Le Morte d’Arthur

" I didn’t want parents to think we were trying to exploit their children.’’Arthur Clokey

It was barely noticed, as was the news of the loss of his voice just last year, but there it was on the AP wire:

LOS OSOS, Calif. Animator Art Clokey, whose bendable creation Gumby became a pop culture phenomenon through decades of toys, revivals, and satires, died Friday. He was 88.

I never really liked Gumby – plain and simple. I definitely come to bury Gumby, not to praise him.

Still, Gumby had some integrity. He started as a guest on the Howdy Doody Show. Maybe he just didn’t want to upstage his host (Mr. Simpson, a Ms Ullman on the line for you). And Clokey didn’t market the man of clay as a toy for seven years or so, fearing that the little rubber toy would be seen as exploitive.

Arthur - you want exploitive?

‘Sex robot’ offers conversation, firm says

By Associated Press | January 11, 2010

LAS VEGAS - A New Jersey company says it has developed “the world’s first sex robot,’’ a life-size rubber doll that’s designed to engage the owner with conversation rather than lifelike movement.

At a demonstration at the Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas on Saturday, the dark-haired, negligee-clad robot said “I love holding hands with you’’ when it sensed that its creator touched its hand.

Conversation? Rather than lifelike movement? Is that what AP really thinks the damn thing is for? If you’re in the market for a sex robot is conversation really your priority? Do you really care to find out if the two of you have any shared interests?

The AP tells us that the contraption costs about $9,000. So there you are in your Las Vegas hotel room with a cross between Barbie, Tickle-Me Elmo and a mechanical bull

“Sure, we can talk all you want Mister – all night if you want – it’s still gonna cost you nine grand.”

So it goes in the world of "bendable creations".


Jaime

Rats!

More disturbing news from the Animal Kingdom.

TOFO, Mozambique, Aug. 3 (UPI) — A few enterprising Mozambicans say they might be able to turn their rabbit-sized, land-mine sniffing African rats into a tourist-attracting oddity.

The rat handlers let their rodents poke around at the end of thin leashes until they scratch at the ground. That’s the sign they’ve discovered an explosive device, The Georgia Straight reported in its travel section July 31.

I don’t know what disturbs me most about it all. Is this really the best that enterprising Mozambicans can do? Training rabbit-sized, mine-sniffing rats on leashes? Is this truly the dream of the Junior Achievers and 4H’ers of Twenty-First Century Africa?

That there are people known to the UPI as “rat handlers” piques the curiosity though. Are there rat groomers? Rat farmers? Maybe scientifically-formulated rat food in eight enticing flavors? Perhaps I underestimated the grandness of the entrepreneurial spirit here, but I can’t imagine that rat husbandry, supplies and accessories (exercise wheels? rhinestone leashes?) do much to sustain the nation’s economy

And the tourists! No more giant sea turtles? No white sand beaches? Have the safaris become tiresome? Is it no longer enough to take snapshots of the “colorful locals”, post them on your blog and then and show them off at the happy hour back at the Marriott? It strikes me as déclassé to travel halfway around the world to see a “tourist –attracting oddity” that is in fact just a bunch of rodents on ropes.

Of course they are cheaper than dogs and certainly require less security and general fussing and fawning over than royalty or even celebrities. So there is probably virtue in that. Although I just might travel halfway around the world to watch a tethered Paula Abdul and Matt Lauer tiptoe through a minefield.

Where are the PETA people on this anyway? Is a rodent really more expendable that a right whale? Or a princess?

Who Stinks?

"I rejoice that there are owls.”

                                         Thoreau

I have a nose for this sort of thing

Unless I am mistaken, it was a Palawan Stink Badger. I sat behind one in home room in the seventh grade. Because our names were alphabetically proximate, we also ended up sharing a locker that year. So I was close enough to make a pretty good study of him.

A bit paler than most, but Palawan, I am sure. A vile mammal of the weasel family. Closer to a skunk than to the cute but ill-tempered little pests we commonly picture. All the ferocity of the American badger with the further attribute of highly potent anal gland secretions – which secretions are generously and very accurately dispensed, at even slight provocation, with often devastating effects.

