Sent by Reader Alison, this is the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Enjoy this seasonally appropriate exploration of editing.
We’re the first off the plane, or the first to the waiting area at least. I see a sun-weathered guy in khakis, boots, and an Outback-style hat, holding a sign: Road Scholar.
Our tour group of exactly that name has just arrived in Alice Springs from Melbourne and our fearless/some leader has waved us on ahead to hook up with our local guide and, we hope, our checked luggage. It’s late November, 2014.
I go over to introduce myself. I give him my name pretty well, I think, but it goes south as we shake hands.
Hi. I’m MAH-tin.
Have I whined about work lately? The project I was on from February to July effectively squashed my exercise program, because I let it do so. Once I stop, it’s hard to get going again. I am not a naturally active person.
I’ve been back at it for about six weeks, though, and think this will stick.
Years ago, Johnny Carson announced to his audience that they had taken a tape recorder out and left it in the forest to finally resolve this question:
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it,
does it still make a sound?
As the blank tape rolled, and the audience didn’t laugh, Johnny got a bit restive. He reminded them of the premise; Ed chuckled awkwardly. But nobody seemed to find it funny. Then, inexplicably, the studio audience and Johnny broke into completely natural laughter.
When the hilarity had faded away, Johnny explained to the TV audience what had happened out of range of the sound pick-ups. A woman at the back had yelled,
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
Always the gentleman, Johnny said,
Thank you, ma’am:
We didn’t have an ending for that sketch.
Hold that thought.
I’ve recently started to turn on a movie as background noise to my stretches and exercises: a minor distraction from a less-than-favourite activity. So it was this week that I was listening to the closing bits of The Hunt for Red October, which I’ve seen too many times to count. Well, you know what I mean: Not *too many* to count; just more times than I have counted.
Anyway, that’s how I hear Captain Vasili Borodin’s last words without being distracted by having to watch the attractive Sam Neill die on screen. Well, not *actually* die, but you know what I mean: appear to die.
I would like to have seen Montana.
This week’s entry shows the power of two circles to evoke eyes, even when they’re not perfectly aligned and are seen on an angle.
Here’s what winked at me as I came carefully down the basement stairs.
The handle for the top cutting board stands in for the mouth; the little pink stitch marker makes a nose. The bit of yarn is a distraction. Who left it there, anyway? As for the curlicue on the right/left (ours/its) side? A monocle, maybe. Or a fascinator.
If you’re wondering why knitting tools and plastic cutting boards were together at all, it’s because the pool table reaches its highest and best use as a staging surface for things on their way upstairs.
What’s wearing the leader, now as in 2019, is the sound of silence. Two things can be relied on to rally even a moderately divided party: power and a crisis.
If O’Toole had won the election he’d have actual cabinet jobs to hand out, a throne speech to write, a new course in government to steer. It’s not easy and it’s not without its own peril, but power at least brings a sense of momentum.
Crisis, and by this I mean a crisis out in the real world, clarifies stakes. It encourages people to set aside petty differences to meet the needs of the moment. But in the absence of a crisis, or indeed much of anything else, a party is left alone with the voices in its head.
– Paul Wells, Macleans (emphasis and paragraph breaks added)
I haven’t worked in politics but I have worked in the academic, not-for-profit, and government sectors, albeit that last one as a contracted worker. And I’ve worked in and around various service businesses: retail, financial, communication, administrative, management, engineering, and non-engineering technical. My sector preference? Business, hands down.
No, I didn’t see another large spider. (Well, not yet. You’ll be the second to know, right after the person nearest me when I scream.) Reader John sent along this photo, and I thought it provided a nice finish (?) to the discussion.
I don’t know whether Kia’s design engineers intentionally included features that enhance its reflectivity. I do know that the Big Guy usually keeps the Kia clean enough to serve as a good reflector:
As we returned from a walk to the parking lot at Chapman Mills conservation area — seasonal home to red-winged blackbirds, dragonflies, New England asters, and fall colours, and year-round home to a lovely bridge — I caught this view before getting back into the car.
It makes me think I should forget the walking. Just drive the car around, stop, get out, check for reflections, and repeat.
Postscript: Here is Laurna’s photo, referenced in her comment.