Thursday, March 31, 2005

Welcome to the Night Gallery

Well, as it turns out, Lileks wasn’t gone, after all. He just forgot to post on his site. All’s right with the world, then (at least in my cube during lunch break). Recently, I found a couple of interesting "Night Gallery" sites. It prompted me to fire up the ole DVD player and go through a couple of episodes. I have the first season boxed set and I’m tellin’ ya – they’re priceless. Don’t get me wrong though. I thoroughly realize the “Night Gallery” was severely flawed in many ways and it was certainly no “Twilight Zone”. But when it got something right (“They’re Tearing Down Tim Riley’s Bar”, “The Caterpillar”, “Little Girl Lost” - to name a few) they really got it right. Plus, they had access to some pretty big names in the business (Joan Crawford, Edward G. Robinson, Vincent Price, William Windom). It also, defined a time in my life when I was at home with my folks and in the safety and comfort of my room. This was before I had to face to harsh realities of the day to day working world. The disappointments of relationships and struggle to keep afloat were still ahead of me. Behind me was childhood, play time and looking forward to dessert. I was in the holding pattern of adolescence. A time for wanting independence and still needing mom, dad and the covers of my childhood bed wrapped securely around me late at night. Enveloped by the familiar sounds and smells of home as I drifted off to dream of all the wonders I would encounter when I was older.
If I only knew, then.
I’m glad that I didn’t.
Don’t get me wrong. These days, I feel more up to the task of tackling life than I ever have. I’m more confident and sure of my paces. I have the energy of wisdom to act as my force field and the sharp edge of experience to combat the dragons of reality. But, you know, tonight when I get home from work, I think I’m going to watch a couple of episodes of “Night Gallery”. Hmmm... yes, I think “Return of the Sorcerer” will do just nicely.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Review: "The Religion War"

I just finished Scott Adam’s book “The Religion War”. It’s a very short, but interesting, read. Like “God’s Debris: A Thought Experiment”, it’s designed to present a series of philosophical questions set in a coherent, fast moving story. Actually, “The Religion War” is the sequel to “Debris” with the new Avatar developed at the end of the first novel as the main protagonist in the second. As many of you already know, Scott Adams is the creator of the “Dilbert” comic strips and books. I enjoy them immensely as the “Dilbert” daily calendar on my work desk testifies. I’m not so sure how popular my “Dilbert” collection is with upper management, but I suspect that I’m too far out of their radar for any of them to notice much. Anyway, Scott Adams is also a highly intelligent person who tends to let a bit of condescension creep into his narration on a pretty consistent basis. In this case, the “Avatar” is supposedly the most aware person on the planet who can cause amazing things to happen primarily based on his ability to recognize patterns in the world. I have little doubt that Mr. Adams seriously identifies with his main character. What I find most ironic is his penchant for over analyzing issues to the point where his conclusions are off base in a university professor sort of way. You know what I mean. In other words “I’m correct and I dare you to try and outwit me” (as opposed to arriving at an actual truth). Still, the hook in his writing is that he tries to get the reader to identify with the main character, as well. He does this with a style I call “genius by proxy”. If a character supposedly understands everything in the world and the reader understands the character’s explanations, then that means the reader must be highly intelligent, as well. In the first book, “God’s Debris”, Adams makes it clear that the logic is flawed and that the reader must find the flaws. That was a good move, in my opinion. But in “The Religion War”, this is not the premise. Nowhere does Scott tell you that the logic is flawed. I found that a little disturbing, since the entire novel revolves around one’s belief in God. So, my final opinion is that if you want a quick interesting read, you couldn’t go wrong with “The Religion War”. However, one should keep in mind that the logic presented when addressing the nature of God is highly suspect and certainly would not hold up well under the scrutiny of genuine theological scholars.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

