."

Police in Pismo Beach said the PD writer "was apprehended telling shaggy dog stories and doing a very bad impersonation of Dean Martin."

The Pointless Digressions team said their leader is ready to return to work, after an intense period of rehabilitation watching old Three Stooges shorts.  His first assignment will be a recap of the year's major stories.

"I'm up for it," he said.  "Just remind me what year it was--1975 or '76?"

Christmas (or Tennis) with Bob and Mel

Okay, we've told this story before, but it bears repeating, and besides, we still have to bake the gingerbread reindeer.

You all know "The Christmas Song", written by Bob Wells (words) and Mel Torme (music).  In fact, you may have recorded it.  Almost everyone else has.  Among those who have delivered their versions of the song:  Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Aaron Neville, Doris Day, Chicago, Celtic Woman, Hootie & the Blowfish, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, Twisted Sister, Herb Alpert, and Big Bird and the Swedish Chef.

The story, of course, is that Bob and Mel wrote "The Christmas Song" in the middle of a blisteringly hot Los Angeles summer.  Mel had gone to Bob's digs for a game of tennis, and while Bob was changing into his whites, Mel spotted some notes scribbled on a pad on the piano: "Chestnuts roasting..Jack Frost nipping..Yuletide carols..Folks dressed up like Eskimos."  (You could say "Eskimos" then; try to rhyme something with "Inuit.")

When Bob came down, Mel said, "I think we've got a song here." Within forty minutes they had it written, and Mel said, "This is right for Nat.  Let's take it to him."  Which they did.  And although Mel and Bob kept on doing what they did for decades (it was twenty-five years before Mel recorded "The Christmas Song" himself) they could have retired to Monaco or Tahiti on the royalties.

Imagine what would have happened, or not happened, if, when Mel said "I think we've got a song here" Bob had said, "Naw, forget it, Mel. Let's go play tennis."

Yuletide Reading/Listening/Viewing

Here we are in what, for some, may be a quiet, tranquil prelude to Christmas.  (This does not include those who will be shopping for gifts at 9:00 p.m. Christmas Eve at the corner Chevron station.)

But if you have time, now or later, may we suggest some items for reading, listening and viewing.

Reading:  It is almost obligatory to re-read "A Christmas Carol" each year; "Cricket on the Hearth" optional.  But a less familiar choice would be John Cheever's short story "Christmas Is a Sad Season for the Poor" which, despite its title, is a comedy.

Listening:  The best jazz performances of Christmas music are--to these ears--"England's Carol" by the Modern Jazz Quartet, a wild "Sleigh Ride" by Art Pepper and Richie Cole, Dexter Gordon's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and, surprisingly,"Away in a Manger", given a Brahmsian mode by George Shearing and Don Thompson.

Viewing:  Alastair Sims's Scrooge in "A Christmas Carol" cannot be matched, but for a different take on the tale, try Bill Murray's "Scrooged", with John Forsythe in the Marley role, Carol Kane as a punch-throwing Ghost, and Miles Davis as a street busker.  For a truly noir Yuletide yarn, there is "Christmas Holiday", based on a Somerset Maugham novel, with Gene Kelly as a non-dancing ne'er-do-well and Deanna Durbin--yes!--singing torch songs. 

Okay, two more days to attempt to be nice, erasing all the year's naughtiness.  Because soon we'll be saying, with Louis Armstrong, "Zat You, Santy Claus?"

Christmas Gifts

Dear (insert name of recipient):

Wishing to eschew the crassness of Christmas commercialism, the frantic gift buying, the catastrophic debt accumulation, the crowds, the mall music, the pushing, the shoving (sorry, grandma on the escalator), we have decided this year to approach gift-giving with a nobler purpose in mind--not in self aggrandizement, but as a helping hand to others. 

And that is why, instead of the usual gift you receive, we have taken this approach:  we have given your name, address, and credit card numbers to several suspect charities, many of which have found fundraising difficult since having their tax receipt classification removed.

We have also given your telephone number to Telemarketers International, an association that represents several hundred telemarketing companies.  We know you'll be looking forward eagerly to their calls! 

And so, Merry Christmas, friends!  And please don't thank us. Christmas is all about giving. 

Happy holidays!  (Your name here)    

Dropping in on the Claus Family

"So where were you, all afternoon?"

"You know my job, I have to be at the shopping mall, talking to children."

"So you say.  Where'd you get the bourbon breath?"

"A fellow dropped by who remembered me from his childhood.  He was carrying a flask to ward off the cold, and it would have been churlish to refuse a sip."

"The way it would have been churlish not to clutch that bimbo under the mistletoe for fifteen minutes?"

"Merely comforting her.  She didn't find what she was looking for in her stocking."

"I saw you helping her look."

"Ah, but enough of this badinage, my dear.  It's a time of jollity and good cheer.  Tell me, how have the elves progressed at their toy-making?"  

"Toy-making--ha!  The fuzz finally busted their grow-op!  Took 'em all away, in their little pointy caps."

"(Sigh) Well, how about the reindeer?  Have they been fed and shod?"

"Yes, Jelly-Belly, but you'd better stop giving Rudolph those fermented oats.  His nose is turning red."

Feast of St. Lucy

Today is the feast of St. Lucy, patron saint of writers.  On our behalf she deals with missed deadlines, rejection slips, writer's block, and difficult editors (whose patron is St. John Bosco). 

Ave, St, Lucy!  Celebrate by taking a writer to lunch.  (Will write for food.  And maybe a drink.) 

Superstar Politicians--All Singing, All Dancing!

Prime Minister Stephen Harper delighted his followers at a Conservative Christmas party by donning what appeared to be a modified Nehru leisure suit ($27.95, Value Village) and performing several songs familiar to people of his generation.  Partygoers, stimulated by decaf coffee and de-alcoholized fruit smoothies, leapt to their feet and gyrated wildly.

Opposition parties immediately began planning how to counter this performance.  It has been suggested that NDP leader Jack Layton, at his party's Christmas gathering, will perform Feats of Strength, while the Liberals' Michael Ignatieff is said to be practicing Interpretive Dance.   

Meanwhile, the latest Ipsos-Reid poll shows that the choice of a majority of Canadians for Prime Minister is Justin Bieber.  

Rich Blues

The news that tax breaks introduced by President George W. Bush would be extended brought sighs of relief from the group described by Andy Borowitz as "the wealthiest .0000001% of Americans."  

Many had feared the tax cuts would be eliminated, causing great anxiety among the nation's zillionaires.  This angst among the wealthy reminded one of our correspondents of the Martin Mull song "Rich Blues," which includes these heartfelt lyrics:   

"I got up this morning and my new Mercedes was gone.

 Yes, I got up this morning and my new Mercedes was gone.

 Well, I got so damn depressed I threw my drink across the lawn."

They don't write songs like that any more.

Feast of Sant Nikolaas

December 6--Feast of Sant Nikolaas, whose name long ago morphed into "Santa Claus."

Sant Nikolaas is the patron saint of children, but also of sailors, travelers, bakers, brewers and pawnbrokers.

Today we visit the bakers and brewers.  

Tomorrow, the pawnbrokers.

Ye olde Christmas Musick Shoppe

Some of us were once fortunate to work at a radio station that played no Christmas music before December 15, and if anyone had played "Jingle Bell Rock" at any time, he would have been banished to our sister station in Minsk and all records of his existence expunged.

You will know, of course, that this restraint no longer obtains, and no sooner have the tender strains of "Monster Mash" returned to their ethereal realm than we are bombarded with "Silver Bells," "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," and other pop tunes more saccharine than a truckload of sugar plums. 

Our idea of a seasonal tune is "Jauchzet, frolocket!", the opening chorus from the Christmas Oratorio by J.S. Bach (whose twenty or so kinder would have preferred to get the royalties from "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer").

Okay, we know we're sounding Grinch-like here, but it's because of a deep regard for the traditional songs of Christmas.  

Hark!  Here comes one now!  It's "Yogi Yorgenson," with "I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas." Let's sing along! 

Political Notes from Disneyland BC

The current political scene has become, for reporters and columnists, the equivalent of last summer's salmon run for fishermen.  Both of British Columbia's leading political parties continue to provide a smorgasbord of material, day after day.

On one side, we have several wannabe premiers vying for leadership of the Liberal party, and working hard to distance themselves from Gordon Campbell.  "Gordon who?" they say.  And HST?  "Gosh, I don't think I was there that day" or "I thought HST was a signal for Thanksgiving: Have Some Turkey."

In the other camp, we find the NDP imploding.  However, current leader Carole James remains unfazed.  "I look on the bright side," she said.  "Way fewer Christmas cards to send this year."

Meanwhile, Randy and Evy Quaid remind us that they are still available to lead either party or both, with a pledge to drive out the Starwhackers.

Nero Wolfe's creator arrives on the scene

December 1: This date in 1886, Rex Stout, creator of Nero Wolfe, Archie Goodwin, and all the other residents of the famous brownstone on New York's West 35th Street, is born in Noblesville, Indiana, arriving on the scene of many fictional crimes.  

Wolfe and company appeared in a staggering number of novels and short stories, from "Fer-de-Lance" in 1934 to "A Family Affair" in 1975.

Send out for orchids and beer.

Grey Cup Upsets

Several residents of Botox, Saskatchewan, faced the stomach pump after consuming a pot of turkey chili.  Wilbur Scragg, host for the Grey Cup party, said, "We figured we better hurry up and eat that turkey because it'd been lookin' pretty sick all week."

Another Grey Cup party held in Fallen Arches, Sask., produced what several of those attending described as "the Big Momma of hangovers." Guests had been served what host Orville Mintz called his "Big Green Machine Cocktail," a blend of spinach juice and rye.  Mintz defended his punch, saying, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  

Finally, Marvin Flinders of Wishbone, Sask., found he was unable to remove his watermelon helmet, which he had attached to his head with Crazy Glue.  "But," said Marvin, "look on the bright side:  I won't have to go huntin' for a watermelon next fall."

Job Hunting

"Danny!  Hi, Gord here.  Gord, you remember--we met at the First Ministers Conference.  The guy with the big potash?  No, that would be Brad Wall of Saskatchewan.  Oh, sorry--I thought you said 'potash.' Ha ha.  

