. . . while we're busy making other plans

We had the Olympics on in the background most of the time, well, at least part of the time, and I kept wanting to see the equestrian events (the only thing that interests me, besides, I will admit, those young male divers with Speedos that barely cover the essentials). Somehow they never came on, though I recorded great six-hour swaths in the middle of the night.

I was eating dinner and blathering on to my husband about something, when I heard some music, Land of Hope and Glory I think, and turned my head and saw a dark horse.

I wasn't paying half-attention, but I should have been, and after a while my nattering grew less and my attention grew more until I was completely magnetized.

This wasn't a horse. This was some Astaire or Baryshnikov of equitation. He was putting his feet down precisely on each beat of the music. But it wasn't just that. His footfall had a - what, a softness? Softness mixed with sureness, or was it those incredible liquid knees? 


It was hard to believe what I was seeing. The commentator, some English lady who droned on interminably during all the dressage events with her ENDLESS technical nit-picking, wasn't saying very much because I think even she was a bit taken aback.

The music went all over the place (Elgar, James Bond, the Olympic theme) sort of like figure-skating music, but this horse (and rider - let's not forget - she's not just sitting there any more than an orchestra conductor stands up there and waves his arms) seemed to defy the laws of nature. The English lady kept commenting on how smooth his tail was, a river of silk, none of that irritable swishing that seems to indicate the horse wants to get this bloody business over with and get back to the barn for his victory oats.

By the time I was really paying attention to it, it was almost over. The Big Ben chiming accompanied by impeccable, Lippizaner-style pirouettes especially seemed to get to people, maybe because it was so quintessentially English.

Anyway, it took me days to find a full video of this that wasn't shot from a million miles away in the stadium, accompanied by "Ohhh, look at that!" "Isn't he marvelous?" etc.  (One had DREADFUL rock music in place of that amazing score.) This one isn't perfect and seizes and pixillates in places - oh, I hope it doesn't break down altogether. But you get the feeling of it, those instinctively rhythmic hoofbeats: well, not entirely instinctive.

Some say dressage moves just utilize the natural gaits of horses, but I really don't see it. Yes, a wild stallion may prance around, but only when he feels like it or is being territorial. Not many wild horses step in time to the music or execute perfect pirouettes, though it's true that most of them can turn on a dime to escape a predator. So maybe the seeds are there.

I don't know how they get horses to do this except through patient training and a relationship between horse and rider that reflects millennia of close communication.  How I wish now that I had watched more and blathered less, because I haven't seen a video that precisely reflects the performance I saw on TV. Or sort of saw. It was a humbling, shocking reminder of how the most remarkable moments get away from us, happening and unhappening in the one-way flow of time while we're busy doing something else.

Some day, when I'm awfully low

"Never Gonna Dance" music by Jerome Kern and words by Dorothy Fields

Though I'm left without a penny, The wolf was discreet. He left me my feet. And so, I put them down on anything But the la belle, La perfectly swell romance. Never gonna dance. Never gonna dance. Only gonna love. Never gonna dance.   Have I a heart that acts like a heart, Or is it a crazy drum, Beating the weird tattoos Of the St. Louis Blues? Have I two eyes to see your two eyes Or see myself on my toes Dancing to radios Or Major Edward Bowes? Though I'm left without a penny, The wolf was discreet. He left me my feet. And so, I put them down on anything But the la belle, La perfectly swell romance. Never gonna dance. Never gonna dance. Only gonna love. Never gonna dance.   I'll put my shoes on beautiful trees. I'll give my rhythm back to the breeze. My dinner clothes may dine where they please, For all I really want is you.   And to Groucho Marx I give my cravat. To Harpo goes my shiny silk hat. And to heaven, I give a vow To adore you. I'm starting now To be much more positive. That....   Though I'm left without my Penny, The wolf was not smart. He left me my heart. And so, I cannot go for anything But the la belle, La perfectly swell romance. Never gonna dance. Never gonna dance. Only gonna love you. Never gonna dance. http://www.glamamor.com/2012/02/cinema-style-file-fred-astaire-and.html (Best movie photos EVER!)

FOUND! The author of That Really Dumb Psychology Test

Here in all his grainy glory is the original author of That Really Dumb Psychology Test we all took in high school (the one with the bear and the cup and the dada-dada-dada). Or didn't, but should have because it revealed so much about ourselves, to ourselves. The proof: just look at the blackboard behind his head as he holds up that egg (egg??): it says "CHOLOGY 101". Unless chology is a scientific discipline I haven't heard of, it's plain that this guy wasn't just an ordinary chemistry teacher whose students (like Archie) blew things up in the lab.

