Creeper
Who is Woody Allen? I was curious so I did a little checking. Without my usual eloquent elaboration here are some basic facts I learned.
Woody Allen got married for the first time in 1954 to Harlene Rosen. He was 19 and she was 16. The marriage took place in California with the blessing of Harlene’s parents. Reportedly it was Allen’s parents who were more resistant to the joining.
The marriage lasted about five years. After the divorce, Allen referred to Harlene as “the dread Mrs. Allen” in his comedy act and she sued him for defamation regarding comments he made on TV.
Later, when Allen was in a relationship with Mia Farrow, who he never married, he was discovered (while they were still a couple) with nude photographs he had taken of Soon-Yi Previn, Farrow’s adopted daughter who was about 19 years old at the time.
Later, Allen described Farrow’s discovery of the photographs as “one of the great pieces of luck” in his life. Allen later denied this series of events was a “scandal.”
What was the scandal? I fell in love with this girl, married her. We have been married for almost 15 years now. There was no scandal, but people refer to it all the time as a scandal and I kind of like that in a way because when I go I would like to say I had one real juicy scandal in my life.
Source: Reuters
After the relationship with Farrow ended, Allen was free to pursue Soon-Yi Previn. Allen was 57 and Soon-Yi was reportedly about 19. They were married about five years later in 1997 and remain married to this day. There is a 35-year difference in ages.
When asked about the age difference, Allen famously shrugged it off, saying, “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
Fukushima #reblog
Today’s regurgitation reblog is served up by the WordPress “random post” feature. Back on July 24, 2011, I posted an “Aerial Reconnaissance Challenge” that was a photograph of the Fukushima nuclear reactor. It was also a Sunday.
This morning, while looking for an updated photograph, I found this news scarcely four hours old:
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Garden Party
I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn’t look the same
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please yourself
–Ricky Nelson
Let’s just say that I’m not the most social wildebeest in the herd. Ya think? So when an invitation comes my way it’s a big, big decision. A really big decision. Monumental. Did I mention yet that it is big?
Of course I don’t want to go. That’s a given. That part is never open to debate. The only question is should I go? Put in an appearance, as it were. My normal procedure, if I go at all, is to keep it as brief as possible before doing The Slink.
For argument’s sake, let’s say the decision has been made. (It could happen.) What then?
The Slink is my trademark move. One minute I’m there and then. Poof. Hey! Has anyone seen Tom in a while?
I don’t believe in goodbyes at parties. It creates a commotion, focuses undue attention (I’m not a narcissist in real life) and can take 90 minutes or more. The Slink is the much preferable option.
But before I could activate the magical powers of The Slink something else happened. Something very untoward. Of course, great umbrage and acrimony was involved. Curious? Well load up the fucking Facebook. I’m sure you can read all about it.
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Death by iPhone
A friend of our aunt’s came to town and we all went out to lunch. It was quite a lovely affair until…
Someone, I think it was my wife, asked, “How is your son?”
Suddenly the dreaded iPhone came out and we were subjected to a startling app that I can only assume is named something like Slideshow Torment 2.0. “Oh, he’s doing fine. Here are some pictures…”
Nooooooooooo!
Remember when slideshow parties were all the rage? Me either, but apparently there was a time when people would lure guests into their home under the guise of a dinner or cocktail party then the slideshow projector would kill all the joy as the guests were forced to endure pictures of the family vacation, pets, babies, and tourist shots in exotic locales.
Now, thanks to modern technology, we can have that same level of excitement anytime and anywhere. It’s sublime perfection for a society on the go. Now we have slideshow to go.
I can barely tolerate this sort of thing even under the best of circumstances. But when it is from a person I don’t know, like an old friend of my aunt’s, and she is regaling us with stories and pictures about people I don’t know and have never met, my patience wears thin very quickly.
I’ve always struggled to maintain interest when people start telling stories about people I don’t know. “You know Mary, right? She works with someone named Jill who used to live across the street from Bob. That dude was crazy. He was always pulling some stunt like the time he…”
“Excuse me. Who is Mary again?”
These stories about a friend of a friend of friend drive me nuts. I don’t have time to hear stories about people I’ve never met. Aaaaiiiieeeee!
So there we were, in a nice restaurant, held hostage by a two-pronged attack. My aunt’s friend was dominating all conversation and we were compelled to look at endless exciting photographs of her son each time the infernal iPhone was passed around the table. “Here he is in front of his new home. Isn’t it lovely?” Ugh. A little part of me just died. “And here he is in his swimsuit. Isn’t he handsome?” Losing strength, must try to hold on…
What could have been a lovely occasion with conversation between seldom seen friends – old and new – and a delightful lunch was killed. That iPhone is now wanted for murder.
My reaction these days when an iPhone gets pulled out is visceral and immediate. It is an overwhelming feeling of sinking in desperation to a very bad place. I used to have some mild interest in the technology but that’s all gone now. I’ve seen what an iPhone can do.
Cell phones are already plenty annoying enough. Now the iPhone (and others of its ilk) comes along and takes the torment to a whole new level. Home movies are next, I’m sure.
How am I going to make it in a society where people frothingly and willingly believe that their cell phone is one of the very best parts of their meaningless existence?
Please enjoy the musical pairing that has been selected by our chef for this post:
Shouts from the Abyss 
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