World's Tiniest Comedy Club Has No Audience

Barry Bonds, Robert Siegel, and a raven walk into a bar.

The bartender says, "It's a good thing you brought that raven with you, Barry, I heard somewhere they're teaching them to track down missing hikers. It was a woman. Teaching them. From California. Or Utah. Or something. I wasn't taking notes."

Robert Siegel looks at the bartender. He asks, "What are you doing here, Ken?"

Ken Burns says, "I'm making a documentary about bartender jokes."

Barry Bonds goes missing.

Exit raven.

All the News That's Fit to Wash the Daemons Away

More than 6 years ago I bought a shower radio. A radio shower. The jury is still out as to whether this has had a positive or negative impact on my life.

"We drive you from us, whoever you may be"

Friends, I've been struggling all week to passively learn a small juicy part of something to further our academic endeavors. "No one is counting on me," I told myself, "I simply must find something."


But.


Rather than force it, I decided to speak today on a particular mode of passive learning, an exercise in exorcism that I exercise daily (with few exceptions, 1-2 reps). When I first purchased the machine, I set it to an oldies station, hoping (as we are wont to do in these fast times) that by inviting Chuck Berry into my shower my days would more consistently begin on a pleasant note (and, in theory, be more pleasant). The oldies station disappeared (thanks a lot, Clear Channel) and so I turned the knob full to the left, standing, slouching, fully soaped, and diddled until I heard the crisp, clear tones of The Diane Rehm Show's introductory riff. (I don't feel great about the un-italicized apostrophe and 's', but we'll have to leave it there. Research can never be one of our priorities.) The knob has not "knobbed" since that day. It has lost the ability to fulfill its primary purpose. Thank you, lime deposits.


One (we (you (me (Paul)))) might fear this post. [(You (] ask, "How can [(I (] possibly digest a microcosmic variant of what [(me (]'ve come to expect so far? Fear not, [(fearer (], for I've found that I learn absolutely nothing while listening to public radio in the shower.


Alcoholics have a saying that address the phenomenon of returning to the drink after an extended period of sobriety. "Belly full of beer and a head full of AA."


We recovering academics may find comfort in applying this to our dilemma. We shall say, "Belly full of informations, head full of scholarship." And perhaps a third clause, "Research lacking."


I've never particularly enjoyed doing practical research or waking up. Not my style. Typical: cigarette, email, cigarette, cigarette, coffee (optional), this, that, research/shower.


The shower ceremony makes wakefulness official in much the same way the wedding says, "This is, in fact, my wife." This is, in fact, my life. Thank you, shower.


And here, here in this most wet and sacred of chambers, we find public radio. As you may have guessed, I do not wake up at the same time every day. Wakefulness arrives between 6am and 3pm, depending. So this is not another essay on Groundhog Dayism. I do not clockwork-bemoan my station (pun) at 7:23am listening to the same announcer pronounce "what" and "why" in a consistently eerie Southern way, no. This is not that.


After I have crossed the dewy threshold and made my day official, I can not then tell you what news I found in my shower. Why, us, do I keep doing it? Why do I keep turning on the news machine?

"We drive you from us, whoever you may be"

Prithee, Barry, How Now Shall We Know Thee?

/       ˘         /        ˘    ˘        /        ˘        ˘     /          / 

Pri-  thee,  Bar-  ry,  how  now  shall  we  know  thee?


Preface to the Post: 


Barry Bonds played some baseball. His head got much larger, but I do not feel the need to go into why his head got much larger. That's not my goal here. (Can you find the goal?) Ken Burns has made a new documentary that "documentarys" "the story of baseball" where his last "the story of baseball" left off, though I like to think of this sequel as primarily an editorial exercise for Ken. "Can I still garner recognition and pull America's heart strings with stock footage from the nineteen-eighties?"


Robert Siegel of All Things Considered recently interviewed Burns who pitched the film under the influence of a strong narrative. (Can you find the narrative?)


You: 


Paul, this is all so humbly straightforward and lacking in disconcerting repetition to a fault. And, hey, why aren't our sentences as grammatically symmetrical as yours? And what about 9/11? And we're not sure how accurately you scanned that pentameter. What's that sound?