He even has a Wiki entry all his own:
Mr. Flutesnoot is a fictional character from the Archie Comics books.

Mr. Flutesnoot is a chemistry professor (he has also been shown teaching music and history as well). Although to a lesser level than Hiram Lodge and Mr. Weatherbee, he is sometimes the victim of Archie's ever-present accidents (in particular when Archie blows up the school's chemistry lab).

Occasionally, Mr. Flutesnoot will run into trouble when dealing with his scientific finds. In one comic, Moose gains the ability to predict the weather from sunspot activity. The sunspot effect wears off right as Moose predicts sunny weather for the next day's meteorological picnic, so Flutesnoot makes a fool out of himself when a thunderstorm comes instead.

Another time, Flutesnoot's satellite dish picks up a signal he believes to be of extraterrestrial origin, but he later discovers that the sound is from an audio tape running backwards. However, at the end of the story, there is, in fact, a rock band of aliens singing exactly the same words.

Skinny and aging, Professor Flutesnoot sports an extremely prominent nose (hence his name) and tufts of curly white hair at his temples (but is otherwise bald). Before Professor Flutesnoot appeared, Archie comics featured a similarly designed character named Mr. Fluteweed (a music teacher). Professor Flutesnoot may have evolved from Mr. Fluteweed.

Now, don't get too excited here because there is an alternate explanation: my friend Matt Paust insists that the author of That Really Dumb  Psychology Test is the guidance counselor from Funky Winkerbean, Fred Fairgood (and not, as Matt told me, Feelgood, which I personally prefer anyway because wasn't that really his mandate?). Since Winkerbean is just a slightly updated version of Archie, it stands to reason.

Other candidates include Albert Ellis (the sex guy), Erich Fromm (the other sex guy), Carl Rogers (known as "Mr." to his friends), and the redoubtable Carol Gilligan, whose most famous diagnostic test posed the existential question, "Would you rather be Ginger or Mary Ann?"

Turn to this blog, folks, for the Answers.

(Oh, and. Have you ever noticed that both Gilligan's Island and Archie have two babes with opposing personalities, one wholesome and one sexy? But in this case the brunette is the sexy one. Go figure.)

Bob Dylan: ace of hearts

So what can I say about Bob Dylan? Flat-out nothing, because there is no one and nothing like him. As if he's the Taj Mahal, or Abraham-fuckin'-Lincoln or something.

No hip has ever been hipster. Who knew what went on in his head. A flying spin of songs, a spin-dry of flying relationships. Sometimes we knew all about him, somehow we knew nothing. Not much of a core except a glowing fire-winged sycamore tree that burned but was not consumed.

You could touch him but you couldn't. He could smile but he wouldn't. Nobody had such cool hair, such hands. He was an e. e. cummings poem except supremer. He was the joujou doll of the universe.

Some say Bob Dylan still arises, still sails. I see a picture now and again as he gets older, and more and more things are hung around his neck. Might as well take them, as his effort has been Olympian, while - all the while - he made it look easy. Some say all them medals is going to get too heavy one o these days and he will tip over, hopefully on stage where I think he will breathe his last breath. I mean this in the most respectest and possiblist way.

'Skinda-a weird, the attitude-ta fame, cuzzadafact that he sought it and bought it, still tours and tours and tours, but never seemed to care two pygmyburgers about it, as if he could take it or leave it alone, as if he'd still write his songs if nobody listened to them, but I don't know whether to believe him. Would Charles Dickens be Charles Dickens if nobody flippin' heard of him? Didn't think so.

I won't get into his lifelong relationship with La Baez, folktresse supersupreme. She's like a peace pizza with everything. Whenever I see an interview with him he talks about her, and whenever I see an interview with her she talks about him. They are beginning to look like each other now with those never-say-die eyes and the peachfuzz skin of youth stretched and seamed like very fine kidskin leather. They were kids together, and wasn't it awfully hard on Suze? Did he really have any morals at all? Did she? They just took. They did. The entitlement of being extraordinary? Or a drug to make it all bearable?

I can say no benediction more than a man, amen, amayhn, amayhhhn, ahmehhhhhhnnnnnn.

WHERE did this goddamn thing come from?

Good morning, children of the universe! It's time for a Psychology Test. 

Do any of you remember this from a Long Time Ago? Did maybe your pretentious sister, home from university and spouting her usual boring neurotic bumph, start gassing on and on about her answers to this test and her friends' answers to this test? as if they had some sort of Great Existential Significance and/or revealed something Great and Existential about themselves? Did the whole thing strike you as an exercise in total narcissism?

