CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD CHITTENDEM

As an undergraduate at Loyola Marymount University in 1979, I had the unique opportunity to travel to the UK to interview the legendary Lord Chittendem.

I had always been fascinated by this lesser known member of the Royal Family. 

Over a course of three days, Chittendem allowed me to ask him a myriad of questions on a wide range of topics. I found him to be one of the most profound persons I have ever met.

I have many hours of recordings of the interviews and have decided to post portions of them here every Friday. 

I think you'll agree, they are well worth a listen.

Unfortunately, the quality of my cassette recorder wasn't so good. So, bare with it.

Here is Part One. Enjoy.

Je ne parle pas français

Toutefois, ce ne va pas m'empêcher d'écrire ce blog en langue française.

Quelque part, tout semble beaucoup plus important et de fantaisie dans la langue française.

Par exemple, nous allons jeter un coup d'oeil à la phrase suivante:

"TODAY I WILL MOW MY LAWN."

Et maintenant, ici, est la même phrase en langue française.

"Aujourd'hui, je vais tondre ma pelouse."

N'est-ce pas incroyable? Il semble si merveilleux et plein de fromage.

Voici une autre phrase.

"THERE IS SOMETHING UNUSUAL DRIPPING FROM MY DOG'S BOTTOM."

Voici la même phrase en langue française.

"Il ya quelque chose d'inhabituel dégoulinant de mon chien en bas."

Ne voyez-vous pas combien il est merveilleux d'entendre parler du chien égouttements bas en langue française? Il donne envie d'en savoir plus sur le chien et ses bas. Mais en anglais le chien et son fond sont dégoûtant.

N'allez-vous pas d'accord avec moi que tout sonne mieux en langue française? Pouvons-nous être des amis sur ce sujet et l'autre de ne pas frapper sur la tête avec des tiges de métal?

Par conséquent, lorsque vous avez quelque chose de difficile ou douloureuse, vous avez besoin de dire, vous pourriez envisager de dire en langue française. Tout ira beaucoup mieux et que les gens vous en remercie.

Pour vous bénéficiez, j'ai compilé une liste partielle de phrases pour vous dire en langue française le moment venu.

"Je suis désolé, Timmy. Votre grand-mère a été mangé par un lion sur son voyage en Afrique."

"I'm sorry, Timmy. Your Grandmother was eaten by a lion on her trip to Africa."

"Je viens de voir les rayons-x. Prendre des dispositions pour être enterré."

"I have just seen the x-rays. Make arrangements to be buried."

"Avez-vous des derniers mots avant de nous injecter dans-tu?"
"Do you have any last words before we inject this into you?"

"Joe Biden est à la porte."

"Joe Biden is at the door."  

"Papa a perdu tout l'argent de jouer les chevaux. Nous vous vendre à un institut médical."
"Daddy lost all the money playing the horses. We are selling you to a medical institute."

Rappelez-vous, tout, quelle que soit la terrible, sonne mieux en langue française.

Au revoir! Brossez votre chien! Mangez beaucoup de fromage!

ASH WEDNESDAY

It's not always easy being a practicing Catholic in Hollywood. First of all, there's always the fear that Bill Maher will jump out, spit and blame me for everything bad that's ever happened since the dawn of time. To prepare for this eventuality, I keep a pair of safety goggles with me. 

Ash Wednesday can also pose some problems. For some reason, I've always had an important meeting on Ash Wednesday. A Hollywood meeting. A no-jeans and try to dress up meeting. These meetings are always scheduled in the late afternoon after I've been to Mass and been slathered with ashes on my forehead.

I'm pretty white and pasty so the ashes stand out.

I always arrive at these meetings as a well-dressed man who looks like he rubbed his forehead in a charcoal pit. The assistant to whatever high-powered exec I'm meeting with will always be pleasant. They'll offer me coffee, water and stare at my forehead while smiling. You can tell they're thinking, "This poor guy doesn't know he's got crud all over his forehead. How do I tell him? What should I say." Invariably after some pleasant chit chat they'll let me know there's a washroom down the hall.

I always try to find a way to let them know it's Ash Wednesday. I'll say, "Glad I could get here on time. Ash Wednesday services went a little longer than I planned."

There's always a sigh of relief from the assistant. "Oh, that's right. Ash Wednesday. I see the ashes there. Oh. Okay."

However, the relief they feel that comes from not having to tell me to go wash my face is quickly replaced by another fear. The fear that I could quite possibly be a religious fanatic and might, at any moment, whip out a bible, fall to my knees and bid the Holy Spirit to rid this place of evil. I have never done this. (I have only fallen to my knees once when Bill Maher snuck up behind me and clubbed me with a baseball bat.)