"Well, on to the reason for my call.  Dan, I commend you for following your bliss, or whatever you folks on The Rock call it, and I wish you all the very best.  But Dan, boyo--all right if I call you boyo?--your leaving will leave a huge gap in your province's government, and you need someone with depth of experience to fill that spot.

"Now, as luck would have it, I find I will be available in February, and--Dan?  Dan?  Have we been cut off?  

"Maybe I should try half an hour later in Newfoundland."

Nathanael West

Consulting "A Book of Days for the Literary Year," one of the many sources from which we steal material, we note that on this date in 1921, Nathanael West flunked out of Tufts, where he had gained admission by using the high school transcripts of someone who happened to have the same name. 

This is only one of the reasons to admire Nathanael West (ne Nathan Von Wallenstein Weinstein--and what are the chances of finding someone else with that name?); another is his habit, while managing his family's Kenmore Hall Hotel, of letting his indigent artist, writer and musician friends live there rent-free.

Okay, the main reason to raise a glass to the memory of Nathanael West is the set of short novels he published, two of which--"Miss Lonelyhearts" and "The Day of the Locust"--are modern classics.

West was married to Eileen McKenney, the original of "My Sister Eileen," which has to be one more reason to admire him.  

Both were killed in a motor vehicle accident.  West was thirty-seven years old. 

The Political Scene...such as it is

A reader writes:  "Who was British Columbia's last Liberal premier?"

Answer:  Mike Harcourt.

Reader Two writes:  "What will happen if a half-dozen cabinet ministers compete for leadership of the Liberals?"

Answer:  A crew is ready to film a new reality TV show: "Survivor--BC Politics."

Finally, this query:  "Is it true the NDP was at its best when it had only two sitting MLAs, Joy McPhail and Jenny Kwan?" 

Answer:  Often, less is more.

Political Leaders Respond

Besieged political leaders Gordon Campbell and Carole James today responded to criticisms of their performance.

First, Premier (still) Campbell:  "I am not a bully.  I am a kind, sensitive, caring person, fond of children, dumb animals and cabinet ministers.  What's more, I am much slimmer than television cameras make me appear."

Next, NDP leader (still) James:  "I am pleased to say that I have the overwhelming support of our caucus members.  Besides that, I am hotter than Jenny Kwan.  Note to caucus loyalists: consider those yellow scarves your Christmas gift." 

Is there an opening now for a new party in British Columbia? "Indeed,"said one veteran political analyst. "I'm predicting enormous gains for the Tupperware Party."  

 

Chuck Davis has the Last Word

Chuck Davis was a wordsmith; that is, he made his living by moving words around.  It may not have been a lavish living--wordsmiths do not rank with, for example, orthodontists--but it can be fun, and it keeps one from being forced, in Dave Barry's words, to get an actual job. 

Our friend Chuck wrote newspaper columns, magazine articles and books; he was a disc jockey, news reader and host of a quiz show; he played Scrabble at the international tournament level; and he created crossword puzzles and anagrams.  "Saturday Night" was pleased to publish his anagram of "Robertson Davies."  It read "Read it over, snobs."  David Letterman received his anagram of "Late Show with David Letterman."  Chuck rearranged the letters to spell "Love that lewd, twisted hair, man!"  In short, Chuck Davis did what Myles Murchison, another excellent and protean wordsmith, called "the heterogeneous other work necessary to stay afloat as a writer in Canada."  

Chuck's magnum opus, his version of Balzac's "Human Comedy," was a history of Vancouver, in which he hoped to cram every known and obscure fact about the city and its inhabitants.  It was an heroic undertaking, but some of us wish he had taken time off to write what might have been more entertaining: his autobiography. 

He ended a magazine column aptly titled Wordbrain with these lines: "A Great Mystery, this placing of words.  And when I've figured it out, you'll be the first to know." 

We'll be waiting.  

Prime Time Broadcast from Victoria

"Good evening, fellow British Columbians.  I'm here to clear up a few misunderstandings regarding my totally benevolent rule of this province.  Now, I know many are wondering 'Is our Premier a bully?'  I am here to state categorically, I am not a bully."

"Uh, sir?  You might want to put your arms down and stop giving the V sign.  Too strong an association with you-know-who."

"Thank you, whoever you are.  Don't interrupt again unless you want to be assigned to swabbing the heads on BC Ferries.  Now, where was I?  Ah, yes.  To prove my point, i have with me some of my loyal minions, I mean colleagues.  Here they are now--Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Bashful and Doc."

"Excuse me, sir, but where are Happy and Grumpy?"

"There is no Happy in this group, and Grumpy was kicked out.  Back to my address.  It is said that I control my team with abusive, intimidating behavior.  I ask my assembled slaves:  is that true?"

"No sir, not at--ouch!--all, sir."

"Sleepy, wake up and read your lines!  And it has been said that I sometimes shout in people's face, spraying them with spit.  Is that true?"

"No sir, never, un-uh."

"Thank you.  Here, have a Kleenex.  And finally, is it not preposterous that some claim I am given to profane rage?'

"What some disgruntled people will say."

"Exactly.  Totally *&#$%+! PREPOSTEROUUUS!!  Thank you for joining me in this fireside chat.  Now, any questions?"

"Just one, sir.  What will you do after leaving office?"

"Well, I could get out my old guitar; I hear that hootenannies are coming back.  Or I could be a spokesperson for Jenny Craig.  But why worry?  Who says I'm leaving?"

"Uh--you did, sir."

"Yeah?  Just wait 'til the leadership convention."

Hit Song of the Week in Victoria

Won't you come back, Bill Bennett?

Won't you come back?

We miss you in our mob.

Please say you'll come back, Bill Bennett,

Say you'll come back.

We'll give you your old job.

I'm sorry I spat on you

And drove you to tears--

I guess that's just my style.

But say you'll come back, Bill Bennett,

Say you'll come back,

And then we all will smile!

Gord? Still here?

Gordon Campbell's reluctance to leave office after resigning as Premier of British Columbia is proving to be a source of frustration for many Liberal MLAs who were prepared to say "Adios, Gordo!"

We are reminded of an episode when playwright George S. Kaufman encountered a Hollywood colleague on the lot days after the other writer had announced he was leaving for New York. "Well," said Kaufman, "here you are, forgotten but not gone."   

Air Canada finds Fountain of Youth

Air Canada announced today it has discovered the long sought Fountain of Youth.  At a news conference hosted in part by the publishers of "Parapsychology Today" and "Weird Tales," an airline spokesman revealed the location of the Fountain of Youth.  "It is," he said, "in the bathroom of our plane flying from Shanghai." 

Amid gasps, Air Canada spokesman Fernand Lariviere continued his riveting account:  "It was thought," he said, "that the passenger who boarded the plane as an elderly person and emerged from the bathroom as a fresh-faced youth had been traveling in disguise.  But no!  The truth is, that passenger did indeed board as a wrinkled, decrepit octogenarian, but, once exposed to the magic of Air Canada's exclusive, trade mark registered Fountain of Youth, was magically transformed into a young, virile, I might even say hot, young man of twenty-five."

Reporters scrambled to file their stories, while Air Canada introduced its new marketing program:  The Fountain of Youth Tour.  Special rates for seniors. 

Write and Grow Rich

November 8:  This date in 1900, Theodore Dreiser's first novel, "Sister Carrie," was published.  A total of 456 copies was sold, earning Dreiser royalties of $68.40.

This may not seem much, but it was more than ten times the royalties William Faulkner received for "Soldier's Pay."  That early novel brought the chronicler of Oknapatawpha County (and future Nobel Prize winner) a staggering six dollars.  

And people wonder why writers drink.

Movember Moustaches

Again this year, this month has been renamed "Movember," the "Mo" standing for "Moustache." The idea behind this is that by growing a moustache, men will draw attention to the need for research/treatment/prevention of prostate cancer.  Okay, you figure out the connection.

When the moustache had a resurgence of popularity, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the most common style was the Pancho Villa (or the Emiliano Zapata, depending on one's choice of Mexican revolutionary). Today, most tyro moustache growers seem to favor either the Hulk Hogan, which makes the wearer look as though he had been eating linguine con vongole or coconut cream pie, or the Sydney Crosby, a style not seen since Charlie Chaplin's in "Monsieur Verdoux" and which resembles a small insect crawling across the upper lip.

So far as we know, no one has essayed the Salvador Dali, and no one is likely to beat the record for length of Birger Pellas of Malmo, Sweden, whose moustache had grown, by the mid-1990s, to ten feet. If he has not trimmed it since then, he can wrap himself in it on cold winter nights. 

Where is respect for the noble moustache?  Why are we not emulating the great moustache wearers of yesteryear--Ronald Colman..Errol Flynn..Cesar Romero..Alice B. Toklas?

Good luck cultivating your facial foliage this Movember.  As for us--please pass the moustache wax.

  

In Breathless Pursuit

We were surprised, reading a review in the Times Literary Supplement of a collection of letters to and from Bruce Chatwin to come across a name very familiar, but not one we expected to find in the TLS.

A letter sent to Chatwin near the end of his life, when the author of "In Patagonia" was in a hypomaniacal phase--the result of both AIDS and a rare Chinese fungus that attacked his brain--is described by reviewer William Dalrymple as "a loving farewell note." 

The letter writer had visited Chatwin, and left, he said, full of "dark and strange thoughts. You seemed in a realm of exultation--extreme physical dilapidation seems to have sent you shooting up into the sky with the angels...Over it all hung an unmistakable air of Nunc Dimittis...It is quite possible that you experience this apparent frenzy from inside some deep calm...But those who love you--and see only the outside--see someone haunted and in breathless pursuit.  I'm not sure it is among the offices of friendship to convey my sense of foreboding and disquiet at how I saw you.  I may just be expressing a friend's regret at losing you to a great wave of conviction, to some gust of certainty, that leaves me here, rooted to the spot and you carried away.  In which case, I can only wave you onto your journey."

Dalrymple called this "perhaps the single most wonderful letter in the [554-page] volume" and the editors chose a phrase from it--"in breathless pursuit"--to be the title of the review.

