WEEK 448- Bulking Up; Another Fine Week; Annoying TV Characters

Now that it is officially autumn, Andy and Alfie the Feral Cats are bulking up for winter. Well, actually only Andy, because Alfie is already beefy as it is. He’s a rarity, a Feral Cat who has a double chin. Andy, however, changes his body type with the season. During the warm months he sheds his long coat and becomes lean and ripples with muscles. Come September he begins eating twice his normal amount and by the time November rolls around he looks like a fuzzy Tapir.

This will be my sixth winter of the Andy Experience, and third with Alfie. Alfie is a reckless sort. In the past I’ve mentioned his pursuit of a kept Calico Princess named (by me) Garbo, at whose window he loiters atop the air conditioner. Recently, the screen on Garbo’s window was either pushed or pulled ajar and I saw both Alfie and Garbo just sitting there looking out the window. I had to go to work and the neighbor was visible, and did not appear to be vexed by the situation, so I thought nothing more of it. But the next morning I clearly saw a strip of duct tape holding the screen in place, and Garbo and Alfie were in their usual places–she was on the sill inside and he most definitely outside atop the AC.

“Hey kids,” I said, on my way out, visions of Tuxedo Cat and Calico Kittens in my mind, “when’s the big day?”

Both gave me a baleful what the hell is that supposed to mean expression.

“You know, when you give yourselves to Cat Jesus?”

That won me an even harsher look.

Andy, ever rounding, was out in the courtyard as well, still eating, a regular little Henry VIII.

I noticed that Garbo was watching him. Not once have I ever seen Andy give the impression that he believes Garbo exists. To be fair, he doesn’t note any existence until he wants it that way.

“Forget him, sister,” I said. “Andy’s an even bigger user than that guy,” I said, pointing at Alfie. “Seems funny that you’d buy sweet talk from a player who spends an inordinate amount of time licking his own–”

“Enough insolence, human!” Andy said.

“Great,” I said. “Now you’re speaking again only when I am around.” Then I knelt down to get closer to the fiend, yet still out of swatting distance. “Dude, how come you talk like they do in old Hercules movies? You know, ‘Seize her, fools,’ that sort of thing.”

Then I heard what is best described as a mixture of chattering and snickering from Alfie and Garbo. Whatever the joke, it was on me.

“She’s stuck for a way out,” Garbo said, her voice similar to Cyndi Lauper.

“Andy was supposed to help her segue to the middle part of the wrap but went for the sword and sandals thing to mess with her,” Alfie replied

I was beaten. Humiliated. I walked away hoping to hold onto some dignity, but again I was haunted by the ugly knowledge that I could never match the nimble, sociopathic deviousness of the Feline mind. It’s one of the prices people pay for having thumbs. No, I’ll never make the Feline grade, but I took comfort knowing that at least I can open a bag of potato chips without resorting to shaking it to ribbons in my mouth. Then I saw something that made me wonder if the thumb is all that it is cracked up to be. That’s because I looked back and saw Alfie pawing at the duct tape, getting a claw under the edge, and Garbo placing her weight against the screen, while Andy gave directions.

And so another autumn begins in the courtyard.

The Actual Purpose of This Post

Hey, here’s a novel idea, why not talk about writers and writing? Sure, why not. And the Week That Was is the best place to start. We featured a translation, another brilliant work by one of our most published authors (as well as an artistic contribution by a granddaughter), the POV of a Shrewishness, mayhem and one of those little things we can all relate to when we meet in the madhouse in the end.

As it says on the sign, we publish fiction from all over the world. And sometimes we get a translation as we did Monday, with Reunion a Miniature by O Chŏnghǔi, a translation presented by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton. Although people are people at heart, wherever you find them, there are many interesting cultural differences displayed in the arts. This is a very good thing because the world would be a damn dull place if we all took the experience the same way.

The wonderful Frederick K Foote returned for the eighty-somethingth time Tuesday with I Can See Clearly Now. Fred is an explorer of human consciousness and society. And his characters are constantly on a trip of self discovery. And the artistic inclination must run in the family because the excellent pencil drawing in the piece is by Fred’s granddaughter, Evelyn McAdams.

The Shrew’s Tale by Simon Nadel landed in the middle of the week. It’s a story that makes you feel you landed in the middle of something as well. It’s a wonderfully odd tale of a constant state of family disintegration, yet everyone keeps moving into the future.

On Thursday the reader is again dropped into the thick of things, into an even more dire situation in Corbin Harrow’s Moroccan Rug by newcomer Reese Alexander. It’s a fine example of a work that begins with a very bad, final situation and manages to yield much more.

August Miller returned with his second site appearance with The Time When Cole Almost Kissed Jane. August sustains the critical moment, one of those many small half chances that happen in life, which can either be victorious or lead to utter humiliation if acted on at all. It’s usually the fear of the second quality that prevents the taking of the chance.

Right about here, I’d encourage all to comment and contribute. But the people who read this already do and those who don’t, don’t. Still, life, like Friday’s story, is loaded with small half chances that usually do not pan out. But the exceptions to the rule are worth the risk–so if anyone new can be moved to participate, well it might not be as unlikely as a circle of Talking Cats, but will be a red letter achievement indeed.

I now conclude with more random nonsense that often rolls around in my brain.

Annoying Ten Supporting Classic TV Characters

In a way, I am happy that I can be annoyed. I feel that it makes me human inside and the day I ever just take it as it comes will be the day I should aim at my urn and wave a powdery goodnight. And although some say I am easily annoyed, there still ain’t no gentling in my heart for the list of annoying supporting TV characters of yore. Still, to even things out, I include a list of the opposites. Both have slots left open for suggestions. The actors who portrayed the annoyances are not listed out of kindness, but the good ones are given full credit.

• “Dodie,” My Three Sons (The most whiny annoying child in history)
• (Three way tie), “Gilbert,” “Larry” and “Richard,” the three witless Magi on Leave it To Beaver (The Beev had a knack of making the most irritating friends possible; not at all helped when he became, um, “awkward” looking sometime in season five)
• “Arnold Ziffle” Green Acres ( a Pig was the show’s breakout star–’nuff said)
• (Tie) “Spritle” and “Chim Chim,” Speed Racer
• “Neelix” Star Trek Voyager (the Trek-verse version of Jar Jar Binks)
• “Radar” M*A*S*H (passible character for two years then became an insufferable thirty-five year-old human teddy bear/virgin who needed punching)
• (Three-way Tie) “Ralph,” “Potsie,” “Chachi” Happy Days
• “Jethrine Bodine” Beverly Hillbillies
• “The Minstrel” Batman (okay, just a guest villain–but I really hated this one–so so lame; “Lola Lasagne” a close second. (I’ll break secrecy form here: they were played by Van Johnson and Ethel Merman)
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Favorite Supporting TV Characters (or gueststars)

• “Q,” Star Trek TNG (John De Lancie)
• “Cigarette Smoking Man,” X Files (William B. Davis)
• “Nick Yemana,” Barney Miller (Jack Soo)
• “Les Nessman,” WKRP in Cincinnati (Richard Sanders)
• “Sue Ann Nivens” Mary Tyler Moore (Betty White)
• “Mimi” The Drew Carey Show (Kathy Kinney)
• (Tie) “Egghead” and “King Tut” Batman (Vincent Price and Victor Buono)
• “James Evans” Good Times (John Amos–show took the big swirl after he left)
• “Burt,” Soap (Richard Mulligan) (no actor has ever done flummoxed better on the screen)
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In closing, I include a word from the late David McCallum for certain types of people I have recently my wasted time on.

Leila