Good Morning.
I watched a fair amount of television over the weekend but avoided the national news as much as possible. The president was off to Mar-a-Lago for the umpteenth time and I don't even pretend to understand this memo that was released. Carter Page, who always has a peculiar grin on his face, was reportedly a Russian spy and this Nunes fellow, chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, is apparently a certified presidential flunky. I'm reading the Fire and Fury book and none of it seems far-fetched. The word sleaze comes to mind.
I watched CBS Sunday Morning, and as usual a wide variety of subject matter was presented. The Boy Scouts are now
accepting girls and the Girl Scouts aren't a bit pleased about it. Rosa Parks would be a hundred and something and there was a nice tribute to her. A German painter does huge canvases that I would probably not purchase for my home, should I happen to have an extra million lying around. A guy in Colorado collects washing machines and had to build a warehouse
to display them, like 1500 of them. There was an interview with Janet Yellen, the outgoing fed chairman and a seriously impressive woman. The position is usually renewed by the incoming president but not this time, of course. The cops in California are having another look at the death of Natalie Wood who drowned during a yachting weekend with her husband, Robert Wagner. Rex Reed, the outspoken film critic, says nothing to worry about. A young man who has spent his life in a wheelchair is on his high school's football team. He slips out of his chair onto the ground and holds the ball for the kicker. Very cool. A guest commentator said she's getting hate mail from women for trying to present a more balanced view of the MeToo movement. What else is new. Hate mail is as common today as a telephone bill. And then we had a segment on the Puppy Bowl with little dogs leaping around a mock football field. I liked the interview with Janet Yellen better.
I watched the golf tournament in Phoenix sponsored by Waste Management, the garbage service. Representatives of the company wore green shirts that were not the shade I see on their trucks. They were the bright color of the Master's jackets and that bothered me. Tournament officials sported slacks that looked like abstract paintings, a bit too geometric for Jackson Pollack, but you get the point and I wonder if they do.
And then I watched the game and a word right off the bat about Pink who removed a wad of gum from her mouth two seconds before she began singing the National Anthem. This was not appetizing. Where did the gum go? Did she hold it in her hand? Did she drop it on the field? And why can't we have a National Anthem sung the way Francis Scott Key wrote it, rather than with all these vocal wibbles and wobbles that make me wonder what note was actually intended. I found the commercials unremarkable except one for Ford trucks that compared them to Martin Luther King. Very odd and not appropriate. Apart from all that, there wasn't a boring moment of the game from start to finish. It was absolutely scrumptious, one of the best ever, but every time there was a close up shot of a player in his helmet, I wondered if he'd be okay in his head twenty years from now. Just a thought.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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