The writer of that letter?  Michael Ignatieff.

Adieu, Gordo

British Columbia Premier Gordon Campbell, waddling his way to a microphone, announced today that he would vacate his position as Big Cheese of the province.  It was an announcement that left nine percent of the electorate bereft. 

Almost immediately, Premier Campbell's accomplishments in office were recalled--mainly by Mr. Campbell. 

Attention now turns to who may be the next leader of the party masquerading as Liberals.  It is thought Mr. Peanut and Dr. Bundolo may come out of retirement, but the great hope on the scene is new British Columbian Randy Quaid.  

A spokesperson said "Mr. Quaid has shown his ability in following a clown by playing second banana to Chevy Chase in the National Lampoon Vacations films. We believe he has what is required to take British Columbians to their next HST, PMS or LSD."  

Meanwhile, the rumor that Roseanne Barr may take over the NDP from Carole James remains unconfirmed.   

Health Notes from All Over

A trio of Canadian doctors has issued a news release stating that KFC's 540-calorie Double Down (bacon, cheese and the Colonel's secret sauce, sandwiched between fried chicken breasts) is better for you than one egg yolk.  The doctors have received the Colonel Sanders Award for Medical Breakthroughs and a special deal on a bucket of chicken.

In England, the medical journal "The Lancet" has declared that the most dangerous drug of all is alcohol.  This news has meant a quick boost in the share values of crack and crystal meth.  (And we always thought Crystal Meth was an exotic dancer.)

Finally, researchers announced that the best way to avoid catching a cold is to exercise vigorously, twenty minutes a day, five days a week. We launched into a 5BX regimen with a vengeance, and found that the researchers were right:  we have not caught a single cold. However, we do require a hip replacement.  

Spaghetti Legs--The Opera!

A report that Broadway is preparing for a football musical is good news for the pigskin pack. The new show will spin song and dance around the career of Green Bay Packers coach Vince Lombardi, and is titled, you will not be surprised to learn, "Lombardi!" 

This suggests to us that the time is right for a musical--or even opera--about a CFL star. Winnipeg's great Indian Jack Jacobs, perhaps, or Glenn Dobbs, the once revered hero of the Saskatchewan Roughriders: "Dobberville--The Musical" premieres at Mosaic Stadium in Regina!  

There could be a terrific show about the BC Lions' first Grey Cup win in 1964, based on the Dick Beddoes book, with an all-singing, all-dancing cast portraying Joe Kapp, Willie Fleming, Tom Brown, Coach Dave Skrien, et al.

But our choice would be an opera focussed on the career of Jackie Parker--a great project for the Vancouver Opera Association, which has shown itself ready to take risks.  Watch for it--"Spaghetti Legs--The Opera!"  

Who would play Parker?  Someone call Harry Connick, Jr. 

Hallowe'en reading, viewing, listening, shivering

Probably the most famous ghost story is "The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James, and it would be a most appropriate choice for reading at Hallowe'en.  Of course, spookiness is subjective, rather like one's choice of ice cream flavors, and what could send one person running from the house in terror might merely induce yawns in another.

That said, here come our choices for Hallowe'en fright night:

Book:  Much as we admire the classic tales spun by Cambridge scholar Montague Rhodes James, and Shirley Jackson's "The Haunting of Hill House" (a favorite of Stephen King), the Pointless Digressions crew favors "The Green Man" by Kingsley Amis.  Brilliant. Funny. Scary.

Film:  "The Uninvited."  Wonderfully chilling, and a clever mystery, as well.  Theme music introduced Victor Young's lovely "Stella by Starlight."

Music:  Miklos Rozsa's Oscar-winning score for Hitchcock's "Spellbound," played by twenty-four violins and a very eerie theremin.

There.  Do enjoy a good scare.

Dressing Up

The Columbia Journalism Review (CJR) has invited toilers in the field to reveal what they will wear on Hallowe'en.  To lead the way for journalistic Trick or Treaters, CJR editor Mike Hoyt wrote "Maybe I'll wear some of the shirts and pants that pens have leaked on through the years and go as an ink-stained wretch."

Someone identifying herself only as Abbie said she plans to go as "Lois Lane--cliche, but it works."  Besides, she continued, "It's who I always wanted to be when I grew up." 

Viewing with concern the apparent takeover of news by online media, one reporter said he planned to dress as "the ghost of print press."  

Our favorite, posted by "Mark":  "I'm going as today's typical mid-career journalist: dressed in rags, with a begging bowl and a sign that says 'Will write for food'." 

Me too.

Political Notes from All Over

Prime Minister Stephen Harper is in Ukraine, where he is expected to take part in a pirogi eating contest, go troika racing, and entertain government leaders with a medley of songs made famous by Frankie Yankovic and the Yanks.  

In British Columbia, Premier Gordon Campbell is preparing to address the province via prime time television, a broadcast event expected to rival "All-Star Bowling" in the ratings.  Meanwhile, Mr. Nine Percent has shuffled his cabinet, a move bringing to mind the old line about rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.  

Rumors that Randy Quaid has offered to lead either B.C. party remain unconfirmed.

And then, T.S. said to me...

October 23, a day for memorable quotations from writers.  On this date in 1804, William Blake wrote to William Hayley, "Dear Sir, excuse my enthusiasm or rather madness, for I am really drunk with intellectual vision whenever I take a pencil or engraver into my hand." 

This date in 1950, T.S. Eliot, then 62, told Time magazine, "The years between 50 and 70 are the hardest.  You are always being asked to do things and yet are not decrepit enough to turn them down." 

And, this date in 1978, "The Stories of John Cheever" was published. Cheever said, "A collection of short stories is generally thought to be a horrendous clinker, an enforced courtesy for the elderly writer who wants to display the trophies of his youth, along with the trout flies."

A good day to read Blake or Eliot or Cheever, or all three.

Moving Forward with the People's Radio Network

"Hi-ho, listeners!  Welcome to the People's Radio Network--All Promos, All the Time!  

"In line with our mission to celebrate Canadian culture, we are lunching a new Song-Quest, and we need--we beg, we crave--your participation.  Send us the name of your favorite pizzeria, and we will commission thirteen Canadian singer-songwriters to create a song for the chosen pizza joint in each province and territory!  Wow!  How's that, radio fans?  Heavy on the mozzarella,  we say!

"So, log on to the People's Radio Network website now, and tell us which pizzeria grabbed your heart and your digestive tract!  Lay on the pepperoni and the hot peppers! 

"And now, stay tuned.  Coming up after the news:  The Burger That Rocked your World!"

The Good Word from Bon Mot

This past week, the Bon Mot Book Club brought Sarah Palin to Vancouver to speak to an audience of persons prepared to pay $500 apiece to hear the politician/author ("Going Rogue") speak.

It is believed the Bon Mot Book Club is now negotiating with Ayn Rand.  

La Stupenda at the Space Needle

Joan Sutherland, dubbed "La Stupenda" by opera reviewers, departed this world a few days ago. An extraordinary singer, with, as Anthony Tommasini wrote in The New York Times, "an enormous range, from a low G to effortless flights above high C," she revived the style known as bel canto, opening a path for, among others, Cecilia Bartoli. 

Many stories of Dame Joan circled the globe this week, but not, to our knowledge, this one. Some years ago, James Barber, television's Urban Peasant, was lunching with Sutherland and Richard Bonynge, her conductor husband, at Seattle's Space Needle. It happened to be Barber's birthday, and when a chorus of waiters surrounded the table to sing "Happy Birthday to You," La Stupenda chimed in, her magisterial voice stunning the waiters and other diners and possibly giving a seismic shake to the Space Needle.

Barber told us later that one of the waiters, probably thinking Dame Joan was just a matronly lady feeling the effect of the wine (and perhaps piqued at being out-sung) went away muttering "Who the hell does she think she is--some grand diva?" 

Ig's Digs

BC Lions Coach Wally Buono claimed today that his team's inexplicable fourth quarter crumbling was the direct result of comments made by Michael ignatieff.

Asked which of the Liberal leader's comments had led to the Lions' defeat, Coach Buono said, "I can't point to anything specific, word-wise.  All I can say is that if this line works for Lawrence Cannon, it should work for us."

Meanwhile, pop music fans today celebrate the birthday of Paul Simon, born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1941.  Songsmith Simon wrote the song that has become the theme and guiding principle of Pointless Digressions:  "Still Crazy After All These Years."

It's Two and Out at the UN

Canada failed to secure a seat on the UN Security Council this week, despite gifts of maple syrup for delegates, appearances by red-clad RCMP officers, and Stephen Harper's rendition of Leonard Cohen's "First We Take Manhattan."  The two seats up for grabs went to Germany and that super power, Portugal.

Lawrence "Loose" Cannon, Canada's Minister of Foreign Affairs, was quick to pin the blame on Michael Ignatieff.  Fed lines by Conservative spin doctors, he also blamed Ignatieff for H1N1, flooding in British Columbia, and male pattern baldness. 

"I knew," said a Conservative insider, on grounds of anonymity, "we should have offered delegates the chance for a date with Celine Dion."

Pointless Digressions Narrowly Misses Nobel Prize

It is that week--the week when the word comes down from Oslo and throughout the world there are cries of jubilation matched by cries of outrage.  Apparently there is little enthusiasm in Beijing for the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to democracy activist Liu Xiaobo, currently resident in a Chinese prison. When the awards are presented in Stockholm, Liu may be given an extra cup of gruel.

There was also some huffing and puffing from certain church groups regarding the awarding of the Nobel Prize for Medicine to Robert Edwards, the British doctor who opened the path to in vitro fertilization and its many spin-off applications.  Not all church groups, we hasten to add, objected to this award, only those who, in the political arena, are termed wingnuts.

Finally, we turn to the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded this year to Mario Vargas llosa of Peru.  He is the first South American writer to be so honored since Colombia's Gabriel Garcia Marquez got the nod in 1982.  And that's not the only link between these two authors.  In 1976, in Mexico City, Marquez appoached Llosa to embrace him and got a punch in the nose instead. 

This is carrying literary criticism to a new level.    