I Could Use a Painkiller

Well, I’ll be darned. No Lileks column to read while eating my sandwich. I wonder what happened. Although, it’s not like he isn’t entitled to a day off, every now and again. Still, though, it throws my day off a bit. It’s like going over to a friend’s house to visit and discovering that they’re not home. Oh well, back in the car and make the long, lonely drive home. No hanging out till all hours and eating chips and salsa for you tonight, Henry. Well, maybe not the “hanging out till all hours” part. After all, I still get to romp with the fun guys and gals, here, at the warehouse. At least I’m doing better than Johnnie Cochran (who passed away, today). I was never a big fan of his after the O.J. deal but if I ever needed a legal assist, he’s the one I would’ve wanted to defend me. When you’re good, you’re good.
Note to self - I have definitely got to start planning my next vacation. Looking forward to something like that will take the edge off the current dismal cloud that seems to hover over me. You know, I think I need to play my computer games more, when I get home from work. I’ve gotten out of the habit of doing that since I don’t feel like committing to any complexities beyond surfing the Net or watching a movie. But I own a few good FPSs (“First Person Shooters”) like “Doom 3” and “Painkiller”. Even though my favorite type of game is a RTS (“Real Time Strategy”), there’s something oh-so-satisfying about blowing away a few folks with a variety of imaginative weapons. “Painkiller” has a nice “stake through the heart” crossbow type rifle. Wheeling around, seeing a demon and sending that sharp spike of wood through it’s body delivers a sense of peace and accomplishment that, unfortunately, the Human Resources Dept. just refuses to allow me. They had some lame explanation to the effect that I could “terminate a poorly performing employee’s job – but not the employees, themselves”. Fascists.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Netflix to the Rescue

I was just over at James Lileks’s site. The "daily bleat" told of his visit to his old hometown to celebrate the Easter holiday with his dad. A huge dose of melancholy, that. He gets that way, sometimes. One day, he could have me in stitches as he points out some hilariously inane concept that others are somehow taking seriously. The next day, I finish the article saying “Man, that was a downer.” Today was a downer. Believe it or not, it makes it hard for me to write after reading something like that. Especially since he’s a much better writer than I am (no foolin’, Henry? Really?)and knows how to seriously become poignant. Not only that, but with my own dad doing rather poorly at this stage of the game (he’s 96, has Parkinson’s and just got hit with a bout of pneumonia), this is not something I need to mull over during my lunch break, at work. Not only that, but one of my Production Leads’ (my “assistants” at work) mother just passed away so that’s pretty sad and, finally, I cruise on over to Lily’s blog and she’s talking about “Downfall”. “Downfall” sounds like an excellent film, but sheesh. I’m sure you know what I mean (Hitler and all). I visit Lily’s site because she’s a developing talent and I get to learn quite a bit from her writing style (Lilek’s, too, for that matter). But now here I am, sounding every bit as maudlin as James. One good thing, though (he said while pulling hard on the stick and instantly feels the terrific g-force generated by pulling out of that serious nosedive) – Neflix is sending me “Death Race 2000”. Yay! If I can just get it together and watch all 5 DVDs I’ll have from them, in my possession, I’ll be a new man. By the way, they are: “Rain”(1932), “Ju-On, The Grudge” (2003), “The Unknown” (Lon Chaney – 1927 with the “London After Midnight” photo recreation presentation), “Battle Royale: Special Edition (2001) and, of course, the aforementioned “Death Race 2000”. All right, moving forward…

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Happy Easter

Happy Easter! I'll be back on Monday...

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Paralyzed By The Tube

As most folks have already heard, Silver Pictures has signed on Joss Whedon (“Buffy the Vampire Slayer”) to helm the new “Wonder Woman” feature film. Will it be good? Who knows. My guess is that it will fall somewhere in the mediocre range. You know what I mean. Good special effects (because they’ve pretty much become a given, these days. Although “Van Helsing” managed to seriously rain on that parade). Some level of cleverness (“Buffy” had its’ moments) and some decent acting (at least from someone). That’s about par for the course. But like I said, who knows? It’s always possible that they’ll stumble their way into a genuinely good film. It’s pretty much a blind call. But I’ll tell you this much – I’m willing to bet the farm that it wont become one of my all time favorites. You know - the ones that you're willing to watch over and over like some half-crazed coke fiend who just has to “do it one more time”. Witness, if you will (channeling the spirit of Rod Serling, there), a short list of movies that I just have to watch when I come across them on the tube:
“The Outlaw Josie Wales” (heaven help me when this comes on. I’m immobilized for next 12 hours – which is, I think, the running time for this flick)
“The Bird Cage” (just too funny. Especially the part where Agador Spartacus slips and falls because he’s wearing shoes)
“Casablanca” (“save me, Rick”)
“The Cheyenne Social Club” (I have no idea why – it’s just me, I guess)
“Unforgiven” (It’s a Clint Eastwood thing – see “The Outlaw Josie Wales”)
“House on Haunted Hill” (Vincent Price’s best work, ever)
“David and Lisa” (my all time favorite film. Yes, I’m a bit morbid.)
“Son of Frankenstein” “Ghost of Frankenstein” (if you have to ask, I feel sorry for you)
“L’Ultimo uomo della Terra” (“The Last Man on Earth”) – because it pretty much mirrors my typical day at work.
So, anyway, there you have it. My short list of movies that immediately stop me in my track and force me to sit and watch – time and again.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Nightime Cubeland Express

