Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: Spring training is upon us!

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...
The author of Mark's Work

Hollyhocks

Hollyhocks
Why I grow flowers

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast
Love is the greatest power.

Beauty abounds!

Beauty abounds!
Crossing the Eel River at French's Camp

If you've seen one butterfly, you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.

If you've seen one butterfly,  you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.
Butter in the fly...

July Jewels

July Jewels
Bees to the Kingdom

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017
Something I have always wanted...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

The Envelope, Please


The Envelope, Please

SmallBoy breezed through the front door Sunday evening, stopped and stared at me in mock shock as I looked up from “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest,” and said, “Hey, there.”

“You’re not watching the Oscars!” he exclaimed.

“That’s funny, neither am I,” I said, “I tried but the excitement got to me.” I could see Gluten-Free Mama through Archway Number 1, riveted to the action in the living room, where I had started out the evening, just to be polite.

I’m not a glitzy person, though it must be quickly added, that GF Mama is not either, so I am not a fan of the annual distribution of awards for exemplary work in the film industry. Truth be told, I have not seen a single one of the entries for this year’s Oscars.

Prior to Monday morning, I could not even have rattled off the title of any one of the five films, or any of the nominated actors and actresses. I am not a Hollywood kind of guy. That being said, I am a film buff and religiously record one or two every day from the bevy of movie channels I have on the Dish, for later viewing at my leisure.

If I have already seen a movie, and enjoyed it, I will often record it for “viewing” as I manicure cannabis, thereby allowing me to revisit the movie without out having to take my eyes off of my work.

Recording the films also ensures that I can continue my rigid policy of not subjecting myself to commercials, something I have managed to accomplish ever since the arrival of DVR, the world’s most innovative invention.

OK, I watched the commercials during the Super Bowl because of peer pressure.

Jimmy Kimmel? Viola Davis? Asghar Farhadi? They are not names I recognize, though I am pleased to relate that I do know the name, Matt Damon, with whom the aforementioned Kimmel apparently has an ongoing  friendly “feud,” the origin of which escapes me.

And the mixup concerning the awarding of best picture? It reminded me of the meme, “Congratulations! Your one job was to have the envelopes organized and ready, and you flubbed it up.”

As expected, there was much fun poked at the reality show figure, currently inhabiting the White House, including Kimmel’s “tweeting directly at him on stage,” but there were also some pointed and poignant moments, as the man who likes to tweet during bowel movements, was criticized for his racist agenda.

Asghar Farhadi, the Iranian director who won for his film “The Salesman,” refused to attend, instead issuing a statement that explained his absence out of “respect for the people of my country” who have been banned from entering the U.S.

Italian make-up artist Alessandro Bertolazzi dedicated his Oscar to “all the immigrants,” and Gael Garcia Bernal, star of Amazon’s “Mozart in the Jungle,” elaborated, “As a Mexican, as a Latin American, as a migrant worker, as a human being, I am against any form of wall that wants to separate us.”

Kimmel referenced trump’s absurd tweet made about Meryl Streep, by joking that her career had “stood the test of time for her many uninspiring and overrated performances.” He added, “Nice dress, by the way, is that an Ivanka?”
The exquisite Meryl Streep

At least I would have understood these references, even if I were unfamiliar with the work being awarded. I don’t do theaters anymore for a long list of reasons, the one at the top of the list being that the volume is too loud for me. I have made no secret of my issues with noise, whether it be chickens, coyotes or in this case, previews of coming attractions that resemble a torture chamber, for someone with a mood spectrum disorder.

I can sit in the back row, the left seat, and avoid the claustrophobic feeling of being in the midst of a crowd, but I cannot get away that piercing level of sound. 

Like attending baseball games, I have found that the comfort of my own living room, cannot be improved upon by actually attending the theater to view a film. Therefore, I don’t, preferring to pay Dish Network for the pleasure of watching the same films being presented awards, only at some later time to be announced. 

It works out because there is bound to be a movie I have recorded, that was released some time last year, and is only just hitting cable TV now. It all balances out in the end and I don’t have to watch another awards ceremony.

Unless, of course, it has anything at all to do with baseball, in which case, I am all ears and eyes.









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