Swimming With The Sharks

There was a recent news story saying the local aquatic park was giving people a chance to swim with sharks.

Imagine how excited the kids are going to be to hear that. "C'mon, Johnny and Judy, we're going to go swimming with man eating fish. Remember all those tuna sandwiches you've eaten over the years? Well, we're going to give the seafood a chance for some payback."

Have we reached the point where we are so jaded that this is what it takes to get a little thrill in our lives? What's next?

• Driving with the drunks? "Get on board with Uncle Charlie at the wheel. He's got a six pack under the seat, a bottle of gin in the glove box and he's a-hankerin' to give Smokey a run for his money."
  


• Eating with the E. Coli? "Only sissies wash their chicken parts. Just throw 'em in the pan, and don't cook 'em too long, either. "
  


• Voting with the vacuous... Oh, wait. We already tried that.

The Paris Letter

I saw this play the other night called "The Paris Letter". I knew nothing about the play but as I watched I realized that just a little bit beneath the surface there were gay overtones in the script.

If you are a follower of this blog you know that I don't always see gayness in the world around me. Not until intermission, when I noticed the line at the men's room was so much longer than the line at the ladies', did I realized that perhaps I had once again been bitten by the bug of unawareness. I might add that the men's room line was populated by extraordinarily good looking young men with faultless taste in clothing.

Of course my wife - that's right, I'm married even though I occasionally attend gay themed theater - knew what was going on right away because she uses the ladies' room and I don't -- ever.

After we sat back down and were waiting for the second half to begin, she was happily chatting up the three fellows sitting on our right, discussing the costumes and lighting, as I was trying to see if anyone knew the score of the Yankee game.

Anyway, the play turned out to be pretty good and I did enjoy it, even though it had nothing - whatsoever - do to with my own personal life experience at all, I swear.

I have to admit, though, I'm relieved that the next show we're going to see is a musical. I guess don't have to worry too much about missing anything gay in one of those. There's nothing straighter than a Broadway musical.

It's this show about a nightclub owner in France who's son is getting married. A nice wholesome family show. Just what I need.

Notes on a recent report that using Viagra can lead to blindness

Can I just use it until I need glasses?

The Vision Thing

I heard on NPR this morning that the president of Syria is a former eye doctor.

This is not surprising. A lot of politicians seem to be giving you a political eye exam when you try to pin them down.

"Now, Mr. Public, I have several positions on this issue. Tell me which one you agree with most. Number 1 or number 2?"

"Uh, number 2 I guess."

"Alright, now number 2 or number 3?"

"Still number 2, I think..."

"Number 2 or number 4?"

"Maybe number 4 -- but not much difference. Well, maybe..."

"Number 4 or number 2?"

"No, number 4 is a little...."

"Number 4 or number 6?"

"What happend to number 5?"

"Number 5 does not energize my base. Number 6 or number 7?"

"Say, now many positions do you have on this issue?"

"Number 7 or number 88?"

"How can you possibly have 88 positions on one issue?"

"Because I have Vision."

"Okay..."

"I have Focus."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"I'm Farsighted..."

"Enough with the visual metaphors!"

"And if you can't See that..."

"'See'. I get it."

"...then you are Politically Presbyopic ."

"Well, that's where you're wrong, my friend. I'm not Presbyopic ."

"No?"

"No, I'm Episcopalian."

"Get out."

Rebel Without A...Whatever

I came home the other day to find my son watching the movie "Rebel Without A Cause".

Aha, I thought, a chance to bond, so I sat down to watch with him.

It soon became evident that the version he was watching was quite different from the version I remember watching 40 years ago, when I was his age.

That movie was about a group of misunderstood teens whose foolish, feckless fathers prevented them from realizing their true potential.

This version seemed to be about a group of wise, judicious fathers trying to prevent their teen-aged children from ruining their lives by making bad choices.

Perhaps it was one of those re-edited, family friendly films.

"That's a pretty intense film", I said when it ended. "Much more thoughtful than what you usually watch. Maybe you're growing up a little bit."

"Yeah, I guess. We had to watch it for History class. We're studying the Fifties."

Now I am faced with the disturbing fact that years during which I actually lived have become the subject of historical study.

It makes me feel feckless.