Monday, January 31, 2022

How I Like My Apocalypse

I’ve come to realize I read a lot of apocalyptic and dystopian fiction, and watch the adaptations of that fiction. I don’t know why. I think it’s just because I’m fascinated and horrified by a vision of how everything in the world could go terribly wrong. I’m fun at parties!

 

I’ve also come to realize I’m picky about the apocalypse. (I’m using “apocalypse” as a general term. It’s not always the literal end of the world but kind of a series of horrible events that leave everything really messed up.) I’m very interested in the “during” of the apocalyptic event, as much or more than I am in the “after” when people are picking up the pieces. I’m fascinated in how exactly the big event happened and hate when they gloss over it. Show me the bomb dropping and the factors that led up to it. Show me how the pandemic spread. Show me how the government slid into totalitarianism.

 

I’m watching Station Eleven and I guess it’s OK. The book was much better. I know some of the changes from book to TV show are because some of my favorite passages in the book, like Miranda’s death, were too internal and they had to alter them to be more exciting for the screen. I know critics are supposed to judge the work in front of them and not the work they wish the artist had made, but I’m just a little disappointed that they’re not showing more of the chaos of the spread of the Georgia Flu. I loved the parts in the book with the grounded plane and the passengers seeing the chaos on the news and it slowly dawning on them how the world was about to fall apart. One of my favorite passages in the book was in the early-morning hours right before the story of the flu broke and that it was “the hours of near misses and miracles” that a main character didn’t catch the flu. I wish there had been a way to convey that in the TV show. (We’re not caught up yet so maybe they do this later.)

 

One thing that annoys me in this type of apocalyptic fiction is—and I’ve seen this in reviews of the Station Eleven show—that the actual inciting event is “not that interesting” or “beside the point.” I would argue that seeing the spread of a flu that kills 99 percent of humanity is, like, at least moderately interesting, you know? If it really happened right in front of me, I’d be engaged with what was going on. Think of COVID-19: Were you bored watching it spread and cause chaos in March 2020? And I think the death of almost 8 billion people would be the point.

 

The way we survive an apocalypse and evolve after makes for some fascinating fiction but I hate when they gloss over the “during.” My favorite part of The Stand was the chapter showing how journalists revolted and showed the public the extent of the flu, and when Stephen King alluded to uninfected people trying to escape New York and getting shot in the Lincoln Tunnel. I loved the World War Z book because it showed all the “during” of how the zombies almost wiped out humanity, and what it took to fight back. I love all the little glimpses of how America turned into Gilead in The Handmaid’s Tale.

 

Just don’t do what Fear the Walking Dead did. I remember being all excited when this show premiered because I wanted to see the beginning of the zombie epidemic and how society began to crumble. They showed a little of this and then it felt like they cut to “four weeks later” and everyone was in internment camps. Well, how did they get into those camps? Don’t gloss over it with ellipses and then become Walking Dead West. That show threw away the one thing it had setting it apart, and I stopped watching immediately. (I also couldn’t stand watching any more of Kim Dickens staring blankly at the zombie apocalypse, wondering if she left the oven on.)

 

I get that writers have no budget to depict the end of the world, while a TV show might not be able to afford showing worldwide chaos in detail. But just give me a little taste of how it happened, just to tantalize me.

Friday, January 21, 2022

I'm not just a customer—I'm family!

Hello! Before we get to the other toasts, and the first dance, I’d like to say a few words, if I may.

 

First off, thank you so much for being so welcoming! I am so glad my $457/month lease of a gently used coupe entitles me to be a part of the Chrysler-Jeep-D’Ambrosio-Subaru-Dodge-Matt-Slap-See-Ya-in-a-Kia Family! When I signed those papers and upgraded to a heated brake pad (just an extra $37 a month!), I knew I was a part of something special! Your commercials guaranteed our kinship. I knew I was more than just a customer—I was family. That kind of validation is priceless.

 

I know I’m a recent addition to the family, so don’t worry about not having a seat for me or a place card. I’ll just squeeze in here next to Great-Aunt Doris and Cousin Derek. Oh, and I’ll have the salmon, if there’s an extra plate back there, thanks.

 

Anyway, what does family mean to me? It means being there—really being there—for one another to celebrate the milestones in life. That’s why when I saw the wedding invitation peeking from beneath some papers on the desk of my salesperson—hi, Mike!—I was only too glad to memorize the date, time and venue so I could show up here today. And I’ll continue to be there for all of you. I’ll be there next month for Mehghan’s confirmation at, as I overheard, St. Paul’s Episcopal. I’ll be there next summer when we celebrate all the graduations of the young people whose ages I have gleaned from the chatter around me.