Eventually, the assistant will lead me into the meeting with the important Hollywood person I'm there to see. And the whole thing will happen again. I'll sit there. They'll ask if the assistant offered me any water or coffee. There's a washroom down the hall. They'll stare at my forehead. I say my clever thing about being glad I made it there in time because ASH WEDNESDAY services ran late and...

"Ahh. Right. Ash Wednesday. Yes. I see them there. I wouldn't have noticed."

The meetings always go well after that. Although, on a number of occasions, I've noticed that some people keep their fingers poised on a secret button under their desk in order to summon security if I start speaking in tongues or levitate.

Luckily today I have no meetings. I'm just going to the gym. People there could care less. 

TURNS OUT I'M DUMB AS A BRICK

I'm not sure it's wise to post this, but, what the heck. If we bloggers can't be honest, open and truthful, then we don't deserve to be called, "bloggers." (If that's what we're called. I'm not sure. I'll look it up and get back to you. There may be some new term that hip bloggers use like, "thrashers" or something. So, if that's true, then I'm a Thrasher because that's what all the hip bloggers are calling themselves these days. Actually, I just reread what I've written and it seems I made up Thrashers a few lines earlier as an example of what bloggers could be calling themselves. So, let's just move ahead and I'll check into the matter.)

So, no secrets. Here we go. This is difficult for me. Let me start a new paragraph after this one and continue.

So, now we're in the new paragraph which has given me time to muster up the courage to tell you what I need to tell you. Okay. Well...how 'bout one more paragraph. I'm still feeling uneasy.

Much better. Welcome back. A few nights ago I was on Facebook. I'm new to Facebook. I don't understand Facebook. It sort of reminds me of High School. Nobody wanted to be my friend there either. I need another paragraph.

Here we are at the new paragraph. Problem is, now that I've started the paragraph by stating that we're in a new paragraph, I'm going to need a new paragraph to continue my thought which has nothing to do with being in a new paragraph. So, let's do that.

As I looked at how few friends I actually had on Facebook, my teary eyes focused on the right of the computer screen where an ad enticed me to take an IQ Test. I did. I scored a 28. New paragraph.

A score of 28 means that, theoretically, I shouldn't be able to open a door, let alone feed myself. A score of 28 means that someone in a coma could beat me at chess. 28 means I should never go outside unsupervised, let alone drive my daughter to school.

It is a miracle that I graduated from Loyola Marymount University. I don't know if that reflects more on my pluckish determination, or Loyola Marymount's standards.

That I have made it this far through life with the intelligence of a bed-ridden ferret concerns me. It is clear to me now why my daughter always has our border collie correct her homework. I finally understand why, when her friends come over, she suggests they all go outside and throw the ball for me.

This is a paragraph of no particular importance.

Perhaps some of you have also scored 28. It's too bad that we can't communicate with each other. It would be difficult through all the drool and spittle. And if we could communicate, what would we say anyway? Oooo0hjrhfhghjgjgjgp! Blahhidihfi. I suppose if you came over my daughter would throw the ball for us. But you'd have to get someone to bring you over. It just wouldn't work out.

I have an IQ of 28. At least I found a career I could thrive in. Animation. 

HEY, HOLLYWOOD! ENTERTAIN ME!

(AN UNUSUAL RANT WITH CURRENT MOVIE SPOILERS)

THE SETTING: A SMALL HOME SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA.

Joe returns home after a hard day at work where he found out he would be taking a pay cut and taking over the duties of five other employees who have been laid off.

JOE: Hi, honey. I'm home.

MARGARET: You look terrible. Bad day?

JOE: Yeah.

MARGARET: Why don't we get a babysitter. Let's go out. You'll feel better. Let's see a movie!

JOE: A movie? Wow. Sure. Anything good out there?

MARGARET: There's one I think you'll enjoy. It's about this husband and wife who argue all the time. He's had an affair so she gets mad and has one, too. Then they fight some more. Then she gives herself an abortion. Then she dies.

JOE: Yay! Sounds fun!

THE END

And now, the unusual rant:

One of the benefits of being in no less than five entertainment unions (yes, five - all with yummy union dues) is that I'm usually sent a slew of DVDs during awards season. Some of these movies have not even been released yet. The studios hope that after watching, writers like me will vote for their movies for best screenplay in the WGA awards. My wife and I always look forward to getting these DVDs. They arrive in an envelope making you promise not to loan, sell, upload, or view with anyone else. It's all very exciting and intimidating.

