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~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ In Memoriam: Roméo DiBenedetto (1940 - 2006) ~~~~
~~~~~~~~ [ A Man of God, A Man of the People, A Man for all Seasons ] ~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Violet-n-Joey Cartoon page is been divided into two pages: one low-speed and one high-speed access. If you have Do NOT Have High-Speed Access, you may try this Link which will load much faster and will allow you to load one cartoon at a time. Use this one for High-Speed Access.
This month Violet and Joey learn about Telefonia Dreaming on such a summer's day.
Each month we take time to thank two of our good readers of Good Mountain Press Digest, books and reviews. Here's our two worthy Honored Readers for this month. One of their names will be in the TO: address line of your email Digest notification. Our Honored Readers for July are:
The month of June began with the sad news that my friend Roméo Di Benedetto had died in
Austin, Texas after a lengthy illness. I met Roméo years ago when he was Professor of Sociology
at El Paso Community College and invited Doyle Henderson to do an interview. Doyle suggested
that Roméo interview me on camera instead, and that led to two half hour interviews on doyletics,
including a live demonstration of an actual speed trace. The subject was Miss Loreno Castro who
had a fear of roller coasters and removed that fear in a short speed trace. You can view the beginning of the trace in this 1.6 Mb .mpg by Clicking Here if you wish. God Bless you, Roméo — we know you are here
with us now in a new way from now on.
The last day of May I got a call from Eric Szuter, author of Unconditional Surrender, who wanted
me to meet Diana Von Behren who had an interest in my dolphin novel, The Spizznet File. We
met at PJ's on DeGaulle and it turns out that Diana spent several weeks in the Marathon Keys
Dolphin Research Center where I spent only several hours. She had a lot of stories to share about
her experiences with dolphins and was also interested in learning about doyletics. Later in the month she forwarded
me a story about interspecies communication from a friend of hers. You can
read it in Commentary 2 below. Diana does book reviews and may do one of The Spizznet File
after she reads it.
Diana talked about how dolphins acted as a communication link between doctors and their
autistic patients at the Dolphin Research Center. The kids would tell the dolphins which button to
push and when the dolphins did it, they would laugh uproariously. This led me to ponder: how
could that communication take place between dolphin and autistic? Autism, so far as I can tell from
my doyletics research, is a mutation of the brain giving a person greatly increased visual
processing capability. But how could the visual data get transferred from one person to another
(or to a dolphin)? Electromagnetically? — seems unlikely to me. Is such a capability part of the
mutation of autistic people? If so, why can't they communicate that way with each other?
Perhaps they can — wonder if anyone has observed such behavior?
My ole buddy from Lockheed Electronics days in Los Angeles, Glenn Martin, retired this month.
Wish Del and I had been able to be there for the Pirate-themed shindig at Rembrandt's Lagoon in
Placentia, California. I rented a spare room from Glenn for three months in the fall of 1969 when I began work
at Lockheed while waiting for our house in Kenner to be sold. I would have had a few stories to
tell at his retirment party — like the day we drove back to Fullerton down the Santa Ana Freeway in Glenn's 1966
Corvette without a clutch! Every time we had to stop, which could happen a lot on the Santa Ana
with its 5 mph traffic at rush hour, it was adventure time! Would the battery and the starter last
through one more start from a standstill in First Gear? Luckily it did — Corvette, Bobby, and Glenn survived to
roll another day.
First Thursday of June we went to the Twilight Concert in the Arboretum at City Park to hear he
New Orleans Jazz Band led by Walter Chamberlain (Banjo) and Darryl Barnes (Trombone), part of a quintet of
great musicians: Trumpeter Les, Clarinetist Charles, and Robert on the tuba. Five virtuosos
playing New Orleans Jazz like it was played in the 20's and 30's on the lake in Milneville and the
40's and 50's on Bourbon St. I particularly like the riffs that Les put in from his long-time
Fairgrounds bugler gig.
The first Saturday of the month brought our CODOFIL Breakfast (Click to see Photos) day. For our subsequent card game, I
made a large redfish courtboullion (koo- bee- yohn) for lunch. Paul and Joyce came in from their
new home in Opelousas for the occasion and drove Buster and Emily along with them. Once
more I came out a winner. Amazing how much more interesting a card game becomes when you
begin winning regularly! While we were playing cards, my dad, Buster, got a call from his
brother, Purpy, in Florida. Since Buster needs a special loudness control to hear over
the phone, I had to relay to Uncle Purpy what Buster was saying, mainly that he'd be flying to
Florida later in the month for a visit. Plans are for both Buster and the third surviving brother,
Terry, to be there together, to wish their brother well who has inoperable cancer. Rosie Harris
joined us in cards, playing her first Pay Me! game. After everyone left, we began in earnest our
packing for Orange Beach early the next morning.
We left for the four hour drive to our condo in Orange Beach at 4 am and got there,
including a stop in Foley at the Tanger Outlet Mall, about 11:30 am. This was the first time
we've been there in two years because Hurricane Ivan had devastated the ground floor of the
five-story condo units. They had been all rebuilt and we stayed on the ground floor again, which
we like, and after a few kinks were taken care of, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. To see all the photos of our Orange Beach week, Click Here!
When we first arrived, the room wasn't to be ready until 4 pm, so we had lunch at Ruby Red's and while we
were there, I called Carol Hicks to see when we might get together. She said come to her place
that night for an outdoor fire and some grilled salmon. Gave me some sketchy directions which I scribbled
on the inside cover of Del's "sodu koo-koo" book. She said something about a trestle full of
graffiti, and I was concerned I'd never find it, but I drove right to her place without missing a
beat. Stopped outside the house with the big tree on the corner and rang the front door bell.
Suddenly Brunie appeared along the left side of front yard and, as he and I introduced ourselves,
Carol appeared on the front porch with Del. We looked at the Carol-designed hole in the fence to
leave the gardenia garden untouched. The yard had several vertical spikes holding banners --
two of them fronting a flagstone walkway to the patio. We sat out around the blazing fire pit on
swings and benches. The patio across the back of the house looked like the small backyard patios
of New Orleans French Quarter and Uptown Garden District. Full of plants, tiny lights on trees.
Carol took us into kitchen for some champagne and great-tasting shrimp with remoulade sauce,
chips with baba ganoush, and then she brought out the marinated and broiled salmon and fresh
baked french bread which we spread the babba ganoush on. We took our dinner and delicious herbal tea
with mint water outside and sat on the swing where we talked and ate. Later we came in for the dessert, which was a selection of colorful slices of cakes. Somehow I managed to
wind my way backwards equally successfully and made it back to our condo for a well-deserved
rest after a very long day.
As great as Sunday was, Monday was a bust! We went back to Ruby Red's and when
Tuesday falls on a Wednesday, we might go back. I stiffed the waitress because when one well-meaning waitress came up to serve us, she took her away and she abandoned us for fifteen
minutes. The first waitress actually helped us later through our meal by clearing dishes and bringing us
something we needed. I slipped her the tip before we left. That place was full of dissension from
the top down and we don't need any of that.