Have any of you ever wondered what sort of ninny actually WROTE this thing and why everyone fell into lockstep and decided it must Mean Something because SO-AND-SO wrote it and decided it must be important, therefore WE must think it's important too?

OK then, let's begin. . .

A Psychological Test

The Test:

First picture yourself in a FOREST. Describe the forest.

Its ah, got treesn' stuffinnit? And I'm like, I'm really scared cuz I'm like, lost or something or maybe it's an animal?

Next you come upon a KEY. Describe the key and what you do with it (pick it up, leave it there, look at it, etc.).


Look at it first cuz I'm like, I like them cuz they're cute, specially those little ones?

Uh I think I'll leave it there cuz it's a donkey? and I'm like not strong enough to carry it.

Next you come upon a BEAR. Describe the bear and what you do in reaction to it.

Bears are cute and stuff, and they wave their like paws? I wave back at them. Some of them are pandas, way cute like a stuffy. But don't walk backwards when you see them, you should run fast instead.

Next you come upon a CUP. Describe the cup and what you do with it.

Um. I don't know what to do with a cup.

Next you come upon a HOUSE. Describe the house and what you do with it.

I'm like scared of this house because it's falling down? So I can't go inside of it.

Next you come upon a body of WATER. Describe the body of water and what you do with it.

Am I spozed to do something with a body of water cuz I don't know what. Pull the plug or something.

Next you come upon a WALL. Describe the wall. If you can see it, describe what is

BEYOND THE WALL.

Is it lunch time yet?



What It All Means:

The FOREST represents YOUR LIFE.

The KEY represents OPPORUNITY.

The BEAR represents OBSTACLES.

The CUP represents LOVE.

The HOUSE represents MARRIAGE.

The WATER represents SEX.

The WALL represents DEATH and

BEYOND THE WALL represents the

AFTERLIFE.

ummmm. . . . . does that mean I like failed?

The shitless, screamless, no-mess, no-fuss baby

Most people who see a video like this one have an instinctive "ewwwwww" reaction: "oh, that's creepy". There's something about an object that's described as "lifelike" - those embalmed-looking Madame Tussaud's waxwork figures, or the Victorian post-mortem "subjects" photographed sitting up with sculpted smiles  - that makes most of us feel a sinkhole open up in the pit of the abdomen.

These sweet little things are called Reborn dolls, a creepy name if there ever was one, evoking both recycling and born-again evangelism. For many women, mostly older women, they call forth feelings that we normally associate with a kicking, squalling, pooping, drooling, red-faced little spud that causes endless trouble because it requires constant care.

But if you "adopt" one of these (and the cost can be well into the thousands), the baby is surprisingly low-maintenance, or perhaps even NO-maintenance, for it doesn't cry or require changing or bathing or cuddling. No, the requirement for cuddling rests with the cuddler, who must be trying to fill some sort of inner emotional abyss in constructing and buying/selling these things (for things they are, complete with crusty little rashes and runny noses).

The obsession with collecting is beginning to spread into a mania for actually making these things, and Reborn kits are surprisingly easy to obtain on the internet. The woman in the video, who with her stony face and turned-down mouth looks extremely unhappy, turns out a complete Reborn doll per day - but, even more disturbingly, she doesn't sell them or even give them away. Her house has rooms packed full of them, 1800 in all, to the point that I don't see how she has time to rock and nurture them all. Though she insists she was only seeking "inspiration", the local maternity ward told her to stay away because she was giving patients the creeps.

The more I got into this subject, the more I was reminded of something infinitely more horrifying. Awhile ago I saw one of those semi-sensationalistic documentaries about World War II on the History Channel. I confess right now that I'm obsessed with that war and with the Nazis and their twisted ideology. Probably the most pathological idea they ever had was to breed babies.

The Lebensborn project was a means of producing a master race of full-blooded Aryans, many of them fathered by members of the SS and handed over by their young mothers as a duty to the Fatherland. In fact, surrendering a baby in this way was seen as an honor, with your child guaranteed the best possible education in the unassailable truths of Nazism. They'd learn that stiff-armed salute before they were two.

What gave me the shivers - and I haven't been able to find a picture or clip of this - was a very brief shot of babies - dozens of babies - scores of babies - some with diapers, many without. They lay kicking and squalling, squashed together on the flat surface of a giant table, with a few nurses moving around among them, maybe checking to see if they were still alive. But that's not the worst. In the foreground more babies were coming in, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. . . on a conveyor belt.

These babies were "product", something systematically mass-produced to carry on the horrors of the Reich. My personal view is that the Nazis feared that these children might feel something unacceptable - pangs of conscience, perhaps  - if they weren't indoctrinated  from their very first breath.

