Well, dear readers, it was another very wet day yesterday here in Los Angeles, California, USA. It calmed down for awhile in the afternoon but, as we all know, it’s not over until the fat lady sings. Apparently, the fat lady is out of town or has laryngitis because the tub o’ lard hasn’t sung yet and the rain came back in force. Last night the 101, one of the busiest freeways in LA had to be shut down because the flooding was so bad. I’m tellin’ you, fat lady, you’d better get off your sizable butt cheeks and you better make with the musical notes pretty darn soon or there will be hell toupee. Other than that, I had a productive day doing productive things in a productive manner. I wrote, I ate, I ate, I wrote, I bought a new phone, and I played with my new TV, which I’m really enjoying. Well, I don’t have anything more to really say in this paragraph, and yet this paragraph isn’t over until the fat lady sings. First of all, why does the fat lady get all the business? Why can’t it be over when the skinny lady sings? It’s always the fershluganah fat lady. Well, you know what, fat lady, this paragraph is over whether you sing or not? What do you think of them egg rolls, Mr. Goldstone?
Last night I watched a motion picture entertainment on DVD entitled Shall We Dance. Not the new version with Mr. Richard Gere and Miss Jennifer Lopez, oh, no, not that version. We watched the sublime original Japanese version. Before I get into that (and I’ve spoken of the film in these here notes before), I will say that the DVD has a “look” at the new version, which I watched. From all the extensive footage shown, they do a lot of the same story points, but the dance sequences between Gere and Lopez are so wrong on so many levels and so subvert what the film is about, that there is no way I would ever deign to watch it. And to listen to the man who’s the executive for Miramax talk about how they wanted the music to have the sweetness of the original, but just tarted up to be more 2004 just made my skin crawl. And the music – it’s really horrible. Back to the original – I’m rather addicted to it. It’s sweet, it’s simple, it’s heartfelt, it’s beautiful, it’s touching, it’s hilarious and you care intensely about the characters. The music is perfect, and the dance choreography is never hip, never tarted up, and perfect for the characters who are doing it. There are no “big” moments (I gather we do get the “big” moment in the remake – again, totally subverting what this film is about). The acting is perfection, as is the direction. Yes, Virginia, the direction is perfection. The transfer is lovely and I cannot recommend this treasure enough. If you’ve never seen it, take it from me – get it now and you will fall head over heels in love with it just as I did.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because frankly it’s not over until the fat lady sings.
Where in tarnation is the fat lady? Isn’t she supposed to sing right about now? What will she sing, I wonder? I’d like to hear I’m a Latin from Manhattan.
My second hair appointment got pushed (what else is new) to Thursday, because Teddy got an emergency call to do Miss Sharon Stone’s hair. I guess we know who sits where on ye olde totem pole, Teddy-wise.
I am hoping the rain is done by Wednesday, as they’re predicting. Ironically, Wednesday is supposed to be the day the fat lady is slated to sing I’m a Latin from Manhattan. I wish to partake of my Jacuzzi. My last Jacuzzi was last Wednesday night, that’s how long this fershluganah rain has lasted.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must write, I must go hither and thither and perhaps even yon, I must eat, I must pick up packages, I must make phone calls on my new 5.8gh phone, and I must also buy some CDRs, which I’ve been out of for about two weeks. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your all-time favorite amusement park rides – those you loved as a kid, and those you love as adults. We must hear about them in loving detail – what sorts of rides they were, what amusement parks had them, and all that jazz. Those who’ve read the Kritzer books know that my favorite amusement park ride was at Pacific Ocean Park – the Flight to Mars ride that adorns the cover of Kritzerland. Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and let’s keep them going because, frankly, it’s not over until the fat lady sings.