So this morning I woke up and because I like to be an irredeemable bum before Singles Awareness Day, I was planning on wearing my pajamas all day. But for some reason, I felt like I should wear my Arcade Fire shirt, I don’t know why. And now they’ve gone and won the Grammy for Best Album. I must have totally called it.
I’ll always remember you as the man who convinced me that scones were delicious. I raise a glass of dandelion and burdock cordial in your honor.
sKedule, and sKool.
Either that or bruSHetta, SHedule, and SHool.
Take your pick.
In his new movie Unknown, Liam Neeson plays “Dr. Martin Harris [who] awakens after a car accident in Berlin to discover that his wife (Betty Draper, whose ex-husband also stole someone else’s identity, common theme HMM?) suddenly doesn’t recognize him and another man has assumed his identity. Ignored by disbelieving authorities and hunted by mysterious assassins, he finds himself alone, tired, and on the run. Aided by an unlikely ally (Diane Kruger), Martin plunges headlong into a deadly mystery that will force him to question his sanity, his identity, and just how far he’s willing to go to uncover the truth.” And destroys Berlin in the process.
First it was Paris in Taken, now Berlin? I can’t wait till he destroys Rome in Forsaken, where he plays Elliot Johnson, who is on vacation with his wife until she mysteriously disappears in the middle of the night. Hounded by shadowy government agents, he inadvertently uncovers a global conspiracy/criminal ring while searching for his wife, who is the key to everything. Something like that.
So I was letting my mind wander during Christmas mass and thought about the first Christmas. Now, the Bible has a lot of stories and lessons for the modern man, and the Christmas story is no exception. You see, the three wise men brought Our Lord and Savior the Baby Jesus three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Now, I know that gold is a common gift to infants in many countries. I myself have received gold…or so my parents tell me, because I was too young to remember. But the other two? Frankincense and myrrh? Even Sunday school teachers struggle to explain what frankincense and myrrh are before resorting to the “it was a big deal back then” explanation. So apparently frankincense is some sort of aromatic resin product, like really expensive potpourri or scented candles, you know, for Joseph and Mary to use to spice up their bedroom life-oh wait, they were celibate, weren’t they? Gift wasted. And myrrh? Aside from the you’re-going-to-die implications of its use for embalming bodies, myrrh was also used as a medicinal product, mainly for dressing wounds. Wounds? Like perhaps, nail wounds? Seriously, a terrible reminder for the Baby Jesus that HE’S GOING TO DIE FOR OUR SINS.
Lesson? Even the Baby Jesus got shitty Christmas gifts. Don’t complain because you got some books.
I’ve always been a staunchly against the habit of smoking. My feelings on the matter probably stem from the many trips I made to the Boston Museum of Science. To warn scientifically-curious children against the dangers of smoking, the museum showcased the lung of a heavy smoker, a black, tarry, shriveled organ that bear no likeliness to the perfect pink specimen right next to it, along with a long list of the cancer-inducing chemicals that could be found in the average pack of cigarettes. The fear tactic worked. The next time my uncle, a chain smoker, came to visit us in Cambridge, I plastered the screen window of our balcony with “NO SMOKING” signs while he had a cigarette or two on the balcony. He helped me print and tape the signs to the windows, leading me to suspect that he wasn’t taking this as seriously as I was. He still smokes, but now he rolls his own cigarettes. It’s healthier, he says. I take my victories where I can.