Here we are, coming to the close of another week (just one more day - I'm off Easter Sunday) and I find myself starting (starting?) to run down as a result of the hours I’m currently working. That should change sometime towards the end of April (I hope) because the effects are starting to show on me and my co-workers. Writing can be especially hard at the end of the week, because it becomes more difficult to filter out the distractions around me as I take lunch in my “cube adjacent to the production floor”. Whoever designed this floor plan should be taken into custody and made to watch “Sextette” over and over again with a few showings of “The Star Wars Holiday Special” as the only intermission. Where I work, we have the “office area” which is separate from the production floor and thus quite comfortable and quiet. Then there was “cubeland” which was constructed in the far section of the production floor. However, they needed most of the cubes for the new building, so all but 10 cubes (out of about 50) were dismantled and carted away. This means that most of the outside cube dwellers were re-located or just disenfranchised. I was one of the “lucky ones” since I’m a Production Supervisor and not just a cube dweller wannabe. By cracky, I’m an authentic cube dweller. But still all the wonderful noises, harsh lights and the occasional dramatic temperature change (open shipping door) comprise the “benefits” of a production floor cube. Thus, come lunchtime\blog writing time, I use the meditation techniques that I learned from Kwai Chang on the old “Kung Fu” series, retreat inside myself and hammer out the blog. Speaking of which (“Kung Fu”, that is) – man, did I enjoy that series. It’s based on a concept called “The Warrior” by none other than Bruce Lee. However, he got shafted and they gave the deal over to David Carradine. Although I feel sorry for the late Mr. Lee, it’s my sincere belief that the right actor got the part. The show, as it turned out, was geared more towards a concept of Eastern philosophy more accessible to Western culture than it would have been with Bruce. Who knows, I could be wrong. Anyway, I’ve managed to stumble my way through another blog entry. Maybe, tomorrow, I’ll find myself in a more imaginative frame of mind.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

I Can Name That Tune in 1 Lousy Note

I previously wrote about the “declining trend” in popular music. Let me clarify that a bit, as I don’t want to appear like some old music snob waving a battered vinyl copy of “Electric Ladyland” (the original with all the naked ladies on the cover). My real beef is the dumbing down of popular music, in general, and not what may strike someone as entertaining. Trust me, I have a ton of guilty pleasures. I’m even a fan of “In the Year 2525” by Zager and Evans (yeah? well the same to you, pal). I have a step-daughter who’s a fan of “Belle and Sebastian”. Truth be told, I wouldn’t listen to that tripe if my alternative was to be tied to a saguaro cactus and forced to read Rosie O”Donnell’s blog ( with my eyelids sewn open. But my point is, if a tune reminds you of something deep inside yourself, a time or place, some memory, perhaps. Or if it just seems to resonate with a particular aspect of your nature, then no one should criticize that. Just don’t tell anyone you think it’s “good” music. Unless it’s Kate Bush or Joni Mitchell. But I digress.
Sure, I love Chick Corea, Branford Marsalis, Charo (yes, Charo – for those of you unfamiliar with classical guitar, she studied with Andres Segovia, no less), Itzhak Perlman, Les Paul and a host of other masters of all types of music. But I also love:
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot
“Big Bad John” by Jimmy Dean (I like his sausages, too)
“Town Without Pity” by Gene Pitney
“One Night in Bangkok” by Murray Head
“Mexican Radio” by “Wall of Voodoo”
“Wuthering Heights” by Kate Bush (yes, I know she screeches on that one)
… and quite a few other “classics”. Go figure. My one saving grace? I draw the line at William Shatner’s “Tambourine Man” (honorable mention goes to Leonard Nimoy for “Proud Mary” – but ironically, I own both).