Me:

"Cool Hat"

Barry Bonds played some baseball. You witnessed that. Or you didn't. In which case countless others and countless cameras did. But. Just in case none of those people or film footages happened to relay the Barry Bonds Experience in America to you directly, Ken Burns (director), with his upcoming documentary Baseball: The Tenth Inning (Which I can only assume is a followup to the remarkably unpopular The Black Irish Puzzle: Top O' the Nineteenth Century), would like to convey a few things to you about said Barry Bonds Experience in America.


Confucius say: When directly fails, call director.

Now let's assume that you've never heard of Baseball: The Tenth Inning, or Ken Burns (do you live in a cave or something?), or even baseball. Or maybe it's something other American vessels blip on the perimeter of your radar screen. It's a blip between deep-fried butter and maize art (neither of these (n'ese?) n'ese to be confused with deep fried art as your collection of deep fried art is under lock and key in the study next to your liberal arts degree that you display in a bell jar that you are polishing with your left hand as you scroll down this blog with your right. Ahem). It's out there, baseball is, somewhere.

Okay, we (us) have assumed these things on your (our) behalf. Now: 
WHO WILL TELL US WHAT KEN BURNS IS TRYING TO TELL US?

It's Robert Siegel of All Things Considered.

So, just to wrap up (we keep it tidy here): If you missed out on All Things Considered, and before that Ken Burns, and before that a decade or two of news and every human who might have happened upon that decade or two, and before that Barry Bonds, we (I (Paul)) have you covered:

Barry Bonds is complicated, please care. "Shakespearean."

The META Section, Page D6:


Obviously, I am going to watch this and have a genuine desire to  it's going to be awesome. Thank you, Robert Siegel, Ken Burns, and Barry Bonds. I am sure there is other information in Baseball: The Tenth Inning besides "Barry Bonds played baseball and it was way Shakespearean," but we all know why we're watching. And so does Robert Siegel, and so does Ken Burns. I just hope someone told Barry Bonds.


Also, the 9th Anniversary of 9/11 happened.

A Tale of a Tub

Jonathan Swift:

In the proportion that credulity is a more peaceful possession of the mind than curiosity, so far preferable is that wisdom which converses about the surface to that pretended philosophy which enters into the depths of things and then comes gravely back with informations and discoveries, that in the inside they are good for nothing.

Paul:

So. Do you come here often?

Update: Patrick Fugit to play

Jonathan Swift in upcoming

movie about my blog.

Patrick Fugit:

Paul, please retrain focus on public radio as this aside concerning informations has gone on long enough. Also, Hi, I was adorable in Almost Famous.

This Is How It Starts

Six minutes pass. I am "driving". I am informed (note: more on passive learning in future, possibly) of the latest chess maneuvers in America's war efforts abroad, the "progress" of the ailing honeybee (I've been following this one very closely), and the alleged trainability of the common (not so common?) raven. Apparently they might be able to track down missing hikers.

Or something. 

I'm not sure, I wasn't taking notes as it is difficult and dangerous while driving.

The obvious next step is blog.

Thank you, public radio. You're welcome, devoted listeners.

Given all these informations (look it up), how to prioritize? Of course we know that as card holding members of the Bachelor of Arts Society it is imperative to structure our lives around such informations, but it's all so overwhelming. Where to start, Paul? Well, I'm glad you asked, because I have no idea. I do know, though, that it will require serifs, austerity, the use of parenthetical asides beyond all bounds of propriety, oxford commas, other fancy commas that I will invent, and a cool head. Consider me your guide. Ready, set . . .

Just the other day (Labor Day, to those who wish to note such things) the The Kojo Nnamdi Show addressed the pros and cons of retiring abroad. If you're not situated in the greater Washington D.C. listening area, you may not have heard (of) this delightful program. I'm not sure if it's syndicated nationally. I am sure I could easily find that out, considering I am writing about informations on an internet and have already gone to the trouble of linking you to Kojo's particular internet. C'est la vie, trompe le monde, Prêt-à-Porter, etc. Here's my elevator pitch for Kojo: 

He has a very low, soothing, exotic voice that assures me he must be at once very handsome and excellent at fatherhood. I can't attest to the factual nature of either of these. 

But I digress, so I repeat. The show the other day addressed the pros and cons of retiring abroad. There was so much information on this show. I mean, like, tons. There were experts, callers, etc. But as your guide, your mediator, I have sussed out the pertinent part. It goes as follows:

We're all moving to Panama. Right away. We'll live like kings. Have you seen the way kings live? It's pretty choice.

This week's extra credit assignment: Jonathan Rhys Meyers Is Way Cute