 

And I’ll definitely be there for the christening of Carol and Andy’s first child! What’s that? Oh, I’m sorry. I jumped the gun, folks. Turns out Carol was going to wait until after the wedding to tell everybody so she wouldn’t steal any spotlight from her sister. Sorry, everybody! Blame it on the new guy.

 

But being a part of a family isn’t just about being there for the happy times. You need to be there to console each other when things are sad or hopeless. That’s why I’m going to be right there, tissues and a sympathetic shoulder on offer, whenever one of us passes away into the next world. I’ll be right there in the circle when we finally have an intervention for Uncle Dave’s obvious heroin problem. That’s why I’ll be there for every tough decision about elder care, so I’ll see you Monday at the meeting to discuss whether to put Grampa Tony in a home.

 

Oh, and if anyone can drive me to and from my colonoscopy next week, that would be great.

 

So cheers to Trish and Graydyn, and welcome to our fam—wait, why are you taking the microphone away? I’m not done yet! Y-you can’t do this to me! I’m family! You said I was family! Grandma Patti, help!

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Dial 0 to Complain

I hate confrontation. Hate it, hate it, hate it. This will surprise nobody who has met me. Yet as I get older I find myself becoming a Person Who Will Call the Company to Complain. Why is that? I guess it’s hard for me to confront people I know because of the potential for hurt feelings and emotional fireworks, and I don’t want any of that with people I care about. But with a company, I don’t care. It’s not personal and I won’t make it personal. I just air my grievances politely and hope I find somebody sympathetic.

 

I realized that I have no problem calling the company to complain last week when Curative cancelled my COVID-19 PCR test with no warning. It was a whole Wagnerian saga: People waited in the snow and nobody showed up to the trailer. They didn’t email anybody until later in the day. This pissed me off since it was so hard to get an appointment for a test, and I really didn’t want to wait for hours at urgent care or somewhere if I could help it. Curative inconvenienced thousands of people by shutting down testing in the whole state for snow (especially annoying since we got a dusting up here in the more heavily populated part of Delaware) and many of the people who waited in line probably had symptoms and should not have been out in the cold.

 

So I called Curative. I admit I did leave a voicemail and let my voice go up half an octave when I told them this is a national emergency and their people should show up to work. But when I spoke to an actual person, I was calm and professional. It wasn’t the fault of the woman who answered the phone. I just asked her to tell somebody in management that nobody got a notification that Curative was closing for the day (until we got an email in the afternoon) and there were probably still people showing up for tests that wouldn’t happen. (I’m always nice to customer service people if I complain, since they had nothing to do with what happened. I’ll repeatedly say “I know it’s not you, but …”). I did later get a negative PCR test, so crisis averted.

 

Anyway, this made me realize I will jump through whatever phone tree I have to if I’m pissed off enough. When they say, “This call may be recorded,” I’m thinking, “I hope so.”

 

I had to call Lowe’s a few times to complain while we were renovating the rental house. I kept making appointments to get an exterior door installed and they would just cancel the appointments with no explanation. This pissed me off. I got stuck in a runaround of phone trees and hold music. They kept telling me to do it online but I tried that and that’s what didn’t work. I finally spoke to somebody and impressed on him that I was trying to give Lowe’s some money to do some work for me, and asked why they were making that so difficult, and I got someone to come out and do the work.

 

A lot of people hate using the phone, but for a shy person, I actually don’t mind too much. I feel like I get results better since I can (politely) put someone on the spot to help me, whereas I feel like my emails to companies go right to the void. Sometimes, even when I’m not complaining, I have some questions that may lead to more questions, and it’s easier to ask those live than keep sending emails. I also just had to call Comcast, since the buyer of the rental house is trying to set up service and I had to disconnect the old service. It was a bit of a runaround, since the boyfriend of the tenant apparently never disconnected it and took a bit to do this since I was trying to disconnect a service that was not in my name but instead in the name of the boyfriend who was not on the lease and moved out anyway months ago. But I preferred to do this on the phone because I needed to explain myself. The annoying thing was just trying to speak to someone since I had a problem that didn’t fit into the phone tree, and it was asking for account numbers and such that I just don’t have. I wish there were still an option to just immediately hit 0 and speak to someone and explain yourself since I still think in weird situations like mine, you are best off with a person. What number would I dial for the menu option “Disconnect service of boyfriend of tenant who was never on lease and moved out months ago after not paying rent and leaving a huge mess behind”? Would this be option 45738 on the menu?

