Well, dear readers, for some odd reason, the Sunday Los Angeles Times has been showing up on my doorstep. Mind you, I haven’t ordered the Sunday Los Angeles Times, haven’t read the Sunday Los Angeles Times in over twenty years, and have no interest in either receiving or reading the Sunday Los Angeles Times. I did have occasion to peruse a weekday Los Angeles Times a few months ago and was rather appalled to find half a newspaper, meaning literally the pages were half what they use to be in width. I found it unnerving, sickening, and really weird. So, I opened up the Sunday Los Angeles Times to find that they’d neutered that, too. It just doesn’t seem like a newspaper anymore – it seems like the junk flyers I get in my mailbox every day, although those have more page width than the Los Angeles Times. It’s like a toy, like a poseur newspaper. I never really took the Los Angeles Times seriously, but any vestige of seriousness has now been completely jettisoned. I’d be surprised if you could ever wrap fish or garbage sufficiently. It is surely the death knell for the paper, or at least it feels like it. Perhaps they should change the name to the Half Los Angeles Times. I ponder such things as I’m sitting here like so much fish, whilst whatever illness I had FIVE weeks ago refuses to completely let go. The fact that his horrifying flu is happening simply makes you ask “Why did I need to spend forty bucks on a flu shot for?” Well, I suppose we had to help the government earn millions of dollars on shots that were, apparently, useless. They’re out of money you know – they used all the nice taxpayer money for the bailout, all of which helped the rich get richer. That’s the American Way, you know. Perhaps the germ warfare people released this lovely strain into our lovely air – boys, it WORKS! I know so many people who have been felled by this flu and it’s the same with all of them – it is the flu that will not let go. In fact, we may have this flu for the next four years for all we know. I gotta tell you. Other than that, my Sunday was okay. I got up at ten-thirty, which, thanks to those crack Daylight Savings People, was really nine-thirty. That would have been fine if I hadn’t been up till almost two, which, of course, thanks to those crack Daylight Savings People, was really three. I think the crack Daylight Savings People work hand in hand with the crack germ warfare flu people who work hand in hand with the “let’s use all the taxpayer money because our wealthy friends need a little help, otherwise the entire financial structure of the United States will implode even though it was they who caused the problem. I think these crack people are all on crack, if you get my drift. What the HELL am I talking about? Oh, yes, I didn’t get enough sleep. I also had allergy problems, although it’s hard to tell if it’s not just the residual crack flu hanging on. I just keep taking my Alavert, Mucinex, and Afrin. Alavert, Mucinex, and Afrin – that sounds like a law firm, doesn’t it? Where was I? Oh, yes, yesterday. I spent the first few hours of the morning choosing the final Menken songs for our Gardenia show. I’m still lacking one song but hope to find it today. We are, hopefully, cast – I’m just waiting on a final confirmation from one gal. And we still have to figure out our guest star, but that isn’t quite as urgent as it only involves one song and that song is easy and well known to most. I then took all the music over to Staples to get Xeroxed and I’ll pick that up around noon today. After that, I had some chicken soup and a small pastrami sandwich on rye bread and no fries or onion rings. I also did a mile and a half jog. After that, I did more work on the computer, made CDRs for our cast of players, and then finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Until September, starring Miss Karen Allen and a French actor whose name is much too difficult to spell, but I’ve seen him in quite a lot of French movies from France. It’s the usual tale of the American girl in Paris falling for a married man who is very used to having mistresses. Nothing terribly earth shattering here save for the surprising amount of nudity. The scenery is pretty, Miss Allen is pretty, the French actor from France is very good looking and the film has a lush and beautiful score by John Barry. It all just meanders along until its predictable ending. The characters aren’t so interesting and their squabbles and make-ups are strictly from Screenplay 101sville.
After that, I listened to some music from an upcoming Kritzerland release, and got everything ready for this morning’s early announcement. Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst I try to wrap a portion of my trash in the Half Los Angeles Times.
Today, I’ll be up at six to announce the new Kritzerland title, and then I’ll hopefully print out a LOT of orders – this one really needs to sell well. After that, CDs and helper will arrive, although because the CDs are arriving much earlier than expected and I did not know that until late Friday afternoon, the helper can’t stay more than an hour, which means we’ll really only get the dealer orders shipped. All the rest will ship first thing Tuesday morning, unless I feel adventurous and package some of them up myself, but it’s a busy day for me. I have errands and whatnot, I have people coming to pick up music and CDs and I have a rehearsal.
Tomorrow and the rest of the week are all rehearsals, plus prepping upcoming releases, writing some liner notes (I’m really trying to get ahead in that regard – if I can write the notes for the next four releases, that will be one less thing I have to worry about). I also have meetings, work sessions, and meals. So, a very busy week culminating in The Singer’s new act debuting on Saturday evening.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, announce a CD, ship CDs, do a jog, do errands and whatnot, hopefully pick up a package or three, do some banking, have a rehearsal and eat. Today’s topic of discussion: What newspapers were your favorites growing up? Why did you like them? And do you still read them now? And what is your opinion of newspaper journalism now? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland having just disposed of the Sunday Half Los Angeles Times.