This year, I figured out another reason why they send us movies on DVD. BECAUSE THERE IS NO WAY MOST PEOPLE WOULD EVER GO SEE THEM WILLINGLY.

This year the majority of movies that arrived at our home were major bummers. I'm talking, DEPRESSING. And pretentious. It's as if Hollywood has collectively agreed that it's too difficult to entertain us and much easier to make us want to kill ourselves. (Or in the case of Benjamin Button - bore us to death, but to be so clever at doing this that we think we're actually coming down with the flu.)

Strangely enough, by all standards, Tropic Thunder was the best movie I've seen all year. It was silly, well-acted, dumb and made me laugh. A lot. Shockingly, it made my wife laugh, too (but she won't admit it.) Bottom line: it was a MOVIE. It wasn't a great movie, but it did what movies are supposed to do: ENTERTAIN.

For the first time I can remember, I didn't watch the Academy Awards. Understand, I love the Academy Awards! But, come on? Who cares? Seriously. Let's be truthful. Who cares anymore? Why would I want to see Bill Maher berate me for believing in God. Nah. I got better things to do.

Listen up, Hollywood. I'm may be a nobody, but I think I'm right about this. Unless you start making entertaining movies, people will spend all their time on Facebook. It's free.

INDULGING YOUR INNER GEEK

On a Sunday five years ago, my family was sweet enough to indulge the inner geek in me. We all traveled to the Pasadena Civic Auditorium where I would join other geeks to watch a live feed from JPL. At first, I thought I wouldn't go. But the latent geek in me grew strong and I was soon its prisoner. I was called to Pasadena.  

I had only been to the Pasadena Civic Auditorium once before when I was part of team nominated for a Prime Time Emmy for Tiny Toons Night Ghoulery. However, the excitement of that night paled in comparison to the giddy, geek, gleefest that brought me and thousands of other geeks to Pasadena that Sunday morning. 

My family sat next to me on folding metal chairs. Similar non-geek family members accompanied other part-time geeks like me. We all stared at a screen beaming a live signal from Mars via JPL. The Mars Rover, Spirit, had landed. It was beaming back the first pictures. 

I think a few geeks had heart attacks. I almost swallowed my tongue. 

I turned to my family. "Look at THAT! Isn't that amazing! LOOK!" I then did the typical geek move of being so excited you scratch your arm rapidly while nodding your head.

I could tell they weren't very impressed by the pictures. Truth be told, the images did look similar to various empty lots strewn throughout the San Fernando Valley.

But this was from MARS! How amazing is that?

A few weeks after that, Spirit's twin, Opportunity, landed on Mars. Even though my inner geek wanted to go watch the live feed with other geeks, I knew I couldn't do that to my family again. I watched from home. But I watched like I was a rabid football fan. I screamed at the TV as agonizing minutes of radio silence caused by Opportunity's entry in the Martian atmosphere ticked by. When the smart folks at JPL got confirmation that Opportunity was safe and on the ground, I think I jumped up and down. My wife and daughter stared at me. I was frightening the dog. But the geek had taken hold. The geek needed to do its geek thing. The geek needed to let loose.

My point? That was five years ago and Spirit and Opportunity are still doing their thing. They were only supposed to last a few months. A few months. The geek in me surfaces from time to time to contemplate the awesomeness of that.

At this very moment, two little rovers are driving around on Mars and taking pictures and boring into rocks with little bory things and taking all sorts of measurements with things that do that sort of thing. 

Yes, they're getting old. One of Spirit's wheels isn't working right and it's solar panels are covered with Martian dust making it difficult to get enough energy to do its tasks. But, the thing has climbed up the side of a mountain for heaven's sake. How would you be? It has endured cold. I'm taking cold. Like -100 degrees cold. 

In five years Opportunity has travelled 14 kilometers. Inch by inch it has slogged its way through sand dunes and craters. And it's still going strong.

As things continue to tank here in the USA, I take great comfort in knowing those two little fellas are up there doing their thing. While we're all scrambling to figure out where all the money went and what the heck a trillion dollar stimulus package is or means and why GM needs 30 billion more...Spirit is happily looking at a rock unaware of the the angst. I like that. It makes me smile.

Who knows how much longer they'll be doing their thing, but while they are, you should check out the Mars Rover WEBSITE and spend some time looking at the thousands of pictures they've sent back. Some are even in 3-D! 

Indulge your inner geek today. You'll be glad you did.

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