As anyone who has read this blog knows, I'm not exactly a fan of classical music. It's not that I actively don't like it... moreso that I don't hear it often, then don't like what I hear. Now that I have experienced more of it, I can appreciate the highs and lows, the subtle differences, and the different movements. For instance, at 8:00 this morning, I heard the subtle prelude to Concerto, which was a rake moving slowly across concrete. Repeatedly. Toward the end of this prelude, the rake was joined by wheeled and hurled metal cans. These were not the 3' tall trash cans, no sir; that's for the radio version. These were taller than the average neighbor, who had to move them to the curb, slowly and noisily, with the added thrill of falling down on top and bottom of them.
I am thankful that I slept horribly, lest I would have missed this symphony of life. I might have slept through a defining piece of my own musical growth. Why was I half awake, you ask? "Wife," I answer. Wife had to rise at 6:30 for reasons even she didn't understand. This causes a chain collision, with her getting herself up every hour so she doesn't miss the alarm. In bed. Out of bed. In bed with potato chips. Out of bed. By the time the alarm goes off, she is way too tired from being up every hour and sleeps right through it. Added to this is the idea (incorrect, mind you) that because I sleep through the dog sitting on my chest, I obviously can't hear anything that goes on either. I have been awakened by her putting together furniture and metal racks for her clothes. The other morning it was cursing because the dog unplugged the air conditioner. Although it hurt, I failed to ask why this was a problem at 4am, in the middle of winter. I finally fell back to sleep, to the gentle sounds of the circular saw; she was building a nice frame for the bed.
As we rocketed into the First Movement, we were treated to the sounds of the Automatic Can Picker Upper Truck. It has that arm that grabs the can, dumps it into the truck, then goes to the next house. The unions had a fit because the truck took the place of 5 workers, so the trucks were outfitted to make the sounds of grunting, talking, and kicking the cans down the street.
Next came the al Dente section. This is when it gets really quiet and you pray that the piece is over or that you experience a quick, painless death. But no, you will never be given peace, and at this point, the neighbors start talking to each other. About nothing. In 12 groups of 3. They wind up louder than the voices in your head, which are all screaming NOOOOOOO by now. It's even worse than the 1-800-MONEY commercials. You start checking for a pulse and wonder if 911 has gotten a lot of calls about heart attacks or people gouging out their own eardrums. These are the kind of haters who can't enjoy classical music and should be avoided at all costs.
Not at all mindful of your prayers, the piece goes back to the cans banging, all with the rakes on concrete underpinnings. I am told to think of the rakes as a drum beat. Or a full drum set so large, the drummer cannot escape from it - it has to be build around him, like Justin Trudeau's dresses. FINALLY the song fades out to the sounds of neighbors burying other neighbors under the concrete that is being raked to put up a pear tree for the partridge to nest in. The African Partridge, of course... the American Partridge is sitting in front of the tv, watching The Masked Furry.
I can honestly say this Xmas has been the most recent Xmas ever. I truly mean that.
Who in the entire state has an 8' Eeyore with a Santa hat in the front yard, with a spotlight? Just us.
For those of you playing along at home, this is the closest we've come to Xmas decorating in about... oh... 15 years. So this is definite progress, or so the doctors tell me. The other real Xmas decorations have migrated from their usual hiding place (how the hell do I know - that's why it's a hiding place) to the general room in which the tree is located. Yes, we have the only black Xmas tree on the block. It also works well for Halloween, provided we get the neighbors' shrunken heads up before the candy goes out. The neighbors are not sure what to do with us, but I get the feeling this started long before Xmas. I'm not sure of the protocol here... do Xmas decorations in the vicinity of the tree stay there til the middle of January or do they go back to their hiding places, until (very) late December?
What did I get for Xmas?
As Charlie Brown said, "I got a rock."
To be fair, I asked for nothing; all friends and family complied.
Wife, however, was not so lucky. A large, heavy box arrived. In it was another large heavy box, that said SHARK on it. Dear readers, I'm positive we're all thinking that sharks don't come in large heavy boxes, except in practical jokes. And the joke was on us.... it was a vacuum.
Our history of vacuums is not a pretty one, just like the guy who operates them. With 2 longhairs (and pets), the job is not taken lightly. We've had well over 12 vacuums, plus a shampooer that is still in a facility somewhere, laughing inappropriately and taking its meds on time. You see, all that hair just screws up the vacuum, to the point we become Vacuum Experts from taking it apart, especially when there's a clog. If vacuums aren't supposed to clog, put a sticker on them: WARNING - this vacuum will not function long when used to pick up stuff and things. Return it to the place of purchase and pay for a more expensive one. The most effective and long lasting vacuum is a cheap little red plastic thing (because the green plastic ones don't work as well). It actually ran for 3 years, before it ejected what was left of its filter and left for that great vacuum graveyard in the sky. So now we have a Shark. It's purple., which is good. It's got that blender clear plastic thing so you can watch the dirt swirl. Funny story: the model without the plastic blender on it sells less than the higher-priced model you can watch the dirt with, but there's no difference between the two.
So Kanye has apologized to all the Jews the world over for his constant antisemitic rants. He admitted he was mistaken and did not want to cause any problems because of his 20 years of squawking. Kanye said he now has nothing against the Jews, even though they own the record companies and the banks. He realized the problem today is not the Jews, it's the n*ggers.
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