“My Tablets! Quick, My Tablets!”

fifties--today

Aesthetical.ly – Visual Inspiration

I happen to be from the 1950s; oftentimes totally bewildered by the aforementioned “entirety of information known to man.” What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven but look at pictures of cats (and babes) and argue with strangers (and family) in light of our intellectual stimulation (and degeneration)? What will Hamlet have to say about this piece of work!

 

Park Slope Girls & Palin Do-Da-Dos

Not very long ago, during the last Second Coming (and while I was in the throes of a migraine), the hills were alive with the sights and sounds of nonsense…as triflingly  described in the following flashback to October 2008:

Wonders never cease in my tiresomely fashionable Park Slope, Brooklyn neighborhood. Little surprise they “clepe us” liberals and gentrified-beings (which, I interpret, means post-yuppies living in a state of suspended post-modernism) and with “swinish phrase” soil our routine pretensions, making us “traduced and taxed” of other neighborhoods. (My apologies to Hamlet. Like him, verbose speculator of ceaseless inaction, I’m also all dressed-up with nowhere to go. )

A short distance from this very computer desk of mine, where I sit posted from sunup to sundown to the next solar eclipse, stands the chic and exclusive Medusa Hair Salon. Why it adopted the name “Medusa” is unknown to me, but I’ll leave that to students of abstract art and Greek mythology to figure out. But speaking of Greek mythology sets a convenient segue into Greek literature and to the comedy of Aristophanes…and to this New Age Satyr Play of a presidential race, something that wild if ancient playwright would be proud of.

A poster in Medusa’s window proudly advertises “Updos For Obama” and for a mere $75 (a mere giggle within the hysterical laughter of  today’s economic comedy) you can be updoed silly. A fanciful play on street artist Shepard Fairey’s campaign image featuring Obama sporting Sarah Palin’s overnight sensational beehive hairdo tells passing girls that they could be the first on their block to be a clone of a once forgotten former beauty queen, an unknown mayor of an unknown town in Alaska, and even less known governor of Alaska.

Happy customers can be backcombed all over the place, safe in their happiness that proceeds will go to the Obama campaign. But for added comic relief and general merriment, every backcombed patron will also receive a free entry to a Sarah Palin lookalike competition. This event will occur at a party on October 18 where the winner will receive prizes such as a bottle of Palin Syrah and a $25 donation to Planned Parenthood…in Palin’s name.

The girls with the Palin dos may want to waltz, from salon to saloon, down to the nearby Patio Lounge and order an Obama Cocktail (vodka, blue curaco and 7-Up) and wink to everyone while discussing foreign affairs. Following that frolic, the lucky pseudo-Palins may want to stagger into yet another nearby booze joint called the Bier Kraft  where they could enthrall one and all with their hair-raising tales of fearless moose hunts and tanning parlors, while downing a Hop Obama (Belgian-style white beer) for just $11.95 with profits (you guessed it) going to the Obama campaign.

Fortunately, to maintain what’s left of my mental stability, I’ve given up on most of humanity as being hopelessly  insane; nothing really surprises me any longer in the best laid plans of mice and men…I’m into what must be my 200th rereading of Hamlet and sinking fast.  However, if Steffie, my profoundly prim and sensually proper wife from England’s green and pleasant land, ever decides to pull a Sarah Palin Do-Da-Do on me, I’ll shuffle on down to the Patio Lounge dressed as Davey Crocket!

Note: I’ve searched far and wide for this purported Obama campaign image but have come up empty; if it doesn’t exist, it should…having as much reason to exist as Palin and Obama themselves.
My thanks to the Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn (via The Guardian, UK) for the particulars of this neighborhood story, where I reside in blissful ignorance as to what’s going on, engrossed within my own suspended if thrilling state of post-modernism.
(originally posted: 10/14/08)

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Feline Lugubrious

Our cat, Zoltan, is not amused these days. Like Hamlet, he has lost all his mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and so on. Even my latest bank statement, a guaranteed laugh if there ever was one, failed to bring the slightest smile to his face. Nevertheless, my wife and I love him for the spine-tingling attention he arouses in us; his furtive presence fills up space so intriguingly.