It Never Snows In Rome

Ants!

(WARNING: If you're a Myrmecophobiac, you don't want to
read this post or view the video link...especially the video link!)


Has everyone but me seen this film?

If so, WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT IT!

The Man and I got rid of our television in 2001.
Ten years off the tube. We're like total mutants by now.

But, this Ants! movie makes me think that perhaps not all t.v.
is mindless, trance inducing, stupidhead-making horse manure.
I'm thinking maybe we should consider re-subscribing to the
national brain drain...or at least The Science Channel because
they did such a great job documenting the awesomeness of ants.

The music is creepy, the narration hypnotic, the cinematography
suspenseful, but in a nice way.

It makes both the scientists and the natural world seem bizarre
and scary and totally groovy...which, they actually are, I guess.

I especially like the little typed notations letting you know that the
ants are really okay and the crazy scientists didn't massacre a gazillion
of them to complete their experiment. Boy, I was relieved by that...
'Course I generally trust film makers, which is probably stupid.

This is only a segment of a multi-part series entitled: "Ants! Nature's
Secret Power," which you can access on YouTube and elsewhere online.

I'll tell you one thing, though. I'm gonna think twice the next time
I flick some pesky ant off my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Haiti

The destructive earthquake and resulting devastation in Haiti has left me feeling
such a heaviness of heart. To continue writing my frivolous blog without mentioning
it is wrong. Such a catastrophe deserves our attention, a pause, a deviation from the
normal preoccupation with trivial concerns. I want to take a moment to honor those
who have died and also the survivors who are enduring extreme hardship and sorrow.

Since the day Christopher Columbus landed, the people of Haiti have suffered. To read
the subsequent history is to read of mankind's greatest atrocities. The Haitians' despair
has continued almost unabated.

And, now this.

I really don't know if such conditions as "unfairness" and "undeserved" exist on a
cosmic level. But, this event exceeds both epithets.

With tears I watched the first video footage of the destruction, and with tears I
watched the world respond. Americans donating millions of dollars in cell phone
donations, concerned individuals struck by the need to do something to help...one
of the greatest things about Americans is their selfless and immediate willingness
to help those in need. I was appalled by those (thankfully few) particularly evil,
heartless pundits who advised Americans to do nothing, that somehow Haiti deserved
being obliterated. But, the people ignored the ravings of these dead-eyed haters,
effectively making them invisible and exposing their impotence.

Here, the Italians are also donating by cell phone, the British, too. Good for them.

My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Haiti and all the rescuers that have
arrived on the scene. They have a grim and seemingly insurmountable task ahead.
It must be impossible for them to feel optimism at this point.

I hope that the strong Haitian spirit will sustain the survivors through this disaster
and that their labors will result in a renaissance, a rebuilding not just of their cities
and towns, but of their rich and complex culture.

The Valkyries

I am writing to dispel the rumor that I live an idyllic life.

The fact is I don't know what I'm doing here in Rome.

However, I am absolutely certain that whatever it is I am doing, I am
missing the point of it all completely, and that on some future day I'm
going to be walking around Punkinville, Ohio and the reason for my
being in Rome is going to suddenly hit me, which will cause my head to wobble and tilt
and then fall off my body and roll down the street, and a giant red flag with "D'oh!"
written on it is going to then slowly rise up out of my neck and blow softly in the breeze.

But by then it will be too late. It will all be over. Finished. Finito!

This, THIS! is what's bothering me.

And, more importantly, I am making The Man's life a living hell with all my crabbing
and complaining about the cramped dark hovel we live in and the cold weather and
the stinky buses and the dog poop all over the cobblestones. And, no matter how true
all of the above may be, he is a nice person (part angel actually), and shouldn't have to
listen to the wailings and lamentations of a Nordic Valkyrie first thing in the morning.

Poor guy. Really. I mean it. Sometimes when I'm in the throes of complaining I just
have to stop because he looks so pitiful and I feel sorry for him that he has such a
witch for a wife and that someday he's going to realize that the pasta I make doesn't
make up for the fact that I am quite frequently Brunhilde on speed.

But, before you all go, "Oh, big waaah! She's in Rome and doesn't wike it! Oh, WAAAH!"
let me tell you that Rome is just another city on the planet. It's not that special, no
matter what all the past and present Emperors around here tell you!

The Eternal City consists of 6 million people, all of whom are pushing and shoving and
trying to parallel park their little cars into non-existent parking spaces, and all being
subjected to hideous economic pressures by their hideous-er government officials. It's
not paradise here...well...unless you're on a three day excursion in early spring or late fall,
at which time it is fairly paradisaical, I concede.

But, the point I'm trying to make is that I have a problem with Rome. It's like I was
killed by a Roman soldier in a previous life or something. Maybe I was crucified on
the Appian Way, or torn to shreds by wild beasts in the Colosseum while the crowd
roared and the Emperor gave me a big giant thumbs down! (Is that the Big Giant
I am waiting for? A thumb?!)