Back at the condo I was frustrated by my emailer not being supported
by the new broadband at Orange Beach as it had been at Los Lagos; the telephone was broken; I
was unable to work on my review of the "Professor of Light"; disappointed with the service at
lunch; the beach was crowded with noisy obnoxious people; so was the pool; and then the new
outdoor area lights came on at dusk and stayed on until 10 pm! Yucky yellow vapor lights way
too bright! I was so unhappy! Then the bad TV reception went to NONE! We played a Bob
Newhart DVD we had brought along with us, and had a challenge game of Matherne Scrabble,
which I barely won. Somehow the nice jacuzzi with its flowing streams of hot water made up for
a lot and we went to bed hoping for a better day.
First kink to be fixed was the telephone. When the phone guy came he explained that the phone,
broadband, and Pay-for-View movie box all worked off the same system, and showed us how to
use the movie box. It's under test and the movies have a price of $3.99 with a discount of $3.99,
so we used that a bunch and got to watch some great movies free, "End Game" and "Mrs. Henderson"
to name my favorites. Things were looking up. Tom, the maintenance man, came by and I asked
if he could lower the outside lights, and he agreed to replace the expensive $25 bulbs with 25 watt
bulbs. Made a lot of difference. The pathway remained lit adequately and the offensive glare was
gone. We ate-in Tuesday and Wednesday on some red beans and rice I fixed. On Wednesday as
Del and I took our early morning walk on the beach, I wrote in my mind the Poem of the Month which graces
this Digest. Later when I got back to my Laptop, I wrote it in its final form. The next day I wrote
another short poem after I squeezed my left index finger in the heavy hurricane-proof sliding
door to the beach. The rotating latch pinched the side of my finger and caused it to bleed profusely.
I was able to stanch the bleeding quickly, but this poem resulted from the accident.
To My Finger
I did Thee, my finger, mash
and squeezed red ink
from out of me and Thee
Leaving a dark red mark
which ceaselessly
did worry me
Until I soaked myself and Thee
within the Epsom Salts
of the Southern Sea.
On Thursday Del and I went out to The Crab Pot, a great seafood restaurant right across the
Florida state line in Perdido Beach, and only ten miles away. The marinated garlic crab fingers
were to live for! Also the grouper sandwich was superb. We wanted to go out this night because
Stoney, Sue, and Sam were driving in from New Orleans after work, arriving about 11 pm.
Sue and I took a walk out to the beach and we dipped our toes in the water before coming back
while Del made up the beds for the crew.
The next day, Friday, we spent on the beach all day. I got up early to erect our Diamond Peak
Canopy and all of us enjoyed a bit of shade next to the water's edge as we watched our grandson
Sam and his friend Perrin swimming in the water and throwing football along the shore. The
waves were not quite high enough for good boogie-boarding, but I gave my new board a workout
(and myself) in what waves did arrive.
About 4 pm on Friday, I received a text message from our daughter Maureen which said, "We're
on our way." I manage to thumb out a text reply saying, "Yippee!" I got everyone together and
laid out our plans for dinner at the Original Oyster House in Gulf Shores. I had taken Del to an
ice cream shop near there and it seemed inviting. Its best attribute was that it would be on the
way into Orange Beach on the main drag, US Hwy 59. So we left for dinner at 6 or so and when
we got there, we had to take a card and then 30 minutes later we could get a beeper. Wait was
projected to be 1 hour and 50 minutes.
That was close to the time Mo's gang would be arriving. I
called her and told her where we were and to call when she got closer. There are a lot of shops on
a board walk around the restaurant, so Sue and I took a walk and I took some photos. Maureen
called and I walked to the highway to lead them into the parking lot. Just exactly as they turned
into the lot, my beeper began blinking red indicating our table for nine was ready. I got the crew
together and we went to our table. We had a great meal with lots of delicious appetizers.
At one point, Maureen was doodling with her leftover food and placed a couple of hush
puppies together with a french fry in an arrangement suggestive of male genitalia. Someone
suggested a larger french fry, and Maureen did that. Her thirteen-year-old son, Gabe, picking up on the
suggestions, said, "What about some mayonnaise?" That brought waves of rollicking laughter to
the table. Gabe may become a comedian someday. He managed unabashedly to bring a group of
eight adults from 13 to 66 to tears laughing.
The big event of Saturday was Maureen's sand sculpture of an alligator. When we got out to the
beach, the alligator already had a can of Lite beer next to this left front paw and a cigar in his
mouth. Someone suggested he might like Gator-Ade instead, and that led to a Gator-Ade photo.
Then I spied some pink Crocs (plastic beach shoes) and put a pair of pink crocs on the alligator
for one more photo op. Steve and Maureen provided donuts for breakfast and pizza for supper for
the group. We left for home early Sunday morning after Steve helped me take down and pack up
the canopy. We had little traffic on the way home and we were glad to be back in our own beds
again.
In the middle of the week we left home about 10:30 and drove to pick up Daddy for lunch. We took him to the Sailfish next to the
new Motel in Mimosa. It was noisy, busy, and with new help. Got the Des Allemands catfish and
Del the talapia. It was good, but the special that everyone atother tables ordered was the two stuffed crabs, and
neither the menu, nor the written specials on the board marked "Today's Specials", nor our
waiter told us of this regular Friday special. I gave him a 10% tip and ignored his excuse that he
was only there 3 days. He has to learn better what he's supposed to do to get a better tip. We went back and Del suggested we play Pay Me! with Daddy. He wanted to also, so I
acquiesced. I won about 90 cents for the two games, including the first quarter for low, Daddy
the second one.
This week was the beginning of the World Cup matches and I watched with interest until the
USA was eliminated. I had learned to enjoy soccer after watching it a lot during my 1998 trip to
Germany where it was the only thing available to me to watch at night after long days of crawling
around thousand-year-old churches and monastaries.
On June 14th I had to spend some time at our fourplex to watch the crew put the last set of ridge
tiles for the roof in place. Also ensured that they cleaned out the gutters as they had promised.
That night I dressed to go the Crescent City Brewhouse for my carnival club's Annual Summer
Dinner. On the way out I noticed some colorful lights handing down over the bar in the shape of
jelly fish. I took a photo and later animated the image by varying the intensity of the lights to
create the pulsating light effect you can see elsewhere in this Digest.
Had a bit of excitement on the next day when a dozen police cars filled the street in front of
Timberlane. Del called me on her cell phone from the front yard and told me to come see. Two
Ambulances were also out front by then. They took away the owner of the 7,000 sq. ft. gothic
mansion across the street to the hospital for observation. Apparently he had fired a shot at an
intruder and called 911, but when they arrived, they found there was really no intruder and
owner was erratic and not making sense.
The next week we spent Wednesday at the D-Day Museum (now called the National WWII
Museum). We hadn't seen the new Asian exhibit. It had an excellent dynamic graphic of the
progress of the Pacific war. A lighted board controlled by computer which filled one wall and
showed the major landings and sea battles, one at a time, as the war progressed. For the first time I was able to
get an overview and begin to place all the war movies I'd seen in the context of what portion of
the war they depicted. See photo of sign made for G.I. quarters on Tarawa after they liberated it
elsewhere in this Digest.