 

I’m also that rare person who prefers ordering takeout over the phone. I get aggravated easily with certain online things and it’s easier for me to tell someone I want a pizza and give my name.

 

My point is, the phone can be annoying, but if it gets me what I want, I’ll stay on hold as long as you want.

 

 

Thursday, January 6, 2022

Epiphany

She has traded in her red mermaid dresses for sweats and, nearly two weeks after Christmas, swans mournfully around a house rapidly being stripped of its red and green. The housekeeper has just taken the final gold bauble off the limp tree and soon that tree will be out on the curb on the other side of the gates, more detritus of a holiday season that seemed so alive so recently. The gardener has just taken the lights down from the shrubs so now the house will glow plainly as it does in Ordinary Time. All the decorations—rare heirlooms and cheap trinkets valued only due to sentiment—have gone back in their boxes in the attic, only to be exhumed again in 10 or 11 months, after the smell of burning leaves fades.

 

In a sense, she’s going back into an attic of her own, unneeded until summoned again.

 

She spies a McDonald’s bag with her face on it, sitting out on the dining room table, and throws the bag away. Every January, that’s what she feels like. That song that brings people so much joy year after year … it’s gone now. It pops up in late December at #1 on the charts and then the next week, it’s nowhere to be seen. Back in a musical attic of its own. Denied even the dignity of a lost bullet and a slow downward slide. (She may be closer to tying a record every time that song hits #1 but it will always come with an asterisk. She will never be rid of that damned asterisk.)

 

That’s how she feels: A greatest hit to be hauled out for a little while and discarded once the novelty wears off. She’s been dining out on that song for 25 years. Does anyone want to hear anything new she has to say? She thinks of the storage units full of Caution and The Elusive Chanteuse and Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel and the thought of all that dust pains her.

 

Finally, the workmen carry the Christmas tree past her, out the door and to the curb for trash day. She turns the right side of her face to watch them leave. The slam of the door is final, and the silence quickly swallows up any echo. The house seems so empty now. She seems so empty now.

 

She pads over to the couch and sits without a sound, eyes out of focus and mind gone blank, ready to wait out the birth and death of the leaves on the trees until she is activated again.

Saturday, January 1, 2022

Betty White outlived the following famous people

Betty White outlived the following famous people who lived and died entirely within her lifetime:

 

George Bush

Barbara Bush

Martin Luther King Jr.