He used to steal aftershave and cologne from the local drugstore – no doubt when he purchased his cigarettes. And so his shelf was conscientiously stocked with Lucky Strikes (concealed in the way only a seventh-grader can believe will avoid detection) Jade East, English Leather and, for a while, Hai Karate. An obese, chain-smoking pre-teen with a sailor’s supply of cheap perfume.

Dear old Mr. Kent would wonder aloud “What is D— doing with all that aftershave in his locker?” I am sure he suspected my locker-mate of distributing the stuff, but I learned that year that an ordinary man’s dealer’s supply can be a desperate man’s personal stash. Especially when you are talking about scents with enough potency to match the output of those anal glands under even the greatest duress.

Owls – yes please. But I do not rejoice that there are Palawan stink badgers.

"Such, such were the joys . . ."

Additional Discussions Around the Topic

A prelude to thinking in terms. (var. "surrounding the topic", "in the area of")

Linda Richman had it right. “I’m a little verklempt … talk amongst yourselves…I will give you a topic…the Holy Roman Empire was neither holy, nor Roman nor an empire. Discuss.”


What courage! “Rhode Island …it’s neither a road nor an island. Discuss.” One word – discuss. Go for it, dammit! DISCUSS! Don’t futz around. Raise your voice, move your hands. Interrupt one another!

Sadly, we seem no longer to have the verve of Linda Richman. We are wimps. We don’t discuss.

We hold discussions around the topic of something.

"After Frank’s PowerPoint on the first quarter financials, we’’ll break for lunch. When we come back, from 1:30 to 3:00 we will hold discussions around the topic of setting a clear agenda."

Will we commit to an agenda? No. To setting an agenda? No. To the topic of setting an agenda? Also, no. Forget about any actual discussion of the topic either – discussion around the topic is what we’ll look forward to over tuna salad, Diet Coke and chips. And even that we will hold, not have.

So we dine in rapt anticipation of a fourth or fifth derivative of an actual bureaucratic event. Pity the corporate chef who has to compete with that. As for poor Frank and his Q-1 financials, well he may as well be teaching the last period sixth grade geography class before Christmas vacation. (Do they still have geography class? I am pretty sure they don’t have Christmas vacation. Exactly how old am I?)

Where does all this leave us? Well it only gets worse. Even if we roll back in from lunch and begin the process of opening a dialog about some issues affecting the potential setting of agendas, whether clear or otherwise, I have a sawbuck that says you’re going to find we’re still only thinking in terms of agendas.

Thinking in terms. Another gruesome turn, but don’t get me started! I am telling you, do not go there! Am I right people?

Almost time for some festooning. God, I love festooning.

I've Been Mulling Aplenty

Now there's one for you: aplenty.

Watch out for the person who uses the word aplenty. He is trying to be cute -- too cute if you ask me. A round, bald-headed man with a gray beard, a loose-fitting blouse and cheeks that are too-healty-pink, speading his arms in a jovial, ceremonial gesture while he leads you to his dinner table as if he were welcoming you to a damn Rennaissance Fayre. Arching his back and casting his eyes intently toward the ceiling. "I bid you welcome to our feast. We have meat and bread and wine aplenty! Pray, sit with us and partake."

He is quick to ask that you not feed his Shi-tzu from the table, despite the begging; lamb is not good for her. The music from Masterpiece Theatre, the only vaguely ceremonial-sounding track he owns, is playing too loudly. There are no forks on the table. "Are not your hands clean enough?"

No, ixnay aplenty.

Five Matters of Imminent Concern

First things first. Let's clear the air. Get a few things straight. Set the ground rules. Define our terms. Outline the paramenters of our focus. Get this started on the right foot. Kick this off right. Clarify some of our expections. Set some clear priorites. Pause to consider.

That's it! Let us pause to consider.

There are matters of imminent concern that should give us all pause to consider. Here are five of them:

• Aplenty
• Bretheren
• Beg the question
• Discusion revolving around
• Festoon

Just mull that all over for now. Later we will consider other paws.