The final days.

Whew. I mean: Whew. Nothing like a few days of more or less solid errand-running and chore-chasing to make you appreciate the last days of the best year of your life. But we have a breathing space now, and what the hell, let’s relax a bit. All I have to do is put a chicken in the oven sometime in the next 40 minutes.

I don’t even want to think about it, but it’s true: This is the second-to-last week. Our last seminar is tomorrow. We graduate a week from Thursday. What’s next, many of you have been e-mailing. The Magic 8 Ball says: Answer cloudy, try again later. When I know, you’ll know. In these last few days, I’m taking advantage of the perks of holding a valid M-Card — libraries, collections, access and, of course, an excuse to spend an hour staring out the window. One of the Fellows was talking about just that the other day; actually he was watching his cats watch the squirrels capering outside the window. “I remember that as a pleasant interlude,” he said, and who am I to argue? No doubt it was.

Speaking of argument: I’m going to miss it. It abounds in an academic environment, although I tried to pick one with my screenwriting prof last night, to no avail — he just barreled on ahead. But I’m sorry, I said it last night and I’ll say it again here: The Billy Bob Thornton character in “Sling Blade” is not a Christ figure, OK? You can’t give him a Bible, a book on carpentry and another on Christmas and say this makes him a modern-day Jesus. (Although, I’ve noticed, that’s how lots of lazy artists work: Look, Madonna’s wearing a crucifix as jewelry, obviously a sly commentary on her Catholic upbringing. And so on.) Cool Hand Luke — now he’s a Christ figure. (Here he is, performing a miracle.)

Meanwhile, linkage:

Back when I was the mother of a little baby and used to torture myself with the Dr. Laura show, I became a fan of its far more entertaining shadow entity, — the Usenet group of mostly Dr. Laura doubters who follow the show. Although I haven’t listened to the Toxic Harpy for years, I still keep up with the postings there. It was there I learned that after years of preaching that orthodox religion is the only true path to decency and an upright life, poof she’s no longer practicing Judaism. ARTDL also let me know which college finally accepted pampered D.L. progeny — the mediocre, cultish Hillsdale, located just down the road right here in southeast Michigan. When the Schlessinger spawn dropped out after a mere semester, the posters were all over it with credible hypotheses of what happened. And now they’ve turned up the even more wonderful truth: My God, young Derky is opening a hookah bar. In freakin’ Hillsdale, Michigan. It is to laugh.

Also, a couple of people mentioned that Bob Dylan is now hawking Victoria’s Secret? Slate explains. Points for the headline: Tangled up in boobs.

Posted at 3:50 pm in Uncategorized |

6 responses to “The final days.”

  1. 4dbirds said on April 13, 2004 at 4:55 pm

    I think Bob Dylan looks incredibly creepy in that commercial.

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  2. Joe K said on April 13, 2004 at 10:17 pm


    I think you might want to check the date on the artical about that bar. I have a brother who is a Hillsdale Grad-1974, and I think you may have been had. I find it hard to believe something like that would go in Hillsdale


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  3. Paul said on April 14, 2004 at 4:51 am

    Post-Fellowship plans? OK if no public answer, of course.

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  4. Pam said on April 14, 2004 at 7:59 am

    When you want to know about Wexner Inc. you just have to come to his home town. I intended to link you to the Dispatch article explaining the ad, but the big D now wants $1.95 just to view it on line. And I’m a subscriber! So to sum up, it was Les’s idea. Threw it out in a meeting. That’s where I laughed. I could just envision all the Vicki’s career types in this meeting, trying to no avail, to speak up and tell Les where his head’s at. But Les’s idea was that the ad had a mysterious, secretive mood to it and who better to express that than Bob. So they called him and he accepted. They just forgot how really bad he looks. I thought “here comes Chester the Molester”. In any case, they have a very limited (no pun intended) time to use his image. But maybe Les was right because we’re talking about it, aren’t we?

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  5. Lance Mannion said on April 14, 2004 at 10:02 am

    I’m sorry to hear the Dylan’s Secret ad was the company chair’s brain child. I thought it was another one of those ads that slyly satirize the product and the people who might buy it. I thought maybe it had been dreamed up by some former art history major who remembered all those medieval paintings of beautiful women being shadowed by skeletons or by a former English major who had just re-read this variation on the Death and the Maiden theme by John Crowe Ransom:

    Piazza Piece

    �I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying

    To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small

    And listen to an old man not at all,

    They want the young men’s whispering and sighing.

    But see the roses on your trellis dying

    And hear the spectral singing of the moon;

    For I must have my lovely lady soon,

    I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying.

    �I am a lady young in beauty waiting

    Until my truelove comes, and then we kiss.

    But what gray man among the vines is this

    Whose words are dry and faint as in a dream?

    Back from my trellis, Sir, before I scream!

    I am a lady young in beauty waiting.

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  6. Cathy from Encino said on April 17, 2004 at 12:59 am

    That Hillsdale article is fer real fer sure! Why you could call Brandon and ask him if it’s true.

    Except he’s had a little motorcylce accident:

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