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Contemplating a Blog Posted by Hello

Time for a Change

Whatever happened to days that were defined by the activities that absorbed one’s time? I was contemplating that thought just the other day when my daughter (she’s ten) couldn’t quite figure out what day of the week it was. For a moment, I was appalled. This has happened more than once and I feel that part of the reason is cable\satellite TV (cartoons on demand). Not to mention misplaced school “holidays”. On the week of March 14th, I stumbled out of my usual early afternoon coma, which is induced by the unusual hours I’m currently working (2:00 PM – 12:30 AM, Monday thru Saturday – at least until we complete a backlog of printers that had quickly piled up as the result of selectively inept management decisions. There’s nothing like the painful incompetence that emanates from “Leadership”). I was wondering why she wasn’t in school and got the usual “dad is so out of touch with the real world” looks from both wife and daughter. “It’s Spring Break” was the impatient reply. Of course, I foolishly shot back “I thought it was still winter”. Ah yes, dad is so ignorant, sometimes. I looked at my wife and said “Instead of ‘Spring Break’, why doesn’t the school system just call it what it is, namely ‘The Teachers Don’t Feel like Working This Week – So There, Break.’” How nice.
When I was a kid, time was more orderly and defined. Monday was the start of the school week (a precursor to “Oh no, it’s a Monday” feeling one gets at the start of a work week). After all, wasn’t school the “work week” of a kid? This sense of time made it’s way through the next few days until, at last, Friday afternoon. Then it was Friday evening cartoons, which, unlike the after school cartoons Monday thru Friday, were geared more towards current times and seemed more sophisticated (“Johnny Quest” vs “Looney Tunes”). But that was mostly because I was staying up late on Friday night. Plus, I never really understood all the adult references in the old Bugs Bunny type toons, circa World War 2 that floated along the network channels in the just-after-school hours. Saturdays were magic and will never be re-lived. Sundays were all church, visiting Grandma, playing outside with my "Sunday Grandma’s neighborhood friends" and special Sunday dinners. Each holiday had it’s soul piercing unique flavor. Summers beckoned until silenced by Christmas but stayed forever once they had arrived. The world slowly went to sleep in Fall but smiled briefly on Halloween.
Now, time seems to move only forward. Ever forward. I need to find that old, forgotten way that I possessed as a child – to make time stop and start in tune with the days of the week and the lost, melting seasons of the year.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

The Haunting of Brennan House

It’s been awhile since I’ve heard a good ghost story. No, not that kind. If I just wanted to get into something spooky, I’d rent “The Haunting” (The 1963 version. The other one doesn’t really exist, in my opinion. Sure it’s denial, but I feel better that way). Of course, I could also get out my copy of “Famous Ghost Stories” and read “The Haunted and the Haunters” or “The Monkey’s Paw” for the millionth time (after 40 years, I still find it creepy. Even the version they did on “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” depicting the son as a race car driver. The charred helmet sitting on the floor when the mother finally got the door open was a nice touch). No, this isn’t what I’m talking about. I mean a real ghost story. The kind where someone you know and trust tells you about some undeniably strange event that seems to involve the supernatural. Me? Do I believe in ghosts? Maybe not in the prosaic sense. But I do believe that images and “videos” composed of energy can be left behind when someone dies. Not their soul, mind you, but a recording of some sort. An energy imprint that some of us get to see.
The one that stands out most in my mind had to do with the townhouse my parents lived in when I was in the Army. I’d come back home for the weekend and my parents would nonchalantly relate this amazingly creepy tale about their occasional nightly “visitor”. Now, in order to understand just how strange this was, you’d have to know my parents. My father is a retired Army officer who served in World War 2 and Korea. He left the military and pursued a career in New York City’s Dept. of Hospitals ultimately retiring as Chief of Transportation. My mother is an ancient history buff and neither of them is given to flights of fancy. Now, I knew that the former residents of that townhouse consisted of a man who had died of a sudden illness and his wife sold the townhouse and left with their child. What I didn’t know was that, evidently, the man returns for periodic visits and appears to be looking for something (possibly his family). My parents would sit downstairs in the living room, each reading a book and this apparition would just waltz on by. Neither of my parents expressed any particular concern over this and it was “just one of those things”. I was always disappointed that I never got to see it. In a couple of months, my wife and I plan to go on vacation to our favorite location. New Orleans (the French Quarter). Maybe, this time, we’ll stay in one of those supposedly haunted hotels.