When I found these photos, they made my scalp prickle because everything seems so wholesome, so "normal". No doubt much of this normalcy was fabricated for the camera to reassure people that their lost babies were being properly cared for. The shot of nurses cuddling life-sized dolls made my hair stand on end. What is this bizarre photo all about?  Did they really think they could perfect their childrearing skills on an inanimate object?

I'm not for one minute saying these dollmaking women are Nazis, but they sure are strange. They're turning out what amounts to "product": inert replicas of babies, blobs of primal instinct made of latex and fabric, monuments to departed children or grandchildren, or maybe just something to fill an aching space inside.

I've felt it in unguarded moments, usually at the supermarket checkout line: a sudden pang when I see a newborn baby. Not only did my own children's infancy hurtle by in a blur, my grandchildren are growing up at an appalling rate, like those old Wonder Bread ads where the kid shoots up right before your eyes. I was in the delivery room when Caitlin was born, a compact little football swaddled in a green towel with almost unnaturally-bright, almond-shaped eyes. And now she's nearly nine. NINE - ye gods, I remember being nine! That was the year Kennedy was shot. The Beatles first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show on my tenth birthday. So she's already in that phase of cynicism that I remember so well, sometimes causing my older (much older) siblings to cry out, "Oh, stop!"

I'm not in a rush to get one of these Reborn things, carefully weighted in head and body so that it "handles" just like a real baby. I'd rather get a puppy or a kitten, something that is at least alive. As a matter of fact, being very tired of shovelling shit and listening to earsplitting shrieks, I don't think I'll get another bird when Jasper dies. Didn't I do enough cleaning up shit when I looked after real babies?

But this is the perfect creation, the shitless, screamless baby, a baby that never changes, as if it has been dipped in wax or embedded in plexiglass. Frozen in time, it's always there as a comfort. The only problem is, it gives me the shivering creeps.

SPOT THE REAL BABY! One of these photos is a real baby (not counting the Caitlin newborn shot). Can you guess which one?

 

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book

    It took me years to write, will you take a look

Order The Glass Character from:

Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001K7NGDA

Mommee. . . I'm. . . hun. . .gry. . .

"Did I make a stinky?"

It's summer, I'm lazy, don't feel like writing anything, but just had to share with you, my faithful friends, the bare facts about a doll that used to be popular a few decades back. A doll that keeps being reissued, with refinements, I guess.

There are lots of far more graphic videos of this thing in which little girls check its diaper and find a slimy mess of ingested material (begging the question: how do you clean this thing out so it won't be full of rotting food? Does Mommy have to stick it under the tap and flush it out?) But instead I thought I'd lazily append a detailed Wikipedia entry in fairly bad English, which nevertheless gives us the basic facts of this incredible artifact.

In all the ads I saw, the doll's feces is called "whoops", "an accident", or other coy terms. My kids' childhood would have been a lot easier for me if they had produced "whoops" every day.

I apologize for the length of this, but it seemed too astonishing to touch. Just read the parts that disgust you the most.


Baby Alive is a baby doll made by Hasbro that eats, drinks, wets and in some cases messes. Its mouth moves and is supposed to be lifelike, as the brand name suggests. It was originally made and introduced by Kenner in 1973, and reintroduced by Hasbro in 2006. Today, Baby Alive is offered in Caucasian, African-American, and Hispanic varieties. The newest versions include Wets & Wiggles (male or female), Sip 'N Slurp, Sip N Snooze, Pat N Burp, Baby Alive learns to potty, and baby go bye-bye.

History

1970s-1980s

The first Baby Alive doll was introduced by Kenner in 1973. It could be fed food packets mixed with water, and came with a bottle, diapers, and feeding spoon. The spoon would be inserted into its mouth, and a lever on its back pushed to have it chew the food. The food would move through her and end up in her diaper; this version did not speak, so you had to check the diaper a few moments after feeding. It also produced droppings and threw up regularly.

1990s

In 1992 the first talking Baby Alive doll was produced. It was fed in the same manner, but swallowed automatically without the need for a lever, and used a potty instead of a diaper. There were sensors located inside the doll to detect what stage the food was at, and trigger its voice to say "I have to go potty" or "All done now". These dolls did not sell well due to the loud gear noises and her "deep adult voice".

It was later discontinued, and a non-speaking baby was released in 1995 with snacks and juice boxes, although these came in boxes and cans rather than packets that were mixed with water. They, as opposed to modern Baby Alive doll food and juice, had names such as Yummy Juice and Baby Cherries. It only came in two versions, Baby Alive and Baby All Gone.