Do Not Practice Brain Surgery While Driving

A recent study has determined that more than eighty percent of motor vehicle accidents are the result of drivers being distracted--talking on cell phones, for example, or sending text messages.  This has led many jurisdictions to enact laws forbidding the use of these devices while driving.  Some of us would like the law extended to prevent the use of such devices also in restaurants, public transit, and bank lineups.

Meanwhile, here is a list of other activities considered dangerous distractions.  While driving, one should not:

* Barbecue a chicken

* Practice yoga--especially the lotus position, even if one is driving a     Lotus

* Dance the tango--slow fox trot still permitted

* Post an entry on one's blog.  Oops!  Sorry, fella.

Wuxtry! Wuxtry! Read All About It!

Those of us of a certain age may remember when this was the opening cry on "Big Town," a radio drama based on the glamor of the newspaper business, starring Edward G. Robinson as crusading editor Steve Wilson and somebody else as his star reporter and (one hopes) his main squeeze, Lorelei Kilbourne.

There was a time, indeed, when the newspaper life was considered high excitement, and this extended from the comic strip "Jane Arden" (a favorite of onetime Vancouver Sun fashion writer Kay Alsop) through a bowtied Bogart in "Deadline: USA" (with publisher Ethel Barrymore) to "All the President's Men," which sparked a rapid rush in applications to journalism schools. 

Now, newspapers are, if not passe, and not entirely moribund, certainly an endangered species, and many are making desperate and expensive attempts to connect with an audience.  The most recent example:  the re-design of the formerly austere Globe and Mail, which has moved to an explosion of color (warning:  do not attempt to read this paper during a hangover) and a coated stock that can be charitably described as repellent.

And the content?  We cannot report on this.  We were unable to pick up the paper.

Steve Wilson! Perry White! Ben Bradley! Bogey! Dammit, where are you? Fix this!

Ode to October

"There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October."

  --Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nothing Says Lovin' Like Something from the Oven

The most encouraging news to come out of football locker rooms since Roosevelt Grier announced his devotion to needlepoint is Khalif Mitchell's love for baking.  

Mitchell, a 6' 5", 312-pound BC Lions tackle, told the Vancouver Sun's Mike Beamish  "Pastries, cakes, I do a lot of baking.  I just made my first peach cobbler.  Right now I'm working on some dishes with chocolate--truffles, stuff like that." 

Lions coach Wally Buono, watching Mitchell take apart the Stampeders offensive line, said "He's a big, big man.  He can push the pack."  And Wally, we bet he can also make a terrific tiramisu.

Asked if Bobby Flay might challenge Mitchell to a peach cobbler throwdown, a Food Network spokesperson said "No chance.  Bobby knows the kind of throwdown Khalif can do."

Grimace vs. Yawn

For those who missed Bob Slaigh's play-by-play commentary on last weekend's BC Lions/Calgary Stampeders game, here is a clip from the broadcast:

"Well, sports fans, as we head into the final minutes of the game, we have to say most of the action has taken place on the sidelines.  Our alert camera team has picked up Stampeders coach John Hufnagel yawning and Lions coach Wally Buono rolling his eyes and grimacing. Quite a tussle between these two longtime rivals for victory in facial tics.

"Wait, there's Hufnagel talking to Dave Dickinson and laughing!  'Ha ha, Dave, looks like Henry got intercepted again.'  'That's right, John. What a night! Ha ha!'

"Now over to the Lions bench, and we see Coach Buono has added a Trudeau-like shrug to his gestures. He's going to be hard to beat. 

"Big yawn from Hufnagel!  A veritable chasm of teeth, tongue and tonsils!  He can top this only by falling asleep on the bench! 

"And there's the final play.  Buono rolls his eyes, grimaces, throws his hands up in disgust. And that takes the game, sports fans:  eye rolling 29, yawns 10."   

The Devil Made Them Do It

Faithful readers will recall that earlier this week we noted that a Vancouver Sun sports report had carried the word "exorcise" when the writer clearly meant "exercise."

We thought this was a one-in-a-thousand occurrence, but lo, it has happened again.  In a story by the excellent Mike Beamish, datelined September 23, we read "Lion players...seemed just as exorcised about the CFL's ruling as they were with Jimenez." 

But then we began to wonder:  are the Lions really in need of an exorcist?  Think of last week's game against the Hamilton Tiger-Cats, when, leading by 12 points in the final quarter, The Lions inexplicably fumbled, stumbled, and turned over the ball five times, leading to a Ti-Cats victory. Did the Devil make them do it?

All we can say is watch the sidelines at the next Lions games. Standing by the Lions bench, beside the coach, the offensive coordinator, the trainers, and the team physician, may be a man in a black suit, wearing a clerical collar and carrying a small black case. 

Lovin' It. Or Not.

A television commercial produced by the Physicians' Committee for Responsible Medicine (130,000 members, including 9,000 doctors) may persuade viewers to cancel their steak frites and order a salad instead.

The commercial, aired mainly on stations in the Washington, DC region, shows an ex-person being wheeled into the morgue as his wife weeps and a doctor looks on sympathetically.  Then the camera zooms in on the man's hand: clutched in it is a partially eaten hamburger. On come the famous Golden Arches and the tag line "I was lovin' it!"

The Physicians' Committee is campaigning to reduce high fat consumption and obesity-related deaths. In the Washington area, they say, there is a high rate of obesity and a concentration of fast food eateries.  

The Pointless Digressions Damage Control Division, known in the trade as Put the Right Spin On It, has been counseling McDonald's executives, who have been wearing hurt looks since the commercial aired.  We have reminded them of Oscar Wilde's dictum:  "There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about." 

The Big Mac guys say they are still not lovin' it.

Meanwhile, after an initial burst of giggles, the marketers at Wendy's, Burger King and A&W are wondering who is next.

Waiter, bring us a plate of crudites.  Hold the dip.

 

Is There a Proofreader in the House?

Gary Kingston, writing in the sports section of the Vancouver Sun (September 21, 2010) has this line:  "Buono [added] he wasn't going to get exorcised over the blown call."

We weren't aware that Coach Wally was in need of exorcism.

Jason Jimenez, maybe.

Shootout on Capitol Hill

As high noon approaches on Wednesday, when Parliamentarians will vote on the future or non-future of the Long Gun Registry, the plaintive voice of Steve "Quick Draw" Harper can be heard echoing over Capitol Hill:  "Do not forsake me, oh mah MPs, on this our votin' day-ay..."

Sheriff Steve and Deputy John "Deadeye" Baird are ready for the verbal shootout.  "We're sticking to our guns," said their spokesperson.  "We'll go gunning for the Opposition.  We know that they're gun-shy."  

Jack "Call me Shane" Layton laughed.  "The Long Gun Registry is good fer this territory and it's gonna stay.  I'm afraid those ol' boys are jest gonna have to bite the bullet.  

"We ain't," he declared, "about to turn Capitol Hill into Boot Hill."  

Reviving Bob Slaigh

The management of Pointless Digressions regrets the long absence of entries, but we have been uncommonly busy and beset by various problems.  

One: Faithful readers will remember that our last posting dealt with the posthumous Pulitzer citation awarded Hank Williams.  Since writing this, we have been visited nightly by the spectral presences of Alberta Slim, Hank the Yodelin' Ranger, and the entire casts of Hee-Haw and The Grand Ole Opry demanding to know why they have not received a similar honor.  After we gave them the telephone number of the Pulitzer awards chairman, they vanished.

Two: We gave been engaged in the rehabilitation of Bob Slaigh.  Bob, our resident sportscaster, took the Labor Day weekend to write his 3-Day Novel, which he vowed would be longer than "War and Peace," and which came in at six pages.  While he finished his story, he was unable to break free of his fictional world, and it took great effort to bring him back to reality.  "I don't want reality!" Bob cried.  "I want to stay in my world of love-crazed Amazons!"

Finally we told Bob that football season has begun.  He immediately snapped out of it and sat down in front of a TV screen with a bucket of Chicken McNuggets and a case of Chokecherry Slushy.  

We don't expect to hear from Bob again until several days after the Super Bowl.

Hank's Pulitzer

Hank Williams, who was everything a singer-songwriter should be, has been awarded a citation by the Pulitzer Prize committee.  Sig Gissier, administrator of the Pulitzer Prize awards, called Williams "a creative force that influenced a wide range of other musicians" and spoke of his "lasting impact."

Good to see that the Pulitzer people have lightened up.  In 1965, the jury for the music award (to be given, in Joseph Pulitzer's words, for "distinguished musical composition") chose Duke Ellington.  The Pulitzer board of that time refused to give Ellington the award.  The jury, including Winthrop Sargeant, immediately resigned.  Duke, with his usual graciousness, said, "Fate is being kind to me.  Fate doesn't want me to be too famous too young."  He was then sixty-seven. 

Wynton Marsalis, in 1997, was the first jazz composer to be awarded a Pulitzer.  Since then, special citations have gone to Bob Dylan, and (posthumously) to Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane.

Hank Williams is the first artist in the Grand Ole Opry club to be awarded a Pulitzer.  He was an astonishingly prolific composer: "Hey, Good Lookin'," "Half as Much," "Jambalaya," "Kaw-liga," "Your Cheatin' Heart," "I Saw the Light," "Move It On Over," "Lovesick Blues," "Mind Your Own Business," "Cold Cold Heart."  And that's just a handful.  If you are so inclined, and if there are any record shops left, look for "Hank Williams:  40 Greatest Hits," a two-CD set by Polydor.  

Speakeasy, the Wall Street Journal blog, has it right when it says the Pulitzer committee finally "saw the light. "  And on the blog, which you can easily google, there is a wonderful video of Hank performing "Cold Cold Heart," a song he says "has been awful good to me and the boys--bought us quite a few beans and biscuits."

One last, favorite story:  When Mitch Miller was A&R director at Columbia, he had Tony Bennett record "Cold Cold Heart."  The record sold a trigillion copies.  Then Tony got a telephone call from Hank Williams:  "Mr. Bennett?" he said, "You the one who's ruining my song?"

3-Day Novel Survivor

We are pleased to report that Bob Slaigh completed his 3-Day Novel challenge as the clock ticked on toward midnight.  Bob, tell us how you're feeling.

