{"id":1806,"date":"2011-08-11T19:20:47","date_gmt":"2011-08-11T23:20:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/?p=1806"},"modified":"2011-08-11T19:20:47","modified_gmt":"2011-08-11T23:20:47","slug":"overheard-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/2011\/08\/11\/overheard-2.html","title":{"rendered":"overheard"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>\t\t\t\toverheard last week:<\/p>\n<p>2 guys talking.<br \/>\n&#8220;Do you remember Hitler?&#8221;<br \/>\n&#8220;Who?&#8221;<br \/>\n&#8220;You know, World War II?&#8221;<br \/>\n&#8220;Oh, yeah, I remember him. Cool guy.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>not that i want to know, but i wonder where that conversation went next.<\/p>\n<p>i watched &#8220;The Boy in the Striped Pajamas&#8221; the other night, a nazi-era <br \/>\nfilm of fantasy, though i was sold throughout on it at least being based <br \/>\non a true story, a sliver of a story from WWII. i was a bit bummed to find <br \/>\nthat it had no basis in fact, and at that i commenced to question <br \/>\neverything about the leaps of logic within the narrative.<\/p>\n<p>i have also been watching some episodes of M*A*S*H, a fixture in my <br \/>\ntelevision throughout youth, episodes which look a little different but <br \/>\ncomfortably the same as i remember them. i do not see anything <br \/>\nfundamentally different in those shows now versus when i saw thim in <br \/>\nschool &#8212; this unlike the surprisingly sophisticated humour in childhood <br \/>\nshows like Looney Tunes and Merry Melodies, humour which rose anew when <br \/>\nre-encountered as an adult.<\/p>\n<p>i also have been rambling through my still born collection of &#8220;The <br \/>\nComplete Peanuts,&#8221; a monstrous set of books which has a publishing <br \/>\nschedule that caused me to see the plateau, that horizon of mortality <br \/>\nwhence one can assume they will not live long enough to see the fruits of <br \/>\nthe labor.<\/p>\n<p>i had no fear of my own imminent death, but when these volumes were <br \/>\npublished more-or-less annually i began scheduling them as Christmas or <br \/>\nbirthday gifts for my mother, this annual gift-giving routine clouded by <br \/>\nher mortality, and the presumption that there was no way she could live <br \/>\nlong enough to see this series published to its completion.<\/p>\n<p>she did not, and possibly as a corrolary to this i ceased my own <br \/>\ncollection, but i decided last week to resume the accumulation, this after <br \/>\nopening a couple of volumes from the late 1950s and finding them (mostly) <br \/>\nas funny as ever, to me at least.<\/p>\n<p>i think of Charles Schulz once in a while, in tandem with a friend of mine <br \/>\nwho was a composer and pianist. when i mentioned Charles Schulz to a <br \/>\nfriend in the months after Schulz&#8217;s death the friend grimaced, a <br \/>\ndemonstrative frown of the :[ shape, complaining that Schulz wandered off <br \/>\ninto irrelevance during the 1970s. not so much complaining as relegating, <br \/>\ndismissing, throwing away. Charles Schulz? Pppht, a waste of greatness.<\/p>\n<p>An annoying and senselessly cynical dismissal, by my account, but common <br \/>\namong failures.<\/p>\n<p>In another instance, though, I mentioned the name of a deceased friend who <br \/>\nhad been a composer and pianist of note. He was also an alcoholic and <br \/>\nrecreation drug user whose productivity was absorbed into vodka and <br \/>\nheroin, but whose name survives in history books and on LP records.<\/p>\n<p>i mentioned his name to a friend and the reaction was the same: squint. <br \/>\ngrimace. frown. disappointment. &#8220;yeah, it&#8217;s too bad, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; that was <br \/>\nnot the reaction i might have expected, had i established expectations for <br \/>\nthe conversation. i expected a stroke of positive memory, a hearty, if <br \/>\nhoary, reminiscence. something positive at the mention of a mutual <br \/>\ncolleague&#8217;s death.<\/p>\n<p>instead the reflex was to remember the failure, remember the worst, <br \/>\nremember the addiction and the waste and to forget the accomplishment and <br \/>\nthe success.<\/p>\n<p>thus trail human sentiments, i guess. i do not understand why we boo the <br \/>\ndead. i have said this before and i will say it again until it trickles <br \/>\ninto the general discussion: why do we applaud when presented with <br \/>\nsomeone who is 102 years old? &#8220;MEET MABLE, SHE&#8217;S 102!&#8221; (applause from the <br \/>\naudience). why? why applause? reaching those triple-digit ages (craaaazy <br \/>\nby today&#8217;s standards but common to the future) is a matter of luck and <br \/>\nlaziness, but it does not merit applause. to my ears the act of applauding <br \/>\nthe unbelievably elderly is no different from going out to the cemetery <br \/>\nand booing the dead. &#8220;LOSERS! YOU 42-YEAR-OLDS COULDN&#8217;T CUT IT, COULD <br \/>\nYOU? YOU 90 YEAR OLDS GOT NOTHING ON MABLE! F0CK Y00000000000!!! <br \/>\nBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>overheard last week: 2 guys talking. &#8220;Do you remember Hitler?&#8221; &#8220;Who?&#8221; &#8220;You know, World War II?&#8221; &#8220;Oh, yeah, I remember him. Cool guy.&#8221; not that i want to know, but i wonder where that conversation went next. i watched &#8220;The Boy in the Striped Pajamas&#8221; the other night, a nazi-era film of fantasy, though i [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1806","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-text","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paumAn-t8","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1806","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1806"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1806\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1806"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1806"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1806"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}