Happy New Year, all--
Hope it's good for everyone.
My dog has a toy.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Goldfinger & Dove
“Casablanca”. Chocolate Chip Cookies. The Mustang convertible. American classics, every one. As are ‘Goldfinger & Dove’.
Who’s ‘Goldfinger & Dove’, you ask? My dear, they are two of the classiest magicians working today, classy performers and classy people. Even if they weren’t friends of mine, which I’m proud to say they are, I would respect and admire them. So much so that I went back to the Magic Castle last night and waited for the 11:15 show, just to be able to see them perform again. Of course, even on a Monday, the first two shows were full up. Jack Goldfinger himself couldn’t wrangle a seat for me, though he was courteous enough to try.
Aside from the sheer professionalism they exude (Jack was limping from an injury offstage, as soon as he got onstage he danced with the easy grace that is the trademark of both him and his beautiful wife Dove) what I enjoy most about their show is that they enjoy it. They’ve been doing this long enough that there is none of the anxiety so often visible in lesser performers. They have a good time, thus so do we in the audience. Their charm is palpable, as is their effervescent elegance and style.
Speaking of charm and style, Amos Levkovitch closed the show with his incomparable dove act. (The birds, not the lovely Mrs. Goldfinger.) Again, the audience benefits from the experience and comfort of the performer. Amos’ act is witty, refined and – this is important to me as an animal-lover—you can tell he cares for his doves, an impression not all magicians give.
You missed a great show. Pity.
Who’s ‘Goldfinger & Dove’, you ask? My dear, they are two of the classiest magicians working today, classy performers and classy people. Even if they weren’t friends of mine, which I’m proud to say they are, I would respect and admire them. So much so that I went back to the Magic Castle last night and waited for the 11:15 show, just to be able to see them perform again. Of course, even on a Monday, the first two shows were full up. Jack Goldfinger himself couldn’t wrangle a seat for me, though he was courteous enough to try.
Aside from the sheer professionalism they exude (Jack was limping from an injury offstage, as soon as he got onstage he danced with the easy grace that is the trademark of both him and his beautiful wife Dove) what I enjoy most about their show is that they enjoy it. They’ve been doing this long enough that there is none of the anxiety so often visible in lesser performers. They have a good time, thus so do we in the audience. Their charm is palpable, as is their effervescent elegance and style.
Speaking of charm and style, Amos Levkovitch closed the show with his incomparable dove act. (The birds, not the lovely Mrs. Goldfinger.) Again, the audience benefits from the experience and comfort of the performer. Amos’ act is witty, refined and – this is important to me as an animal-lover—you can tell he cares for his doves, an impression not all magicians give.
You missed a great show. Pity.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Redux Reflux
“Best of 2008!” “Worst of 2008!” “Top 100 (things you didn’t know there were 100 of) of 2008!” The unwelcome headlines splatter my monitor with banality redux.
Like my 10 year high school reunion, not enough time has passed to have forgotten, or to appreciate any of it in context. I’m sick of celebrities (both media and political), and don’t care where they are on the list of somebody’s Top 100. Make it stop, please.
While we’re at it, let’s do something about the January People. They’ve already invaded one of my gyms, I’ll check the other tomorrow.
Funnily enough, I respect them for making New Year’s Resolutions. I can’t, I have no will power. Sure, I’m more disciplined than the next obsessive-compulsive, but will power? No way. That’s why I work out 7 days a week and limit my food excesses to Clark County, NV. (See the post “Zeitgeist Las Vegas, Finale”)
My problem is their belligerence, whether born of moral righteousness (justified, they’re making a tremendous effort) or the obvious discomfort of the process. Oh well, most of them won’t be there in a week, and maybe the others will start to show some basic courtesy--- or at least unblock the entry to the ladies’ room when someone behind them says “Excuse me!” more than once.
Like my 10 year high school reunion, not enough time has passed to have forgotten, or to appreciate any of it in context. I’m sick of celebrities (both media and political), and don’t care where they are on the list of somebody’s Top 100. Make it stop, please.
While we’re at it, let’s do something about the January People. They’ve already invaded one of my gyms, I’ll check the other tomorrow.
Funnily enough, I respect them for making New Year’s Resolutions. I can’t, I have no will power. Sure, I’m more disciplined than the next obsessive-compulsive, but will power? No way. That’s why I work out 7 days a week and limit my food excesses to Clark County, NV. (See the post “Zeitgeist Las Vegas, Finale”)
My problem is their belligerence, whether born of moral righteousness (justified, they’re making a tremendous effort) or the obvious discomfort of the process. Oh well, most of them won’t be there in a week, and maybe the others will start to show some basic courtesy--- or at least unblock the entry to the ladies’ room when someone behind them says “Excuse me!” more than once.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Drunk-dialing
Jim was just here for leftovers (happy St Stephen’s Day to the rest of you, too!) and we were talking about some drunk-dialed calls he made last week. I thought it was in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t, they were done in the afternoon. So I asked him, “Aren’t drunken calls usually made after midnight?”
He said, “After midnight? That’s for amateurs.”
He said, “After midnight? That’s for amateurs.”
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Happy Happy Goy Joy!
Balance In The Universe--- It’s All Connected--- What The Hell---
Pick your cliché of choice, they’re all true and apropos of the season.
For all that it’s a time of year when our faces are rubbed in the accumulated loss and entropy of relationships, there is a terrific upside. We (plural of “I”, these are universal truths here, folks) do connect with the people with whom we have an annual greeting exchange. And the lights are pretty, whether blue and white or multi-colored. But the real upside is the food.
I’m about to dive into the kitchen, to begin preparing tomorrow’s feast. This is great fun, and I’m looking forward to it. But even if I wasn’t cooking, it would still be great fun to go out and eat an abundance of carbohydrates and fat and sugar with people I love. Jonah has already had the turkey gizzard, and all’s well with the world.
Pick your cliché of choice, they’re all true and apropos of the season.
For all that it’s a time of year when our faces are rubbed in the accumulated loss and entropy of relationships, there is a terrific upside. We (plural of “I”, these are universal truths here, folks) do connect with the people with whom we have an annual greeting exchange. And the lights are pretty, whether blue and white or multi-colored. But the real upside is the food.
I’m about to dive into the kitchen, to begin preparing tomorrow’s feast. This is great fun, and I’m looking forward to it. But even if I wasn’t cooking, it would still be great fun to go out and eat an abundance of carbohydrates and fat and sugar with people I love. Jonah has already had the turkey gizzard, and all’s well with the world.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Farewell, My Lovely
The enchanting Aicha is leaving us, as we always knew she would someday. G.I. Joe was wrong, though. Knowing isn’t half the battle. Maybe a third, tops.
Okay, I admit it. Time wore me down. Too many dear ones lost, to distance or death, their names still in my address book. (Yes, Jim, on Luddite paper.)
Bryan, you were the first to grow up and go away. Bubble, you were the last. Ironically, you two are the first numbers in my cell phone. One came back, one didn’t go far.
I need to remember that, sometimes they do come back. And sometimes, they’re not really gone, it just seems that way.
We’ll miss you, Aicha.
Okay, I admit it. Time wore me down. Too many dear ones lost, to distance or death, their names still in my address book. (Yes, Jim, on Luddite paper.)
Bryan, you were the first to grow up and go away. Bubble, you were the last. Ironically, you two are the first numbers in my cell phone. One came back, one didn’t go far.
I need to remember that, sometimes they do come back. And sometimes, they’re not really gone, it just seems that way.
We’ll miss you, Aicha.
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