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Sunday, May 27, 2012

A NIELSEN FAMILY OF ONE

 
May Sweeps is finally over. If I have to explain what that is, you are not my kind of person. So don't read my blog. Watching TV has always been my favorite way to spend an evening.

For the second time, since living in Vero, Nielsen has mailed me booklets to record my TV viewing preferences. The 1st time I became part of the Nielsen Family was back in 1963 when I was 12 yrs old. My mother filled it out.

Enclosed was a dollar, same as back in 63. Geez, with inflation it should be at least $20 by now! Besides, it's a bother. And the print is too small for anyone over 60. Also they never ask if you WANT to do it. They mail you a card informing that you've been selected. I suppose I could have opted out. But it's like jury duty. Someone has to do it.

I've watched programming change dramatically over the years. Sleaze has certainly gone mainstream!

I wish these TV writers & actors would leave references of their disgusting drug habits in their personal lives and off the screen. Too many simian throwbacks ape the behavior they see on TV.

TWO & A HALF MEN was a good show for about the first 2, maybe 3 yrs. But it has degenerated into mostly poop & pot jokes. It deserved to be cancelled long before Sheen threw his much publicized hissy fit. The X Mr. Demi Moore adds nothing.

TWO BROKE GIRLS should be re-titled as TWO BROKE SLUTS. I wouldn't eat those cupcakes. You never know what nasty stuff might have found its way inside, considering their lifestyle. Believe it or not, it is possible to be poor without becoming white trash.

Sitcoms in general have become way too lewd.

I don't like women being referred to as "Bitches" although I've used that term myself. During my 61 years, I've shared my home with a number of bitches, both 2-legged & 4-legged. And let me tell you, the 4-legged variety were all gentle and loving. To lump them in the same category with these odious women is an insult to the dogs!

Also I don't care much for dramas. I've had too much of that in real life.

The only so-called reality shows I watch are SURVIVOR and HELL'S KITCHEN. Although I often wish someone would shove a steaming artichoke down Chef Ramsay's throat! H.K. will be returning in June as a summer replacement series.

Now that mostly reruns are here, I can finally go back to watching all those movies I've recorded. Sometimes if the pacing is too slow, or there's too much profanity, or too many sex scenes, I'll watch the entire movie at warp speed. Usually, If I can't get interested in 15 minutes I erase and move on to the next.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

LIVING THE LOW TECH LIFE

Believe it or not, I'm actually on Facebook, now. Just the idea had always turned me off. Norman Bates was more of a people-person than I am.

During the last decade, my closest friends (who have now passed-on) did not own computers. We exchanged handwritten letters or phoned.

Up until 2 yrs ago my computer had dial-up. Sure it was slow, (like riding a donkey thru China) but really cheap. -- A big plus! I was forced to get rid of it when I switched to the bundle.

Still, I do not own a cell phone. And have no plans to get one. Plus I don't particularly want one.

People tell me I should have one in my car for emergencies. But since I'm still dealing with anxiety attacks, I don't drive that far. If it started ringing while I was behind the wheel I'd probably plow into the car in front of me, or a tree!

Truth be told, I wouldn't own a land line if not for the emergency factor. Most of the people who call are just strangers with their hand out for money. I seldom answer my phone. That's the job of my answering machine. Whenever I return from the movies or shopping and the light is blinking, I'm thinking who the hell is bothering me now. I'm on 2 no-call lists, but that doesn't seem to deter these pests!

Looking at videos on YouTube, it appears to be the territory of generation X-rated. Sad to say, clean fun seems to be obsolete.

I'm still filling out my Facebook profile which is a headache. They keep rejecting my answers. -- I can only choose from one of theirs. Apparently they don't want honestly, or encourage creativity. -- Hey, that's why my blog exists!

My patient computer guy, Jake, has cautioned me to tone myself down. Because my personality is liable to alienate too many readers. But I hate hypocrisy. So my warts & scars are all here.

According to Jake, I created a new category when it comes to my music preferences. I wrote: Anything that isn't rock shouting, soul screeching, or country whining. Rarely, do I purchase music. I prefer quiet. My life doesn't need a soundtrack.

I wanted to create other new categories, too. But Facebook wouldn't let me.

As for sports, I hate any game involving a ball!

Also they would not let me elaborate on my movie preferences. I wanted to add: Especially ones where vile-mouthed, promiscuous, dope-smoking, teenagers are slashed apart by mutant maniacs. -- Which summarizes just about every other film I watch on CHILLER or FEARNET. Usually the teens are so obnoxious and offensive I can't wait for the bloodletting to commence.

For favorite TV shows I listed, THE WALKING DEAD, 1000 WAYS TO DIE, DEADLY WOMEN, & KILLER KIDS. Guess it was too much death for them. They rejected that too.

I left education blank because I'm a college drop-out. High School was a nightmare, and filled with ugly memories I'd rather forget. Plus too many people didn't want to know me. Well I don't want to know them, now! To any of my High School graduating class of 69 glimpsing me on Facebook, please don't contact me.

Technology aside, I'm enjoying my second childhood and having a nuclear blast of fun!!!

Friday, May 11, 2012

THE PHANTOM MENACE NOISE

 
Engrossed in a movie, I stayed up an hour past my bedtime. After clicking off the TV, I heard it, that egad-awful, infernal noise!

At first I thought, it's the refrigerator. Making a racket like that, soon I could expect a huge puddle on my kitchen floor. I walked over to the fridge. Nope, wasn't it!

