TWO THUMBS UP

From time to time I make recommendations of movies to watch.  Today I watched two films (courtesy of Netflix), both of them French.  Both are very good in my opinion.

The first was "The Hedgehog" (Le herisson) and is the story of several rich people and their concierge in an apartment house in Paris.  The story begins with a precocious 11 year old girl revealing her plan to kill herself on her upcoming 12th birthday.  Garance Le Guillermic is the charming pre-teen.  She is a very smart and cute tyke who becomes more lovable as time moves along and the story evolves to the life of the concierge, or super, played by Josiane Balasko, and her attraction to a new Japanese tenant.  The latter is played by Togo Igawa, who many of you may recognize from his roles in a number of American movies. Both SWMBO and I liked it a lot.  The cast is excellent, the plot intricate but satisfying and there's a surprise ending that may shock you.

The second movie is as different as can be.  It is titled Farewell (L'Affaire Farewell).  It is a spy thriller about a Russian dissatisfied with his country's politics at the height of the Cold War and the young Frenchman he recruits to transfer secrets.  The Serbian film director and actor Emir Kusturica plays the Russian, French movie star Guillaume Canet has the part of the naive young Frenchman.  There is considerable tension as the secrets keep coming.  Several American actors also are featured.  It has a somewhat predictable ending with a bit of a twist but it's a movie that holds you in its grip. 

So put them both in your Netflix queue, if you do that, or look for them in the foreign film section of your video store.

FIRE IN ARIZONA

The Doce Fire has burned some 7,000 acres just outside of Prescott, Arizona, as of this morning.  The BRD sent several pictures last night taken from her yard.

The fire is northwest of her and burning away from her area but these pictures show it is a little too close for comfort.

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS

Fathers' Day.  Perhaps a time for some serious talk.  My father passed away in 1980.  He was 77.  My grandfather died in 1958, I believe, at the age of 83.  Now I'm 73 so my days are getting short.

So, it's time to talk about Edward Snowden.

SWMBO and I have, as always, followed the news reports about the leak that led to the revealing of various U.S. government programs that monitored (seemingly) every one's phone calls, emails, Facebook posts and Twitter tweets.

The leak came from Edward Snowden, a high school dropout, a college dropout, a U.S. army dropout and a dropout from the firm that employed him as some kind of I.T. analyst.

Snowden has since fled to Hong Kong and perhaps to China, or Russia, or Xanadu, sending out frequent messages about the evil perpetrated by the U.S. government and the rightness of his actions in revealing it.

Never mind that he had signed papers that committed him NOT to reveal any such information.

But unlike Dick Cheney and some others in the political firmament I do not consider Snowden a traitor.  Perhaps what he did was ill-advised but treason?  I don't think so.  Treason involves actions determined to bring down the government.  I don't think Snowden's silly act rises to that level.

As for the government's programs to gather all this information on all of us?  It appears that was not the case.  They have the ability through these various programs to do that but have they?  Apparently not.  Of the millions of people whose records have been seized only about 300 have actually been looked at or listened to.  And virtually all of those have been people linked to foreign terrorist organizations.  So, are we to ignore these connections?  Or investigate them?

I say, considering that the government claims to have subverted several terrorist plots aimed at the United States, go get 'em!  On this I am joined by politicians of both parties who have authorized these programs for years, long before Barack Obama became President.

But back to Snowden.  He appears to me (and to SWMBO) to be one of a cadre of somewhat intelligent computer nerds who can't seem to find themselves in society.  I think he, and his like, are amoral people who favor publicity over law.  They seem to feel that they are above the laws that govern the rest of us and so superior in their intellect that they can decide for all what are correct actions.

As I said to SWMBO as we were discussing this today, I think the worst punishment for Snowden would be to ignore him.  Totally.  Never mention his name again.

Of course I know that is impossible.  There is just too much media these days, good and bad, along with social fronts that I have mentioned where no one can be edited or censored or forbidden to write.

Like this blog.

STRANGE SUMMER WINE

Ahhhh.  What better way to beat the heat than to sit back and relax with a nice glass of  chilled White Zinfandel, eh?

But wait!  Let's take a closer look at the label on that bottle.

Alcohol-removed wine?  Well what's the point of that?  Wine is alcohol, right?  So if the alcohol has been removed . . . why drink it?

O.K.  Enough mystery.  Here's the answer.  We have a visitor coming in for an overnight.  She once had a great love for wine.  Too great, in fact.  So many years ago she stopped drinking alcohol.  But she still likes to join in when she's around we heathen who still imbibe.

Hence, a product invented especially for such occasions.  Non-alcoholic wine.  N.A. wine, for short.  

It satisfies the urge but doesn't create the damage.  And, for some reason, it eliminates the embarrassment of drinkers confronted with a non-drinker in a social setting.

Ergo, Fre wine, as in Free, as in alcohol-free.  Might be a good idea for any of us.

. . . . . .

And then there's sex.  My old buddy, Danny Bananas, just sent me these.  

There were others but these are the ones I felt comfortable with sharing.

You will please note that in this post, while veering close to the edge of propriety, I have not discussed religion or politics.

Happy weekend!

DON'T WORRY . . BE HAPPY

I'll bet you thought I was going to upload a video of Bobby McFerrin's hit song here, didn't you.

Nope.

O.K.  O.K.  I know you've all got an ear worm going now with that McFerrin song playing constantly so I'm going to give it to you.  Sort of.  This is some guy named Elliot Jett doing his own take on the song.

Not bad, huh?

Yes, folks, you too can be a star, thanks to the Interwebs.