When we arrived at the Museum about 11 am, we discovered there would be a concert at 2 pm.
After we toured the exhibits, we walked to the Bon Ton Restaurant for lunch, about an eight blocks walk
along Camp St. We paused to relax and pray inside St. Patrick's Church along the way. Inside its
cool interior we noticed some scaffolding erected in apse over the altar to repair some stained
glass windows which were missing along the left side of the vaulted ceiling. On our way out, we
chatted with a priest who was leaving. He said he was 89 and was chagrined that the archdiocese was
asking him to retire. After a delicious lunch of red snapper with crabmeat on top (Del) and
crawfish étouffée (me), we walked back on the lee side (and the Robert E. Lee side) of Magazine
Street, which was now shady and got to sit down a few minutes before Robert Boudreau began
the concert of the American Wind Instrument Orchestra which he founded and has led for 50
years. They normally perform on their special barge, but they decided not to dock at New Orleans
because the Miss. River was at an all-time low for this time of year. The top of the barge would thus be too low for spectators on the shore to see the orchestra as they performed. They were able to dock at
two other Louisiana venues, Lockport and Madisonville. Very enjoyable concert. Wish our trumpet player grandson, Gabe, had been able to come along.
We got to see Gabe perform the next night at the Jefferson Performing Arts Society presentation
of "Annie Get Your Gun". Got there about 7 and got good seats up front, 4 rows from stage on
right edge of seats. Had one seat left to my right. First thing I did was walk to my car to get a
sweater, the air-conditioning made it so cold in there. Then plump lady came and took the seat to
the right of me. With short sleeves on, she was still hot, and began fanning herself like crazy
causing a constant cold breeze to be flowing from my right. I endured it for awhile and then
explained that I had already put on a sweater and her fanning was making me cold. She did stop
or modify her stroke a bit and the rest of the first act was more pleasant.
My DSC-585 camera stopped working again due to some moisture which got into the control buttons on the back. Still takes pictures — took all the June photos appearing in this Digest — but no flash is possible since the
pushbutton functions are all FUBAR, well, not completely "fouled up beyond recognition." Its
pushbutton functions are randomly re-arranged, and some functions are not possible at
all. Can't control the flash, use the timer, set the macros lens, and can neither review photos nor
delete them. Will set the camera to flash-on-demand when the functions return, if ever. Last time
it returned was after leaving it in the hot car for about 30 minutes. Seems to indicate some
moisture inside the camera. After a couple of days of trying to restore the functions, I ordered
myself a new camera. A smaller one, with higher resolution, and holds three times the photos in
its large memory chip. Look for photos from the new camera next month.
One day I went to PJ's where I sipped my double latte and eat my cranberry muffin and read
from "The Soul's Probation" for 40 minutes to let my CyberShot get warmed up by the sun in the
car to heal itself — this was the thing which restored the functions earlier, but it didn't work this
time. When I returned home, Del and her mom, Doris, were sitting in the dining room. Del had
brought her back from blood work and fixed a big breakfast for her, as she had fasted since the
night before for the blood test. I took her outside to the Oak Patio to enjoy the cool breezes. It
was 85F and 50% RH,which, with a breeze, is delightful in the shade. Clouds have returned,
btw. and regular N.O. scattered afternoon showers should come soon. Doris has started taking a
new alz-dementia medicine which has improved her mood to the point she is amenable to going
outside her assisted-living apartment more often. A few days later she came out to dinner with
me and Del for her 83rd birthday celebration.
Some bright good news arrived this month: Nathan John Jude Wiseman was born 6/13/2006 at 5:03pm weighing 6lbs 11oz and measuring 19 inches to proud parents Kevin and Martine Wiseman. Here is a photo of the beautiful baby boy.
My new SONY P200 Cybershot Camera came in and it fits in my pocket, no bigger than a new cellphone. It has a 1 Gb memory stick and 7 megapixels. Can hold almost 300 photos in highest resolution. I feel like a kid with a new toy, shooting photos just for the fun of it and to test the new camera. Luckily many of the buttons have similar functionality as my earlier model. This one comes with a four-year warranty to ensure a longer useful life than my previous one. Del has been learning to take photos on her own and will use the other camera, which still takes great photos, as her personal camera.
On July 1st, there will be three Cajun authors at the Barnes & Noble Bookstore in Metairie from 1 to 3 PM. Two of the authors' books I have reviewed. Click titles to read my reviews.
Anna Keller will autograph copies of her book Belle Terre Acadie. About an Acadian family who were deported to
France and then made their way back to the Bayou's of Acadiana.
Warren Perrin and his book Acadian Redemption. Story of Beausoliel Broussard including the
deportation of the Acadians, their settling of the praries of SW La. the "Attakapas" region of La.
Includes details on how Warren got the Queen of England to apologize to the Acadians and remove an antiquated law from the books which subjected Cajuns to imprisonment if they went to Nova Scotia.
Jude Theriot and his Cookbooks. He will also cook up some food with a demonstration.
In addition there will be live Cajun Music by Bernie David & Friends ( The Bastille Head Hunters), dancing by the New Orleans Cajun Dancers, and members of Les Amis du CODOFIL Rive Ouest will be in 18th century Acadian costume to answer your questions
about CODOFIL (Council for Development of French speaking In Louisiana) to promote the French language and Acadian culture of our region. Del and I hope to see you there, mes amis.
Till next month when we meet once more within the covers of this Digest, I wish you a Happy 4th of July and a blessed summer.
~^~
Late-breaking and heart-breaking news just as we went to press with this Digest: our good friend, Battle
Bell, transited into the spiritual realms at age 61 in New Orleans on June 26. Our heart-felt condolences go out to his family during this distressing time.
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Once the government becomes the supplier of people's needs, there is no limit to the needs that will be claimed as a basic right.
Lawrence Auster
A government can be compared to our lungs. Our lungs are best when we don't realize they are helping us breathe. It is when we are constantly aware of our lungs that we know they have come down with an illness.
Lao-Tzu
As Will Rogers famously observed, every time Congress makes a joke, it's a law. And every time it makes a law, it's a joke. If we could simply harness congressional hot air, America's energy problems would be history.
Paul Driessen
As you stroll around the garden of The Poynter Institute, several inspirational sayings, carved into marble, greet you. One comes from the great sports writer Red Smith: "Writing is easy. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."
