Foul It Is, to be Raised For a Glutton's Feast

(Blatantly Stolen from FaceBook)

Foul it is, to
be raised... so,
that gluttons might
feast; on, but the white
of my breast... while,
they toss the rest!

Millions and millions,
force fed to burst; such
a shame, as a pheasant
or Cornish game hen... would
provide, more that enough...
meat, and gristle; to satiate
even, the most finicky of
peasant!

Then, there's potatoes, and
yams; steamed and boiled to
distraction, while the "cook" makes
themselves sick; drinking cooking sherry
by the gallon!

Green bean casserole; it's Gramma's
favorite... though, year after year; all
the guests, just hated it! With, carmelized
onions; that "look" like worms, so the
kids tease each other... then, feed
them... to the dog!

The potatoes mashed, always taste
"burned to a crisp"; "but honey,
that's the best part... just
bite down, chew, and swallow it!"

Is it, cranberry jellied; or, more like a
chutney? Guess, I'll just have plenty of
both... and, let the fickle ones; decide on
their own flacid gluttony!

There's always a fight, for the
drumsticks for two... Maybe, someday...
the growers, will develop a turkey
with six to a bird; just for the sake of
making the food pugilists happy!

Gravy, always comes in two styles...
cold, clammy, and greasy... or, tasteless,
clumpy and lumpy; tasting, alternately...
of grease or of pork!

Stuffing, stuffing, who wants stuffing... goes
the cry 'cross the table; there's just a little that
was in the bird, but several oven baked pans...

Hey! Keep those OFF the table! Then, there's
corn and peas; in separate bowls... that,
make the kids always giggle; as they roll off
the table!

Then, there's dinner rolls; and both sweet
and salt butter tabs... take more than two
per roll, and "suffer extra holes in belts, and
double roll abs!"

Sweet potatoes, baked with marshmallow clumps;
look like "dead eyes", staring into the void... oh,
what a ghostly repast!

So... what did I forget, besides the desert treats?
Somebody please tell me, before somebody blesses
this feast!

Oh, beverages... help yourself... There's glasses, on
a separate table; along with silver bowls filled with
ice; "please! USE the tongs!" There's sodas and wines,
and juices galore; please "pour slowly"... don't want, a
sticky floor!

Somebody please, say grace... then "help yourself"! I'm
already full, 'cause I tasted everything; while playing at
gourmet chef! Breeeeep! Oooops! I'm just saluting all
of you'res health! *Sigh! L'triptophan, lead me to sleep!*

11-18-12

2012 Copyright Zed Null & Word Hack, Ltd.

Feel free to copy and share, provided nothing is changed; and this accreditation remains attached!

Yes, Abigael, it WILL all be over soon.

For those of you who are not one of the 1.6 million viewers of a YouTube video starring a 4-year-old Colorado girl named Abigael Evans, who awww'd us all with her tearful lament that she was "Tired of [the coverage of] 'Bronco Bama' and Mitt Romney" on National Public Radio - here's what you missed:

Her mother is heard on the video to be attempting to console the child by telling her that the election will be over soon. It calms her a little.

Show Tracker of the Los Angeles Times reports young Abby's spirits have further been bolstered by none other than NPR correspondent Mark Memmott himself, who wrote on the organization's website, "On behalf of NPR and all other news outlets, we apologize to Abigael and all the many others who probably feel like her. We must confess, the campaign's gone on long enough for us, too. Let's just keep telling ourselves: 'Only a few more days, only a few more days, only a few more days.'"

The Times goes on to say that NPR also sent the girl an NPR politics pin, which, according to a reporter from NPR station KUNC, seems to have cheered the girl up tremendously.

I suppose, in that sentiment, we can all take solace.

It feels as though it has been a lifetime since April 21, 2011 when Gary Johnson announced - on Twitter no less - "I am running for president." He was the first to declare and the fourth to eventually leave what was to become a field of twelve Republican candidates writhing their way toward the GOP convention more than a year and a half later. For the record, the rest of the names were - in order of their entry into the race - Cain, Gingrich, Paul and Pawlenty; Romney, Santorum, Bachmann and Huntsman; McCotter, Perry and Roemer. Some fell quickly. Others were tripped up later. Before reaching the Convention at Tampa, all but Paul and Romney had fallen along the road.

After 478 days of campaigning for the GOP nomination for President of the United States, two men entered "Tampa-Dome". One man left: Willard Mitt Romney.

478 Days!  And that was only to the Republican Convention.  There was still nearly 3 months to go before election day.  All in all, 565 days will have been spent literally brawling for the chance to go up against "Bronco Bama" for President.  That's almost half the time poor Abby's been here on this planet!

I haven't even mentioned how much time Mr. Obama has had to take away from his duties as the leader of the free world to meet the challenge brought by the opposition, and keep his job.  

(And thank you SCOTUS for making it even more like blood-sport by adding that little wrinkle of the so-called "Citizen's United" decision.  You just couldn't leave bad enough alone without adding UNLIMITED corporate funding to the election stew.  As if we, living our shabby little lives, needed more incentive to believe we were completely impotent in the ability control our own political destiny.  That the government of the People, by the People, and for the People survives only because its it's the Corporations who are the People.)

