Strange Fact I Didn't Want To Know But Now Will Never Be Able To Forget

 

   A couple of friends shared a story with me tonight, the gist of which was last week they flew out to New Orleans and a woman passed away on the plane they were on, mid-flight. 

   I fly quite a bit, and I had never heard of such a thing occurring, but according to what they were told in the aftermath, which included having to stay onboard the airplane after it landed in order for the police and medical personnel to board and perform a thorough investigation of the death to determine if foul play was involved and having to wait for the airport coroner to board and take away the deceased, it happens between 70 to 80 times a year on U.S. domestic flights.

   That took me seriously aback. Of course I got on the good ol' internet to do a little fact checking, and sure enough that stat was legit.

   At first glance that seemed like a high number, but after a bit more reading pertaining to modes of transport and likelihood of death while in transit, I realized that when the incredible amount of people who travel by airplane every day is taken into account (2.9 million. Every single day. That's the population of Kansas and Mississippi combined) it is incredibly small.

   How small? About 1 in every 40,000 flights will experience an inflight death of a passenger.

  So now I am not so astonished by the fact that someone died on a flight a couple of friends of mine were on as I am astonished by the fact that a couple of my friends were on a flight on which a fellow passenger passed away.

  BTW, most likely cause of death - cardiac arrest. Most likely victim, male, mid-50's.

   

Veterans Day 2024

 

Cardinal Rule Of Following One's Dreams

   Chase your dreams they tell you, and you will live the most satisfying of lives. Shoot for the stars, dare to be great, etc., etc.

  There is no denying those are all encouraging and motivating statements.

   However, there are people who find those words to actually be discouraging, to be crippling.

   Because of a fear. A fear known as atychiphobia in clinical/medical/academic circles, but to the common folk (such as myself) it is known as fear of failure. 

  There are people in this world who attempted to do something with every resource at their disposal - dedicating all of their time, effort, and energy to succeed on some level at developing a skill set or refining a talent or just being as good as they possibly could at something they really enjoyed doing.

   And there are people in this world who made the most imperceptible of attempts to do something, barely utilizing any of the resources at their disposal, with very little commitment timewise, making almost no effort at all, and expending a modicum of energy, trying to succeed on the basest level to develop a skill set or refine a talent or just to be able to be somewhat competent at something they may or may not enjoy doing.

   People from both of those groups have both succeeded wildly and have both failed miserably, but all the people from both of those groups can hold their heads high for the one basic common denominator they share.

   All of those people tried. Yoda may say "Do or do not, there is no try," but Yoda is fatally wrong. The only way to get to "Do" is to try and try and try and try...until you succeed or realise that what you want to do (say, play center for the basketball team despite barely scraping 5'5" in height) is impractical for your particular physical or mental limitations, and it's time to try something else.

   And make no bones about it, try is the operative word here.

   For no matter what any person tells you, be it philosopher, psychologist, politician, or hand puppet, if is far better to try and fail than it is to fail to try.

   Failure to try is what is not an option, not failure itself.

   

The World's 1,234th Cutest Dog

                                      Her name is Ginger, part St Bernard & part something else
 

The Beast That Lurked In The Heart Of A Flower

   That's it right there. "The Beast That Lurked In The Heart Of A Flower" would have been the title of the 1950's drive-in theater shockmeister film I would have written and produced had I been alive in that era (and literate, and well-connected in Hollywood with people who knew the rudiments of making movies).

   Of course it would have to have people in the 1950's who were at the top of the shockmeister film game on board to help create this masterpiece - Nathan Duran to direct, Richard Landau to write the screenplay (adapted from my original story, 'natch), Russell Harlan would be the cinematographer, Irving Gertz could produce the score (and any other incidental music), and Barton Sloane would create the special effects. 

   If Merrill White had the time (and was healthy enough), he could handle the editing.

