Well, dear readers, it is Wednesday, two days before my final day on this television program. It’s kind of a slow week, which is nice, just addressing notes and stuff like that. On Saturday, I shall be taking Luckie full time and hopefully she will adjust in short order. Tomorrow I go to Palm Springs for a book signing, which will be fun, I think. What is this, Dragnet all of a sudden? Everything is so terse. I have never read such terse notes in my life. Just the facts, ma’am. I’ve become the Jack Webb of haineshisway.com. It’s a slow week. My last day is Friday. On Thursday, my book signing. Terse, I tell you. There is nothing worse than terse. Terse is a curse. I need a nurse to help with the terse or I shall end up in a hearse without a purse. What the hell am I talking about?
Has anyone noticed how terse these here notes are? Yesterday’s notes, for example, were flowing and free, wild like the river yet tame like shampoo. Ever shifting, ever floating like the sands of time and space. Yesterday’s notes were like a gentle ocean breeze, rippling like the muscles of a body builder, one minute soaring in winged flight, the next lightly landing in a pile of wood shavings. My goodness, these notes have turned florid. I think I prefer terse, frankly or even alanly.
Well, I must say, there is a definite flavor to today’s notes – cinnamon, I think, or is it vanilla with a chocolate swirl. I tell you my mind is going to strange unknown places, taking flights of fancy whilst dropping little bon mots, oh, yes, my mind is dropping little bon mots whilst taking flights of fancy. I tell you, sometimes I feel like a motherless child. If I had a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning. Michael, row the boat ashore. What am I, Peter, Paul and Mary all of a sudden?
I think the best thing to do under the circumstances would be to click on the Unseemly Button below before these here notes become torpid. Terse, Florid and Torpid. That sounds like an accounting firm in a Marx Bros. movie, doesn’t it?
“Hello, Terse, Florid and Torpid, may I help you?” Will someone help me, for Gertrude’s sake? I mean, to go from terse to florid to torpid in one fell swoop is really something. Maybe we should try going from florid to torpid to terse, just for a change of pace? Maybe we shouldn’t.
Last night I watched half of a brand spanking new DVD entitled Contempt, un film de Jean Luc Godard. I have always been very fond of this very strange film. Part of it has to do with the haunting and beautiful score by Georges Delerue. Part of it has to do with the haunting and beautiful camerawork of Raoul Coutard. And part of it has to do with how sublimely haunting and beautiful its star is – Miss Brigitte Bardot, who has never been better in any film, not even Dear Brigitte. It’s a meditation on love and film, not necessarily in that order. It also features Jack Palance as a crass Hollywood type and the great director Fritz Lang as the great director Fritz Lang. There are many film references and it’s all quite strange, in a very Godardian way.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Has anyone noticed that I have been terse, florid and torpid, not necessarily in that order? And have I actually been torpid or was I just ruminating that I might be torpid? You know, if you got tongue-tied it might come out ferse, torid and florpid. And then you could have some of Dear Reader Sandra’s floorp and feel right at home. Has anyone noticed I have gone off the deep end, terse florid and torpid-wise?
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must go here, I must go there, I must work, I must eat – there I go being terse again. Oh, well, what can one do? Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me all your excellent questions. Ask away, my pretties, and talk about anything else that’s on your collective minds.