(See stone tablet below.) Roy Peter Clark (American Writer, from his 50 Writing Tools Series, #32: Let It Flow)
It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress. (Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar)
Mark Twain (American Humorist, ne Samuel Clemens, early 20th Century)
New Stuff about Website:
The five most popular Non-Review Webpages (after Home Page):
Hits (Watch as soon as you can. A Don't Miss Hit is one you might otherwise ignore.):
“Mad Hot Ballroom” (2005) The Ballroom was neither mad nor hot, but the transformation which the pre-teens taking the school ballroom dancing classes in Brooklyn were amazing: we watched them at the beginning of the term and followed them to the finals where they to a kid showed increased poise, social skills, grooming skills, better posture, better languages skills, more confidence, among many other things, all while having fun. “Raise Your Voice” (2004) A teenage girl strives for her own life and wins entrance to an exclusive music school in Los Angeles without telling her Dad who thinks she’s spending time at her aunt’s house. What makes this movie a hit is the rare combination of excellent music, singing, and talent of the performers. “End Game” (2006) The Black Widow mates, has children, then kills her husband. It is the law of Nature, and she faces no retribution. This movie of a presidential assassination has an ending that leaves one hanging. Does the wife get away with it? Who owned the beautiful lips of the president’s mistress that we saw on the phone with the Secret Service agent who protected the president? All this racing around of Cuba Gooding and Angie Harmon to find the ultimate killer. And when Cuba does, she stands in front of her abstract painting and says, “You have to look at it from my point of view.” As he moves to her spot on the floor an image of a spider in the upper right corner of a large web reveals itself. Does the widow return to the bosom of her beloved husband’s family or does she move out of the country and marry a billionaire? Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. Sometimes they intersect in interesting ways in one’s dreams. “Broken Trail” (2006) Robert Duval as the savvy boss of a horse drive who shelters some Chinese virgins and keeps them from being sold as sex-slaves in a mining camp. "Orange County" (2002) ‘To surf or not to surf' — that is the question for Colin Hanks till he finds a message in a bottle, actually, a book in the sand at Huntington Beach. Then he must become a writer and leave Orange County for Stanford — which he does — and in a blaze of glory he returns to Orange County. Great comedy, great story. Jack Black excels as a new John Belushi. A Don't Miss Hit! “Stay” (2005) in which a psychiatrist replacing a colleague takes on a college student who is planning to commit suicide Saturday night at midnight. As the doctor tries to help him, his own world grows crazier and crazier. “Mrs. Henderson Presents” (2005) a non-stop musical revue in WWII London featuring gorgeous ladies with no clothes on. Judi Dench blossoms as Mrs. Henderson, a widow of an Brit assigned to India, who must now find something to do. Her friend suggests she buy things, so she bought a theater and hired a production manager (Bob Hoskins), who came up with the non-stop revue idea which soon caught on, and then she comes up with the nude idea. How she got past the censors and stayed open during the bombing raids, well, thereupon hangs a delightful and poignant tale. “Have No Fear: The Life of Pope John Paul II” (2005) A touching and insightful reprise of the Blessed Pope’s lifetime from Warsaw to the Vatican and thence to the World. “Invincible” (2002) about a small Polish village blacksmith, Zische, who went on to fame as the strongest man in early Hitler’s Germany until he revealed himself to be a Jew. Listen carefully to the story of the cock under the table as it is a metaphor for the remainder of the movie.
“Nanny McPhee” (2006) with Emma Thompson in deep cover as the Nanny and the author, which covers comes off as the story and the children in her charge progress. Like kissing a frog, but in slow motion. Kid flick. “Glory Road” (2006) about a former high school girl’s basketball coach who gets a chance to coach at a I-A school which had never done well before. He had trouble recruiting, but in the process, he noticed that the talented black players were being overlooked by the top colleges like Duke and Kentucky, so he recruited them and they led his West Texas University Miners to an NCAA National Title beating Kentucky in the last game. This is a terrific movie on many levels. The basketball action is superb. The portrayals of the black players likewise. “Peter Pan” (2003) This is a fine movie we first watched two years ago. (See August, 2004 Digest and check out my Commentary on the Shadow.) We enjoyed it as much this time and saw many things we missed the first time through. P. S. This one is for adults, too. A Don’t Miss Hit! “The End of the Spear” (2006) was where the men of this primitive Amazon people died until four missionaries gave their lives at the end of the spear to bring the end of the spearing. A Don’t Miss Hit! “Two for the Money” (2005) Brandon as a sports tout who goes to NYC and to become John Anthony, The Million-Dollar Man. Great performances by Pacino and McConaughey raise this movie to a A Don’t Miss Hit!
Misses (Avoid At All Costs): We attempted to watch these this month, but didn't make it all the way through on most of them. Awhile back when three AAAC horrors hit us in one night, I decided to add a sub-category to "Avoid at All Costs", namely, A DVD STOMPER. These are movies so bad, you don't want anyone else to get stuck watching them, so you want to stomp on the disks. That way, if everyone else who gets burnt by the movie does the same, soon no copies of the awful movie will be extant and the world will be better off.
“Bachelor Party Vegas” (2006) Gave up on it. Terminally silly. DVD Stomper!
“Little Fish” (2006) Cate Blanchett wastes her talents in this movie of a dysfunctional family on drugs.
Your call on these — your taste in movies may differ, but I liked them:
“Casanova” (2006) Casanova No. 2 reveals the story of the original Casanova and Francesca, the woman who led him into retirement from his philandering ways. “How to Draw a Bunny” (2002) Ray Johnson used a cartoon of a bunny as his signature and drew thousands of them and other inscrutable pieces of art in which haggling over the price was part of the performance art portion of his work. Ray was the Simon Rhodia (of Watts Towers fame) of performance art.
“Munich” (2006) A lugubrious epic of murder, revenge, and more murders make interesting by the naive young man who volunteered to head the mission. A look inside the seamy activities of the Israeli counter-terrorism forces in the Golda Meier era. “The Family Stone” (2006) gives us a view of a large family during Christmas two years in a row. One son, Everett, brings an uptight city gal into this touchy feely family to give her his grandmother’s engagement ring and propose to her. The family rejects this marriage and the carefully laid out chess board of their lives gets toppled: the dying mother refuses to give Everett her mother’s ring as she promised to do, the uptight girl calls her sister to the gathering to help her, the other brother falls in love with the uptight girl, Everett falls in love with her sister, and Everett’s sister re-falls in love with her first boyfriend. If one son is genetically homosexual as claimed in the Hollywood message, the rest of the family is genetically stupid. A year later, the chess board is reset, missing one piece. “The Thing About My Folks” (2005) Another movie in which Peter Faulk plays an old man who shows up unexpectedly in his family to change their lives around. This time he seems to change only his own life around. “Colombo” never said four-letter words nor farted on camera, so this character seems to give Faulk some scatological “release.” Wonderful views of upper New York in Fall colors, but a slow movie with wordiness and repetition. "Aeon Flux" (2005) Charliz Theron in a fantasy "women-kick-ass" flick. When she has her target right in front of her, a feeling stops her from shooting. Only a matter of time before she changes sides. “Au Revoir, Les Infantes” (1987) A balanced look at events in the countryside of France during WWII. Shows a German soldier helping a young boy saying, “We Bavarians are Catholic, too.” Shows other Germans just being Gestapo. Shows Frenchmen being nasty collaborators with the German and hassling other French citizens, especially an old man who was Jewish in a restaurant he had frequented for twenty years, and the German soldiers chasing away the collaborators. Shows Catholic priests risking their lives sheltering a Jewish boy claiming him to be Protestant. “Le Infant Sauvage (The Wild Child)” (1968) The director François Truffaut plays Dr. Itard who studies the feral boy found living in the wilds of France. He is originally thought to be deaf and dumb, which is an indictment on the doctors who examined him. He would respond to acorns dropping in the forest, but not to a door slamming in the city — that was their so-called evidence he was deaf. He had never been taught to speak and therefore didn’t — that led them to think he was mute.