What else could possibly be the cause of all my discomfort and unrest?

Maybe this Sigmund Freud finger puppet can help.

Me: "Hi Doctor. Umm...well...last night I dreamed I gave birth to
myself and then at the end I said, 'Well, I guess I'd better name
me now.' So, do you think I have a problem?"

Freud: "Very interestink. You haven't been drinkink cheap
foreign wine have you?"

Me: "Red or white?"

Freud: "Eider one."


Me: "Not since last Thursday when I could've sworn
I saw Cerberus, the mythical three-headed dog who
guards the gates of hell outside our apartment window."

Freud: "Very goot! Stay off zee zauce."

Me: "Okay. Anything else? I mean it, Doc. I'm really
having a bad time! I'm not a happy camper!"

Freud: "Campink? Campink?! You tink dat life is ein
holiday?! You tink dat livink is ein vacation for kinder?
Ein PIK-NIK?!! You dummkopf! You make me zick!
You need to vork harder! You need to keep marchink!
Eins, zwei, drei! Eins, zwei, drei! Achtung! Guide right!"

That's when I ripped Sigmund Freud off my finger and threw him in the washing machine.

Then I put on my jacket and went to the nearest coffee bar for an espresso "doppio."
A double. I deserved it. I sat outside and listened to the happy Romans laughing with
their amici, gesturing wildly, embracing life and each other, taking the good and the bad,
rolling it all into a big ball of dough, flattening it out, sprinkling it with tomato sauce and
mozzerella and baking it for one minute in a wood oven, taking it out and eating it in
giant globbity gulps.

Now that's my kinda therapy!

Higher Ground

Living is so depressing.

I don't care what you say.
It is constantly, endlessly depressing.

You can try and fake it and even start thinking that you just need some medication
to make you feel better because YOU'RE the one with "this problem."

And so you get some drug or other from your local candyman-slash-doctor who is
in with big Pharma and after awhile you begin to think, "hey, the world isn't so bad,"
and then immediately the walls start to vibrate, gasses escape through the cracks,
and all animals with a lick of sense (like those blackbuck antelopes in India during
the 2004 Tsunami) head up to higher ground and you just
watch them galloping away, scratching your head, going wtf!,
and then, WHAM!, something hits you upside the head and
a whipped cream pie flies in your face and then there you
are lying on the pavement
alone...
except for the flies buzzing around the whipped cream
and the stampeding others who have made the realization
that "oh, hey, maybe the blackbucks had the right idea!"

But you just lay there going, "blink, blink" with your eyeballs,
knowing that no matter how innocent and nice you are and no matter how many times you say,
"I'm sorry," to people in the grocery store every time you push your cart between them and the
never-ending cans of Campbells Soup they're reading on the wall...

You are totally screwed!

It's like that Timothy Geiger-Counter guy. I mean who made him King of the World?
Here he is illustrating how he grabbed the financial balls of our
nation and squeezed them dry of every penny he and his pals
at Goldman's could get and, I don't care what you say, this guy
is up to no good. Now, I am only basing this opinion on photos
I've seen since I have NEVER seen this man on television or
heard him speak. But, like those antelopes in India, if it smells
like a duck...run!

If I were Obama I'd fire that sucker.


Which is exactly how I felt yesterday as I was rushing to hear the marching band playing
the Mickey Mouse song out in front of St. Peter's Basilica. I was with The Man and we
were on our way to get some reservations to take the underground Vatican tour, not
realizing that it was a holiday, The Feast of the Epiphany, so that St. Peter's was jammed
with people there to see the Pope and the parade.

Now, we've been living here during the winter for...oh...only five million years, and did we
know anything about this annual parade?

NO!

Which is so mysterious I'm sure Jacques Cousteau is going to rise from the dead just to
try and solve it.

Anyway, there we are stumbling head-on into this big-deal Catholic parade with medieval
peasants and Roman centurions on horseback (MIU's - Men In Uniforms! I mean we're
talking scarlet-plumed helmets and gold breast plates and everything!) and I start
videoing the worst parade video EVER made, all the while going "oh, oh, oh," and thinking
that The Man is right there behind me keeping up, because it's so obvious that I am in my
little-girl-going-to-the-Pasadena-Rose-Parade mode, all excited and giddy, overdosed on
hot chocolate with marshmallows in it.

But then I stop and look around and The Man is no where to be seen. He is not behind
me. He has disappeared. I want to keep filming the action, but I'm worried that he has
fallen into a manhole or been arrested for having criminally wild and unkempt hair (a sure
sign if there ever was one of a troublemaker).

But, then I see him. He's over there on the sidewalk, hunched over.

Is is sick?
Is he injured?
Is he having some kind of a fit?