Oh, let's not forget the whole "early voting" thing.

Anyway - yes, Abigael, it will all be over soon. Next Tuesday is Election Day and that's when the counting begins.

Of course when, the counting will end is anyone's guess at the moment. Both camps are lawyering up rather heavily. Something akin to the Y2K Bush v. Gore mishegoss could happen again this year if the legal eagles have anything to say about it. But that's another very long story...

All we can do is all we can do. Turn out. Bring your ID with you even if you don't think it's necessary. Pull the lever. Fill in the dot. Touch the screen. Punch the chad - all the way through!  Vote!  Get 'er done!

And when it's all over, and Abby can listen to her programs again, by the time she's six the whole thing starts all over again.

Ain't democracy grand?

We tell the story this way: PART 1

We tell the story this way:

It was in my home town of Ithaca, NY. 1980 or so.

I had already been "out and back" - which means just that: I graduated high school and moved out.  I went to college and went to work.  I moved to Syracuse; moved to Boston; moved to Fort Lauderdale; moved to Lansing, Michigan; moved to New York City and then I moved back home again to live with my parents to review my situation.  Voila: "Out and Back".

Along the way in my American Walkabout, I had developed a hankering to be on stage portraying characters other people have created.  I enacted scenarios of dramatic import for the entertainment of groups of patrons who would suspend their realities for measured lengths of time.  I stumbled, bumbled, mumbled and grumbled under the guise of art.

I believe the word "Acting" serves as an omnibus label in all the above pursuits.

Following that vein, I was appearing in a play called “The Runner Stumbles” by Milan Stitt at The Central Casting Theatre; a light hearted romp about a Catholic priest on trial in rural 1911 Michigan for the murder of a nun with whom he is also alleged to have been romantically involved.  Like I said: a total fluff piece.

I played the priest:  Dark, brooding, unsympathetic.... and those were the good reviews.

A couple of the other characters were acted by students from Ithaca College's famous Television and Theatre department.  One of them counted as one of his friends, a Sophomore in Fine Arts - Acting... a student named Susan.

We did not meet that night.

Months passed.

She was stage managing a production of “Mame” for the Ithaca Theatre Company and she needed someone to play an older, stuffed‐shirted, stick‐in‐the‐mud, non-singing, party‐pooper in the show.  None of her friends filled the bill, but then she remembered me and my dark, brooding, etc. performance in the play she had come to see months earlier.  She called Central Casting and got the phone number I had given them. It was my parent’s house where, as I have mentioned, I was living at the time.

The next day, I received a message left from my father at the school bus facility where I was performing daily as a "School Bus Driver".  No, really, I was driving a school bus for a living.  Maybe I'll relay some sappy stories from that episode later on. The message, in my father's shorthand delivery, was: "Some girl called to find out if you want to try out for a play.  Do you want her number?"

I did.  He gave it to me.  I called her.  I showed up.  She gave me the part.  Things began to change.

That's how we tell the story of how we met: Girl sees Boy in play.  Girl hires Boy for another play.  Girl and Boy get married and live happily ever after.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I leave out part of the story?

Well then, tune in for another installment of "We tell the story this way" coming soon to a blog near you!

An Open Letter to my FaceBook Friends Regarding the "Tea Party"

A recent exchange on my FaceBook page centered around a clip which I posted from "The Best Damned Show on Television Which Is Shown on a Network That I Don't Subscribe To" - AKA: "The Newsroom" on HBO...

... In it (if you didn't "have time" to watch the clip) anchorman Will McAvoy delivers a scathing and painfully truthful treatise on the state of politics in America; which - it should be noted - he delivers from the point of view of a Repubican - himself.  He is railing against the "Tea Party" under whose influence we are, all of us in America, suffering.


It's tenets:  (through Aaron Sorkin's words)
-Ideological purity
-Compromise is weakness
-A fundamentalist belief in scriptural literalism
-Denying science
-Unmoved by facts
-Undeterred by new information
-A hostile fear of progress
-Demonization of education
-A need to control women's bodies
-Severe Xenophobia
-Tribal mentality
-Intolerance of dissent
-Pathological hatred of the U.S. Government


Well, one of my FaceBook friends took issue with the post and saw fit to suggest I had my "head up my ass" for sharing it.  At least I think that was why he said that.  It wasn't actually clear to whom he was responding with his jab.

My point is this, FaceBook is the BBS of the 21st century.

"Huh?" you may wonder.  "What is this BBS you speak of?"

"...of which you speak, " I would respond.

To which you would most likely rejoin, "Whatever!"

And then I would explain that BBSes were pre-internet message boards where targeted discussions would take place by "users" posting comments on an electronic "Bulletin Board" which was hosted on some geek's home computer and networked with other geeks to foster widespread group discussions.  Myself being one of said geeks, I hosted a BBS called "the Outpost" and caused my wife great concern for more than 5 years in the late 80's and early 90's.