Have a nice evening.

      And.

              Don't 

                      worry . . .

                               be 

                                     happy!

MEMORIES

SWMBO and I went shopping today for some posters for wall decor.  I had a large blank space over the desk in my den.  No more.

This takes me back to the period of my life from 1987 to 1991 when we lived in Mexico during my "first" retirement.  Mexico was a much safer place then and we loved the experience.  Full exposure: we spent most of our time with other expatriates from the United States and Canada.  So our command of Spanish languished in the lack of use.

We lived first of all in a tiny village on the north shore of Lake Chapala - Ajijic.  (Pronounced - ah-hee-heek.)  But in those early days we found we were traveling the 30 miles or so into the city of Guadalajara whenever we wanted to buy anything.  There were no supermarkets at Lakeside, as the area is called, at that time.  True, we did shop at the weekly street market for all kinds of fruits and vegetables at what we considered ridiculously low prices. And we bought some things at the local mercados and farmacias.  But for furniture and other things with which to furnish our home as well as groceries we had to make the trip to Guadalajara.

About the time we got our house furnished, the landlord came by and told us he was putting it up for sale so we'd have to show it to potential buyers.  With that we decided to move into the big city.  (Guadalajara with an estimated population of 4 to 6 million people is Mexico's second largest city.)

We found a place we moderately liked, signed rental papers, then went back after dark to take a last look before heading back to our home at the lake to begin packing.  In the darkness, before I could reach a light switch, SWMBO tumbled down a flight of stairs, landing on a marble floor resulting in multiple fractures in one arm.  We were new to this area and had no idea where a hospital might be located.  I helped my now disabled wife into our car and drove a few blocks until I found an ice cream store.  I went in and made the young employees know I needed to call for medical help.  A woman at the counter heard me and told me she was a doctor and asked where my wife was.  I took her to the car and she gave her a quick once-over, formed a collar out of some cardboard from the ice cream store for her neck, then said: "Follow me!"  We did and she led us directly to a nearby hospital, helped get us checked in to the emergency room where we were met by a grey-haired, smiling gentlemen who turned out to be an orthopedic surgeon.  When we asked us how we got there we turned to introduce him to our "good Samaritan".  She had left without us ever learning her name.  We told the doctor our story and he just smiled.

SWMBO (I don't know whether I've ever divulged her real name but it's not She Who Must Be Obeyed . . . it's Judy) spent a couple of nights in a hospital.  She was amazed that the doctor came in and rubbed her feet one day while he was asking her about her arm.  And when he found that we liked to dine out, he told us there were many good restaurants in the city and even suggested that we should come to his house for an evening once she had healed.  For her, it was a painful but heartwarming experience and she still raves about the care she received in the hospital.

As a result of her injury, I did most of the moving with some help from a couple of local guys I hired.

There are more stories to tell but that's enough for one day.  Suffice it to say that even though it seems to be a much more dangerous country now than it was then, I still have a warm spot in my heart for that sunny land beneath the border.

And I think my new poster warms the room that I spend 90% of my time in these days.  (Not that it really needs warmth in the way of heat these days.)

BUT IT'S A DRY HEAT

It's time to address the issue of the heat in the Great Sonoran Desert, specifically in Phoenix, Arizona, where I live.

I walked the three blocks to our mailbox today to mail a disc back to Netflix.  And I walked back.  So that's about six blocks.  It was 105 outside and I was warm when I got back to the sanctuary of fans and air conditioning in my house.  But it really wasn't that bad (he said).  

Now let me point out that the relative humidity at the time was (wait for it) . . . 4 percent.  That's FOUR PERCENT!  The big black grackles striding around in yards and streets were doing a lot of complaining but I wasn't.  I noticed several were near my front yard where the sprinkler had been running.  One of them let out a blood curdling scream as I stepped outside.  He must have thought I was going to scare them away from the moisture.

Phoenix gets an average annual rainfall of about 8 and a third inches.  That's annual, as in the whole year.  The wettest month is March with 1.07 inches of rain.  The dryest month?  You had to ask, didn't you.  This one.  June, which averages 9 one-hundredths of an inch.  That's why we're all waiting for July and August.  Nearly an inch falls in each of those two months when the curiously named Monsoon Season blows in.

Now most people think of the Monsoon as a drenched period of time when it rains constantly.  Actually that's not true here.  The monsoon means that the wind direction shifts from the southwest to the southeast.  That brings in moisture from the Gulf of Mexico, apparently.  But it also can bring the mighty Haboobs, which are humongous dust storms. Actually the start of the monsoon season in Phoenix usually brings the dust storms first and later on the moisture.

The National Weather Service, in its infinite wisdom, decided back in 2008 that the monsoon season will start every year on June 15th and end on September 15th.  Never mind low pressure and high pressure systems.  Before that the local t.v. weathermen used to tell us that the season began when there were three consecutive days when the dew point reached 55 degrees or higher.  (Actually some of them probably still tell us that.  Take THAT, National Weather Service.)

Well so much for our science lesson for today.

I'm sure that many of you have been criticized for keeping cluttered, messy areas where you spend most of your time.  Yup.  Me too.  But I stopped all that (well most of it)  (O.K. some of it) when I posted a sign in my room.  As the old Catalyst's public service for today, I post a picture of it here for all of you to see.  I can't give you permission to print it for your room because I bought it at an art sale.  But what you do on your own time is between you and whatever you're calling your moral conscience these days.

Of course you could do the right thing and contact the artist at LynnKessinger@gmail.com to purchase your own copy.