It's The Same Old Song

Hello World, Happy July 4th weekend! I hope that everyone will take advantage of the long holiday weekend to declare their independence from boredom, drudgery, and all incarnations of the "same-old, same-old," whatever that may be. Please feel free to blithely ignore The Holiday Police, and enjoy a star-spangled 4th in any way that seems most optimal for you - and it goes without saying, don't spare the parades, fireworks, and barbecues, by George! With actual Independence Day falling on a Saturday this year, many businesses elected to close on Friday instead. I admit that it came as a somewhat unwelcome surprise to find that it was not considered a holiday at the temp job where I'm working now, and the heck with The Founding Fathers. On the other hand, the bank next to our office took 2 days, and a convoy of trucks and cranes, to change the name on top of a 7-story building, which in spite of being extremely diverting, was met with universal disinterest by the locals. When I worked at the hospital, exactly this sort of thing would have shut the whole place down for the duration, with 1600 people all leaving their posts to stand out in the parking lot and gawk. Apparently entertainment is in the eye of the beholder, and what we have here is obviously a tough crowd. Speaking of crowds, it was last Friday that we joined friends of ours, and a motley assortment of other geezers, to watch The Midtown Men at the NYCB Theater in the wilds of Westbury on Long Island. This venue used to be widely known as The Westbury Music Fair when I was growing up in the area, and in fact, I actually saw the Bee Gees there (before their disco days) as well as Johnny Mathis. (Now there's a guy who could flat-out sing, and no joke.) For anyone not familiar with the group (and please do go right ahead and visit their web site at www.themidtownmen.com and see for yourself) The Midtown Men are 4 talented gentlemen who met while performing in the Broadway cast of "The Jersey Boys," and then decided to strike out on their own, lovingly presenting their favorite songs from the 1960's, not only by The Four Seasons, but a wide range of other artists as well. Their show features dozens of these timeless classics, happily revisited with strong harmonies and infectious enthusiasm, that quickly had the rapt audience tapping their feet and singing along. It must also be said that their backup band is a show all its own, and worth the trip all by itself. Because the theater is small and "in the round" (although only 3/4 on this occasion) there are no bad seats, and if this wasn't "up close and personal" enough for anyone, they actually arranged a "Meet & Greet" in the lobby with the singers after the show. So for anybody like me who can't get enough of 50-year-old music, please run, don't walk, to the ticket office if The Midtown Men play anywhere near you, and get ready to party like it's 1965! Meanwhile on the ecclesiastical scene, our local newspaper ran a story about The Most Holy Trinity Roman Catholic Church in Yonkers, and its storied history from 1895 to the present. Fearless columnist Phil Reisman, who knows better, described the impressive dimensions of the structure, and its acoustical features, such that its "walls can reverberate ... a light cough from the entrance to the knave." Ouch! Admittedly, "nave" is an uncommon word with only narrowly specific utility, and far from the general parlance - but as they used to say back in those halcyon days of yore with actual editors, all the more reason to look it up and be absolutely sure that you've got ahold of the right word, and not just go off half-cocked with any old guess, making a fool (or a knave) out of yourself in the process. And while we're on the topic of people who should know better, this would become abundantly clear if you go to the web site of our friends at the Department of Housing and Buildings, also in the fine upstanding City of Yonkers, and download a sign application form from them, or as many as you might have need of. Naturally the form has a place for your name and address, as well as the location of your proposed sign, and categories for the sign of your choice, such as ground, pole-mounted, wall, awning, or what they refer to as "verticle." Inasmuch as "verticle" is not a word - at least not in English anywhere in this galaxy - one can only assume that they meant "vertical" instead, and you would think that even the most rudimentary spell-checker on their web site would have alerted them to this mistake. Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry, and that's a plain fact. Anyone who knows me can tell you that when it comes to comic book superheroes, IMAX 3-D is the only way to go. So when "Avengers: Age of Ultron" came out, off we went. After all, we had seen the first Avengers movie and liked it more than we expected, so this was a no-brainer. Like all action films nowadays, it was long, noisy, hectic, overwhelming, confusing, often intense, and occasionally surreal. One problem is that the Avengers franchise is already so over-populated (Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Hulk, Iron Man, Thor, War Machine, Nick Fury and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.) and then add in four more characters in one fell swoop, it just becomes impossible to tell any sort of coherent story, while giving each one the attention they deserve. (Poor embattled Loki, Thor's devious half-brother, didn't make it into the final version at all, and his contributions to the effort, whatever they might have been, were left on the proverbial cutting room floor, alas.) This seemed more grim than the first one, where the attempts at humor failed to relieve the gloom, and the glimpses of genuine humanity were more bittersweet than heartwarming. Perhaps that's why this exchange stood out in contrast, like a frothy bubble on a dingy sponge. After one of their epic battles, Dr. Bruce Banner is filled with remorse over whatever damage may have been inflicted by his uncontrollable alter ego, the Hulk, so Black Widow asks Thor for an assessment of how the Hulk was invaluable to their success. Eager to oblige, Thor cheerfully announces: "The gates of Hell are filled with the screams of his victims!" At this, Dr Banner groans and holds his head in his hands, while Black Widow glares at the hammer-wielding lummox, with a withering look that cannot be misinterpreted. Realizing his error, Thor quickly backtracks, and takes another valiant stab at it: "But not the screams of the dead, of course. No, no ... wounded screams ... mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining, and tales of sprained deltoids and ... gout." Now, that's more like it! Alert readers may recall that we have lately become proud, if unexpected, parents of two sets of kittens born under our front porch: a trio of solid black boys, and a pair of gray striped lasses with white underparts. Like all strays, when we first manhandled them inside (amid much protest and violent outbursts, I don't mind saying) they were traumatized at the very idea, and terrified at the sight of us, even at a distance. We could clear a room just by putting our head inside a door, and at the sound of our approaching footsteps, they would all flee in every direction. Well, it's been enough time now, and they've all gotten big enough, not to mention comfortable, that they now take us entirely for granted, like some well-meaning but inept staff that has been assigned to attend to their every need. Now if you walk into a room, you basically have to wade through a sea of fur on every side, carefully stepping over, around, or across lounging felines who could not possibly be bothered to get out of your way, thanks not. They will not budge, no matter what you do, and even worse on the stairs, where they spread out along an entire step, leaving you no alternative but to jump over two steps to get around them - regardless of whether your hands are full, and you're just as likely to break your neck as otherwise. I finally said to Bill that there's certain advantages to having cats that are afraid of you, and at least can be counted on to get out from under your feet, rather than being a public hazard to life and limb at every turn. But it reminds me that I recently picked up a package of our cats' favorite treats, Temptations by Whiskas, and was more surprised than anybody to find that they are produced by a division of MARS, the confectionery giant of international renown for their Mars bars, Snickers, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, and of course, those ubiquitous M&M's that melt in your mouth and not in your hand. In what can only be described as a bizarre twist of fate, their competitor in the pet food aisle, Purina, is manufactured by Nestle, another international confectionery giant, famous for their Butterfinger, KitKat, Crunch, Smarties, and above all, their iconic Toll House Morsels. Here I'm thinking, it's no wonder that they love this cat food so much - it's essentially junk food for your pets! It's already hard enough to keep the kitties away from my sweets as it is, and it's only a matter of time before these far-reaching corporate behemoths decide to add tuna or bacon flavors to their candies, and then all bets are off. Elle