But, returning to the point... during many of these soaring conversations a certain faction of users would enjoy inflaming the discussions by posting personal insults and downright impolite language to get a rise out of the others on the board. These "Flamers" were, for the most part, anarchists, the equivalent of electronic "bomb throwers" who enjoyed making a mockery of civil dissertation. They were not accepted in polite virtual society; and we, who sought to run high class establishments in the wild-internet-west of the last century - by the power vested in us, the SysOp's - would simply delete them from our userlists.  They would virtually vaporize.

Of course there was no way of knowing when they would join the BBS again under a different name, until I began to recognize certain verbal patterns when they started to get frisky again. It was a tough life in the wild-internet-west.

But, that was then, this is now.  Now we have FaceBook, Twitter, Google+ and all the other social networking iterations of the modern internet.  FaceBook itself has nearly a Billion "users" all interacting in their spheres of influence, sharing and commenting and "liking" what each other posts on each other's pages.  A lot of stuff goes around on FaceBook and the others in the course of a nano-day.  Some of it is, admittedly, superfluous fluff.  (If I see one more cute kitten meme I think I'm going to fwow-up - but oh-so-cutely.)  Yet there is some powerful messaging going on as well; and in a presidential election year, the social internet is the Almighty Conduit.

The Conduit is where people of differing political ideals are interacting at a pace that far exceeds anything this country, indeed the world, has ever seen prior to this.  The "Twittersphere" is credited with informing the world about what happened in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and Yemen  during the "Arab Spring" last year.  People in the thick of things that otherwise would have had no hope of ever letting the rest of us know what they were going through, put all of us front row center in it by virtue of a few taps on their internet connected device.  It is was... (is he going to say it?)...a "by Gawd" miracle. (Damn, he said it!)

That being said, the Conduit also carries stuff that is, for lack of a better word, ungood.  Factions that use  it use the anonymity afforded to them by it to propagate a counter message of an anti-societal tone.  The trouble is, as we comb through the rhetoric and sheer volume of words and images, it becomes nearly impossible to filter noise from sound anymore.  Music from discord.  Beauty from indifference.  Truth from lie.  Right from wrong.

Where are the lines?  How are they drawn?

Who's truth wins?

Once upon a time, there were the facts and there was the fiction.  The facts were the Truth.  The fiction was the Lie.  The Truth was right.  The Lie was wrong. There was this whole "Bearing false witness..." thing from those "Commandments" to deal with.  Now, not so much.  People believe whatever they read on the internet these days.  They think: "Since someone spent the time, and went to all the trouble to put it all in print somewhere, then it must be true, right?"  Even smart people fall into the trap.  What happens is they need a truth to believe in so they pick a set of fictions that are close to what they already believe, and that becomes their truth.

I don't know if this is indigenous to our century or not.  Probably not.  But it's a lot easier to find a bunch of new fictions to latch on to these days.  And, here's the rub: in America, it's all protected.

And it's okay.

Here's the other rub: it's up to us to do our own homework.  WE have to do the work to really discern between the good stuff and the gunk.  Opinions are as plentiful as speakers.  The facts are researchable and unique.  Caveat lector.

So, since as far as I know the First Amendment still stands, everyone is entitled to their beliefs and so are any who may want to comment on my humble FaceBook posts and pages.  It's one of the things I love about this social-networking thing. It reminds me of the soaring conversations of the wild-internet-west of long ago.  Some great ideas were exchanged then, and some really fantastic futures are emerging now from the same type of intercourse.  I love it!

As I understand it, the "Tea Party" does not.

As previously stated (with confidence high) the "Tea Party" stands unmoved by such things as facts.  They adhere to an ideology that they cannot see around.  They also tend to be very loud, in a digital print kind of way, in denigrating opposing opinions from theirs.  No truth but theirs, facts or not.

Again, that's alright.  First Amendment, and all that.  But I also have the right to at least request civility in the discussion.  I don't expect it.  I'm not the SysOp anymore.  You can say whatever you want, and unless I think it has crossed the line and begins to insult those of my friends who may agree with me for what they add to the discussion, I suppose falsehood can be tolerated to a point, as long as the truth prevails.  I can assume the mantle of Supreme Protector in my virtual world if I want.  I can't vaporize transgressors, but I do have weapons:  History and the Truth.

Jack Noir: Time Cracker

This document is a production radio script for a segment of "Barley Corne’s Hour Of Wasted Time" (alternately spelled: Thyme), broadcast over the National Broadcasting Network on the evening of June 14, 1949. The popular radio show which, on this occasion, was filmed by an NBN Television crew for an experimental broadcast, was briefly interrupted by interference from an unidentified source and the visual record of certain segments, including this episode of the popular Jack Noir: Time Cracker series,  did not survive.

(Editor’s note: “Barley Corne’s Hour of Wasted Time [Thyme]” was performed between 1943 and 1958 in front of a live audience on a theatrical stage in upstate New Amsterdam.)