It appeared as a doll with blue eyes and messy curly blonde hair, not dissimilar to the modern doll, although the 1990s version seemed more traditional and less "cartoon-ey". Nowadays, Baby All Gone is fed bananas instead of cherries, and the juice is given from a bottle instead of a juice box, which saved on cardboard waste from empty boxes.

A doll was introduced called Juice & Cookies Baby Alive who could be fed juice from a box, and cookies could actually be made, when a mix was put in a triangular mould, baked and removed with a scoop. The doll drank and chewed automatically.

Newborn dolls

Sip 'N Slurp, A baby which when her tummy is squeezed she "drinks" from her juice cup with a straw attached and "wets" her diaper. A Sip 'n' Slurp birthday doll was released in 2008 is the same principle as sip n' slurp, but her birthday can be celebrated everyday because she can "blow" on her party blower and "blow" out a candle on her cupcake she has a cup with attached straw just like the Sip 'n' Slurp.

Wets 'N Wiggles, This doll comes in either a girl or a boy and is given juice and lets you know it is wet by crying and wiggling and then the diaper is changed. Unlike the other dolls, it does not speak.

Pat 'N Burp, A newborn baby that "drinks" from her bottle and when pat or squeezed, she "burps". She can come in numerous skin and eye colors.

Sip 'N Snooze, A baby that gets "sleepy" as you feed her a bottle and gets snuggled when she falls asleep. She can come in blonde or brunette hair colors.

Speaking toddler dolls

Baby Alive Learns to Potty: A new potty training version of the doll, where the baby gets fed and is given a bottle and tells you when she has to go potty by saying phrases such as "Potty time!" or "Hurry-hurry!", and she "goes" when the food and water move through her, but she has a diaper just in case and then she says "oops! I had an accident" if she is not put on the potty in time.

She also says "I'm a big girl" or "I love you, Mommy", says "Yummy!" or "Mmm, good!" when she is fed with her doll food or from her bottle, and sings a discordant version of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Also, she has a learning feature, where she gets better at using her potty after each feeding. She will ask to use it twice after the second feeding before she goes in her diaper, and so on until the fifth feeding.

Baby Alive Baby's New Teeth: A doll who is "teething". If her tongue is pressed, new teeth will appear. She has a special teething chew ring, and if you give her a teething cookie she will actually "take a bite". She drinks from her cup and then wets her diaper. She comes with a toothbrush and toothpaste so the child can "brush" them.

Baby Alive Changing Time Baby: she can be fed a doll food paste made from a powder, and given a bottle of water. They move through her and end up in her diaper, which is then changed.

Baby Alive Real Surprises: A doll who eats her doll food and drinks from her bottle, and then wets and messes her diaper afterwards saying "Uh-oh! I made a poo-poo" or "I made a stinky!" or "Surprise!". She talks, sucks her pacifier and sings a discordant version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". Many people make handmade bottles, doll food and pacifiers for these dolls instead of using those designated.

Baby Alive Bouncing Babbles: A doll who can bounce up and down, operated by a small internal motor, and which makes giggling and cooing sounds.

Baby Alive Better Now Baby: A doll who is ill and needs treatment. She drinks water from a cup, and then wets her diaper. She is given medicine and the child can "check her up" as if they are a doctor caring for a patient.

Baby Alive Bye bye, Baby: A doll that is designed for travel by having a papoose and baby carrier in one unit.

Baby All Gone: a doll who is fed "bananas" on a magnetic spoon and makes them "disappear", although the food and drinks do not move through to minimise mess caused by doll food moving through. They seem to go into the doll's mouth when they are mechanically retracted back into the spoon. Also, she drinks juice from her bottle, although this doll, unlike other Baby Alive dolls, does not wet. The juice, although seeming to disappear, is also retracted back into the bottle instead of being consumed and moving through.

My Baby Alive: a doll who is fed powdered doll food mixed with water and water from her bottle. She makes a belching sound, wets and messes her diaper, and then asks "Did I make a stinky?". She comes in numerous skin, eye and hair colours.

Baby Alive dolls at present are more sophisticated than those of the past, including a stationary bracelet with a button, which when pressed activates the doll to say a phrase, a moving mouth which opens when it senses its special magnetic spoon, bottle or pacifier, or it speaks, and large cartoon-like eyes which can be programmed to open and close, rather than traditional closing eyes when the doll is put down.

Criticism

On January 22, 2009, Baby Alive Learns to Potty was nominated by the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood for its 2009 TOADY (Toys Oppressive And Destructive to Young children) Award.^[1] Saying it will "Ruin your girl's creativity" and also criticizing the cost of refills. It lost, however to one of the latest Barbie dolls.