Monday, March 21, 2005

It's the Same Old Song

I got tired of listening to my music CDs on the way to and from work, so I decided to give the old FM radio a shot at entertaining me. Also, every now and again, I like check in on what passes for current trends in music. You never know what you’ll come across. Ironically, when I was living in the Seattle area, Grunge music became popular and for some strange reason, I actually liked a lot of it. No such luck this time, though. Seriously, when did folks who listen to “popular” music lose their taste? Can somebody please play an instrument? You can forget originality, too. Evidently, someone figured out that you could just recycle older songs and the chances are that most young people will think it’s a new tune. Never in my life have I heard such shameless rip-offs of other people’s creativity. I could probably spend the whole day hanging out with some kids listening to the radio and go “That’s an old song. So’s that one. Did you know that’s a remake of an old Joni Mitchell tune? No? Well, it is, etc.” It’s pathetic. I remember when bands actually had some classical training and could play well. Remember “Emerson, Lake and Palmer”? How about “Yes” (with Rick Wakeman, not the sorry ass band it became later). Don’t even get me started with folks like Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa and The Who. I have never seen a more bland collection of “artists” than the ones that get all the airplay, today. That’s why I tend to stick to Jazz. Unfortunately, the one (sort of) decent Jazz station on the radio was pulled and replaced with a rap format. The weird part about this is that the stations I’m talking about come out of Memphis, TN, of all places. No Jazz in Memphis, folks! (except occasionally on the college station). It’s amazing that the more complex our society becomes, the more they seem to be dumbing down.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

It's Sunday

It's Sunday which means it's my one day off. So this will be short. I'll be asleep all day , so look for a much longer post tomorrow. Until then, check this out...

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Nothing Funny About Comics

Comic book collecting used to be an intense hobby of mine. I mean, I went all out. I once had Fantastic Four #1, Hulk #1 (when he was grey – he became green in issue #2), Tales to Astonish #27 (first Ant-Man), Mad #1 (it was a comic book before it became a magazine) and on an on. I went to conventions in New York (including the Star Trek conventions) circa mid 70’s and my friends and I even had a “company” (The E.P. Henry Corp. – that name hasn’t seen print in decades!) which had a table at a few of these. But you know what spoiled everything for me? Grownups. That’s right grownups. Give them a whiff of a money making opportunity and they’ll ruin the fun every time. Now, you have collector’s items that are “restored” professionally, graded and sealed in plastic. Makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, you’re not actually supposed to read them, right? Just own them and sell them. I sold all mine years ago. The last one that I had, I brought to a comic book store in Albuquerque, New Mexico in order to sell it. It was an issue of Spiderman (#20- something). I observed a father and his son attempting to buy a comic for the kid’s collection. But the boy didn’t have quite enough money for the Spiderman (#80- something) that he wanted. The dealer was acting like a regular Ebenezer Scrooge. I was completely disgusted. So I hand the kid my Spiderman and told him he could have it for free. Needless to say, everyone was stunned. The dealer asked me why I did that. I looked right in the eye and said “Comics should be for kids.” I walked out of that store and the chapter, in my life, entitled “Comic Books” was closed forever.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Waxing Nostalgic

Every now and again, I find myself in a nostalgic mood glancing back over the years to a time I perceived was more enjoyable to the life I live, now. Why is that? It’s a bunch of hogwash, really. How many times have we heard people say “the times were much simpler, then”. Well, of course they were. Hideousness can be quite simple. Things are better now, comfort wise, than they have ever been. Hey, I’m not that old, but I can remember a time when air conditioning was a big time luxury for private homes. We didn’t have it – and we weren’t poor, either. My father was a retired military officer who had an excellent job with New York City. We owned a two story, two family house with tenants that paid us rent. We did ok. But, still, when summer time rolled around and wet slick vapor seemed to boil off the sidewalks, it was time to head down to our “finished” basement (you know the deal, wood paneling, wet bar, etc.) to cool off. How fashionable. It’s hot out, so lets crawl into a hole in the ground so we won’t succumb to heat exhaustion. We had a TV down there (black and white) and since we lived in New York City, we had a whole seven channels to choose from. No air conditioning in the car, either. Nowadays, I complain if my wireless internet connection is coming in at less than 2 megabits per second.

