Early A.M. about Awards, War, ''allies", Exercise, Day Ahead

 One of the funniest commercials I've seen lately has a man standing behind a loud microphone on a lit-up stage, in front of a large audience, demonstrating his prowess at being able to access files online, only he seems completely unable to key in the proper password.  He awkwardly glances around, chuckles and grins as the AI-on-duty repeatedly notifies him of his failures, to the consternation of those standing around who will ultimately decide his public-relations career fate. Very funny...and a little sad. Yesterday evening Entertainment Tonight was obsessing on the previous evening's Academy Awards, and how Michael Jordan won best actor for the movie Sinners and ate an In-and-Out hamburger holding his trophy in the left hand. I am determined to stay away from celebrities and their overhyped shows that merit avoidance.  Yesterday I worked on reading a few more pages in Joshua Khan's tedious, depressing juvenile fantasy novel Shadow Magic.  I can't wait to be done with it, to say the least.  This afternoon I have an appointment for some chemotherapy infusion at the UF Health Davis Cancer Pavilion, preceded by a blood lab draw, urine sample and IV line.  Looks like Trump is trying to get other countries to pitch in and help the USA with the Straits of Hormuz, and they're coldly snubbing him in response.  Today it will stay cool outside with nighttime temperatures to dip solidly into the thirties.  May all go well with my family, especially Melissa, Amy, Anita and Keith, regarding their health and feelings.  I'll be returning to bed soon, hopefully to get some good sleep.  I'm not sure what to make of this prolific bombing campaign instigated by the current commander-in-chief, but I think that those countries that are turning their backs on us will have something to answer for what I'm inclined to believe is a wartime betrayal of America and our soldiers.  I think that many of them are rooting for us to lose, so that they can later smugly claim they "told us so".  Well, I at least am confident that I did right in changing my party affiliation.   The late Jim Rohn, in one of his podcasts, made a big deal about urging listeners to spring up out of bed hours before sunrise with purposeful behavior.  I did so this morning, running in place for 8 minutes after I started brewing coffee.  Now I'm finishing this blog article.  Soon it'll be back to bed and loudly growling, snorting and barking Peewee Daisy, with whom I plan to be exceedingly sweet and gentle...

Madame Engadine's Elegant Parisian Party

I'll leave you to stew a minute in speculation about the meaning of this article's title...let me just say that my recurring "presence" in that place is due in large part to the abysmally low level of quality in late night television programming when I get home from work during the week.  Other than an occasional live sports event...usually on the west coast...or a very rare South Park episode I like, I have the cable news channels with their perennial, wearisome war of words between the two main political parties...it continues in the opening segments of the popular late-night talk shows, who have substituted angry and vicious political tripe for humor, along with guest "stars" I've never heard of.  So what's left for me? Short of switching to the ambient music station...which usually sends me into a deep sleep...I head off to YouTube to watch what is probably my favorite series of all time, and more likely than not, my favorite episode of that series from the late 1960s.  It is about a British secret agent, played by the late Patrick McGoohan, who angrily resigns, get knocked out, and awakens to find himself in a prison that is in the form of a fancy resort: the Village...location unknown.  I'm speaking of course about The Prisoner, and the fantastic episode is A., B. and C.  So what does this have to do with Madame Engadine's fancy party?

In The Prisoner, the kidnapped agent is told he is now Number Six...all residents there are assigned numbers, both the inmates and wardens.  Running the Village is Number Two, presumably with the mysterious, unknown Number One on top of the ruling hierarchy.  The entire series involves attempt after attempt to lure Number Six into explaining why he resigned...but the agent refuses to break.  In A., B., and C. they come up with a scheme...through the invention of a technique that broadcasts Number Six's dreams on a television screen...to make their target dream of a popular French party he used to frequent and then have him meet in succession there three different contacts, dubbed "A.", "B.", and "C.", one of whom Number Two thinks will solve the mystery of his resignation.  It is this party, hosted by the warm and sophisticated Paris socialite Madame Engadine, that has ultimately become what I now hold to be the impossible standard of what any decent party should be.  Impossible because, after all, the good Madame obviously had a mansion and a lot of money to spend for it and most parties are on a much more modest scale.  Still, I liked hers because the guests were personally greeted and welcomed and then accorded freedom of movement and association without being corralled into overly-organized events such as the idiotic games that plague (and to me, ruin) many parties and social events.  I definitely think that Number Six liked her parties, too. Check out the episode...you may end up watching the whole seventeen-part series.  And dig that party...