"Well, a little rocky, to be honest.  I tripped over a dangling participle and split an infinitive."

Sounds painful, Bob.

"Yes, but not as serious as last year's competition, when I ran into a misplaced modifier and ended up with fractured syntax."

Does this mean you'll be out of action for some time, Bob?

"Not at all.  I'm already in training for the Honshu Haiku Tournament."

Good luck, Bob.  Or, as they say in literary circles, break a verb.

Masochist-Novelists

"The International 3-Day Novel Contest organizers have begun referring to entrants in this year's literary marathon as 'Masochist-Novelists,' and here at Pointless Digressions we are pleased to have our own masochist-novelist, Bob Slaigh.  Come in, Bob Slaigh, at the PNE."

"That's right, folks, I'm broadcasting from the Pacific National Exhibition.  The 3-Day Novel rules allow you to write anywhere, so I am writing my novel on the roller-coaster."

"Bob, we understand that before you boarded the roller-coaster, you appeared as a special guest with the Dal Richards Band."

"That's true.  I sang 'If They Asked Me, I Could Write a Book'."

"Most appropriate.  How did it go over, Bob?"

"Pretty well, I think.  Dal said he could honestly say he had never heard anything like it."

"Bob, can you tell us what your 3-Day Novel is about?"

"I won't give away the whole plot, but I can say it involves exploding deep-fried butter balls."

"Must have required a lot of research."

"It did.  I consumed about a dozen butter balls, followed by some deep-fried Oreo cookies and a few deep-fried Mars bars.  Trying to eat healthy and include all the major food groups."

"Well, good luck, Bob.  We're all pulling for you back here."

"Thanks, I..oops!  going into a plunge here!  Wooo--maybe I had too many of those deep-fried butter balls.  Hey, down there?  Sorry about that.  Good thing you were wearing that big hat, ha ha! This is Bob Slaigh signing--oops!  Really sorry, guys.  Ooops!"

The Lions roar once more

The loosingest team in the CFL knocks out the #1 team 38-17--BC Lions over Montreal Alouettes.  Good golly, Coach Wally! 

With a tip of the hat to Casey, Geroy, Manny, et al., your correspondent, and Pointless Digressions sports reporter Bob Slaigh, depart for the Labor Day weekend, one of us to participate in that annual literary marathon, the 3-Day Novel Contest. 

"Tell us what you're writing about, Bob."

"Well, I've been trying to keep it under my hat, but I can tell you it's about the use of performance enhancing drugs in a hula hoop competition."  

"Good luck, Bob!  We know you have it in you.  Along with the knackwurst and Lowenbrau and limburger.  Bob, could you stand over by the window?"

Counseling from Coach Lombardi

As the BC Lions peer into the abyss, it is time to remember the words of Vince Lombardi, the Green Bay legend.  Coach Lombardi said "Winning isn't everything--it's the only thing."

Lombardi claimed never to have lost a game.  If a game ended with the Packers on the short end of the score, he would say "We didn't lose--the time ran out," confident that if the clock had kept running, his team would have triumphed. Memo to Wally Buono:  These words may work in the next post-game media scrum.

P.S.:  When Richard Nixon was US President, he often would telephone the Washington Redskins coach to suggest plays.  The coach would politely thank him, and then throw the plays away. A thought: Is it possible that Stephen Harper is phoning in plays to the Lions--and they're using them?

Rumble in Sin City

Hello, sports fans, this is Bob Slaigh speaking to you from the Tropicana Hotel in Las Vegas, scene of this weekend's "Sin City Rumble," a joyous exhibition of martial arts and sport karate.

We have just watched a demonstration by Pointless Digressions' own Karate Kid, a petite miss who weighs probably 98 pounds in her hiking boots.  With a cunning and lightning-fast move, she felled a six-foot, seven-inch  bruiser weighing 350 pounds. As medics were carrying him away by stretcher, she performed a charming curtsey.

Black Belt Ben of Vernon told us that as this event is set in Las Vegas, Elvis impersonators may be taking part, and indeed, here they come! Shades, sideburns, glossy pompadours, rhinestone-studded suits, blue suede shoes--the works! 

This may be the Tropicana, but for the losers, it's gonna be Heartbreak Hotel.  Ha ha--little Elvis humor there. (Oof! Just took a karate chop to the head.)

So I guess that's it for now, from Sin City Rumble. This is Bob Slaigh, saying "thank yuh veruh much."  

Far Right in Far North

A spokesman for Prime Minister Stephen Harper announced today that the Conservative leader, on his trip into Canada's Far North, met with the Abominable Snowman and had a "meaningful exchange."

The legendary Snowman turned up on karaoke night at the Churchill Sip 'n' Strip and joined the Prime Minister in a rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside."

"I was delighted to learn," said the Prime Minister, "that the Snowman is a Conservative, and a fierce defender of Canadian sovereignty in the north.  He said, and I quote, 'If any Russians penetrate our territory, I will have them for blubber.'  He'll be the ideal backup for John Baird."

It is expected the Abominable Snowman will be the Conservative nominee for Nunavut in the next federal election.  Pressed for comment, Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff said "Frankly, I'm surprised. I thought the Conservatives were already abominable enough."  

Cue the Cantaloupes

Tune for the day, from our Musical Meteorology Department:  

Herbie Hancock's "Cantaloupe Island."

(Excellent performance by HH and Pat Metheny can be Googled.)

Hey, Big Spender!

The New York Times recently ran an article headed "How to be Frugal and Still Get Dates."  This is a topic that has long puzzled us, as we wonder why dates seem unenthusiastic when we suggest going Dutch, or, better yet, having them pick up the whole tab.

Apparently women generally find men whose wallets are zippered and cobwebbed less than captivating. According to the Times, a survey asking women how they would regard a blind date prospect described as "frugal" found that 15 percent would expect the male in question to be boring and 27 percent thought he would be stingy.  There is some hope, however:  three percent of those surveyed thought "frugal" meant "sexy."

To show that attitudes have not changed, the Times reprinted this advertisement which appeared in an 1860 personals column in the Herald Tribune:  "A young lady, rather good looking, of good address, desires the acquaintance of a gentleman of wealth.  None other need apply."  

Our advice:  Next time you ask for a date, have your accountant with you. 

Caught Between Vinyl and the iPhone

As the Apostles of the New Technology push onward, those of us who remember 78 rpm records ("stacks of wax," disc jockeys liked to say), typewriters (now in the Smithsonian) and reel-to-reel tape recorders (some with wire, some with paper, which would inconveniently begin to burn in the middle of a program) feel strangely isolated, strangers in a strange land (thank you, Exodus and Robert Heinlein).

Some of us remember the arrival of television, 12-inch black-and-white screens in furniture store windows, curious passersby pressing their noses to the glass.  Some of us are trying to forget the programs.  

Then there were the first computers--machines roughly the size of a Sherman tank.  Now teenagers everywhere carry electronic devices the size of baseball cards which can send messages, take photographs, contain as much information as exists in the Oxford English Dictionary, do the laundry, cash cheques, and mix a mean mojito. 

Here at Pointless Digressions we are experimenting with an earlier, but still effective, means of communication:  smoke signals.  Please hand me my iBlanket.

A Tip of the Hat

News story in the Vancouver Sun declares that the snap-brim fedora is back.  We are so pleased. Until recently, the only persons wearing a snap-brim fedora were Don Draper, Fearless Fosdick, and the proprietor of Pointless Digressions.

Next, dare we hope? The porkpie and homburg may return.  And this would constitute--wait for it--a hat trick.

Okay, sorry. 

TransLink Etiquette

The current wave of +30 temperatures reminded us of one of David Letterman's lines:  "I was riding in a cab this afternoon, and the driver said to me 'Man, is so hot!  If I used a deodorant I would have used it today.'"

What really brought this to mind was a tip on personal hygiene and daintiness from TransLink, broadcast, for some reason, on the People's Radio Network.  The message from TransLink was something like this:  "It's very hot and sticky, sweaty, out there.  So think of the person sitting next to you, and ride as you'd like your fellow passengers to ride." 

Listeners may have found lessons in etiquette from TransLink to be needlessly intrusive, but at least the company backed away from the original slogan proposed by its ad agency, Banal & Tryte: "TransLink says Don't Stink!"

Other handy tips for bus and SkyTrain riders:

* Keep box of tissues handy in case passenger next to you breaks up with boyfriend/girlfriend via cell phone, and begins to weep.

* If gentleman sitting next to you eating 12-inch submarine sandwich drops dill pickle into your lap, resist temptation to eat it.

* Should passenger beside you begin talking to himself/herself, do not enter the conversation.

Heaven and Hy's

"I believe," said one of our company, "that there have been more changes at the Vatican in the past four decades than at Hy's."

We--several members of the Pointless Digressions Irresponsible Brigade--were at Hy's Encore on Hornby Street in Vancouver.  Nothing had changed since we first lunched there, in the 1960s.  The dark wood paneling, the oil paintings, the cosy bar resembling the reading room in a gentleman's club, the heavy-on-steaks menu, the elegant cocktails, the cheese toast, the fireplace, even the background music--Miles Davis, Paul Desmond--was the same.

The remarkable thing was that, as we sat to table, our present ages vanished, and we were once again the people we had been forty years ago.  Instead of ages sixty to seventy-seven, we were twenty to thirty-seven.

Alas, once we stepped onto the street, in the bright noonday sun, we reverted to our current years.  

Hugh Pickett, for decades Vancouver's dominant impresario, once said that when he shuffled off this mortal coil, he wanted to go not to Heaven, but to New York's Plaza Hotel.  

Our group wants to go to Hy's Encore.

And in this corner...

This date in 1937:  Ernest Hemingway tore open his shirt in Max Perkins's office at Scribner's to display his luxuriant mound of chest hair, and then punched Max Eastman in the nose.

The previous year, Modernist poet Wallace Stevens ("The Emperor of Ice Cream," "The Man with the Blue Guitar," etc.) declared to friends at a Key West bar "I wish I had Hemingway here right now.  I'd knock him out with a single punch."  Unfortunately for Wally, Hemingway just then did appear at the door.  Stevens threw his one punch and broke his hand on Hem's jaw.