No – these are the “good times”. But I still wish for that long ago Christmas. The tree. The presents. The people long gone. My dad’s 96, now and my mom called, today, to let us know that he had to be taken to the hospital for pneumonia. He seems to be doing better and responding to the antibiotics they’re giving him. But I feel very sorry for the old man. I know he wants to be in his own bed with all the familiar things. My mom’s making sure he gets everything he needs (she’s bringing him a care package from home). He’s eating well and I have little doubt that he’ll be home, soon. But still. I wonder what nostalgic thoughts go through the head of someone born in 1909 while they lie in the hospital. I wish him a speedy recovery.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Why "Star Wars" is as dead as Michael Jackson

Back in the dawn of time, I remember taking my little sister to see the premier of what I was told was a genuine "experience". I drove down from the Bronx to Manhattan with her and a couple of my old high school friends in my canary yellow Fiat (first car I ever owned - it was shaped like a box. Ugly as sin - but it was easy to spot in a New York parking lot). After a helpful wino assisted me in parallel parking ("turn it a little more" (stagger) "You got it" (belch), etc.), we walked over to the theater where the line stretched around the block. My sister (she was 13 at the time - I was 21 and in the military on a weekend off. I was stationed in New Jersey) was dismayed at the prospect of not getting in. But a helpful older couple allowed us to cut the line and we hustled ourselves inside. The movie started and a bookmark was placed in my life. That movie was, of course, "Star Wars". A similar thing happened to me several years later on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The town was East Yarmouth and I was home watching MTV (back when they showed actual music videos - remember that? No? OK. But I remember when "Video Killed the Radio Star"). Anyway, there was a new music vid out. I saw it and another bookmark was placed. That video was the full length version of "Thriller".

Now it's all gone. Killed by the unrelenting hand of time, ego and madness. I don't need to go into the case of Mr. Jackson. All you need do is head on over to CNN or tune in to about a bazillion different sources on TV and the Internet to check out that sad can of beans. However, the death of Star Wars is a slightly different matter. It's like a brain dead relative whose family refuses to pull the plug. A parent diagnosed with cancer whose children are in complete denial. A funeral that no one wants to attend. Regarding the upcoming "Revenge of the Sith", I keep seeing the pathetically hopeful fans of the series posting items that say things like "I saw the trailer - and man was it kickass!". Please. It's dead folks. The absolute best we can hope for is another action movie with good CGI that doesn't inspire outright animosity towards Mr. Lucas.

What a lot of people don't seem to realize (or refuse to realize, assuming they're old enough to remember what "Star Wars" actually meant to it's original fans) is that the original trilogy struck the very heart of our multiple belief systems. It had a unifying factor - good vs. evil. Plain and simple. Also, here's the catch, folks - it was groundbreaking. When will people realize that you can't improve on groundbreaking. All you can do is morph it into something that "fits in with the times". Lots of CGI? Sure, why not. Action in the same vein as countless other movies out there? Check. Originality? that by me again? It's sad to see the dead resurrected time and again but when money's involved, the dead will walk the earth. Right George? (Lucas, not Romero).

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

So, Blake Got Off, eh?

Well, here I am, once again, in the bowels (such an ugly term - better than "colon", though) of the factory\warehouse (facwa) here in cold, rainy Tennessee. The usual paranoid, hectic rush spurred on by upper management has died out (they've all gone home - I think) and now is the time we just settle calmly in to do the evening's work. No hectic rush. No paranoia. Go figure.

I was just checking out CNN and noted this item:

A California jury today acquitted actor Robert Blake of murder and solicitation to murder in the 2001 slaying of his wife, Bonny Lee Bakley. Leaving court, Blake said he never lost hope and "if you live to be a million, you will never ever in your life meet anyone more blessed than me."

Yes, indeedy. Blessed, huh? Well, maybe. That is if he really didn't do it. Which I doubt. More like "pretty damn lucky you played 'Baretta' and not Charles Manson (Steve Railsback - 1976)"

CNN legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin said he was "pretty surprised" by the verdict.

I wasn't. Hell, this is Baretta we're talking about, here. Unless you have actual physical evidence or witnesses, you're not going to get a conviction. Michael Jackson? Well that's another story...

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Hello There!

Yes, hello there and welcome to Henry's Asylum. This is an experiment designed to hone my writing skills a bit. I'll be posting various things that I find of interest and maybe, in a few years time, I'll stumble upon a formula that might actually interest a tiny segment of the public. We'll see.
Right now, I'm in the heart of a (mostly deserted) factory\warehouse in Memphis, Tennessee (on the edge of Mississippi - where I live). It's quiet since most of place is undergoing a software upgrade. But not my group. We'll be here till well after midnight, toiling away (with the exception of the occasional blog break, of course). You see, I'm what's called a Production Supervisor. We fix computer printers (well at least we try). I supervise both 1st and 2nd shift, dividing my time between the two. There are a little over 100 people in my tiny little empire and I've been on this account for over two years. Life has certainly taken an unusual turn. Follow me as I chronicle the twists and turns (and opinions\"interesting" things) that dot the various roads that I travel...