Been a minute, y’all.

last week—

the title

some text

Popcorn balls, cubes and parabolas.

last week—March 11

Welcome to the special 'popular culture edition' of the chair, in which we explore the ephemera that shapes our lives. Not new territory, or not necessarily contemporary subject matter, and definitely not comprehensive, I will admit, but it has its charm. No conclusions, but life will provide them, if you have lived a good life.

Once again, one local weathadoodle tripped over his tongue and laid waste to facts when he claimed that following the implementation of DST, we would have an extra hour of daylight. No. We adjusted a measuring device. We still have about 11 hours and 45 minutes, no matter how you place the clock hands.

Ambiguities in English, Part MMCCCIV

One of the nominees for Best Live Action Short Film is Jane Austen's Period Drama.

Or maybe it's an intentional double entendre.

I have to stop reading.

No, not everything, I could never do that, but specifically, my latest obsession, in this case W.B. Yeats' The Second Coming. A line strikes me (let's say, 'Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,') and I carry that around and chew on it until I return to the poem to reflect, to see the context, something. But instead of thinking about the captured line some more, my eye bounces to another line, like 'The best lack all conviction' and worry that.

The good news is the poem is only 22 lines long, so I should be done with my chewing by the end of the year.

With that as an introduction, I offer an application of the angst—sorta.

The application of the angst depends upon the surface to which it is applied. For soft surfaces like clothes, a capful can be added to the regular wash. For metal surfaces, spray angst is recommended. And for wood and delicate items, paste angst can be applied, and removed with a soft cloth, using a circular motion.

Naming names.

I have remarked before that one of society's problems is how little use we make of nicknames and diminuitives. At least certain folk are renaming themselves these days, which is a hopeful sign. For example, two of the voices in my head have become full blown personas. One, the poet klkz, wrote over a hundred poems before wandering off to greener climes.

But as I finish my season of The Second Coming,

a very apocalyptic poem on both a personal and universal level, I begin to wonder about the author. Not W.B. Yeats, the man, but W.B. Yeats, the name.

W.B, who also went by William Butler, cut a very imposing figure in the earlier part of the 20th Century, impacting poetry, theater, and the development of modern Ireland. But I wonder– what if he had gone by Will, Bill, Billy, Buttles, or worst, Willie? Or what if he had thought about himself in those terms, as a Billy or Will? Would he have risen to the same Parnassian heights? Ditto T.S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot. Could Tommy Eliot write 'The Wasteland?'

I think also of Billy Collins, an equally good poet. Would we regard him in the same way if he had gone by W.J. or William James Collins? Would he have taken the paths he did in approaching his poetry? Or would he have become a literary lion of the stature of Yeats?

All this is by way of introduction to a simple question: how much do our names have in the formation not only of public perceptions (how many times have you heard [or said] upon meeting someone I knew you were a Michael–Timothy–Arthur? Or, as is my case, having my name (John) repeated back to me as 'Don,' 'Joe,' 'Jim,' or 'Tom,' or once or twice as 'Frank'? Are folks just lazy? Am I not enunciating properly? Are they thinking of another McCarthy with the name they're inserting? Or am I projecting an aura/image more associated with those other names than my own name? Oddly, folks rarely mispronounce my name as 'Jack' or 'Johnny,' nicknames more commonly associated with John, because I am not a Johnnie or Jack.

And how much does our name affect our self-identity and self-image, and the way we think of ourselves and the way we develop our talents? At various times, people tried 'Stretch' and 'Four Eyes' as nicknames for me. Neither really stuck, but I wonder if one had, if I would be collecting a pension check from the NBA? Instead I muddled along as 'John,' living an O.K. life and producing lots of OK stuff in a number of different areas.

So what kind of latitude should we have in altering our assigned handle? Can a change of name change the course of our lives in at least one area? I'm thinking here of people who enter religious communities, clubs, teams, or gangs and acquire new names and new identities. Can a nickname or 're-appelation' alter our self-perception and our path through the world?

