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orange bishop (photo by halex)

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Neil Gaiman

“Picking five favorite books is like picking the five body parts you’d most like not to lose.”

-- Neil Gaiman

I don't know if I feel quite that intimately about my books. I am pretty promiscuous, and I usually love the one that I am with. But, yeah, I don't like picking favorites, either.

The storm breaks

Shy of two-thirty in the morning, I get up for a bathroom run and let the cats inside for a feeding. A perfectly ordinary night. A little less than an hour later, I am dozing in bed and surely about to fall under deep, when I begin to hear thunder. I ignore the first couple of loud cracks of the sky, but then I think of the cats and the fact that we are supposed to be under a 30% chance of rain, and I wrench myself out of bed and go to the kitchen to see what we have. There is lightning and thunder, but it is only when I am standing there at the door studying the situation when it starts to rain. It is only raining gently, but that is good enough for me. I open the door and Ash rushes in. Sammy is more coy, but a few minutes later, he follows suit.

But there is no sign of Coco anywhere. The storm breaks and it is so furious and violent that it is difficult to believe that Hurricane Sandy could have been this bad at any given moment. There is still no Coco. It’s going to be one of those long nights. This is a lasting storm and does not spend itself in just ten or twenty minutes.

Although these cats have always made it back in a storm, this one was the worst yet, I believe, and I was scared for Coco. Yet, she did make it in at around four-thirty, and even more, she was not drenched, but seemed as though she just came in from a drizzling, nor were her paws dirty. In fact, if anything, they seem cleaner and whiter. Whatever, I will take a good break whenever I can get one.

Daylight Saving Time

I only now notice that it is Daylight Saving Time. If I knew this last night, I could have salvaged a little more of my night's sleep from the Coco scare and snuck in another hour's dozing.

Rita Hayworth as Gilda

Rita Hayworth, Gilda (1946)

Gilda is a 1946 American black-and-white film noir directed by Charles Vidor. It stars Glenn Ford and Rita Hayworth in her signature role as the ultimate femme fatale. The film was noted for cinematographer Rudolph Mate's lush photography, costume designer Jean Louis' wardrobe for Hayworth (particularly for the dance numbers), and choreographer Jack Cole's staging of "Put the Blame on Mame" and "Amado Mio", sung by Anita Ellis

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Rush Limbaugh: The Movie

Actor and outspoken liberal John Cusack is developing a movie about conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh, Cusack's production company said Friday.

The working title is "Rush," Cusack's New Crime Productions confirmed, offering no other details.

Hollywood director Betty Thomas, who's set to work on the film, said the production company is putting finishing touches on a script that will star the actor. Production is set for next year, Thomas said.

-- ONTD

That should be interesting. I hope Cusack tries to play it fair, because Limbaugh is extreme enough without having to purposely execute a hatchet job on the man. Limbaugh parodies himself. You merely have to hold up the mirror to nature.

Pop called for the air-conditioner

I'm glad Pop called for the air-conditioner. I was suffering a little myself, but it was only 81 degrees in the hour according to our thermometer, 88 degrees outside.

I suspect it is odd for it to be this warm in November. More signs of global warming.

1984 (2,9) Throughout History a Struggle

In which Emmanuel Goldstein expounds on the relatively fixed historical dynamics of the High, the Middle, and the wretched Low.

_ _ _

The aims of these three groups are entirely irreconcilable. The aim of the High is to remain where they are. The aim of the Middle is to change places with the High. The aim of the Low, when they have an aim - for it is an abiding characteristic of the Low that they are too much crushed by drudgery to be more than intermittently conscious of anything outside their daily lives - is to abolish all distinctions and create a society in which all men are created equal. Thus throughout history a struggle which is the same in its main outlines recurs over and over again. For long periods the High seem to be securely in power, but sooner or later there always comes a moment when they lose either their belief in themselves, or their capacity to govern efficiently, or both. They are then overthrown by the Middle, who enlist the Low on their side by pretending to them that they are fighting for liberty and justice. As soon as they have reached their objective, the Middle thrust the Low back into their old position of servitude, and themselves become the High. Presently a new Middle group splits off from one of the other groups, or from both of them, and the struggle begins over again. Of the three groups, only the Low are never even temporarily successful in achieving their aims.

-- “1984” by George Orwell

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Having recognized this historical pattern, of course, opens the door to seizing on the pattern and exploiting it.

Neil Gaiman's "American Gods"

Since I was up and awake during the small hours of the dark and stormy morning, praying for Coco's safe return to the fold, I began Neil Gaiman's "American Gods". I had high hopes for the novel, but after the first ten pages, I don't think I am going to be able to finish it. Although this is ostensibly a grown-up book, it feels to me like Gaiman would be more comfortable sticking to children's fare, as he seems more comfortable talking at their level, and the narrative is just not engaging my imagination. Regardless, I want to give the book at least fifty pages to light my fire, before I have to plunk down some cash at the Kindle Store. Funny thing, he is a writer whose life I like to follow on the Internet through his blogs, but it does not look like I am ever going to become one of his readers. Well, sometimes the chemistry is simply not there.

I didn't have a coke

Hey, I didn't have a coke with my dinner tonight. Maybe I have some fight left in me after all, eh?