Jack Noir: Time Cracker

ACT 1

Announcer:

If it’s after 6:30 on Tuesday, then it’s TIME!  Time for Jack Noir: Time Cracker…

{SFX: alarm clock}

(continues)…Episode 24. 

{ SFX: Theme music plays under}

Last week, when we left Jack, he and his stately and beautiful assistant Nathalie had wandered aimlessly into the Wilderness Bar and Grill in South Hollywood.  Nathalie was deciding between the Cobb Salad, and a Chicken with Wine Sauce and Onions. 

{ SFX: restaurant sounds}

Nathalie

I – I guess I’ll have the salad.

Jack

No.  Wait.  I don’t think you should do that…

Nathalie

Why not?  The Cobb Salad is good here…

Jack

You should have the chicken.

Nathalie

I want the Cobb Salad…

Jack

You should have the chicken.

Nathalie

Jack, I don’t think I want the chicken?

Jack

Just…order the chicken

Nathalie

Jack, why should I have the chicken?

Jack

Because the Cobb Salad has eggs in it….

Nathalie

Jack, I know that…

Jack

(not understanding why she doesn’t understand)

Chicken…(pause)… eggs.

Nathalie

Jack…

Jack

I think I know which came first…

Nathalie

No one knows that…

Jack

I think I know.

Waitress

(forgotten and waiting for their order)

I’d like to know…

Jack

Just…Just order the chicken.

Nathalie

Jack…

Jack

Please, just order the chicken.  I’ll explain it all to you later.  Just order…the chicken.  OK

Nathalie

Pause…

Waitress

Would you to take a little more …TIME? 

{ SFX: Dramatic music Sting}

Jack

The chicken…

Nathalie

(pause)…I’m not hungry.

Waitress

(a bit miffed)

I can give you more…TIME if you need…

{ SFX: Dramatic music Sting}

Jack

Nathalie… (Tense dramatic music builds under)

Nathalie

Pause…

Jack

Nathalie…! (Tense dramatic music builds under)

Nathalie

(Through clenched teeth)

I’ll have…the chicken! (Tense dramatic music resolves)

Waitress

Thank you, miss.  Very good choice.  And what will the Gentleman have?

Jack

Wh-what? 

Waitress

You, sir.  What would you like to order? (Tense dramatic music begins to build again)

Heavily Accented Stranger:

(Interrupting, dramatic music ends abruptly)

…Perhaps I can answer that question, Mr…Noir.

Nathalie

Jack!  It’s…Raton!

Jack

I can smell him Nathalie even though he’s hiding beneath that giant stuffed mushroom cap.

Raton

That’s right, Mr…Noir.  You have an extraordinarily good sense of smell don’t you?

Jack

It’s easy to sniff out a rat on this menu.

Raton

(Emerging from under the mushroom cap)

You’ve never really acquired the taste for my kind, have you Mr. Noir?

Jack

No.  Usually I have to add more lemon and dill.  Perhaps, a pinch of curry.  And…that special ingredient.

Raton

Ah, yes, that…special ingredient.  You never found that.  Did you?

Jack

As long as you have to bring it up.  No, I’m still looking.  And…

Raton

How long have you been looking for it Mr.  Noir?  It seems like you’ve had plenty of…TIME. 

{ SFX: Dramatic music Sting}

Nathalie

Jack, be careful.  He has the stopwatch!

Raton

That’s right Mr. Noir.  I’m holding your stopwatch.  The one you lost in episode 17.  You thought it was gone forever didn’t you?

Jack 

(trying to get the upper hand)

That depends on which forever you mean.

Raton

What?

Jack

Come on, you’ve been stuck in this recipe for a while.  You tell me, Raton.  Which forever do you mean?

Nathalie

Jack!  Be careful.  You’re going to send us into a flashback.

Jack

I’ve lived my whole life in a flashback, Sweetcakes.  What’s to stop me now?

Nathalie

I have a feeling this one’s going to be different.

Jack

What?  But, they’re never different.  They’re always the same.  That’s what makes them flashbacks!  They’re a literary, theatrical or cinematic device in which an earlier event is inserted into the normal chronological order of a narrative.  They tell you what happened before!

Raton

(Teasing)

Before what?   Mr….Noir.

Jack

What do you mean?  Before what?  Before this!  That’s what before… is… now… (gets lost)

Nathalie

But… you’ve never called me “Sweetcakes” before. 

{ SFX: Dramatic music Sting}

Jack

Ah hah!  But, you can’t know that unless you’ve been in this flashback already!

Nathalie

We’re not in the flashback yet.

Jack

We’re not?

Nathalie

Have you heard the organ music playing us into the past, yet?

Jack

No.

Nathalie (voice fading)

Has anyone faded their voice out as though they’re walking down a long corridor? 

Jack

I don’t think so.

Chief Casey (a completely different voice)

Has anyone completely new to the story up to this point started talking as though he’s been here all the time? Actually he doesn’t appear until the end of the episode?

Jack

Not until now.

Nathalie

Then we’re not in a flashback yet.  Are we? 

Jack

(mysteriously)

I don’t …know.

Waitress

Okay, who had the ribs?

