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In which the author communes with his Grandmother before the great one-eyed shrine and figures a couple of things out, including where the brains in the family still reside. [12/5/00] Tadalafil Hypertension I just spent the last couple of days in Amityville (the town of my birth, thank you very much) with my grandmother, just catching up (I haven't seen her in, geez, about three months), and I was thinking about what it was exactly that made me think I had to go all the way to England to get some rest. It did come back, to be sure (they are, after all, my family - I love 'em but I don't live there for a reason), but for a couple of days it was (and I hate this word, because normally it conveys nothing, but in this case it surely does apply perfectly) pleasant. I had a couple of presents for my grandparents, which was nice because they had a nice dinner for me, and I like trades like that. And then while my Grandpa slept on the lazy-boy, Grandma & I watched TV. I don't have a TV in my place, and normally I don't miss it (my days are short enough, thanks), but when it can actually become a social event, there is some fun to be had. I saw, for the very first time, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Those folks have got the whole drama-in-trivia questions thing down to a bit of a science, and Regis Philbin is exactly dumb enough to do the show properly. He's completely unafraid to embarrass himself utterly, which is, well, maybe not nice, but certainly appropriate for the tone of the show. My grandmother got a complete left-field question right (Name a mythical Greek River and a 70's rock band) that stumped the twentyeightish guy's guy on the hot seat, which blew me away. I'm all, you go, Grandma!. Then we watched a Christina Aguilera Christmas special (which I believe was called "Me, Me, Me, 800 Costume Changes and Me") together and discussed her sociologiocal importance, coming to a couple of conclusions: 1. For someone who's so clearly led a sheltered life since she traded her diapers and pacifier for a wireless microphone and an audition schedule, she sings an awful lot about luuve and gettin' all dirty with people. I mean, she actually sang (on a network Christmas Special!) a cover of Free's All Right Now - does she actually understand that that song's about a rock star who falls for a groupie after a one-nighter? If she's getting into situations like that, perhaps her mother, and the Disney Empire to which they have both apparently sold their immortal souls, might do good to revisit the security detail before their little 38-pound bleached-out cash cow winds up celebrating her 21st birthday by running off to Costa Rica with Woody Harrelson or something. Actually, that might be the best possible outcome of all this. It worked for Drew Barrymore, kinda. 2. Miz Aguilera was a little, um, how shall we put this, uh, narcissistic, but hey, it was her show, and, well, wouldn't you be self-absorbed too if you were told that you were going to change the world just by hitting every note in the 12-tone scale in 5 different octaves at least a dozen times per song, and as they're telling you this they train you and starve you and bleach you and slather you down in makeup until you resemble Janice the Muppet and then prop you up in front of whatever camera they can find, and your mama and agent and whoever else (oh right, Satan, I keep forgetting) ride your pretty decent I can admit it voice until (hopefully sometime before) you drop. If that was your life, and they let no non-meal-ticket-glorifying thoughts into their universe, you'd be convinced of your own messianic tendencies too. I wish I didn't know better, quite frankly. Hey, maybe I don't. Okay, here's a little tune Ludwig van Beethoven wrote just for me... 3. All other things being equal, she probably would have made a decent opera singer. The chick does have the pipes. - Tony Hightower |
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