Perhaps it was outside? I'd heard that noise before, but not to that degree. I had assumed it was outside. Because it sounded like running machinery, and everything was turned off.

I grabbed my hurricane flashlight and walked around my house. It was serene and quiet outside. But the inside was still noisy. I walked from room to room. I could hear it everywhere in the house.

It was loudest in my computer room. I put my ear to the wall. It was emanating from there. -- Outdoors on the other side all was quiet. I was mystified.

Recently, FP&L had installed a high-powered meter. Many in the community were fighting it, deeming it a fire hazard. I was not one of them. But now I was starting to wonder. It was 11:30 PM and I phoned FP&L. There was more than a hint of attitude in the man's voice. He advised me to call 911.

"911 are you serious?" I said.

"Yeah," he replied, "they'll get the police and send a fire truck out to locate the source."

That seemed drastic to me. Plus I was sleepy. I decided just to go to bed and pray. I believe in God as a cosmic consciousness. Although I am not a big believer in religion.

Directly above my computer room is the bathroom off my bedroom. I closed that door. The noise sounded like an airplane about to take off. I heard it, still. I had difficulty falling asleep.

I keep a radio next to my bed permanently set on a static station to drown out the vocal joggers & speed walkers who come by in waves starting at 5:00 AM.. It enabled me to sleep, but I worried I won't hear my smoke detector. My house is a wood frame. So I would literally be toast!

Aside from a fire, I worry this noise is raising up my electric bill. What ever this is, it's not running on fairy dust. It has to be using electricity!

The following day I phoned an electrician. The same one who did an emergency re-wiring job in that same room last year. Which cost me several 1000 dollars. A previous service person (I think I know who, but I can't prove it) messed-up. My computer was left permanently damaged. It was a tremendous out-of-the-blue expense.

The noise was more subtle than the night before, but still loud enough to hear. But the electrician heard nothing! Now I was really frustrated! I know I haven't developed canine hearing in my old age. -- I have the feeling he did hear it, but dismissed it as being outside. Just as I had done at first.

I made him check the wiring. He said it was fine. But I still worried about a fire. That sound was new. It shouldn't be in my wall.

He told me to find someone else who could hear it, too. -- He made me feel as if I'm going senile! ... I live alone. I rarely have company anymore. And that's the way I prefer it!

It's a good thing I didn't call 911. Because if a policeman didn't hear anything he probably would have me arrested for making a false report!

The electrician was here for only 10 min., did almost nothing and charged me $120! -- Ouch! Talk about gouging! He only came from a few streets over, too!

Guess I won't be buying those mile high-heeled sandals I was ogling at Victoria's Secret. Nor will I be dealing with that electrician ever again! Plus they are going to be receiving major negative word-of-mouth! Remember, I attend 2 business connection lunches every month.

If my house catches fire and I survive, I'm going to sue the hell out of them! And if I burn alive, I'm going to haunt them. They're going to be experiencing a few fires from beyond the grave.

In the meantime, the phantom noise comes and goes.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE ART

If you read my blog, you know I have low-brow tastes. Because if I ran the world, the original NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD would have won an Academy Award. And the girl who played BARBARA would own an Oscar.

The painting in my living room, the one directly above my rocker-recliner (the place of honor) I bought for $20. in 2002.

I attended what is called, "An Affordable Art Sale" over at a big hotel. A back conference room was filled with original artworks. All probably painted by a crew of Chinese workers in an art sweatshop.

I found this painting behind several others. Someone probably hid it there while they looked around. I knew immediately it was mine, and grabbed it up!

It reminded me of artwork by Thomas Kinkade. It possessed that same ethereal glimpse-of-heaven style. The nature scene is early dusk. A full moon beams over a mountain peak as it gazes down upon a secluded lake in the woods. It has a certain magical air. The picture is unsigned and has no title. I gave it one, "A Sacred Place."

Anything by Thomas Kinkade has always struck me with a sense of awe. The avant garde crowd of the art world have always criticized his work. Usually labeling it "too happy." -- Well what's wrong with that! I've always thought art was supposed to stir the emotions. Isn't happiness an emotion!

Back in the olden mid-1990's, I was a docent in an art museum. -- OK, it was volunteer work forced by the court! But that's another story.

Some of the garbage on display in those exhibits (by renowned artists) was laughable! The only emotion they evoked was ridicule.
To paraphrase the late Andy Rooney, "Anyone who doesn't understand cutting edge art because it all looks like trash to them, actually does understand it." I'm inclined to agree.

I've read that Norman Rockwell and even Armand Hammer were also considered mere commercial artists. Because a painting is never supposed to look too much like a photograph. It's supposed to be more of an artist's concept. Why? It actually requires skill to make a painting good enough to resemble a photo!

Also I remember the juried art shows at the museum. The ugliest or most outrageous piece of crap almost always won! I actually told the Executive Director that the judges had lousy taste, or they must be blind.. She politely explained, those pieces of art were created not for beauty, but to make people think.

I get that, except they don't really. After the initial shock, laughter, and disbelief, the beholder is left cold. You are not forcing people to think by turning them off. My entrancing piece of sweatshop art is far more thought provoking.

I admire art that has a special je ne sais quoi. Something I can love and cherish. The type that takes visible skill to create. And not something a monkey with a paintbrush could produce!

Once, I brought my father into the museum for a tour. "You should have been artist, Dianne," he declared. -- I reminded him I have no talent. "Look around," he replied, "neither do any of these people!"

Apparently art doesn't have to be good to be considered genius.