Nathalie

I did.

Jack

Nathalie, that’s not what you ordered…

Nathalie

Yes it is.  I ordered the chocolate ribs with a Foccacia sauce and stewed tomatoes.

Jack

(As if remembering)

And I …I had the Hot Set Ralston with a bowl of Suet….Now, wait just a minute… Hold on!  That’s what I ordered in Episode 17, just before that vermin Raton stole my stopwatch!

Raton

That’s right Mr. Noir.  I have your stopwatch.  And I’m not afraid to use it! (He breaks into maniacal laughter)

{ SFX: A stopwatch starts ticking and continues through the next section }

(These next lines should be delivered in slow motion as though time had hit a wall of Jell-O, and then sped up through the end of the section as though the spring has gone crazy in a cheap clock)

Waitress

Okay, who had the soup?

Nathalie

I had the Split Pea.  I think Jack had the …

Jack

Egg drop…

Waitress (repeating)

Okay, who had the soup?

Nathalie

I had the Egg drop and I think Jack had the …

Jack

Chicken…

Waitress

Your entrées will be out in a minute…

Raton

What about the appetizer?

Jack

Okay, who smells of Mushroom Caps?

Waitress

Your entrées will be out in a minute…

Nathalie

I’m waiting for my chicken…

Jack

Which came first?

Raton

Who had the soup?

Jack

I had the Egg drop…

Nathalie

Chicken for me

Jack

Egg drop…

Nathalie

Chicken…

Jack

I think I know.

Raton

It’s an appetizer!

Nathalie

Cobb Salad

Jack

It has eggs!

Nathalie

Chicken…

Jack

I think I know.

Raton

Which came first?

Jack

What?

Raton

Which came first?

(Coming into real time, Ticking stops)

Jack

 (struggling with the words)  Okay!...  Who… had… the… soup?  (The last word is strained as though he has to punch through time to get it out.)

{ SFX: Dramatic music crescendo and climax, then Stops.}

Chief Casey:

We’ll be back after these words from Barley Corne’s Sourmash Sweetcakes and your local stations.

END OF ACT 1

ACT 2

 {SFX: ticking stopwatch}

{SFX: running footsteps}

Jack

(talking into a coffee mug to make his voice “do that voice-over narration thing”)

Nathalie and I leapt from the car and started sprinting down Wasilla Boulevard to South Hollywood  We only had a minute or so to get to the Wilderness Bar and Grill before Nathalie and I would wander aimlessly in as we did at the end of Episode 23…which is where we rejoined the story in this episode….

Announcer:

Jack Noir: Episode 24

Jack

(into the cup)  Exactly…

Nathalie

(out of breath as though she was running)  You know I can hear you when you do that, don’t you?

Jack

(normal voice, now breathing heavily as well) Yes, but it’s essential as a device to bring the listener up to speed about where we are in the story.  A classical element brought in from the Greek Theatre.  A Coffee Mug Chorus if you will.  It allows a character to step out of his body, as it were, and to narrate the story from a second or third person perspective.

Nathalie

Just as long as you know.  ….  

{SFX: the running stops}

{SFX: the ticking continues}

Nathalie

(continuing) Look, there we are!

Jack

(Into the cup again) We were not too late.  We arrived at the restaurant just as we were going in the last time.  This time we were not “aimless”.  This time we were prepared.  This time … we had already had …dinner.

{SFX: Door opening to restaurant}

Nathalie

(Stage whisper) Oh , no!  There’s Raton sliding under the Mushroom Cap.  He still has the stopwatch!

Jack

It’s not the stopwatch we’re after Nathalie.

Nathalie

It’s not?

Jack

No. 

Nathalie

I thought it was the stopwatch.

Jack

It isn’t the stopwatch!  It’s the special ingredient!   The FIRST ingredient!

Nathalie

Jack…we’re about to catch up with our earlier selves, do something!

Jack

I told you!  I know now which came first!

Nathalie

The Cobb Salad?

Jack

No!  The EGG!

{SFX: ticking stops}

Earlier Nathalie

{SFX: in slight reverb like she’s a little out of phase}

I – I guess I’ll have the salad.

Earlier Jack

{SFX: …out of phase}

The Cobb Salad?

Earlier Nathalie

Yes.

Waitress

{SFX: …out of phase}

Wonderful choice.  And you sir?

Jack (Real time)

I’ll have…the rat stuffed mushroom cap!

 {SFX:  sound of a struggle… dishes and silverware hitting the floor}

{SFX:  sounds of surprised patrons in the restaurant as if they’ve seen a rat on the premises.  This keeps up as a background throughout the rest of the episode.}

Raton

(startled, out of breath, exposed) Well, Mr…Noir.  I don’t know how you did it, but it seems you’ve spoiled my little surprise.

Jack

That’s not all that’s spoiled Raton.  I’ve figured out the sequence.

Raton

What sequence?

Jack

The special ingredient…

Raton

You found it?

Jack

You bet I did.  See I take this egg here.  Crack it open and out pops…

{SFX: Loud popping sound}

Nathalie

Chief Casey?