That Wallace Stevens should have initiated a brawl with Ernest Hemingway seems as incongruous as Woody Allen picking a fight with Mel Gibson (or, to put it in Canadian literary terms, John Ralston Saul swinging at Jim Christy).

Meanwhile, for those wishing more on Hemingway the Pugilist, the critic in this corner, wearing purple polka dot trunks and weighing in at 475 pounds, recommends "Shadow Box" by George Plimpton.

Dog Days of Summer

It is reported that last week a woman arrived at the Victoria SPCA kennels and asked if they might accept a few small dogs.  When the answer was yes, the woman opened her Mustang convertible and out ran 43 chihuahuas.

The SPCA staff was only briefly nonplussed, and happily took the cheery little (1.5 to 3.0 pounds) dogs under their care.

They were grateful a pickup truck hadn't pulled up to deliver 43 Irish wolfhounds (90 to 120 pounds).

Sandy says "Arf! Arf!"

Wherever Sports News Takes You

Rumors that Richard Stursberg has been signed as the BC Lions new offensive coordinator turn out to have been unfounded, according to Pointless Digressions sports reporter Bob Slaigh.

Slaigh says "Wally Buono told me that Stursberg has an impressive track record in offence, but Buono could not accept his idea of replacing the present Lions backfield with four hip-hop singers and a rap artist."

One football analyst disagreed, saying "A rapper at quarterback calling signals could have given the team a great boost in ratings."  

Everywhere Music Took Him

For the past several months, CBC Radio 2 has pushed the line "Everywhere music takes you." Last weekend, it apparently took Richard Stursberg out the door.

Stursberg was executive vice-president, English language services, covering both radio and television.  And while one can bemoan the state of CBC-TV, or simply avoid it, which most of us do, the most wrenching change under Stursberg's watch came to Radio 2. Almost overnight, what had been an eminently civilized haven on the dial sought to recreate itself in the image of a so-so 1970s pop-rock station.  Arts reports were dropped, news came in bite-size chunks, "featurettes" were thrust at us, new program hosts, some of whom seemed to be learning on the job, began giving their names every fifteen seconds, and there was a relentless torrent of promotion announcements. 

So Stursberg's departure (which sounds as though it could be an episode in a made-for-tv drama) has encouraged some longtime Radio 2 listeners to hope for a return to what was once listenable.  But be warned: Charlie Smith of Georgia Straight suggests that CBC staffers who embraced the Stursberg formula remain in key positions, so his influence may linger on.  And on.  Everywhere music takes you.

Meanwhile, attempts to bring back Bob Kerr have been unsuccessful.

Writer's Condition

August 7, 1804--William Blake writes to William Hayley:  "Money flies from me. Profit never ventures upon my threshold."

It's the writer's condition.  (Unless you're Nora Roberts.)

Changes at the top

Recent polls indicate that in national and provincial politics, both the governing federal leader and British Columbia leader are in disfavor with the electorate.

This is not to say their parties could not regain control in the next election, which both leaders hope will take place sometime in 2011, when most voters will be nonfunctional. 

However, some changes have been recommended.  On the national scene, it has been noted that PM Harper could be defeated by Stompin' Tom Connors, Rita McNeil, or several deceased prime ministers.

In British Columbia, polls show that a new government could be formed by a party led by Dal Richards, Smokey the Bear, Stanley the dog, or a holograph. 

A good evening to politicians everywhere.

Mitch and Bird

We were surprised, this week, to read an obituary for Mitch Miller; surprised because we assumed the spade-bearded A&R giant and singalong maestro had departed this planet decades ago.  He had not. Mitch Miller was on the scene, if not actually seen, until age ninety-nine.

Probably few persons under the age of sixty would have known who Mitch Miller was.  The obituary writers made up for that.  But they left out what was, for some of us, the most interesting part of his long and varied career:  the fact that he had played oboe on the initial recordings of Charlie Parker with strings.

The year was 1949, and Parker--Bird--recorded six 78 rpm tracks. With him, and a group of classically-oriented string players, were Stan Freeman, piano; Ray Brown, bass; Buddy Rich, drums; and Mitch Miller, oboe.  Apart from Parker, only Freeman and Miller got solos, and Miller's were significantly large.    

Parker was not only the leading figure in post-1945 jazz, he was, in the opinion of New York music educator and "Metronome" writer Barry Ulanov, "the greatest improviser since J.S. Bach."  Many of his admirers thought recording Parker with strings was an artistic vulgarization.  Stan Kenton said Parker's playing was like "a pearl in a puddle of mud."  But those recordings have stood up remarkably well, and one of them--"Just Friends"--is among the best of Parker's legacy.

Mitch Miller was a secondary figure on these recordings, but a perfect balance for Parker and the strings.  Most people who remember Miller will remember "The Yellow Rose of Texas," "Come On-a My House" and "Sing Along with Mitch."   We'll remember "Charlie Parker with Strings"--Bird and Mitch.

Cool off with Herbie

Song of the week:  Herbie Hancock's "Watermelon Man."

Missed Invitations

Events to which we were not invited:

* Chelsea Clinton's wedding

* Michael Ignatieff's bus tour

* Conrad Black's coming out party

Breakthrough for US Auto Industry

A report today from the Highway Loss Data Institute is being hailed as a victory for the US auto industry in its attempt to regain the edge over Asian auto makers.

According to the institute's study, the most popular vehicle for auto thieves in 2009 was the Cadillac Escalade, with more than ten vehicles out of every 1,000 stolen.  The Caddy was, in the words of an institute spokesman, the vehicle "most preferred by thieves."

Number Two on the list was the Ford F-250 Crew Cab.  The spokesman declared "Thieves are after chrome, horsepower and Hemis." 

This is a dramatic turnaround from 2008, when the most popular vehicles for thieves were the Honda Accord, Honda Civic and Toyota Camry. 

Asian manufacturers are said to be huddling with engineers and designers, hoping to return to first place among felons.  "But for now," said one US auto industry titan, "we're Number One!" 

BC Day explained

We have arrived at BC Day--August 2, brought into law as Bill 61, which states, in part, "Whoa, it's been a long time since Victoria Day! Let's get some beer and sit in a ferry lineup for 48 hours!"

Bill 61 was introduced in 1964 by Provincial Secretary Ernie Hall, but the true author of Bill 61, the creator of BC Day, was that feisty East Ender and pride of the NDP, Premier Dave Barrett.

And that is how BC Day was given its name.  Most people assume that "BC" stands for British Columbia.  It does not.  It stands for--wait for it--

Barrett's Coup. 

BC Day explained

The 111-year-old Man

Civic officials in Tokyo set out one day last week to bestow honors upon Japan's oldest living man, Sogen Kato, believed to be 111 years old.

And so he would be, if he hadn't gone to the Great Sushi Bar in the Sky in 1978.

He was found in his room in the family home, where, it was said, he liked to be quiet and undisturbed.

Reports that someone could have been an ex-person for thirty-two years without it being noticed has alerted authorities in Canada. They are now checking on various Senators and back-bench MPs who, although still drawing salaries, have not been heard from for some time.

Writers Foodstuff

News that Balzac's Coffee has introduced the Margaret Atwood Blend heralds a welcome trend--foodstuffs bearing the imprimatur of famous authors.

Would that this had come sooner!  We might have had William Faulkner's Mississippi Sippin' Whisky, Mordecai Richler's Montreal Smoked Meat, Brendan Behan's Reserve Guinness.

We eagerly await the entry of local authors to this marketing initiative.  We look forward especially to Deborah Hodge's Animal Crackers and Linda Bailey's Stanley Dog Biscuits.  

Harlem Air Shaft

As the northern hemisphere turns closer to the sun, windows and patio doors are wide open, and we begin to feel we are sharing each other's lives in unexpected ways.  Which reminds the Pointless Digressions crew of Duke Ellington's "Harlem Air Shaft."

Duke said, "So much goes on in a Harlem air shaft.  You hear fights, smell dinner, hear people making love.  You hear intimate gossip floating down.  You hear the radio.  An air shaft is one great loudspeaker, you hear people praying, fighting and snoring."

And of course Duke would want you to know "We love you madly."

Losing Our Census

Across Canada, an enormous number of statisticians, researchers, academics, economists, charities and businesses, and, not least, several provincial governments, including those of Ontario and Quebec, have criticized the decision of the Harper government to eliminate the mandatory long-form census (or mandatory census long form, which seems syntactically more correct).  Also lined up to oppose the Harper move from British Columbia are the Vancouver Board of Trade, the Vancouver School Board, the Union of British Columbia Municipalities, and some specific and not insignificant municipalities, including Vancouver, Victoria, Kelowna, Chilliwack, Nanaimo and the Fraser Valley Regional District.

Despite this, BC Premier Gordon Campbell has, according to the Globe and Mail, "deferred to Ottawa, saying it's the federal government's responsibility."  Mr. Campbell said he was confident that Industry Minister Tony (Bad Tie) Clement would "act appropriately."  

Translation:  "I'm ready for my seat in the Senate, Mr. Harper." 

Mad Men Redux

The fourth season of the award-winning television drama "Mad Men" begins tonight, and here at the Old Ad Guys Retirement Home, we are very excited.  We have dressed in our Ivy League suits, put on our button-down Brooks Brothers shirts, knotted our silk Sulka neckties, and fastened our gold-plated Swank cuff links and tie bars.  Next we will dust off our Don Draper snap-brim fedoras.  

For the occasion, Nurse Ratchit has promised to mix our bedtime Ovaltine in a silver Martini shaker, and we are practicing classic ad agency jargon; e.g., "Let's run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes" and "Let's throw it up against the wall and see if it sticks."

We are also recalling past triumphs and glories, and singing such beloved jingles as "Poor Miriam, poor Miriam--neglected using Irium" and "Stop that cough, stop that cold, in the nick of time.  Don't delay, it doesn't pay, get Mason's 49."

Ah, here comes Nurse Ratchit, to turn on the television set.  But what's that she's saying?  "Mad Men" has been deemed too stimulating for elderly ad men, likely to cause potentially harmful excitement? 