So many questions. So few answers. At least, I don't have them. But, as I struggle to enter Act 5 of my life, and make it at least a little more than the denouement and falling action of what went before, I think a name change for at least some of my activities might be in order.

Meet augie.

Sadness, a continuing saga.

I mentioned a while back I believed the Girl Scouts may have invented shrinkflation when, many years ago, I opened a box of Thin Mints and found it six cookies shy of a full load.

Well, the Girls are all in on light-loading the cookies. We just got a half-dozen boxes of cookies, including a new (to us, at least) flavor, exploremores, inspired by Rocky Road ice cream.

Or maybe the explore part of the name was a reference to having to spelunk the box to find the sad little tubes of cookies cowering three inches below the box top.

What I find sad is how we're teaching young girls, the future entrepreneurs and businesspeople of America, to lie to/cheat/ deceive/fool their customers.

Hangin' with Keith.

For some reason unknown to me, I have been bumping into Keith Richards a lot. He features in articles and pops up in tribute concerts. But what I find interesting is how thoughtful he is about the music, and consequently about life. There are little bits of sly humor, too. As he noted at Willie Nelson's 90th birthday concert, 'I'm happy to be here. I'm happy to be anywhere,' no doubt a nod to his Byronesque life, which should have resulted in 'live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse.'

That ship definitely sailed a long time ago.

But what I find most interesting is his recognition of creativity in his life and world. He's just the pass-through. As he noted,

These crucial, wonderful riffs (in Jumpin' Jack Flash') just came, I don’t know where from. I’m blessed with them and I can never get to the bottom of them. When you get a riff like ‘Flash’ you get a great feeling of elation, a wicked glee. Of course, then comes the other thing of persuading people that it is as great as you actually know it is. You have to go through the pooh-pooh.

As [he] has said over the years, song ideas just come into his head. They flow naturally and he channels them into his guitar. He already explained that the guitar parts seem to come from somewhere he still doesn’t know and cannot explain.

If you're creative, and honest, you know (and say out loud) that's how it works more often than you probably want to admit. If you do, you're also admitting that you're just a pass-through, maybe rearranging some furniture or dusting the bright work along the way, but ultimately, you're playing with powers far beyond your ability to understand or control.

Dealing in ephemera since 2011.

three weeks ago—2/25

Well, the Olympics are officially over. The torch has been extinguished, and I checked this morning on all three Olympic channels— either curling has also concluded, or they just stopped showing it. For me, it's the same thing.

R.I.P., Robert.

Actor Robert Duvall died. He was 95. I liked Duvall, especially in 'smaller,' 'quirkier' roles like The Apostle and Secondhand Lions. He seemed to live a level, balanced life.

However, his death prompted a couple of head-scratching pieces, including this headline from Parade magazine: ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ Star Recalls Her On-Set Experience With Robert Duvall After His Death.

Another R.I.P.

Bill Mazeroski, shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates, died at the age of 89.

I wasn't a fan of the Pirates, but I found Mazeroski appealing. He played with exuberance, if I recall correctly. We need more like that.

Everybody do stand-up! Right.

The last I checked (about five minutes ago) 75% of people fear public speaking, according to World Metrics. The fear of public speaking can lead to physical symptoms such as rapid heartbeat, sweating, and nausea, affecting approximately 92%of sufferers. More Americans are afraid of public speaking than they are of dying. The thing is, with dying, you only have to do it once, and you're unconscious part of the time, if you're lucky. With public speaking, you can die a thousand deaths before saying anything.

But now, mental health professionals are telling people in general and those who are someplace on some spectrum (although, to be fair, we're all someplace on some spectrum), that they should do stand-up comedy as a way to achieve better mental wellness. Scientists have shown it's a way to release endorphins and foster social connection.

Anyway, back to people getting on stage to face their greatest fear. Here are the steps for people being encouraged to do stand-up:

1. Get up on a stage in front of a group of people to speak, triggering tongue numbing panic.
2. Make them laugh.

Sounds like a recipe for 'making a quivering mass of human protoplasm' to me.

Comics everywhere are saying, 'Great. Amateur hour. Something else ruined by having a purpose and being turned into work. If I don't make people laugh, I have failed them. You just can't have nice things anymore.'