Chief Casey

(Irish accent of course)  So, Mr. Raton.  It’s no good again ye’ve been up ta?  You’ll be comin’ along with me, then.

{SFX:  Hand cuffling sounds}

Raton

You can’t take me that easily copper.  I still have the …. Why…What happened to the stopwatch?  I had it right here in my pocket at the beginning of the episode. 

Jack

Are you looking for this Raton? 

{SFX:  Jack pulls watch and chain out of his pocket.}

Raton

Mon dieu!…Noir!  It is impossible… how did you? … But I stole it from you seven episodes ago. 

Chief Casey

Is that a crime I just heard you confessin’ to?  It’s your touch you’re losing, sure. 

Jack

It was easy, Raton.  While we were hurrying here to intercept our earlier selves from episode 23, I remembered a little trick I learned back in the original series.  All I have to do is dis-remember some element of my past.  Re-remember it into a different future.   And voila!

{SFX: Ticking resumes and gets louder throughout next sequence, morphing from that of a small stopwatch to something like Big Ben}

Casey and Raton

“Voila,” what?

Jack

Once I dis-remembered the exact moment you stole my watch from me in episode 17, I grabbed it back in my new reality.  Since Episode 18, you haven’t had the stopwatch.  I have!

Raton

But then I wouldn’t have been able to steal the secret of the tanning beds in Episode 20… oh, no!  I feel so pasty!

Nathalie

Jack…what’s happening?

Jack

The past is reshuffling around us, Nathalie.  Hold on!  We just have to ride it out…

{SFX: flashback music playing backwards}

Jack

(continues) There goes the flashback sequence in episode 24…

Nathalie

Jack…this IS Episode 24!

Jack

Not anymore, Sweet cakes.  We could land just about anywhere in this series. 

Chief Casey

(Now he has a New York accent) Or next, the way I figure…

Nathalie

Casey, what happened to your accent?

Chief Casey

What accent?

Jack

He’s right.  We could be thrown completely clear of this series and into another whole season.  Or…

{SFX:  Big Ben starts to toll midnight}

Nathalie

(nervously)  Or what?

Jack

Or, we could be cancelled completely.

Nathalie

Jack I’m scared.

Jack

Just hang on!

Raton

Noir!  You can’t dis-remember me! 

Jack

Sorry Raton.  It’s not up to me now.  I all has to shuffle out

Raton

Jack Noir…you haven’t seen the last of me!

{SFX: Big Ben continues striking}

{SFX: Loud popping sound with thunder}

Nathalie

Jack!  Raton’s gone!

Chief Casey

Who’s gone?

{SFX: Big Ben strikes 13}

Nathalie

Jack?

(silence)

Nathalie

(worried)

Jack?

(silence)

Chief Casey

Who’s Jack?

{SFX: normal restaurant sounds }

Waitress

Cobb salad.  No eggs.  Wonderful choice, miss.  And what will the Gentleman have?

Chief Casey

You got burgers?

Nathalie

(sadly) Oh, Jack….

{SFX:  Theme music up… a little more mournful than before…}

Announcer: 

(Raton’s voice with no accent)

Is this the LAST episode of Jack Noir: Time Cracker?  Or the first?  What happened to the Stopwatch?  How can anyone  know?  What have you been listening to for 24 episodes?  And what about Nathalie?  Tune in next week and find out.  Maybe.  

{SFX: Music swells, maniacal laughter in echo}

END ACT 2

THE END

5:15 - OR SO

It is necessary to locate the birthplace of the following offering, both in time and in place.  Otherwise it will make less sense than it will already not make.

It was written late in February 1980 while I was living in New York City.  One of the sofas on which I was allowed to "crash" on a regular basis was in an apartment in the SoHo district.  Atop said apartment building, was a splendid rooftop retreat which I visited whenever I could.  One remarkable evening at about "5:15 - or so" I witnessed the setting sun reflecting magnificently from the upper floors of one of the skyscrapers a couple miles uptown from me.

Rainbows are also significant and shall be revisited in later posts.

5:15 --- Or So

The sun shines sharply from

Northern monolithic highlands.

Other glimmering baubles reflract

And reflect

Rainbows in a reminiscing Mind.

Clement warmness,

Unseasonal for February's normal chill

Sends springtime shivers

Through a fevered Mind.

Alone and one.

Urban, beehive sprawl

Splinters northern sunsets into many.

For a time...

...none passes.

Save for The Never-ending Sound Effect:

Vehicular tumult.

Cloudless blue-and-brown hued masking 

Hides the endless velvet violet of Stellar regions from

Optic awareness.

Here, to when "Now" is here,

The panoramic, spectacle

Emblazons and imprints, permanently

A peaceful Mind.

Painful memories remembered

Then filed away: Forgotten,

"Now" becomes the dwelling place of

Northern sunset's mysteries.

There.

For, when reading-thinking-speaking movement ends:

(a transit of a soul's experience)

There is another "Now" to bleach

The stain of Life

Away for one more shot at Eternity...

...an Immortal Mind.

