Something for Monday

The phone calls for work started before 9:30 on Sunday morning. (Doesnʼt everyone but me attend church in this country? —No, I forgot, even Christians are making Saturday evening the churchgoing night so as to free up their Sundays. Isnʼt that right?) Although Janet had awakened somewhat before me to head downstairs and work out with her hula hoop as she watched Martha Stewart and HGTV/DIY/FLN, I am sure she was just simply delighted with the ringing phone.

Letʼs see … I am sure it will only get more so. (Clever of me to avoid the word “worse,” wasnʼt it?)

I feel confident that this week will be about as long and about as stress-inducing as the training was last week. I need to find a meeting location in Bellevue, having done so for Maquoketa, so Iʼll be hitting the road right after meeting with my FOS (boss, for the uninitiate) today to try to accomplish that and meet with one of my crew who canʼt make our big group late-in-the-day session to formally get started (yeah, yeah, Census bigwigs— weʼre just a little behind here in Jackson County).

Little Wigs?

Iʼve always used that word, “bigwig,” for self-important top dogs in organizations/bureaucracies. It comes down from the seventeenth century (those peri- and powdered wig days of yore) when apparently the more conscious you were of your importance the bigger the wig you decided to wear (were permitted to wear? I think I read that once, although it sounds ridiculously French to me — all Louis XIVXVI and such). The situation still holds in British courtrooms (changing now), where the judge gets the big wig in contrast with the periwigged barristers appearing before him/her.

Neal Stephenson wrote a huge trilogy of not exactly science fiction but historical science-inspired fiction/fantasy (?) which I and Janet bought up as they appeared, known as The Baroque Cycle, in which he attempted to realize for us moderns the feel and texture of life in the days of Newton and Leibniz. The third big volume seemed slower than the other two, but I liked them a lot, having not read any of Stephensonʼs earlier work. However, I donʼt remember anything about the proper way to adhere a wig in good society. (I also feel intrigued by the publishing shenanigan of releasing the books in paperback in smaller editions, using the titles of the “sections” of the actual three big books. Trying to get someone to buy the novels more than once, perhaps? —Not that I ever duplicate my books…)

More on Bad Art

We hope that no actual toads were harmed in the creation of this impropriety

I told Janet on Saturday evening, once I had composed the little piece, what I had discussed in yesterdayʼs post. I also lamented that I could not find a picture of the indecent image in question. She leapt up from the chair and ran to the recycling bin (paper container), laughing, to return with the latest Isabel Bloom catalog, in which the horny boy and his toad appear. Having seen the green version with me at the garden store, she believes the catalog image doesnʼt do the kidʼs horribly delighted expression on the real statue credit. But here at Wakdjunkagaʼs Blog, we believe in letting you decide for yourself. So here is the prurient picture for your consideration— thanks to the technological marvels of scanning and digitalization.

In the slime green version (does anyone else remember the Nickelodeon kids show, You Canʼt Do That on Television, on which they slimed people as a gag?) that we saw in the real, nondigital world, something about the application of the green coating and the shape of the boyʼs mouth/lips increased the awfulness of the expression. Likewise the toadʼs inappropriate position was more obvious and, well, inappropriate than in the photograph. Ultimately, my judgment is: not recommended for any but perverts.

a grandchild of the original image, this one is a scan from a play program using the original B&W scan

My apologies for the ragged edge to the picture, but I attempted to edit out the catalog information and the background colors on the page. Not using Photoshop, I am not good with that irregular selection tool (especially pulling my mouse around the mousepad to create the outline). I have heard in Photoshop you can get the little crawling ants line to automatically collapse to the image you are trying to select. I use the significantly less costly and lovely Graphic Converter by Lemke Software (I love sharware myself), and I havenʼt the skill — or time perhaps — to get the crawlies closer to the statue. Sorry.

…I would accept any advice from better geeks than myself, however. I donʼt do much image manipulation, really. My first scan, done at school on Mr. Everdingʼs four- or eight-bit scanner was a mere black and white digitaliztion of a black-and-white image — the Peace Pipe Players logo, which kept appearing on play programs for the next fifteen years (until I have pretty well dropped into the production background with community theatre).

And thatʼs the news for today from our little corner of contemporary reality. Now off to work we go…

©2010 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.

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