Thursday, January 25, 2007

Not a UFO anymore, unless you want to believe...

I had been following this UFO story from Drudge links. (If you read Drudge, you already have a link. If you don't, you're not going to go there because I add a hyperlink.) I found it curious, if ultimately unconvincing, that there was finally a credible report of lights with no known source. The solution gives me a clue of just how many different things can probably cause mysterious lights.

Fortunately, I live in a city that plays "Coast to Coast" on talk radio. I am sure that these people will claim that the Air Force's response is a coverup, and comes suspiciously late after the incidents.

I work with a guy who told me that the reason some people see UFO's (like his son) and I don't is because I'm "filtered." Apparently I'm on the aliens' list of people who should not be allowed to see them, which I find highly disappointing and grossly unfair. I guess aliens don't believe in equal rights. If the topic ever comes up with this guy again, I want to tell him that I saw one the other day, but just for a split second before it blinked out. "Apparently someone forgot to turn the filter on," I'll explain.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

The movie, by the way was Children of Men. I’m not sure quite what to make of it, but being biblically literate, I can say it was at least a unique, post-modern take on the Apocalypse, the Madonna and Christ child. If you’re tempted to accuse me of reading too much symbolism into it, you might recall (or go see it) that when the mother was asked who the father was, she said, “I’m a virgin.” She was joking, but the parallel was confirmed. Clive Owen then becomes a Joseph figure, trying to find anywhere to serve as a suitable manger. Civilized, Caucasian England has no room in the Inn, so a barn must be located in the rejected immigrant society that exists outside its borders. I wasn't sure what significance the Muslim population was supposed to have. Was “the uprising” offering any hope, or merely advocating chaotic violence, or was it just tossed off as a muddled, undefined middle ground that seems politically significant?

This is not a faithful rendition of the P. D. James novel, mind you. Fitting with today’s feminized society, the future hope of mankind was a girl. I won’t mind if some Joan of Arc character saves civilization at some future point in world history, but let’s not reverse the gender of an author’s character merely to be stylishly contemporary.

The religious, while I’m on it, were embodied in the movie version as a couple of strange, superstitious groups hoping to bring salvation through their eccentric rituals. Those with Christian faith are increasingly marginalized, even as their Bible is still mined for literary effect.

Made me wonder what P. D. James thought of the end result.

As a side note, it was nice to see Michelangelo's David and Picasso's Guernica given prominence on the big screen. I haven't seen either of these in real life and am not likely to anytime soon, and I found my attention drawn to nothing else for those fleeting moments.

Ever had an expensive haircut? I felt like my longer hair experiment was going a little awry, didn't look like the right length in places, so I figured I'd let an expert even it up where needed. Went to this place called Panopolous Salons after catching a movie. I didn't really know what they'd charge but wasn't much concerned as long as it came in under $50. I've saved a lot more than that in haircuts since I started letting it grow out, so what would it matter?

The beginning part was pretty impressive. The lady at the desk took my name, another gal took my coat, and a third asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I asked for a coffee (regular, black, thank you), and it came back in a little cup after a few seconds.

I hadn't made an appointment, which I acknowledged with a, "Can you get me in?" I waited a few minutes and then the stylist called me back. She (Joy) washed my hair, and then—God bless her on a day when somehow I had pulled my neck out of joint—she gave me a massage for a few minutes after rinsing. The salon lists all kinds of services you can pay for, including neck massages, so it was unexpected, but it certainly did the trick.

I think any normal person would have laughed to see me come out. She'd put some kind of junk in my hair after she cut it, a "medium curl" product I think it was categorized, with a silly name something like, I kid you not, Boober and Boober. I know, because I asked. I figured if it looked better than my standard $2 a bottle shampoo option, I might want to get some. Then she played with my hair for awhile, and I put my glasses on and she asked me if I could see fairly well without them. I think she was worried that I'd had no idea what she was up to the whole time, and would be aghast, especially since it was my first time at this joint, and I might not have any experience with people paid quite a bit of good money to create an Emperor's New Clothes effect on top of one's head. I told her good, fine, she cleaned up the bits of hair, I paid at the front desk and left a more than adequate tip, and then had a good laugh in the car when I saw my new rug on closer inspection. She'd made it all curly and frizzy, like some kind of wig you might wear for a joke.

I suppose if I were the regular kind of customer at a salon like that I'd have walked around proudly afterward, but I messed it up properly afterwards—or straightened it as the case may be—and now I'll have to see how it looks after a shower.

Anyway, she said it seemed to be layered perfectly and falling nicely, so after I've got the vanity out, maybe I'll actually like it. Otherwise, I'll just give up and go back to short hair.

I recognize this little testimonial doesn't have much context, especially if you don't know me and after a month and all, but a couple people asked if I'd died or stopped writing, so what started out as a stray e-mail become a convenient update. So there you go.

Free Counter