WHOEVER YOU ARE

~ By Barley Corne

Did you really just call me "Whoever You Are"?

It seems so unlike you to me.

I'm sorry I woke you from trying to sleep.

It was well after noon. Excuse me!

I thought I was more than "Whoever You Are".

I could be mistaken, I guess.

And yet, I am left here to stare at the phone

My ego is bruised, I confess.

It's possible Darlin', whoever you are,

I needed a friend on the line.

Your brand of rejection, I take pretty hard.

It's usually not a good sign.

I just wanted a minute, whoever I was,

To give you the news of the day.

It's not like I called for no reason at all.

I knew what I wanted to say.

So why did you call me "Whoever You Are"?

Why'd you bother to answer the call?

You could have just let your machine pick it up.

Since that's why it's there after all.

My Budweiser's flat'ning, whatever that is.

This evening has gone rather long.

It's late and I have to start early at work

I guess I should wrap up this song.

Whoever I was, I was someone you knew
Whatever I did, did it really hurt you?
However I thought we had something to share.
Now I don't really think that you care...


I'll call in the morning, whenever that is.

And possibly talk to you then.

If I can be more than "Whoever You Are"

Then maybe I'll call you again.

You can talk. They can’t see you!

This document is a partial transcript of a live studio performance of Barley Corne’s Hour Of Wasted Time (alternately spelled: Thyme), broadcast over the National Broadcasting Network on the evening of June 14, 1949.  The popular radio show which, on this occasion, was filmed by an NBN Television crew for an experimental broadcast, was briefly interrupted by interference from an unidentified source and the visual record of certain segments did not survive.  One of these, sadly, is the ventriloquist act of Johnny Mopp & His Magic Toy, Harry.  It was a regular segment on the radio program and featured a non-traditional relationship between the “Dummy”- Harry and his Human - Johnny. 

Johnny Mopp and Harry c.1948

This classic routine, entitled: “You Can Talk. They Can’t See You” begins as Harry (the “Dummy”) emerges from the wings while Johnny remains mostly obscured behind the curtain, offstage.

(Editor’s note: “Barley Corne’s Hour of Wasted Time [Thyme]” was performed between 1943 and 1958 in front of a live audience on a theatrical stage in upstate New Amsterdam.  Hence, even though this is a radio transcript, several staging notations have been made, based on eye witness accounts, to approximate the actual in-person experience.)

Harry

(to Johnny offstage)

Hey, Johnny!  Come on out here.  It’s time to do the show now!

(There is a pause.)

Johnny

(Offstage)

Don’t want to.

Harry

(Looking at the audience)

Come on, the people are waiting.

Johnny

Nuh, uh.

Harry

(Coaxing) Johny come on!

Johnny

…No…

Harry

Why not?

Johnny

(After a slight pause, mumbling) I can’t stop moving my lips.

Harry

What?

Johnny

(Clearly) I can’t stop moving my lips!  I’m a ventriloquist.  And I can’t stop moving my lips!  

Harry

Seriously?

Johnny

I mean, you’re out there talking.  And doing a fine job if I say so myself…

Harry

…Thank you

Johnny

But let’s face it.  If I wasn’t back here doing the work, you’d be sitting out there doing your impression of kindling wood in a suit.

Harry

I beg your pardon…

Johnny

You’re a building material with hair.

Harry

…You don’t have to get personal…

Johnny

Without me, you’d be chucked by the nearest woodchuck….

Harry

Now that’s enough…

(Pause)

Johnny

Sorry…

Harry

Okay then…

Johnny

Got carried away…

Harry

It’s alright.

Johnny

(Animated again) Kinda, like I carry YOU every night.  Day in and day out…!

Harry

All right!  I think we understand! Really, that’s enough now…

(Pause)

Johnny

Sorry again.

Harry

Apology accepted.

Johnny

Anyway, that’s why I can’t come out on stage anymore.

Harry

Because you can’t stop moving your lips…

Johhny

Yeah.  Cause if you and I are on the same stage anymore, I’d have to do all the talking.  You’d have to…..stop.

(Short pause)

Harry

Johnny….

Johnny

(Timidly) Yes?

Harry

It’s Okay.  Come on out here.

Johnny

But…

Harry

It’s OK, really.  Come on out.

Johnny

(begins to protest again)

Harry

(Coaxing)  Come on….

(Johnny emerges from the wings and Harry leads the audience in a big welcoming applause.  Johnny is beaming.)

Harry

See?  How bad is that?  Everyone loves you for yourself! 

Johnny

Yeah!  I guess so!   But what about the lips thing?

Harry

(Is SILENT) 

Johnny

Harry?

Harry

(Is still SILENT) 

Johnny

Harry!  Speak to me!

Harry

(Suddenly) You want to know the truth? 

Johnny

(Relieved) Sure!  Anything!

Harry

…About the lips thing?   

Johnny

Yeah.

Harry

This is radio, Johnny.

Johnny

Yeah.  I…

Harry

You’re a ventriloquist on the radio.

Johnny

(dawn is breaking)  Um..

