You may be Ronna McDaniel’d out, but I begin my column today with her and, more broadly, the issue of the stolen-election lie, which is a continuing curse on our country. I also write of Venezuela (its dictatorship), New York City (its crime), and an interesting teacher of French, who calls herself a “Franco-Michigander,” or a michiganaise. Right up my alley.
For that column, go here. Some mail? Hold on to your socks.
Dear Jay,
Sunday, my wife and I attended a high-school performance of The Sound of Music. The program included the following disclaimer: “Out of respect for the Jewish members of our community and audience, this performance will not feature any Nazi symbols or salutes.” Characters did say, “Heil,” without raising their arms.
I spent a lot of the play thinking about that. We all know what the Holocaust was and we all know who did it. It just seemed a little odd that it couldn’t be assumed that everyone would understand the context.
Yes.
Recently, readers and I have been talking about smartphones, and one’s addiction to (or reliance on, if you prefer). A reader now sends this:
I agree that any person (regardless of age) can fall into the trap of having his attention constantly fixed on a phone. Yet, if anyone can escape from the digital clutches, it’s Baby Boomers, who reached maturity before our current “screens” became ubiquitous.
If I ever write a sci-fi novel (highly unlikely), this will be a major part of the plot. I was thinking along these lines:
Younger people have become so screen- and phone-dependent, they are forced to utilize what few Boomers are left to perform any transaction requiring common sense or people skills. The bodies, communication function, and problem-solving abilities of anyone under 60 have atrophied so much, these poor people are relegated to reclining on a bed or couch all day, interacting only with a giant screen installed on the ceiling above them. They begin to value more and more the skills of older people whom they once thought to be useless.
I envisioned someone like Wilford Brimley, who died in 2020, playing a lead role when my book was turned into a movie. You get the picture.
Good picture!
In a recent note on language, I talked about ice cream — which used to be “iced cream.” Armchairs used to be “armed chairs.” “Candied apples” turned into “candy apples,” and on and on.
A reader says, “Did roast beef used to be ‘roasted beef’?” I bet.
Let’s end on Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, which some of us have been discussing lately. A reader recommends that people listen to Professor Peter Schickele — a.k.a. “P.D.Q. Bach” — and his sportscast. Schickele died earlier this year. I wrote about him, and his art, in a column.
What about this sportscast? If you heard it years ago, you’ll enjoy it again. If you’ve never heard it, you’re in for something pretty neat. “Pete” and his color commentator “Bob” are in the booth when Beethoven’s Fifth is on the field (so to speak). Here. Brilliant thing.
Thank you to one and all.