The storm is retreating as I write; the thunder moves off like the conclusion of the tempest in Beethoven’s 6th, without the promise of cherubs and pegasuses gamboling in the water and the great glowing glory of the sunset, as described with such romantic kitsch in “Fantasia.” I still love that particular sequence, even though the society described doesn’t seem set up to accomplish anything in particular. Ah, the day has come to an end; we now retire from our labors of . . . drinking and having centaur mating ceremonies. Takes it out of one, it does.

Bad news for the dog, all of this; to repeat a Tweet, there were fireworks before the storm, and he’s basically like a medieval peasant who sees a eclipse and runs to the church for safety only to see the statues bleeding from the eyes. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Earlier today Birch had suffered a visit from another dog in the extended family, and they do not get along. It’s fascinating to watch and figure out the dynamics. Birch lays down the law right away: THIS IS MY PLACE and the other dog snaps back I DON’T WANT YOUR STUPID PLACE and then they ignore each other, retreating to opposite ends of the table to await a dropped morsel.

The quarrels extend to the backyard, because Bog forbid the other dog strolls past the sofa where Birch likes to sit, or sniffs at a toy.

The other dog came over b/c family arrived for a Brazilian meal cooked by Daughter: Beef Stroganoff. They have a particular version. Delicious! Acai candy for afters. Perfect end to a nigh-perfect weekend, by which I mean DANG. I got stuff done.

I cleaned the storage closet. A search for that phrase on this site will probably turn up a dozen other mentions, which is why I don’t have a search function on the site.

This was a ruthless deep clean, and confronted several unavoidable truths:

1. The tapes will not be digitized. I know this because I’ve failed with the equipment I had - perfectly fine digitizers, by the way - but the source was too degraded, or something wasn’t compatible, and only half were saved. I think my performance as a Klingon judge in a cable access show may be lost; likewise my script for a WW2 fighter pilot documentary. Also many of the raw tapes from 2000-12, from which I drew the family videos - but that’s okay. I saved maybe 30 hours. No one’s going to reedit them anyway.

2. Many old magazine will go to Hunt and Gather, along with many huge bags of second-tier matchbooks that didn’t make the site. I will never need them again, and even though I hate to get rid of old Life magazines, I have them all in digital form. (Saved a few.)

And the cords and adaptors. Lawd. One of the reasons the digitizer stuff went out was the change in tech; component cables RCA plugs - all useless now. I have a Firewire drive that holds old family movies; no way to mount it now without an adaptor.

This is why - don’t laugh - I pickle old equipment instead of recycling it or selling it. Old first-gen iPad, clunky and huge - load it up with family movies and photos, put it in a box with the charger and the cords, and it’s just like a photo album waiting to be found.

Then there was this elderly fellow.


Recognize it? The first iMac cable. Those were so cool, because they were different, and had an aesthetic we weren’t expecting but were happy to discover summed up something we thought was right around the corner but didn’t know what. The iMac look took over everything; you could get George Foreman grills that had a clear-colored-plastic doodad on it.

Found daughter’s old computer, an iBook. Damn, it was heavy.


It booted up, slowly.

This screen always took forever and no one knew what it meant.


And there it was.


I sent her a screenshot without comment. She remembers, even though it was 2004.

She was in Boston when I sent it, waiting for her plane. She'd arrived well in advance of the 11 AM takeoff; Dad was proud. But she had the misfortune of flying Sun Country, which used to be a dandy home-town airline of which we were justly proud. Now it's like Jet Blue or Spirit without the charm or dependability. The flight was delayed almost 5 hours.

Once she got on she was seated next to a screaming baby, and in front of a chair-kicking toddler.

Here's something about the modern world we didn't have in the era of iBooks: I have an app on my phone that lets me track flights - and who doesn't? But this one is visual, overlaid on a detailed map, and since we are directly under the flight path I literally saw her plane go overhead.







What have we today by way of the obscurities buried in the 30s BW folder?

I mentioned the William Warren Perry Masons a while ago, and felt compelled to watch one to see if I’d misjudged them.

Then again:

From the man who directed Casablanca.

It’s not Casablanca.

Once again, a hint we’re not in swank cool territory here: this is Paul Drake.

He goes by Spudsy in this one.

Some nice inadvertent documentary, which is why I’m doing this.

Oh, did I mention it was directed by Curtiz: I love this opening shot.



At least it’s got Barton:

On to the inadvertent documentary. Every frame has a set of clues:

But this . . .

got it! Not that hard.

But this . . .

You’d need a reverse directory.

In the same area as the Opera house above, but . . .

As for the movie? Eh. All the authorities are hammered, leaving the newspaper to tell the police what to do.

Okay if you say so

That'll do; see you around.




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