Instead, Nurse Ratchit tells us--as she gets us out of our sharp 1960s duds and back into our jammies and bathrobes--we may enjoy either "100 Huntley Street" or "Snail Cultivation in the Loire Valley."

Oh, well--that's how the cookie crumbles.

Privacy Protection

The federal government (read:  Stephen Harper) has moved swiftly to end unwarranted invasions of citizens' privacy.  The new Privacy Protection Program--Privy-Pro--will cancel the current mandatory census form, which includes such questions as "Are you currently dating anyone?" and "What is your favorite hallucinatory drug?"

Some critics complain that the census is essential to the national economy and many other aspects of Canadian life, but Ralph Dimsdale of the Tax Relief Foundation applauds the government's move.  "We are all for restricting government probing into our private lives," said Dimsdale. 

Dimsdale would like to see the Privacy Protection Program expanded, to include elimination of the income tax form.  "Why should the government know how much money we have?  Let's make reporting our income voluntary.  Demanding to know how much we make is a gross invasion of privacy." 

Otis Philbrick had another suggestion.  "Have you noticed," he said, "that some restaurants are now letting customers pay what they think their meal is worth?  We could do this with government, as well.  Let people pay as much in taxes as they think the government deserves."

A spokesman for the Prime Minister's office said these suggestions would be carefully considered once the government concludes its negotiations with the Flat Earth Society.

Dreamsville (Apologies to Mancini)

"Colin?  Colin!  I have to talk to you!"

"Gord?  Gord, what time is it?  Good gosh, it's three a.m.!"

"Colin, something very frightening has happened."

"Not another cabinet crisis?"

"Much scarier.  It...it was a dream.  Colin, do you believe the future is foretold in dreams?"

"Well, Gord, according to Freud--"

"Let me tell you, Colin.  It was awful.  I dreamed I was walking into my office in the Legislature, and when I got there..."

"Yes, Gord?"

"There was this huge sign hanging over my desk."

"What did it say?"

"It said HST."

"But Gord, isn't that what we want?"

"Colin, this HST didn't stand for Harmonized Sales Tax."

"What did it stand for, Gord?"

"I shudder to tell you.  It stood for..."

"Yes, Gord?"

"It stood for (choke) Here Sits Taylor."

 

Ain't It Awful?

It isn't nearly hot enough for this song, but it remains the Pointless Digressions summer favorite, topping "Summertime," "Estate," "Heat Wave" and "Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy days of Summer."

The song is "Ain't It Awful, the Heat?", lyrics by Langston Hughes, music by Kurt Weill, written for the 1947 production of Elmer Rice's "Street Scene."  

Some of us were lucky enough to hear it sung by Anne Mortifee and Ruth Nichol in "Kurt Weill: Berlin to  Broadway," a Richard Ouzounian production staged at the Vancouver Playhouse, circa 1975.  Among the other Ouzounian regulars in the cast was Brent Carver, who sang "Moritat"  and executed a neat jitterbug step with Ms. Nichol to "Moon-faced and Starry-eyed." Leon Bibb was there to sing "Lost in the Stars." 

The 1970s were a great decade for theatre in Vancouver.  And for dance.  Ain't it awful they're gone?

Sulphuring Succotash!

Federal Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff, traveling the country in checked shirt, blue jeans and red baseball cap (with an opening at the back allowing a crop of hair to puff out, a la Woody Woodpecker) startled a Calgary audience by saying of Prime Minister Stephen Harper "Canadians can smell the whiff of sulphur coming off this guy."

A spokesman for the PM said "What our Liberal friend is referring to is simply Prime Minister Harper's new cologne:  Prince of Darkness."  The cologne, he explained, was a gift from Peter Mackay--"something left over that he got from Belinda." 

The Prime Minister was asked if the cologne might, in fact, have had a supernatural effect upon him.  "Certainly not," he said.  Then he sat down at the piano and played his new medley: "Witchcraft," "That Old Black Magic," "Love Potion #9" and "Devil-may-care."

Play More--Lose More!

British Columbia's ministry of irresponsible Gaming is expected to announce today that the government will launch seventy-five new casino games on the internet.  75--Ways to Lose!--75!

"Online gaming is a technological advance in extracting money," said government spokesperson Eldridge Sleaze.  "British Columbia will never take a back seat  to anyone in hi-tech gouging." 

As part of this initiative, the government has increased the limit players may wager.  "It's a modest increase," said Sleaze, "from $120 a week to $9,999 a week, based on the salaries paid to presidents of Crown corporations."

Sleaze continued "In future, the government plans to raise the possible stakes even higher, so that gamers may bet their homes, their RRSPs, their pension funds, and their bodily organs."

Eager gamers are encouraged to visit the government website: luzyrshrt.com.

And now, today's odds from the government's Corleone Department: 

Odds that the concerns of churches and addiction support groups will bear fruit:  50 to 1.

Odds that Bill Vanderzalm's threatened recall of MLAs will succeed:  5 to 2.

Odds that the currently outraged NDP will, if elected, revoke online gaming:  100 to 1.  When was the last time you heard of any government giving up a revenue-gaining source?

Odds that the Premier and other elected representatives will reduce their self-appointed salaries to ease the province's financial burden:  you're kidding, right? 

And more to come!  Plans underway to introduce a new government game:  Russian Roulette!

Mayorzy Doats

Media sources report that Vancouver Mayor Gregor Robertson has been caught on tape uttering the sorts of words generally found only in better adult videos. Informed of this, Mayor Robertson said "I am truly %&*+!% sorry."

A spokesperson for Vancouver's chief executive said "I think we should be grateful that when Mayor Robertson launched his line of fruit drinks he did not call it Happy $%#@&* Planet."

*&#$%+ right.   

World Cup Celebrations

We had invited a few friends to watch the World Cup on the Pointless Digressions Hi-Def, 3D, wall-size screen.  The first to arrive were Jan Vanderhoof and several members of the Hans Brinker Skating and Drinking Society.  We were ready, and brought out smoked eel, soused herring, rookworst, leerdammer cheese, oliebollen, and lots of Heineken.

The party was growing quite jolly when the buzzer rang (or the bell buzzed) and we opened the door to welcome our second group of guests:  Juan Gonzalez and his Pamplona Pals.  With them was Maria Consuela Rosita del Rio, famous for her mournful rendition of fado. Out came the paella, chorizo, baccalao, guacamole, and gallons of sangria.

As the afternoon wore on, tension between the two groups grew intense, culminating in a gigantic food fight--paella against pannenkoeken, tapas against tulips.  It ended when Juan scored with a well-placed baccalao toss and Maria Consuela Rosita sang the Spanish national anthem.   

Jan and his company announced they would leave, for a feast of their own.  

"What will you serve?" we asked.

His answer was brusque:  "Stewed octopus."

Good News for Bookies

Bookies as in devotees of books and bookstores, not bookies as in "Seven to five on Who's Your Mama? in the eighth at Pimlico."

The good news--the very good news--is that a new, independent bookstore, with Duthie roots, is about to open in Vancouver.  Ria Bleumer, who spent sixteen years with Duthie Books, will open Sitka Books & Art in August.  

The location:  West Fourth, two blocks from the last of the great Duthie family of stores, which closed, to great lamentation, in February.  Interesting and encouraging sidebar:  Sitka will take over a space currently occupied by the Book Warehouse, which, in a gesture of collegiality (and because it has five other stores circling the area) has chosen to move out so that Sitka can move in.

Pointless Digressions joins bookies throughout the city in wishing Ria Bleumer and business partner Karel Carnohan great success.

And why the name Sitka?  Glad you asked.  Wish we knew.

Campari Alert

Campari weather has arrived.  Take appropriate action.

Il Commendatore.

HST Clarification

A spokesperson for BC Premier Gordon Campbell said today that the government wishes to correct a misunderstanding.  "HST does not stand for Harmonized Sales Tax," said Orville Wiffenpoof.  "It stands for Harry S. Truman.  HST is British Columbia's salute to the memory of the 32nd President of the United States."

Farley Dobigger, speaking for Finance Minister Colin Hansen, added "We have chosen to adopt as our slogan President Truman's most famous dictum:  the buck stops here."

Gimme the Guineas

The Queen's Plate was established 151 years ago, when Queen Victoria put up a purse of fifty guineas.  If you have a guinea tucked away somewhere, it is probably gold, and could bring you a few hundred or a several thousand dollars.

The winner of Sunday's running collected slightly more than fifty guineas--$1 million.  And those who had the foresight to wager on Big Red Mike, although not the favorite, at 6 to 1, picked up a pretty packet.

One distinguished lady in a flowered dress and wide-brimmed hat was seen stuffing into her handbag gazillions of dollars.  It is said that she won so much she was able to buy not only Research in Motion, but also the Phoenix Coyotes, and move them to London.  When Gary Bettman protested, she cried "Off with his head!"

Unfortunately, her loyal companion had wagered the Crown jewels on Who We Gonna Call, which ran out of the money.  Thus he was compelled to ride in the luggage compartment of the Royal jet on the flight to New York.

"Not to worry, Luv," he said.  "Wait until we get to La Grande Pomme.  I've booked us on Dancing with the Stars."

The Glorious Fourth

Here we are at the Glorious Fourth of July, and the Pointless Digressions crew raises a glass to our southern cousins, particularly to the ever-bright memory of Louis Armstrong, born this date.  (Well, that's what Louis said, and even if some writers dispute that, we'll go with Satch.)

Another American to burst on the scene with the rockets' red glow was George M. Cohan, who penned these lines:

"I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,

 Yankee Doodle, do or die.

 A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam,

 Born on the Fourth of July.

 I've a Yankee Doodle sweetheart,

 She's my Yankee Doodle joy.

 Yankee Doodle came to town

 Riding on a pony--

 I am that Yankee Doodle boy!"

A fine day to all, especially those with roots in Bad Axe, Michigan.

Dream On, Sir Steve

Conversation overheard at 24 Sussex Drive:

Prime Minister Harper:  Ah, excuse me, Your Majesty.  I know you're intently studying that form, doubtless something to do with the highest level of foreign policy, but something has occurred to me.

Elizabeth II:  Who do you like in the Queen's Plate, Mr. Harper?

