Greetings, my fellow port swillers!
Mrs. Robbo informed me this morning that I’m not allowed to do yard work today since I’ve been down this week with the stomach bug, so I’m just having a cup o’ joe and noodling around here.
♦ As a matter of fact, I feel considerably better. Yesterday I had a massive headache all day, which was actually good news because that always seems to be one of the last stages of these things for me. Indeed, I like to imagine them in terms of nor’easters that first form off Cape Hatteras (my stomach) and then roll up the East Coast (shoulders, neck, head) before heading on out to sea.
Yes, I’m a weirdo.
♦ Speaking of nor’easters, hello Polar Vortex! (The Port Swiller thermometer hit 32 degrees for the first time this morning, but the kerpow is scheduled for later next week here.) AlGore could not be reached for comment – I understand he has a hot new lead on the whereabouts of ManBearPig.
♦ Speaking of seasonal changes, we got all the ferns and potted palms moved in off the porch last week. They look so nice inside I think we’re going to keep them here and just get new ones for outdoors next spring.
♦ RIP Tom Magliozzi of NPR’s “Car Talk”. I used to listen to him and his brother Ray every Saturday morning, especially back in school, and regularly found myself rolling on the floor in laughter. Indeed, his stock “Aww, Jeez” has become a staple of the Port Swiller lexicon. (As a matter of fact, I stopped listening to Click and Clack out of protest when they got on the “SUV’s are Global Warminz!! Eleventy!!!” bandwagon, but I still remember the old days fondly.)
♦ Speaking of people in the nooz, just who the hell is this Lena Dunham person? (I’ll take pathetically spoiled, hyper-politicized narcissists for a thousand, Alex.) As the father of three daughters, I simply cannot conceive how any one of them would wish to grow up emulating that.
♦ Speaking of pathetically spoiled, hyper-politicized narcissists, it may just be my imagination coupled with wishful thinking, but I’m beginning to get the impression that people have had just about enough of that sort of thing and that the tide may be beginning to turn. I hope so. I hope so.
♦ Somewhat related, Scott Hahn, the popular Catholic convert and apologist, writes very insightfully and I’ve learned a great deal from him, but the fact of the matter is that his over-use of exclamation points and catch-phrases puts me off his books.
♦ Finally, speaking of books, I’ve started through the Charles Portis cycle for the umpteenth time. (If you don’t read Portis, you’re really, really missing out.) Allow me to quote a small piece from the beginning of his first novel, Norwood:
Norwood and Vernell did not live right in Ralph but just the other side of Ralph. Mr. Pratt had always enjoyed living on the edge of places or between places, even when he had a choice. He was an alcoholic auto mechanic. Before his death they had moved a lot, back and forth along U.S. Highway 82 in the oil fields and cotton patches between Stamps, Arkansas, and Hooks, Texas. There was something Mr. Pratt dearly loved about that section of interstate concrete. They clung to its banks like river rats. Once, near Stamps, they lived in a house between a Tastee-Freez stand and a cinder-block holiness church. There had been a colorful poster on one side of the house that said ROYAL AMERICAN SHOWS OCT. 6-12 ARKANSAS LIVESTOCK EXPOSITION LITTLE ROCK. On the other side of the house somebody with a big brush and a can of Sherwin-Williams flat white had painted ACTS 2:38.
I just love that. Love the style, love the substance, love the little quirks. Portis is from the Ark-La-Tex area and captures its details lovingly, not snarkily.
There really is a Hooks, Texas and a Stamps, Arkansas – they’re a few miles the opposite sides of Texarkana. And U.S. 82 really does run through them. Alas, I cannot find a Ralph, Texas. I think it must be a stand-in for either Leary or Nash, both of which are between Hooks and Texarkana. (If you’re into this sort of geekery, you can read Portis’s True Grit with google-map open at your side and very easily trace Mattie Ross’s journey from Yell County, Arkansas into the Eastern Oklahoma badlands, and in fact to the mountain hideout of Lucky Ned Pepper, which I believe is a state park now.)
Acts 2:38, by the way, reads: Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Good advice for anyone.
UPDATE: Well, I got one home-improvement project done anyway, namely running the cables behind the basement wall between the teevee and the Verizon box. I used a fish tape to bull up through the insulation between the two holes, then ran a loop of line through, splicing the heads of the various cables to it and pulling them through more or less on the capstan principle. Turned out to be rayther more difficult than I had anticipated, at least so far as getting at the tape head the first time. Luckily, I have small hands so was eventually able to grapple it and get it out. I even had the sense to leave the line in place (the end discretely coiled behind the teevee) in case the gels need another one of their infernal video contraptions hooked up.
A small matter, but nonetheless something from which I can draw satisfaction.