Princess Diana
Aretha Franklin

Prince

David Bowie

John Lennon

Stephen Sondheim

Archbishop Desmond Tutu
George Michael

Muhammad Ali

Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Stan Lee

John Lewis

Max Von Sydow

Fred Rogers

John Madden

Jack Kirby

Fidel Castro

Hank Aaron

Valerie Harper

Harry Reid

Cicely Tyson

Leonard Cohen

Kenny Rogers

John McCain

Joan Didion

Alex Trebek

Larry King

Steve Jobs

Sean Connery

Chadwick Boseman

Robert Kennedy

Carrie Fisher

Kobe Bryant

Debbie Reynolds

Chuck Berry

Florence Henderson

John Glenn

Kate Spade

Dustin Diamond

Anthony Bourdain

Burt Reynolds

Philip Roth

Mac Miller

Phife Dawg

Edward Albee

Sharon Jones

Charles Krauthammer

Natalie Cole

Herman Cain

Leonard Nimoy

Joseph Wapner

Neil Simon

Janet Reno

All Jarreau

Charlotte Rae

Antonin Scalia

Vanity

Don Rickels

Georgia Engel

Jerry Van Dyke

Glenn Frey

Gwen Ifill

Bill Paxton

Arnold Palmer

Kay Starr

Freddie Mercury

Paul Walker

Jack Chick

Tom Hayden

Elizabeth Wurtzel

Alan Thicke

Bobby Vee

Don Larsen

Jerry Stiller

Shimon Peres

Len Bias

Rush Limbaugh

Elie Wiesel

Miss Cleo

Charles Manson

Bill Withers

Mary Wilson

Buddy Ryan

Tommy Page

Tom Petty

Rose Marie

Pat Summitt

Morley Safer

George Martin

DMX

Norm Macdonald

Joan Rivers

Jerry Lewis

Rob Ford

Garry Shandling

Sophie

Dolores O’Riordan

Robin Williams

Penny Marshall

Patty Duke

Harper Lee

Helen Reddy

Lou Reed

Jonathan Demme

Glen Campbell

Alan Rickman

Scott Weiland

Lemmy Kilmister

Adam West

Larry Hagman

Jan Hooks

Robert Guillaume

Larry Flynt

Jim Nabors

James Gandolfini

Hal Holbrook

Roger Ailes

Roger Moore

Sue Grafton

Ted Knight

Gene Wilder

Lauren Bacall

John Mahoney

Merle Haggard

Leon Russell

Margaret Thatcher

Erin Moran

Whitney Houston

Martin Landau

Christopher Plummer

George Romero
Etta James
Don Cornelius
Michael Jackson

Ken Berry

Steven Bochco

Michael Nesmith

Anne Rice
Amy Winehouse

Margot Kidder
Heath Ledger
John Ritter
Elizabeth Taylor
David Foster Wallace

Larry Kramer
Brittany Murphy
Jim Morrison

Peter Scolari
Peter Jennings

Daryl Dragon
Corey Haim
Johnny Cash
Dominique Dunne
Elvis Presley
Andy Gibb
Peter Finch

James Ingram
Jack Palance

Frank Zappa
George Harrison
Barbara Bel Geddes

Joe Sinnott

Carl Reiner

Kelly Preston

Regis Philbin
Robert Reed
Bob Guccione
Brian Jones
Eliot Smith

Selena

Luke Perry
Heavy D
Keith Moon
John Entwhistle
Kim Jong-Il

Eddie Fisher

Sumner Redstone

Richard Burton

Peter O’Toole
Brandon Tartikoff
Norman Fell
Benazir Bhutto

Aliyah
James Brown
Jimi Hendrix
Marlon Brando
Paul Newman
Billy Mays
Janis Joplin
Nick Colasanto

Tom Seaver
Nell Carter

John Denver
Tug McGraw

Eddie Van Halen
Jayne Mansfield
Buddy Holly
Ritchie Valens
Big Bopper
Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Cobain
Peter Lawford
Keith Haring
Hunter S. Thompson
Ed Bradley
Andy Warhol
Sharon Tate
Warren Zevon
Gilda Radner
Clarence Clemons
Florence Ballard
Johnny Carson
Tim Russert
Pelle Lindbergh
Chris Farley
Nate Dogg

Roy Halladay

Charlie Watts
Marilyn Monroe
James Dean
Richard Burton

Bill Paxton
Harry Kalas
Florence Griffith-Joyner
Corey Lidle
Slobodan Milosevic
Audrey Hepburn
Lisa Lopes
Gary Coleman
Peter Boyle
Len Bias
Joe Paterno
Carol O’Connor
Sidney Lumet

Avicii
John Belushi
Stieg Larsson
Lee Harvey Oswald
Linda McCartney
Princess Margaret
Jean Michel Basquiat
Sammy Davis Jr.
Jim Henson
Jerry Falwell
Redd Foxx
Judy Garland
Natasha Richardson
Susan Sontag
Michael Hutchence
Bud Dwyer
Phil Hartman

John Updike
Harvey Milk
David Carradine
River Phoenix
Notorious BIG
Jonathan Brandis
Grace Kelly
Prince Rainier
Farrah Fawcett

Boris Yelstin

Jackie Mason

Tommy Lasorda
Karen Carpenter
Sid Vicious

Fats Domino
Rock Hudson
Bruce Lee
Ted Kennedy
Maurice Gibb

XXXTentacion
Tupac Shakur

Normal Fell
Syd Barrett

Tom Wolfe
Che Guevara
Barney Martin
Robin Roberts
John Phillips
Cass Elliot
Jessica Savitch
Ian Curtis

Michael K. Williams
Nancy Spungen
Johnny Stompanato
Natalie Wood
Bettie Page
Don Knotts
Joe Strummer
Andy Griffith
Walter Payton
Aliyah
Glenn Quinn
Timothy McVeigh
Brad Renfro

Ned Beatty
Joey Ramone

Chuck Yeager

John le Carre

Ann Reinking

Jessica Walter

Charlie Pride

Michael Alig

Phil Spector
Dee Dee Ramone
Anne Bancroft
Robert Mapplethorpe
Reggie White
Richie Ashburn
Ted Bundy
Geraldine Ferraro
Madeline Kahn
Mary Tyler Moore

Cloris Leachman

Ed Asner

Estelle Getty
Bea Arthur
Rue McClanahan

 

Thank you, Golden Girl.