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5. RECIPE of the MONTH for July, 2006 from Bobby Jeaux’s Kitchen: (click links to see photo of ingredients, preparation steps) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Leeks-Crawfish Omelette
Background on Leeks-Crawfish Omelette:
When I have leftover jambalaya or crawfish-eggplant dressing, I freeze it in large Ziplock freezer bags after creating three tubes in the gallon-sized bag. This makes for convenient serving sizes for making omelettes with. One Sunday morning I wanted to make an omelette and had no green onions available, but did have some chopped frozen leeks, so I used the leeks instead. It made a dramatic and pleasant change in the flavor of the omelette and I knew the recipe would be a keeper.
One of the secrets to warming up the tube of dressing is to place it on a flat piece of metal so that it might slide directly onto the omelette without breaking up. I use the bottom of a cake tin for that purpose.
Preparation
Break eggs into 2 cup measuring cup, add evaporated milk and beat till mixed thoroughly. Have two slices of Cheddar cheese ready.
Cooking Instructions
Saute chopped leeks in olive oil. While leeks are sauteing, place dressing tube in microwave for one minute. Pour enough of egg batter from above step to cover frying pan.
Allow to cook on medium heat till eggs slightly firm up.
Add two slices of Cheddar cheese across the eggs as shown.
Add the warmed up dressing to center of cheese by slicing carefully off the metal plate. Allow the eggs to firm up further, then turn over one edge as shown.
Serving Suggestion
Can be served and eaten immediately. Bon Apetit!
"Summers we went to England." begins this novel novel which is written by a professor of
light as much as it is about a professor of light. Marina using words as her palette brushes and gushes
color over the pages of this book with flowing scenes of light-filled brilliance, demonstrating that
Meggie, as well as her father, was a "professor of light." Meggie's life was like a single photon of light
spreading out through four slits in a screen, each one corresponding to one of the nationalities which
comprised her life. Like that photon, she might at any one time appear directly behind one of the four
slits.
[page 131] By now I'd come to see that my father's search into light grew more
intense in the summer because of who we were — a funny, in-between family,
Indian, Carribean, American, English — was clearer during the months we
spent in Sudbury. My father's book was both a wish to understand us and an
inquiry into particle and wave. And why not? Weren't we particle and wave, the
stream of old stories passing through?
As a physicist myself with an artist daughter a lot like Meggie, I could relate to the way he
taught Meggie his craft and she reflected back his words into amazing visual images of the world of
people, scenery, ideas and feelings into which her father had given her a full-immersion baptism.
Here's a passage where she was getting onto the plane for England and her father was staying
behind for the first month. He told her, in effect, not to worry, that she is all wave, not particle:
[page 23] "Don't be afraid, my little one. Just remember. Ours is a restless
family, flicking between continents, swimming in new elements. Now you can
travel between two places and still be yourself. Just like light. How lucky you
are."
Her father tells her, "when we name something, we're really just describing what it means to
us." She asks, "Why can't it just be a tree?" He replies, "What about its seed?" Like with light, we
name the part we can see, but its mystery flows right past us.
[page 39] "We don't know what it is. A photon is actually a relationship between
us and something out there. It can't be described because" — his hand made a
sweeping gesture toward the dark sky — "the universe is unpredictable."
In the end, the novel concludes in a beautiful metaphor of her father playing the philosopher
king who is always doing something. My review contains only a brief extract of what she fills out so
beautifully that I cannot bear to quote its entirety less I rob you, dear Reader, the chance to
experience it fully yourself. It is a magical kingdom that you can only enter by reading the book.
The Portal of Initiation is a play within a play attended by Estella who reports back to her friend Sophia. It is difficult to form an accurate idea of a play by simply reading it, which Sophia tells her friend and then adds, “But I’d be glad if you would tell me what it was that moved you so much.” (Page 122) That simulates the difficult position I am in as reviewer of a play I have only once read, but I will do my best to share with you, dear Reader, what moved me in the reading of this play.
When learning something new, it’s best to know all about it before you start. With that rule in mind, I will share with you the concise summary of the action as Estella tells it to Sophia.
[page 123] The dramatic construction was wonderful. The playwright shows how a young painter loses all his creative joy when he begins to grow uncertain in his love for a woman. She had given him the incentive to develop his talents. In her, through the purest enthusiasm for his art, a selfless love had sprung up, and, thanks to this, he was able to develop all his capacities. One might say, he bloomed in the sunlight of his benefactor. As he was often in her company, his feelings of gratitude gradually grew into a passionate love. This caused him to neglect, more and more, a poor girl who had been faithfully devoted to him. His indifference made her realize she had lost the heart of the man she loved, and she finally died of grief. When he heard of her . death, the news did not seriously disturb him, because by now his feelings belonged only to his benefactor. Yet he gradually had to come to the conclusion that her friendly feelings would never change into passionate love. This drove all creative joy out of his soul and his inner life became ever more desolate. Now the young woman he had forsaken began to haunt his memory. And what had once been a man of promise became a desolate ruin of one. Without a single ray of hope, he ended in utter despair. — All this is enacted with the most vivid dramatic intensity.
The painter, Johannes Thomasius, undergoes a change due to the presence of a new woman, Maria, in his life. His former love fades away in his memory as the new one rises. He recognizes that he cannot the person he wishes to be if he remains attached to the “poor girl” who had been devoted to him. In some ways the details of this tale match my own life and I wonder if they may also align with the details of Steiner’s life. This is the back story from which this drama launches itself. Sixteen personalities, some are people and some are archetypes, interact during the course of the drama and reveal the spiritual life hiding behind the exoteric events of life.
This is but the first of four plays which form the Mystery Dramas of Rudolf Steiner. The next play in sequence is The Soul’s Probation which is called “A Life Tableau in Dramatic Scenes as Sequel to ‘The Portal of Initiation’.”
Prof. Arnold Weinstein of Brown University, in his course Classics of American Literature, devoted a couple of lectures to this story by Henry James. He pointed to an innovative interpretation of this story by Edmund Wilson in his 1934 essay titled, “The Ambiguity of Henry James.” What Wilson did, in effect, was to change the classical interpretation of this story from a ghost story to a story of a neurotic governess. Weinstein says, “In one view of the story, the children are not in cahoots with the ghosts and have no visions at all; in fact, no one other than the governess ever actually sees the ghosts.”
How does Henry James achieve this ambiguity? I wondered and that led me to read the book. It is a short novel, only 155 pages in the mass paperback copy I read. The copy had been on my library shelf for thirty years and its acid-based pages were deeply yellowed with age and hard to read — which seemed to befit the tenor of the text itself which seemed colored from another age, dense with archaic language forms, and difficult to read. The governess’s rambling thoughts go on for many pages at times without a single break for conversation. Even when she has a conversation, it is more of a monologue, as neither the housekeeper nor her two charges have much to say.