SH:  Uh..I'm afraid that's outside my area of expertise.  But what I wanted to say--

EII:  How about Big Red Mike?  Think there's a chance?

SH:  Um.  The thing is this, Your Majesty--

EII:  Or perhaps Deep Cloud Dancer.

SH:  (speaking very rapidly)  I wonder if Your Majesty has noticed how many Prime Ministers of Canada were knighted.  I mean, look at the list:  Sir John A. Macdonald, Sir Wilfred Laurier, Sir Robert Borden, Sir John S. Thompson, Sir Alexander Mackenzie, Sir Mackenzie Bowell, Sir Charles Tupper, Sir John J.C. Abbott. Many of my predecessors, knighted by--ha ha--your predecessors.

EII:  Who We Gonna Call.

SH:  Well, Your Majesty, I assumed you would know that.

EII:  It's the foal's name:  Who We Gonna Call.  Running in the Queen's Plate, July Fourth.

SH:  Oh.  Well--ha ha--what are the odds on a knighthood?

EII:  Moment of Majesty!  Now there's a name I like! 

Steve sits at piano, plays "I've Got the Horse Right Here."

BBQ with the PMs

It is traditional to barbecue on Canada Day, and this year, Pointless Digressions thought it might be a nice idea to invite former Prime Ministers to the BBQ.  Not the former PMs still with us, but those who have ascended to the great Parliament in the Sky.  So, we rang up Mackenzie King's favorite medium and were put in touch with our guests.

Abbott, Thompson, Bowell and Tupper were the first to arrive, followed by Laurier and then, weaving slightly, Sir John A. Macdonald.  "Look," whispered Sir Charles Tupper, "it's Big Mac."

"Where's the bar?" demanded the Father of Confederation.

"As it's Canada Day," we said, "we're serving only Canadian rye."

"Good thing I had the foresight to bring my own flask of Laphroaig," said Sir John.

Lester Pearson and John Diefenbaker collided at the entrance and exchanged withering looks.

"Hah!" said Dief, "I see they renamed that hockey award of yours for Ted Lindsay."

"May I remind you," said Mike Pearson, "that I still have the Nobel."

"I understand," said Dief, "they're renaming it for Henrik Sedin."

"Have a drink, Diefenbaker," said Sir John.

"No thank you, sir," said Diefenbaker.  "Lips that touch liquor will never touch mine."

"Thank God for that," muttered Pearson.

The door swung wide and in came Sir Robert Borden, possessor of the best moustache in Canadian political history.  "There he is," said R.B. Bennett, who had  arrived earlier in a Bennett Buggy, "the one whose face is on the $100 bill!"

"I'd like to have my face on a $100 bill," said Sir John.

"I believe you've had your hands on more than that," said Sir Wilfred Laurier.

"They tell me, Wilf," said Sir John, "that they're thinking of replacing your five-dollar bill with a coin."

"What's shaking, Old Shades?" cried a dapper Pierre Trudeau, making his customary dramatic entrance.

"Did you know, Pierre," said Mackenzie King, patting his faithful dog Pat, "that in their book ranking prime ministers Jack Granatstein and Norman Hillmer rated me as "great" and you only as "high average"? What do you say to that, Pierre?"

"Fuddle-duddle."

"Oh, enough of this," said Diefenbaker.  "Let's have some fun!  Let's have a singalong!  I'll begin with 'Dief Will Be the Chief Again'."

"And I'll follow," said Macdonald, builder of the CPR, sliding in at the piano, "with 'Take the John A. Train'."

Checking On the Neighbors

News that several persons alleged to have been engaged in espionage for Russia while posing as typical US suburbanites brings to mind "Pack of Lies," a 1983 stage play (and later teleplay) by British writer Hugh Whitemore. 

In "Pack of Lies," a pleasant suburban family is told by an MI5 officer that their next door neighbors, and longtime friends, are not good-hearted Americans, but are believed to be Soviet agents. Then the MI5 man announces that his team is moving in with the first family to gain additional evidence against the presumed spies. 

Produced first in London's West End, and then on Broadway, the play has always had strong casts:  Judi Dench and Michael Williams in London, Rosemary Harris and Patrick McGoohan in New York.  The 1987 television version (in which the embedded spies had claimed to be Canadian) had Ellen Burstyn, Teri Garr and Alan Bates.  Given the current news, perhaps some alert TV programmer will re-run the original Hallmark Hall of Fame production.

Whitemore based his play on an actual case in England, strikingly similar to the story now being played out in the US.  A couple convicted there were sentenced to twenty years in prison, but ultimately exchanged in return for a British agent held by the USSR.

So how well do you know your neighbors?  Have you heard any balalaika playing late at night? Seen cases of vodka being delivered? Heard cheering for the Russian hockey team?

And also--how well do your neighbors know you?      

New Tourism Initiative

Most of what follows is true.  We make this statement because some critics have criticized us for "mindless fantasizing" and "deranged creativity."

Okay, here comes the mostly true part:

The Pointless Digressions "Man On the Street" was in his usual position last week, in front of Hong Sushi, microphone in one hand, mackerel roll in the other, when he became aware of a strong and pungent aroma.  Stronger and pungenter than the mackerel.

Looking to his left, he observed a slight man in dark clothing igniting what appeared to be a rather twisted half-cigarette, and then inhaling deeply.

This gentleman, noting our reporter's interest, politely held the cigarette out and said "Want a toke?"

"Uh--thanks anyway.  Piece of mackerel?"

Our reporter pondered the situation.  Could this be a new tourism initiative?  Welcoming strangers by offering them a joint?  Could this be the next phase in presenting British Columbia as "The Best Place on Earth"?  And if so, what comes next?

We can hardly wait.  

Elizabeth II and Gary I

News that Queen Elizabeth II, on her current tour of eastern and central Canada, will stop in Waterloo to visit the Research in Motion offices and meet Jim Balsillie has prompted some interesting comments.  "It is not true," stated a Palace spokesperson, "that Her Majesty plans to hit up Mr. Balsillie for a free BlackBerry." 

And Todd Bloomington, sports fan and Royal watcher, says "It is significant that Jim Balsillie is getting more respect from the Queen of England than from Gary Bettman." 

A spokesman for the NHL Commissioner rejected the implied criticism, saying "Mr.Bettman also rules by divine right."

Samson in Gaza

As it is Sunday, it is time for Bible study.  

Bill Maher has called the Bible "The Big Book of Jewish Fairy Tales" and he may be right, but what is certainly true is that the tales are terrific. Not until Shakespeare and Scheherazade would there be a collection of stories nearly as rich.

Gaza having been much in the news recently caused us to think of the story of Samson, the strongman of Israel, and Delilah, the seductive Philistine spy who brought him down.  After his capture, Samson was taken to Gaza, the main Philistine city, and it was here that Samson had his ultimate revenge.  Check it out:  Judges, chapters 13-16.

A great tale, the basis of epic poems, opera and film (Victor Mature as Samson, Hedy Lamarr as Delilah).  

And what lesson can we draw from this 3,000-year-old story, class? Probably that it is prudent to steer clear of hair stylists named Delilah.  

iPhone Phun

I flew to NYC and camped out for six days on the sidewalk in front of Crazy Ralph's Hi-Tech Mart to make sure I was the first person on the continent to own an iPhone.  It wasn't bad, except for the garbage trucks, some friendly rodents, and a few guys crazier than Crazy Ralph.

So I got my iPhone (or maybe I should say "i got my iPhone") and prepared to leap into a new dimension of telecommunications.  And here's what I have received so far:

* Four telemarketing messages ("Congratulations!  You have won a trip for two to Kabul!")

* Three wrong numbers ("Whaddya mean?  Myrna assured me this was her private personal number.")

* One call from my bank ("Your overdraft has now reached a perilous level.") 

* One veiled threat ("We know who you are and where you are, so get the cash ready or learn to swim with cement flippers.")

For sale:  One iPhone.

5,280 Keys on the Sidewalks of New York

There are many reasons to love New York, and the latest is the decision to place sixty pianos in such high traffic locations as Lincoln Center, Times Square, and Coney Island.  The pianos were brought to NYC from Britain by the charity Sing for Hope, as part of a public art project called "Play Me, I'm Yours."  

The project was created by Luke Jerram, a British artist who dreamed up the idea while in a Bristol laundromat.  "I was going there with my underwear every week," he said, "and I thought, put a piano in here, it can act as a catalyst for conversation."  Jerram's idea has now taken told in cities from London to Sydney (where two reporters who met over a keyboard ended up married.  Yes, to each other.)

Pianists around New York have seated themselves at the venerable uprights and pounded out music by composers from J.S. Bach to Elton John.  Appropriately, the open air event began with a performance of "I Love a Piano," the Irving Berlin song that includes the lines "I know a fine way/with a Steinway." 

While there has been significant media coverage of the event during daytime hours, the Pointless Digression crew ("we never sleep") may be the first to report a phenomenon of the wee small hours.  Just before dawn breaks, figures emerge from the shades of night and sit at the keyboards.  One by one they come--Sergei Rachmaninoff, Earl "Fatha" Hines, Vladimir Horowitz, Bill Evans, Mary Lou Williams, Earl Wild, Count Basie, Artur Rubinstein, Nat "King" Cole, Leonard Bernstein, Glenn Gould.

There are many reasons to love New York.

   

Back to Empire Stadium

Okay, so they're calling it Empire Field now, but the important thing is that the Lions once again will be playing outdoors, the way football was meant to be played, in fine autumn weather or in rain, mud, sleet, snow and fog.  Well, fog can be a problem, as some of us remember from a Grey Cup game that had to be spread over two days when the quarterbacks could not see past the centres.

Soccer fans may now be caught up in the World Cup, Canucks boosters will be salving their wounds, and NBA watchers will be hooked on the hoops, but for many of us the real game is football.

George Plimpton wrote wonderfully about football, but there is still a great football novel waiting to be written.  For the Moby-Dick of the gridiron, our resident scribe is saving these words from Wally Buono:  

"Football is a tough sport.

 You're going to take hits.

 You're going to get hurt."

Has a touch of poetry, hasn't it?

See you Sunday at Empire St--uh--Field.