No! He has stopped to TAKE OUT HIS PEN AND SCRAP OF PAPER TO WRITE
DOWN SOME COMMENTS FOR SOME POEM HE'S GOING TO WRITE!!!

This I found totally unacceptable and, had I been Obama, I would have fired him on the spot!

In conclusion, if you don't believe they played the Mickey Mouse song in front
of St. Peter's Basilica, then watch this!

The irony of this choice of song...
to a certain someone...
up there in his ivory tower...
in his ermine-collared robe...
with his Gucci red slippers...
must have been, on the biblical scale,...
totally depressing!

La Befana

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany,
otherwise known as La Befana.

Befana is a witch who brings toys
and candy to the good children
and a lump of coal to the bad children.

The Italians have finally brought to
a close their holiday season which all
began almost a month ago with the
Immaculate Conception, which occured
on the 8th of December.

Ever since, it's been holidays and "bridges" (those days between the holidays
that aren't worth going to work over because, "hey, tomorrow's another holiday!")

But, now, sadly, it's all over. Time to go back to work and school. Time for Italians
to grit their teeth and suffer until the next series of holidays begin.

Carnevale starts on February 6th! Good ol' Lent.

Anyway, we were out there today and here's a video clip of The Man to prove it.

What's my favorite thing from 2009, you ask?

Well, without any thinking or with any hesitation I'd say this:

Hamster On A Piano

I like the music. After hearing it I can't get it out of my head.

When I'm stressed, standing in a line of pushing people, waiting for my turn
at the cheese counter, or going to sleep at night this song comes in my head
and I'm saved!

Happy New Year.

Poperade

The Pope was out and about doing papal work. Here's a video of him
coming down the street today in Rome. Not that you'll see him.
He's in the silver car. The one with the blacked-out windows.

He doesn't wave at the peasants and he doesn't travel lightly.

He went to lunch somewhere and was returning to the Vat.
Why doesn't he just put on a baseball hat and take a taxi?

Poperade

Definitely ominous.

Incidentally, in case you lost count along the way. There are
10 motorcycles, 15 vehicles...and don't forget the helicopter!

As Mel Brooks put it in History of the World Part 3:
"It's good to be da king."

Perspective

Click here and fill in the data.

What economic crisis?

Crazy Lady

Merry Christmas 2009.

Pope got bonked by crazy lady...not me.

But, how many times do crazy ladies have to do it
before they get your attention? Huh? Mr. Men of the world?

Look, I feel bad about the Pope. I mean, I don't particularly
like this one, but I still don't like to see old guys roughed up.

However, and you may not care to agree with me,
but I'm convinced that deep inside...I mean way down deep,
we all get a thrill when we see the Kings and Emperors
cut down to size...or tackled, as the case may be.

These (mostly) men walk around with
golden robes or multi-threaded hand made suits of excess,
with Mossad-trained, ear-wired henchmen
in cars with blackened, bullet-proof windows...

and they smile unctuously in the camera...

and they live in palaces of gold and marble splendor...

and they have all these yes-men, lackies, and oooo-er's and awe-er's hanging around them...

...

they're sorta like quarterbacks.

It's good to see one tackled behind the line of scrimmage once in awhile.
Makes the game more interesting.
Keeps us all watching.
Tuned in and turned on.

It's like my Dad yelling at that first base umpire at the Dodger game he took me to
a million years ago. "What are ya lookin' at me for! Keep yer eye on the ball!"

Anyway...

So, tonight here in the Eternal City they ran some old Sophia Loren movie.
I like to see her speaking her native language, being the Italian she is.

I got inspired.
I made a ragu that I think she would have liked.
It was really good.
We ate a lot and washed it down with a nice Cannonau Di Sardegna.

So...

Otherwise, here in Roma, things are nice and quiet.

The Romans split two days ago.
They went to grandma's house or to the ski chalet
or to the Caribbean
or wherever they went
and then went en masse.
They were sitting in airports and train stations
in a big clump, stumped by weather
mad as hatters.

Some friend's relatives tried to get on the Autostada.
After three hours, with the little children in the backseat
crying and complaining,
they returned home and tried again the next morning at five a.m.
They got to their destination, Napoli, two and a half hours later
without any fuss.

We walked around the silent streets of the city this morning
and logged in all the empty parking places.
Now that we have a car, we are always noticing empty spaces.
The center is full of empty parking spots this day.
Our car is nicely parked, but we thought seriously of getting the keys
and moving the thing just because we could!

This is how it is with the "little" people of the world.
Always on the look out for that little bit of advantage...
that little bit of paradise...
that little piece of the pie.

Maybe that's why we like to see the high and mighty come crashing down.
Makes us feel like, yeah, now he knows what it's like to be down looking up.
Now he knows what it feels like to be down trodden, at the mercy of unseen forces.

Maybe...
but, probably not.