I found no problem with James’ language usage in The Spoils of Poynton — so perhaps it was striving for this subtle ambiguity which befuddled readers for some twenty-five years before Wilson deciphered his text and offered an alternative to the ghost story interpretation. In case, it could be said that until Wilson’s essay, no one seriously questioned it being a ghost story. It had all the classic signs of a ghost story. Two deceased servants, the valet Quint and the previous governess Jessel, kept appearing through the windows, across the lake, on the steps, etc, of Bly, the home where the governess attempted to protect her two young charges, Miles and Flora, as best she could from these horrid specters. The housekeeper, Mrs. Grose, even identifies the ghosts as Quint and Jessel, but only from accounts by the governess.
One of the ways James achieves the ambiguity is how he introduces the story. Douglas reads aloud the diary of his sister’s governess, from whom he got it when she died. The theme of governess in love with young Miles unfolds within the first-person story of the diary. One might imagine that Douglas’s governess had been earlier a governess to Miles before she was governess to Douglas’s sister.
This is a story which can be read on many levels and all of them taken together must somehow infuse the meaning of the story. A ghost story, two scheming children, or a young woman’s twisted infatuation with a young boy gone awry. The choice is yours, dear Reader — a gift of a masterful writer.
The material in this book has been important to me during the twenty-two years which have passed since I first read it. I received an email recently which showed beautiful images of butterflies and each photo had a portion of a story which went along with it. It prompted me to write my Commentary 3 below, the writing of which prompted me to write this belated review of Touching Read Commentary or at least view the Butterfly photos before proceeding. [I apologize for any repetition in this Blurb about the Book Review and the Commentary, but some people will only read one or the other and they do contain different content.]
The email immediately caused me to remember what I learned from Touching, and one particular issue among many it allowed me to understand: the process of Caesarian births or C-Sections. What the man did with a scissors to the cocoon is what a doctor does with a scalpel to a woman’s body. The doctor tries to assist Nature with something it doesn't need assistance to do. I've been counting and it seems from my own experience that among young mothers of my acquaintance who have given birth in the past twenty years, over fifty percent of them
had C-Sections. When I asked them why, which I was prompted to do by Montagu’s book, most of the mothers told me in effect that these Caesarian surgeries were done for the scheduling convenience of themselves or their doctors. Or they repeated some concern the doctor had which rose, in my opinion, to the level of concern the man with the scissors had
over the butterfly. It seems to me that more and more doctors are treating a natural occurrence, childbirth, as a medical procedure. And, it also seems to me that the more complicated the medical procedure, the more doctors feel as though they have "done their jobs rightly" — and therefore the less likely they are be sued if anything goes wrong. But, it also occurs to me that they will never be sued if the C-Section-birthed child grows up to be a physically or emotionally crippled adult, will they?
I wonder about the effects of having a doctor surgically remove a child from the womb and how it relates to their subsequent development. Will they become crawling butterflies because they did not develop the soul and bodily forces necessary for life that are garnered in the process of being squeezed through the birth canal?
Within the covers of this book, one can find a treasure trove of information about the importance of the skin, how it is important while in the womb, during breast-feeding, during early maturation, and how the lack of touching can lead to diverse problems in growth and development. Thus we might give ourselves a hug and congratulate ourselves on having the world’s greatest skin covering our body right now. Do that and you will feel the human significance of touching.
I hear often from my Good Readers that they have bought books after reading my book reviews.
Keep reading, folks! As I like to remind you, to obtain more information on what's in these
books, buy and read the books — for less information, read the reviews.
In this section I like to comment on events in the world, in my life, and in my readings which have come up during the month. These are things I might have shared with you in person, if we had had the opportunity to coverse during the month. If we did, then you may recognize my words. If I say some things here which upset you, rest assured that you may skip over these for the very reason that I would likely have not brought up the subject to spoil our time together in person.
1. Padre Filius Reads the New Orleans Times-Picayune this Month:
Padre Filius, the cartoon character created by your intrepid editor and would-be cartoonist, will appear from time to time in this Section of the Digest to share us on some amusing or enlightening aspect of the world he observes during his peregrinations.
This month the good Padre learns the motto of a Septic Tank Cleanout Company.
2.Comments from Readers:
Email from Bonnie Schindler, an old friend from New Orleans: Doing well here in PA. Living in the house I grew up in! Wow!
Yes, please add me to your list. I read your review of Eric Szuter's book.
Thanks for supporting him.
Blessings,
Bonnie
Email from Kevin Dann in the Northeast:
I was hoping today to get back to unfinished writing projects but then I made the mistake of reading your review of Seeing Red and now you
have put my mind into such a tizzy with your talk of doylmems,
blindsight, talking orcas and all the rest that I think I've exhausted
my day's capacity for close reading and thinking.
Email from Diana F. Von Behren in New Orleans: Hello Bobby,
Got this little "whale" email from a friend in New York and immediately thought of our conversation re: dolphins and their unique cetacean intelligence. Thought you would appreciate the beauty of the interspecies communique.
Good story: Years ago I took my son to Sea World in Orlando. We snuck into the area where Shamu and baby's tank
was located after a show. We were the only ones in this darkened room that looked into the tank through a glass viewing
area. We didn't realize that we had access to the tank's opening — until the two orcas realizing that we had come to visit
splashed us with water to get our attention. For the next few minutes we just stared at each other through the glass of the
tank — we were like interspecies mirror images — a mother and son — one set in the water and one set totally wet outside
the water. We could hear the orcas sounding to each other even as we spoke to each other — almost simultaneously, my
son put his hand on the tank and the little orca butted his snout in the same place as my son's hand. A truly wonderful
moment.
3. Butterfly Caesarian Births
This message came to me in an email. You can view the beautiful butterfly photos with the text by Clicking Here, but the essential text for my commentary appears below:
One day, a small opening appeared in a cocoon; a man sat and watched for several hours for a butterfly to appear. It struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then, it seems to stop making any progress.
It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could not go any further. So the man decided to help the butterfly: he took a pair of scissors and opened the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily.
But it had a withered body, it was tiny with shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would open, enlarge and expand, to be able to support the butterfly’s body, and become firm. Neither happened!
In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a withered body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and his goodwill did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening, were nature’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings, so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
I've been counting and it seems from my own experience with young mothers of my acquaintance having births, over fifty percent of them are getting C-Sections these days. Most of these surgeries are done for the scheduling convenience of the mothers or the doctors. Plus more and more doctors seem willing to treat a natural occurrence, childbirth, as a medical procedure. It seems to me that the more complicated the procedure, the more doctors feel as though they have "done their jobs" — and therefore the less likely they are be sued if anything goes wrong. But, it also occurs to me that they will never be sued if the C-Section birthed child grows up to be a physically or emotionally crippled adult, will they?
I wonder about the effects of having a doctor surgically remove a child from the womb and how it relates to their subsequent development. Will they become crawling butterflies because they did not develop the soul and bodily forces necessary for life that are garnered in the process of being squeezed through the birth canal?