There's a tour, I'm told, so maybe there's some congruence. Me, I still think there are scientists who should not be allowed to speak in public, comedically or otherwise.

Fun game.

Google that headline! I used some variation of 'why everyone should try standup comedy,' and came up with over a dozen articles in the first 20 hits. Some numbered the reasons. Apparently everyone should try standup comedy. I have seen a lot of people whose contribution to the art form is make audiences appreciate good comics even more.

Grave goods.

Archeologists are strange people. Besides for digging holes in the ground and not finding valuable minerals, they are happiest when they find a trash pit left by an ancient civilization.

But trash pits are not sexy. Trash pits don't headline shows on the Discovery Network. Now, a chance to open a previously undisturbed pharaoh's tomb? Damn the curses! Let me at it!

Archeologists get excited by what are called 'grave goods,' those items that are supposed to accompany the deceased into the after (or next) life. Items include tools, weapons, jewelry, elaborate masks and clothing, transportation, sometimes servants and wives. Generally, it's things the guest of honor liked and couldn't 'live' without. One Chinese emperor had an army of 6,000 soldiers made out of clay to protect him in the afterlife.

As I was watching one of these shows, it struck me that we don't do grave goods anymore. At 'open casket 'viewings' I've been to, there is little if anything in the casket with the guest of honor. Clothing, maybe a wedding ring. Sometimes even glasses are missing on a person who has worn glasses all their lives.

This has to be distressing the archeologists from 5,000 years in the future. What are they going to excavate? A life of trash pits and latrines can't be too exciting.

I think we're missing an opportunity here. We've pushed 'you can't take it with you' way beyond rational limits. What if the ancients were right, and life is seamlessly extended into the next life and we're going to need stuff (shouldn't we at least be bringing a hostess gift or bottle of Chardonnay?). And what about the archeologists? Shouldn't we give them something to marvel at, to fuel speculation about the life of Average Joe Six-Pack?

This is why I have resolved to take some grave goods along for the ride. Now, I'm not talking about getting a double- or even triple-wide cemetery plot. I'm talking about putting my creative output (stories, poems, cartoons, twenty + years of blogs, recipes, photographs, comedy sketches, basically everything in my documents folder) onto a USB drive. I know the odds of the people 30 generations down the road finding it, having software and equipment to read it, and caring about and translating it are slim to none (and Slim is saddling up to leave town), but why not go for it?

And who knows? Maybe on the other side I

will just pick up where I left off, and it'll be nice to finish off the leftover pieces and build out what I've started.

Stranger things have happened.

Thanks, Jeff!

Sometimes (too often, actually) good things get lost in the pre-Xmas rush, holiday frenzy, pandemonium, what-have-you. When you have time to breathe, you only vaguely remember the item, much less where/what it is.

Well, I sent this forward through time to remind myself to take a closer look at it when I could give it the attention it deserves.

Normally, I cite a headline to mock it. Sometimes, I actually cite some of an accompanying article. For this headline from Jeff Goins, I cite it in admiration: How to Do the Work That Matters (When Most of It Doesn't).

I linked to the article because it's part of the work that matters. You should read it, no matter what you do. Merry Christmas (belatedly)!

Officially over it.

I've read too many headlines like this one: A Beloved Milky Way Flavor Is Returning–But You Might Not Recognize It.

It's not just Milky Way. It's Twinkies, M&M's, Peeps, you name it— all Tainted by Brand Extension.

To be clear, there is one, repeat one, Milky Way flavor. Anything else might be tasty, superior even, but it ain't Milky Way.

BBC-bits and pieces.

A recent headline in the BBC: 'LeBron James of spreadsheets' wins world Microsoft Excel title.

But is there anyone referred to as the 'Diarmuid Early of the NBA?

Also in the BBC, 'A good meal and a good poo': Kate Winslet describes how she dealt with media intrusion.

If you have a bad meal, do you have a bad poo? And was the intruding media invited to witness either event? Maybe they were given gift packages at the completion of the ritual.