I just watched The Imitation Game last night. I have a thing for Nazi-defeating movies, I have a little crush on Graham Moore after his acceptance speech, and I am truly, madly, deeply in love with youtubeonfire.com for providing it to me for free. If you don't know, the plot centers around Alan Turing who created a computer, primitive by today's standard, that could find the settings for Germany's unbreakable Enigma machine allowing the allied forces to win crucial battles. Historians estimate that breaking this code ultimately ended the war two years earlier and save about 14 million lives.
But in order to keep Germany from figuring out that their precious code had been broken, Turing and his team had to calculate what is referred to in the movie as blood-soaked calculus. Whereas they could not defend every attack. Some they had to sit by and watch happen. They were literally deciding who lived and who died-playing god. Can you imagine? For someone like me who gets almost frozen with obsession about choices this just seems impossible. I get upset for weeks if I choose the wrong entree at a restaurant and end up with dry chicken. These guys, for years, had to decide which Nazi invasion to prevent and which to allow. I wonder how much sleep they got for the rest of their lives.
The film has me thinking about choices. We all had these dilemmas posed to us in school. Ya know. The whole lifeboat ethics thing. But now that I am all grown up. The choices keep getting harder and harder. I might have to go Viking. They think no matter what you do your fate is already decided. Takes the pressure off. But they were crappy to women and performed human sacrifices. It's always something.
P.S. FYI Alan Turing was gay. I love the irony that Hitler was brought down by a mo. Pink triangle that douche bag.
I remember in an episode of Seifeld Jerry talking about how his parents, and retirees in general work their whole lives just to move to Florida and pretend it's not hot. Well I think the new enjoyment of our senior community is to pretend that their cell phones don't work.
I'm writing this entry to clear up the reason that children don't call their parents in this communication age that we are living in. It is simple really. The conversations are exactly the same each and every time. The first five minutes are spent repeating the word "Hello" over and over again even though the child on the other end is hearing every syllable clearly. The rest of the conversation is interrupted intermittently with either "Are you still there?", "I hate these things.", "You sound like you are in a tin can.", or just a plain old "I can't hear you."
I know it is new technology people. I'm a techno-phobe too. But just because it is a cordless phone mom and dad, that doesn't mean I am calling you Mars or that there is a terrorist holding the phone up to my ear because I am tied up with a ransom on my head. Relax. We have the technology. Even though "These things cause cancer you know." In fact. there you go. Take solace in that elder America. Your kid is willing to risk a brain tumor just so you can tell them how it is not hot.
Thank you for joining me as I end two full months of daily blogging. My immune system thinks a little mucus in my eyes is going to keep me from blogging today. Ha! I'm an old theatre girl. The show must go on. Plus, at least 36 people are waiting to see what I have to say next. That's right, I check my stats baby. Even though Dubstep Cat has over 17 million views, I know my fans are of a more discriminating taste.
It's funny what you will and won't use sickness to get out of. One sniffle and you are trying to get out of the third grade, the SAT's, or a bad date. But if you have Superbowl tickets or front row for the Stones you will crawl with only a torso ala Monty Python. "It's only a flesh wound."
I do follow the rule of staying home when I think I am contagious. Because I don't appreciate whatever asshole who didn't wash his hands and touched a doorknob or whichever sticky kid hugged me and got me sick. (Kids love me. I still haven't figures that out yet. When my friends ask me about my biological clock I tell them I have a sundial.) Whoever they were they should have stayed home.
I'm staying home tomorrow. I hate to do it too. I had a wonderful Sex in the City day planned. A birthday brunch and then to the flower show for a LGBT event. I feel enormous pangs of Catholic Guilt too. Because the birthday party is for a great friend who helped throw me a great b-day party of my own this year. Seehttp://www.michelletomko.com/blog/my-27th-annual-sweet-16 for more information. But the last thing the country club needs is me touching every handle on the buffet and requiring them to use a hazmat team to clean the sneeze guard. And of course the last thing the gays of Philadelphia need is another person trying to take them out.
So happy birthday Chrissy. I will be at the next one. In the mean time, I will do a Benadryl shot in your honor. Night night.
Really? This broke the Internet?
Getting Nelson Mandela out of prison didn't break the Internet. Ending the war in Iraq didn't either. Even when the first presidential "blue dress" was all everyone was talking about Al Gore's invention was not brought to its knees. That dress by the way was clearly blue and white. But skip to 2015 when everyone is coming to blows about the magic of digital photography and a little white...blue...gold...black. Whatever.
People what is wrong with world? I mean we have the technology. The internet is a wonderful thing. It can connect families, scientists, like-minded people who can meet in cyberspace and discuss meaningful ideas. Petitions can be signed, Google Earth can show you a picture of your roof, a brilliant blog can infiltrate your consciousness ( hint hint). Using it to argue over the color of a dress, or exchange cat photos for that matter, is like using the robots the medical community uses to save lives in surgery to play the Operation - the game!
Shame on you web surfers! If you want to look at colors, Google aurora borealis. No white balance needed.
P.S. It's an ugly dress. Unless you are Heather Graham you have no business in horizontal stripes anyway. No matter what color it is.
So as I was telling you yesterday I am reading The Comedy Bible. Did you send me your commitment contract yet? Please do. Winners never quit and quitters nev...(Oh god. I'm not gonna beg ya.)
Anyway today I was reading a page about diversifying into screen writing, corporate gigs, hell even greeting cards. Just then my friend's son popped into my head. He recently graduated from film school and got a small development deal. After Fighting off feeling ancient and unsuccessful myself I thought "Hey. I have to keep in touch with him. He might be big one day." He asked me to be in one of his projects once. But the scheduling got screwed up. What was his email again?
So about an hour after this happened I got a call from this kid's mother. What? How random is that? I never think about this kid. I assure you very little of my time is spent on college boys. Miss Understood? Yes. Mrs. Robinson? No.
But my new way of thinking definitely makes me wonder what the universe has in store for me now. When you really shut up and listen there are signs like this all day everyday. They are as clear as Five Man Electrical Band said it would be. That song you are humming in your head right now? Yes. Those Canadians one-hit-wonders wrote it.
I'm on the path people. Come and join me. I'm off to write the short and chubby new version ofTheGraduate or something. See you tomorrow. Unless you are a long-haired skinny people.
