Lisa Sing the Blues

Yesterday I tweeted that I was breaking up with TV because I can't take the bad news anymore. Why, in the span of twenty minutes, I was subjected to the news that Atlanta Mayor Kasim Reed had ordered the rousting of Occupy Atlanta, I ground my teeth while I listened to Senator Pat Toomey (R - PA) try to explain how Supply Side Economics would solve our problems by bringing down prices (which would be awesome if he means everything will be free because that's the only way people without jobs will be able to become consumers again), and then Arne Duncan came on the air to talk about how we need longer school days and more extracurricular activities for kids because all the activities the working classes can no longer afford to enroll their kids in aren't nearly enough.

At the end of that I was no longer grinding my teeth, I was stomping to the basement in search of ammunition.

The internet isn't much better, except for a few places that serve as doors into other worlds.

In a fit of pique, I hit my Tweetdeck with a hammer and threw eggs at the television. The cats were pleased. Their eyes gleamed as they lined up for a taste of that chirping Twitter bird and a couple of them went after the raw eggs. Not all of these cats are of the discerning taste variety. We have a couple with rather indiscriminate palates. If I don't keep the trash well sorted and the toilet lids shut, they think they're at a saloon with a buffet.

Alas, I wasn't finished. I also shot Facebook in the face because I'm so sick of the constant scroll of recycled photos with pithy sayings, the visual aids demonstrating just how fucking bad the economy is, and the links to the ever-increasing bad news.

I feel myself tumbling into the enormous chasm between the Haves and the Have Nots and wishing that we'd reach the place where violence becomes inevitable because I'm anxious to know the outcome of these dark times. I want to be through them already.

I hope you could follow that. You should see the size of the coffee cup I'm using.

Anyway, as an antidote, I'm spending more and more of my time escaping. While tugging clothes from the dryer and folding them into origami underwear swans is a great way to both stay away from the TV and to get make myself useful, I'd much rather disappear into new and different worlds - my own manuscript, books I'm reading, and especially into the labyrinth of online entertainment. Except for a few minutes of necessary relaxation to help me release my anxieties enough to get some work done, I'm actually talking about wholesome entertainment.

For example, short stories (follow the links to the story Paper Lanterns), and short films by new friends and then this by Nina Paley. In the Nina Paley film, my favorite parts are the cross talk between the narrators. (Click those links, people. I'm not kidding.)

Music is a must on my little island of I'm Ignoring You and You and You!. I bring with me all genres, but right now, I'm awash in jazz and the old standards and especially the old sappy love songs. A friend recently  sent me the 1929 CD by Annette Hanshaw who provides the soundtrack for Sita Sings the Blues.

I had an inkling of her work when I stumbled upon some of Hanshaw's music as I searched for a version Am I Blue to use in this post. It all fits so nicely since we seem to be enjoying economic good times just like in 1929.

Another friend and I were talking about how having certain survival skills might become necessity as things worsen. She pointed out that I might be glad I know how to grow food. I agreed, but I'd like better to be able to know how to grow trees that sprout Benjamins instead of leaves then I could start my own SuperPac. Talk about killing two legislative priorities with one big donation.

I think the thing that most irritates me about the state of the world is --- you know what, no. I can't even put my finger on the thing or even the things that most irritate me. We're in such a mess.

Enough with the gloom. I'm going to go round up the cats. We're working on our version of this. You know, just in case...

How are you escaping these days?

Shift into freewheeling and let them follow

During our recent trip, we passed the time by listening to Radio Classics on XM radio. Of all that we listened to - some Phil Harris and Alice Faye, lots of Dick Powell playing various gumshoes, Bob Hope and Baby Snooks, we heard the best episode of Pat Novak for Hire featuring Jack Webb of Dragnet fame. The writing was pulp fantastic. Over the top is what the Radio Classics host Greg Bell called it. He's right.

Here are fragments of dialogue from the episode Rita Malloy from April 23, 1949. (You can listen to the full episode and find more info about the program here.)

It sneaks up and paws you like a wet ghost...
I'm not crazy about waking up with strangers sitting on my bed especially if they got baritone voices....
I don't want chatter and cocktails, now give me those keys....
He didn't even give me time to pick a dream....
I stretched out on the floor, dead as a Philadelphia night club....
If you get any good answers, save a couple for me...
I'd have to do something fast. I had about as much a chance as a pound of liver at a cat show....

Lots of fog tonight, huh, Joe?
You're walkin' on it....

Shift into freewheeling and let them follow.........

He's a good man except he thinks it's a waste of the taxpayers' money to put alcohol in torpedoes.

It was the perfect spot for a missionary. The lobby looked like the first act of Rain. There was a pinball machine in one corner, a couple of last year's girls in this year's slacks, and a bleary-eyed little night clerk. He looked like a well-groomed laundry bag. He gave us the fisheye as we started up the stairs....

I view you as my penance, Patsy. The sackcloth for a misspent life.

You'll always be in trouble because you're a patsy and you're dangerous because you move in the twilight
zone between good and evil without any predisposition toward either one.

I think you'd pick the lock to the gates of Heaven....

It was a pretty room if you like dead women on your rugs....

This all ties together since I've been immersed in researching wartime circa 1944 and I've recently developed a thing for listening to music from that era, as well. When I run on the elliptical, I watch episodes of Homefront on Youtube.

 Technology the time machine.

As I listened to these shows, I was listening for the rhythm of the words, the patter, the high points and pauses. For example, I noticed that David Letterman's monologue rhythm is very similar to that of Bob Hope, especially back when he was doing the USO stage shows. Hope, not Letterman. He's not quite that old yet.

Have your eyes glazed over like mine do when MathMan talks Calculus at me? I swear, I wonder sometimes if I couldn't be found on the autism spectrum in the high functioning segment - Asperger's or such because when I'm in, I'm all in. Until the next bright and shiny thing catches my fancy.

Ooooooor, perhaps as one of the bone idle unemployed, I have just a little too much time on my hands. Either way, I quite like escaping into the past where the future looked brighter and you didn't have to fuss with dropped cell phone calls when you're on the phone with AT&T's customer service. I mean, we're in two wars and a chick can't even find a factory job riveting shit.

I know, I know, I'm romanticizing the past, times were tough for a lot of people, you brushed your teeth with powder, tampons weren't mainstream and the internet wasn't even a gleam in the government's eye. I'd never survive without Google for chissakes. Please don't harsh my nostalgia buzz, okay? See this straw? I'm grasping it pretty hard. So.

I've done it again. Completely sidetracked. Back to what I meant to write about. The things that make the dialogue of The Pat Novak show pop are the similes and the wicked turns of phrases that, if you don't listen carefully, you might miss. Sure it's dated and corny, but what's not to love about it? It makes me want to start calling people Bub and Sister and prefacing my declarative sentences with "Listen, see......"

What kinds of dialogue do you like? What are your favorite similes, metaphors, phrases? What movie lines or sentences from novels do you repeat? What's your favorite era?