   With luck 20th Century Fox would bid on and win the distribution rights, ensuring a studio that had the right people to market this epic and connections with an adequate number of theaters to handle both brick & mortar and drive-in theater showings (matinees at brick & mortar theaters could double ticket sales).

   Casting might be tricky - the role of the suave but mad professor requires an actor with a commanding but super-smooth presence, or at least the remnants of a commanding but super-smooth presence. Possibly Herbert Marshall, as the scene wherein the beast of the flower attacks the mad professor could have a little heightened realism if the beast rips Marshall's left leg off (Marshall had his left leg amputated as the result of being shot by a sniper during WWI, and wore a wooden prosthetic leg for the duration of his post WWI career - watching him on stage and in films made during the 1920's through the mid 1960's it was almost impossible to tell).

   The suave mad professor's wife would most definitely have to be played by Miriam Hopkins if Herbert Marshall was signed. They had acted together in Trouble In Paradise and had terrific chemistry. Of course that would mean coaxing Hopkins out of an early retirement

   The five young punks and their respective dolls could all be cast from the incredible pool of hungry young talented actors that had flooded Hollywood following WWII: People such as Steve McQueen, Sandra Giles, Vikki Dougan, Ralph Meeker, Michael Landon, Mamie Van Doren, Chris Mitchum, Johnny Sands, Phyllis Coates, and Laurette Luez.

   Of course there would need to be a few character actors on the screen for the roles of the disgraced Police Chief, the femme fatale with the dangerous secret, the two elderly college professors who oppose the suave mad professor, the young newspaper reporter who can't get the local authorities to look at what she discovered going on at the University's research lab, the earnest young intern at the local hospital who stumbles on a cure for the deadly poison, and of course a stuntman who could pull off the beast of the flower without fainting from wearing the 75 pound rubber monster costume for extended periods of time.

   Names such as Raymond Burr, Alida Valli, Erich Ponto & Leon Ames, Kristine Miller, David Holt, and Robert Hoy spring to mind for those roles. 

   Filming would be mostly in and around L.A., and possibly in areas near Lancaster close to Edwards AFB - stock footage of atom bomb tests would fit the landscape of that area fairly well. 

   Heck, chances are the movie would have been a minor hit and maybe a comic book adaption would have been published by Dell Comics.

   

   

 

The Romanian Woman In The Spanish Cafe

The Romanian woman with her cigarettes

Told me I looked like the type who read Proust

Because I thought it was the right intellectual thing to do

And that I probably viewed all Eastern Europeans as former Soviets

Wrapped up as I was in convictions without any doubts

She blew smoke rings and smirked as I turned in my seat

Trying to avoid the clove-scented curling flame

For a second I considered foregoing any reply

Then abandoned that idea as being of the weakest conceit

Opting instead to offer her my hand and name

She replied with hers and gave the gentlest of shakes

Then asked if any of her analysis was correct

I told her I had never read Proust, had never considered it

And that not all Eastern Europeans being Soviets was easy to understand

If for a minute she could stop thinking all American men were rakes

Her face reddened a shade and she took a quick drink

Then said she was not judging me as much as sizing me up

As she had been told by friends much of what she had said

Finally meeting an American was causing her to think

She was expecting a bulldog not a cute little pup

Five minutes later and we were laughing, sharing jokes

Commenting to each other on our mutual misconceptions

I told her I expected Romanian women to be cold-hearted bears

She told me she expected American men to be boring cowpokes

We happily helped each other shed our misperceptions

Popeye Arm Syndrome (Another Reminder That Getting Old Is Not For Wussies)

   Note to self: Being old and deluding oneself into believing one can work as hard as one did in their youth is foolish and leads to injuries such as the one shown above (when your bicep tendon ruptures and the bicep muscle bunches up near the elbow) 

   Yeah...now all I have to do for the next several months is apply an icepack to reduce the swelling, rest my arm as much as possible, take an anti-inflammatory such as ibuprofen...or possibly have arthroscopic surgery to reattach the long bicep tendon...oy vey.