In Ashley Montagu's fine book, Touching — the Human Significance of the Skin, he tells about helping a cat to birth its kittens. Everyone knows that kittens will die if removed from their mother’s at birth, but Montague describes the reason why and tells how people actually help orphaned kittens to survive and thrive. What animal handlers have discovered is that kittens (and other mammals) spend very little time in the birth canal — they pop right out without any squeezing at all. It is as if kittens and many other small mammals are all delivered by C-Section. What is the function that the mother of the kittens performs right after birth which keeps them alive? She licks the baby kittens from their genital region up through the center of their body to their mouth. This is the path that food will take for the baby kitten, and by this licking, the kitten’s brain is able to locate the alimentary canal and its position through the body. What handlers do with orphaned kittens to help them survive is to use a moistened Q-Tip to massage that path on each kitten. In his book, Montague points out that the human being in its passage through the birth canal undergoing a similar “licking” or touching of every section of its body from genital region to mouth, thus sending signals to its brain of the location of the alimentary canal.
In his book The Trauma of Birth, Otto Rank points out that those who avoid the trauma of birth by the heroic actions of a C-Section often seek in their external life later to become heroes in some way so as to attain in later life what they were cheated of at birth.
This brings up the question of the wisdom of C-Sections for convenience. Certainly when the life of the mother and/or the baby is threatened by a baby too large to pass through the pelvic girdle, a C-Section is necessary. What the C-Section does is to replace the natural massaging passage of the new born through its mother’s womb with the artificial inducement of anesthesia, an incision of its mother, and the baby being lifted out directly from the womb by a surgeon into the cold world.
The first known C-Section was performed on Julius Caesar, a well-known hero of the Romans, who was also known to be beset by epileptic seizures as an adult. Incidentally, Caesar died by having a knife shoved into his body in the same place where his mother had one shoved in her body when he was born. One can only wonder of the effects of this latest fad powered by the illusion of the “insurance company will pay for it” upon the increasing numbers of C-Section babies, children, and adults appearing amongst us in the world.
4. Saddles and Spurs
The following commentary is taken from my review of I, Robot:
Ah, the following quotation includes a delightful metaphor, "an old fable"
that explains the origin of the coercion by the state. My marginalia says "of spurious
origin":
[page 90] "A horse having a wolf as a powerful and dangerous
enemy lived in constant fear of his life. Being driven to
desperation, it occurred to him to seek a strong ally. Whereupon
he approached a man, and offered an alliance, pointing out that
the wolf was likewise an enemy of the man. The man accepted
the partnership at once and offered to kill the wolf immediately,
if his new partner would only co-operate by placing his greater
speed at the man's disposal. The horse was willing and allowed
the man to place bridle and saddle upon him. The man mounted,
hunted down the wolf, and killed him.
"The horse, joyful and relieved, thanked the man, and
said: 'Now that our enemy is dead, remove your bridle and
saddle and restore my freedom.'
"Whereupon the man laughed loudly and replied, 'The
hell you say. Giddy-ap, Dobbin,' and applied the spurs at will."
Every time someone goes to a coercive agency of the State to seek
protection or to have it redress a grievance by the use of force, the State places a
saddle on the requestor and sharpens their spurs. Saddles and spurs are a way of life
to those lacking the ability to protect their property without the coercive State, up
until now. Once freedom is built, the saddles and spurs will be retired as they will be
no longer necessary. [See Dr. Galambos' landmark book in ARJ: Sic Itur Ad Astra, Volume 1. ]
5. Contagious Laughter — Is it a disease?
Two cartoons in the Times-Picayune on Friday, June 16, 2006 reminded of aspects of the science of doyletics. The first gave me the title of this commentary. It was the Family Circus cartoon by Bil Keane in which the young sees his dad and friends laughing riotously in the other room and asks his mom, "But how can laughter be contagious? It's not a disease, is it?" How indeed can laughter be contagious? The answer is provided by doyletics, and it will provide us with insight into the origin of some diseases.
The Etiology of Laughter
How does laughter itself happen? Everyone should know by now about how the two hemispheres of the brain are divided. Our left brain controlled linear, logical thinking and our right brain our wholistic, all-at-once artistic mode of thinking. The left brain controls the right-side of our body and the right brain controls the left side. The nerves that go out from each side of the brain spread across the body and meet with a small overlap in the center line of our body. Notice that it is the centerline of our body on which all the fun stuff of life happens: eating, drinking, talking and sex, among other things. What happens if someone tells a joke which activates one's linear, logical thinking and expectations, only to have some bolt from the blue arrive to destroy one's expectations? One side of our body is held tight by the linear expectations and the other side is suddenly relaxed by the wholistic vision presented by the other side of the brain. The two contradictory signals are send to each side of the body at the same time, but across the midline, the two contradictory signals cannot make the muscles both contract and relax simultaneously! What happens is the contractions and relaxed states alternate quickly after one another lead to what can range from minor chuckles (which jiggle the midline) to so-called side-splitting laughter which can cause one to rock from one side to another or literally, in the extreme, double up or roll on the floor in laughter. This is my theory about the etiology of laughter.
Learning to Laugh
Everyone laughs a little different from everyone else. One joke in a large will elicit various kinds of laughing activity among those who find it funny. Why is this so? It is because we each learn how to laugh from our parents, siblings, and caregivers when we are under the age of five. This activity, doyletics tells us, is stored as physical body states which are recapitulated whenever we laugh for the remainder of our lives. Thus we would find in early childhood, for example, someone who laugh raucously at the mildest joke, people close to them before the age of five who laughed similarly. They acquired those doyles (physical body activities) of laughing in exactly the way of those around them, even though they didn’t understand the joke being told at that early age. One can see the beginning of an infection of a mode of laughter in the storage of those early doyles of laughter.
Infectious Doyles
Doyles are infectious in the sense that one can acquire them simply by being around someone who has them before you are five. A mother sees her toddler playing with a big roach and screams. The child who was enjoying itself, up until that moment, has its heart rate increase, its respiration rate speed up, and may even cry out in alarm or scream itself from its mother’s alarming scream. That experience of the child gets stored as a doyle, and later as she grows up into a woman, she will be scared of roaches. Her fright will recapitulate that first and maybe only experience of her mother’s scream. Her heart and respiratory rates will dramatically increase and she may even scream exactly as her mother did back then!
Contagious Laughter — It's no Disease
As adults, no more doyles are stored, but merely being in the presence of someone laughing in a way similar to one's own can trigger a doyle of laughter in onself. We know from our studies that one doyle can trigger another similar doyle in another person or in oneself. When one doyle can trigger another doyle in oneself, the possibility exists for a cascade of doyles to occur. When we see the phenomenon of "contagious laughter" occurs, we are observing a cascading of doyles of laughter in a group of people.
Second Cartoon: Contagious Enjoyment
The second cartoon was "Rose is Rose" and it showed Jimbo with his pre-five son, Pasquale, enjoying a meal in Georgie’s Diner at the counter. The narrator tells us about the otherwise wordless cartoon panel: “Jumbo and Pasquale’s Favorite Lunch Stops: ‘Georgie’s’ — sitting at the same counter of the same diner where Jimbos’ dad took him as a kid — even the green beans are tasty!”