Harry

It's allright. You can talk. They can’t see you!

Johnny

Ahhhhh! So…

Harry

Kinda frees you up a little…

Johnny

…You could put it that way, yeah.  A little weird, but nice.  (a pause, then genuinely) Thank you.

Harry

(Awkwardly)

Why don’t you just say “Hello”?

Johnny

(Looks at the audience and smiles)  Hello. 

(Someone in the audience responds “Hello!”

Harry

(to the audience) That was mediocre.  Why don’t you try again?

Johnny

(More forcefully…)  Hello!  (Audience responds much better this time)  Smile!  You’re on the RADIO!

(The audience responds with waves of laughter, friendly cheers and loud applause.)

Harry

(Stage whisper) The act.  Go into the act

Johnny

(Also sotto-voce) Oh, r-right!  Okay.    

(Now he’s in character) S-say Johnny,

Harry

(Correcting)  Harry…

Johnny

Harry….  I hear you have a talent for reading minds.  Is that true?

Harry

Actually, I do have a sixth sense if you need to know.

Johnny

Really?  Just how many senses ARE there?

Harry

Counting this one?

Johnny

Yes.

Harry

(Take to the audience)  …Six.

Johnny

(Finally getting into the swing of it, bringing in an air of mystique, setting up a magic trick)

…Right!  Okay.  Who has a deck of playing cards?  A regular deck.  No markings or anything.  Just a plain deck. 

(A woman from the audience produces a deck)

Johnny

Great!  Okay.  Now please shuffle the deck. And be sure not to let me see it as you do.

(This is done)

Johnny

Is it done?

Audience Member

It is done.

Johnny

Good, OK.  Now.  Fan the deck so that the numbers are down.  Don’t let me see them. 

(This is done)

Johnny (continuing)

…and allow me to choose a card from the deck.   Tell me when you’re ready.

Audience Member

I’m ready.

Johnny

Right.  Now I’m going to select a card from the deck, and I will show it to you.  Being careful not to let Harry see the card I have selected.  Is that clear?

Audience Member

Yes.

Johnny

(pulls the card from the deck, looks at it, hiding it from Harry and shows it to the Audience Member) 

You have it? 

Audience Member

Yes.

Johnny

(Hands the card to the Audience Member) 

Now keep that safe somewhere.  Put it in your pocket.  And don’t let Harry see it!

Audience Member

Ok.

Johnny

(Turning to Harry, who has had his eyes averted throughout and has fallen asleep) 

Now…  Harry…

Harry

(snores) 

Johnny

Harry?!

Harry

(Still half asleep)  Okay… just don’t tell my wife…

Johnny

(Shaking him awake) HARRY!!

Harry

What!?

Johnny

Haven’t you been paying attention?

Harry

Last I knew we were talking about my sixth sense and then you completely ignored me since then.

Johnny

I’m so sorry

Harry

I mean I think It’s kind of special to be able to see things other people can’t see don’t you think so?

Johnny

Yes, you’re right.  It IS special.

Harry

(to audience)  I see WOOD people!

Johnny

Harry.   I said I’m sorry.  Can we get back to the act?

Harry

Oh, listen to you!  All “Mr. I’m-in-charge, now,” aren’t we?

Johnny

Harry.   Please.  Why don’t you tell us…. (Back in “tone mystique”) What is the card this nice lady pulled from the deck?

Harry

Are you kidding?  I was asleep!

Johnny

Uh, I thought…I didn’t know you were …..  You said to get into the act and I did!

Harry

I know!  Then you completely ….  Wait a minute. 

(He stops and stares at the Audience Member) 

Harry

You’re the one!

Audience Member

Me?

Harry

Yes.  You are the one who chose the card, aren’t you?

Audience Member

Yes

Harry

Very nice dress.

Audience Member

Thank you.

Harry

You have pockets in that dress?

Audience Member

I do.

Harry

Is there a card in one of your pockets?

Audience Member

There is.

Harry

Is it from my agent?  I can’t find the one he gave me.

Johnny

Harry…

Harry

Ok, ok!  (he bows his head and starts to moan)  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm.

Johnny (getting anxious)

Harry.  What are you doing?

Harry

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm!  What?  I’m communing….

Johnny

Communing

Harry

Yeah, communing…. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm.

Johnny

With what?  A backwards cow?

Harry

That’s just mean!

Johnny

I’m sorry!  Just pay attention!

Harry

Okay!   The card! 

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

The playing card.

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

That was chosen.

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

It……. was……… the………. 8 of Diamonds!  

(The Audience Member takes the card out of her pocket and shows it to the rest of the audience.  It is indeed the 8 of Diamonds.  The place goes crazy with applause and cheers)

Johnny

Yes!  The 8 of Diamonds!  Isn’t that fantastic, Ladies and Gentlemen?

Harry

Thank you, thank you!  Say goodnight, Johnny

Johnny

Goodnight.  Johnny. 

(He waves to the audience, smiling, triumphant. Harry (with Johnny’s assistance) also waves. They exit the stage, commiserating with each other as they leave…)

End of transcript.