We can imagine that good doyles can be stored during an outing with one’s dad when one is a small boy, especially if the dad is enjoying himself. The way the place looks, the way the food tastes, and the excitement one feels being with one’s dad all get stored as doyles. Later just eating in a similar diner can trigger those good doyles, but if it is the exact same diner, the doyles are intensified. In this case we witness the good doyles flowing through three generations: Jimbo’s dad, Jimbo, and Jimbo’s son.
The important part is the phrase “even the green beans are tasty!” The word “even” indicates that green usually are not considered tasty by Jimbo or Pasquale. The adjective “tasty” increase the savor of the green beans in some unexplainable way. Unexplainable, that is, up until the science of doyletics comes along to explain how perceptions of all kinds are memories. There is a time delay between the reception of a perception by our nerves and our experience of the sensation which results. During that time delay, our memory system has accepted the sensation and stored it. When we become aware for the first time of the sensation, it has already be stored as a conceptual memory and had doylic memories attached to it. These doylic memories are physical body states which then modulate the raw perceptions in various fashions. Thus the taste of the green beans were enhanced for Jimbo and his son by the mere fact of their eating in Georgie’s Diner!
“Even the green beans were tasty” is a statement which can only result from the presence of good doyles in the diner.
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Suddenly Brunie appeared along the left side of front yard and, as he and I introduced ourselves,
Carol appeared on the front porch with Del. We looked at the Carol-designed hole in the fence to
leave the gardenia garden untouched. The yard had several vertical spikes holding banners --
two of them fronting a flagstone walkway to the patio. We sat out around the blazing fire pit on
swings and benches. The patio across the back of the house looked like the small backyard patios
of New Orleans French Quarter and Uptown Garden District. Full of plants, tiny lights on trees.
Carol took us into kitchen for some champagne and great-tasting shrimp with remoulade sauce,
chips with baba ganoush, and then she brought out the marinated and broiled salmon and fresh
baked french bread which we spread the babba ganoush on. We took our dinner and delicious herbal tea
with mint water outside and sat on the swing where we talked and ate. Later we came in for the dessert, which was a selection of colorful slices of cakes. Somehow I managed to
wind my way backwards equally successfully and made it back to our condo for a well-deserved
rest after a very long day.
waves were not quite high enough for good boogie-boarding, but I gave my new board a workout
(and myself) in what waves did arrive. 
After a delicious lunch of red snapper with crabmeat on top (Del) and
crawfish étouffée (me), we walked back on the lee side (and the Robert E. Lee side) of Magazine
Street, which was now shady and got to sit down a few minutes before Robert Boudreau began
the concert of the American Wind Instrument Orchestra which he founded and has led for 50
years. They normally perform on their special barge, but they decided not to dock at New Orleans
because the Miss. River was at an all-time low for this time of year. The top of the barge would thus be too low for spectators on the shore to see the orchestra as they performed. They were able to dock at
two other Louisiana venues, Lockport and Madisonville. Very enjoyable concert. Wish our trumpet player grandson, Gabe, had been able to come along. 
which, with a breeze, is delightful in the shade. Clouds have returned,
btw. and regular N.O. scattered afternoon showers should come soon. Doris has started taking a
new alz-dementia medicine which has improved her mood to the point she is amenable to going
outside her assisted-living apartment more often. A few days later she came out to dinner with
me and Del for her 83rd birthday celebration.
“Mad Hot Ballroom” (2005) The Ballroom was neither mad nor hot, but the transformation which the pre-teens taking the school ballroom dancing classes in Brooklyn were amazing: we watched them at the beginning of the term and followed them to the finals where they to a kid showed increased poise, social skills, grooming skills, better posture, better languages skills, more confidence, among many other things, all while having fun.
“Broken Trail” (2006) Robert Duval as the savvy boss of a horse drive who shelters some Chinese virgins and keeps them from being sold as sex-slaves in a mining camp.
“Have No Fear: The Life of Pope John Paul II” (2005) A touching and insightful reprise of the Blessed Pope’s lifetime from Warsaw to the Vatican and thence to the World. 
“Peter Pan” (2003) This is a fine movie we first watched two years ago. (
“Casanova” (2006) Casanova No. 2 reveals the story of the original Casanova and Francesca, the woman who led him into retirement from his philandering ways. 
brother falls in love with the uptight girl, Everett falls in love with her sister, and Everett’s sister re-falls in love with her first boyfriend. If one son is genetically homosexual as claimed in the Hollywood message, the rest of the family is genetically stupid. A year later, the chess board is reset, missing one piece.
Shows other Germans just being Gestapo. Shows Frenchmen being nasty collaborators with the German and hassling other French citizens, especially an old man who was Jewish in a restaurant he had frequented for twenty years, and the German soldiers chasing away the collaborators. Shows Catholic priests risking their lives sheltering a Jewish boy claiming him to be Protestant.
Clothilde, transplanted Yankee, confirmed spinster, town gossip, and self-appointed enforcer of the Cajun town of Crowley’s morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business. Many residents disliked her butting into their personal lives, but thought it best to keep their distance.
Leeks-Crawfish Omelette
Cooking Instructions 
The painter, Johannes Thomasius, undergoes a change due to the presence of a new woman, Maria, in his life. His former love fades away in his memory as the new one rises. He recognizes that he cannot the person he wishes to be if he remains attached to the “poor girl” who had been devoted to him. In some ways the details of this tale match my own life and I wonder if they may also align with the details of Steiner’s life. This is the back story from which this drama launches itself. Sixteen personalities, some are people and some are archetypes, interact during the course of the drama and reveal the spiritual life hiding behind the exoteric events of life.
I found no problem with James’ language usage in 
over the butterfly. It seems to me that more and more doctors are treating a natural occurrence, childbirth, as a medical procedure. And, it also seems to me that the more complicated the medical procedure, the more doctors feel as though they have "done their jobs rightly" — and therefore the less likely they are be sued if anything goes wrong. But, it also occurs to me that they will never be sued if the C-Section-birthed child grows up to be a physically or emotionally crippled adult, will they?
necessary for life that are garnered in the process of being squeezed through the birth canal?
One day, a small opening appeared in a cocoon; a man sat and watched for several hours for a butterfly to appear. It struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then, it seems to stop making any progress.
It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could not go any further. So the man decided to help the butterfly: he took a pair of scissors and opened the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily.
I've been counting and it seems from my own experience with young mothers of my acquaintance having births, over fifty percent of them are getting C-Sections these days. Most of these surgeries are done for the scheduling convenience of the mothers or the doctors. Plus more and more doctors seem willing to treat a natural occurrence, childbirth, as a medical procedure. It seems to me that the more complicated the procedure, the more doctors feel as though they have "done their jobs" — and therefore the less likely they are be sued if anything goes wrong. But, it also occurs to me that they will never be sued if the C-Section birthed child grows up to be a physically or emotionally crippled adult, will they?
Two cartoons in the Times-Picayune on Friday, June 16, 2006 reminded of aspects of the science of doyletics. The first gave me the title of this commentary. It was the Family Circus cartoon by Bil Keane in which the young sees his dad and friends laughing riotously in the other room and asks his mom, "But how can laughter be contagious? It's not a disease, is it?" How indeed can laughter be contagious? The answer is provided by doyletics, and it will provide us with insight into the origin of some diseases.
