Midnight Musings

Did I not just yesterday mention the dearth of top hats in today's society? No sooner had I typed this than Wynonna Judd appeared in a music video for "Heaven Help Me" wearing same. One has probably nothing to do with the other - it's more likely a function of that syndrome where one hears of something for the first time and then hears it again six more times in the space of 72 hours - but how very strange. It's not a picture I would have created and I'm not sure anyone should have. Perhaps that's why she was asking for help. Not that I'm a fashionista by any means but the look she was going for escapes me, circus ringmaster aside. If I had gorgeous red hair like hers, I wouldn't wear any hats at all.

Apropos of nothing in particular, someone told me about this web site: Men Who Look Like Kenny Rogers Ours is not to reason why - sometimes it's just not worth the time. I suppose it's better than Men Who Look Like Winston Churchill. At least Kenny grows a lovely beard.

And now for today's original poem:

It's dark outside and grey within
I'm comfortable in my own skin
Relaxing in the shade of grey
Solitude and dreams today

Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Nothing dirtied, nothing stained
Nothing worthwhile done today
Except the words I had to say

'night!

Omigosh, this show is so funny. I love the way they all pronounce the same names differently and their uniforms are repaired by the devices that miraculously heal their wounds. Many of these people couldn't act their way out of a paper bag but they clearly spend so much time in front of a mirror (except perhaps Michael Shanks, whose sideburns have apparently developed a life of their own. Elvis has left the mother ship, Mike) that we practically *owe* it to them to gawk, at least while they're onscreen. On the street, see my thoughts below. Chances are, they (the actors) are far less fascinating than I am when push comes to shove. And it probably will.

It amazes me how many people find themselves fascinating enough not only to want to publish their thoughts but to expect others to be fascinated by them, as well. How very hypocritical of me, then, to do the same. Yes, well, this is my very first Midnight Musing (to be honest, it's afternoon, but my brain isn't always in the same time zone as my hands and I *was* awake until rather late last night) and it probably won't be pretty. I hope to find myself more entertaining as time goes on. It strikes me, though, that if I ever became famous I might well fall victim to the I'm-well-known-so-my-ill-conceived-opinions-are-worth-publicizing-now syndrome. I hope not. Truly talented people interest me but their private lives and thoughts should not be news. I'm not a very good "fan" I suppose. Which brings me to today's biographical poem (for want of a better label).

I've never seen Survivor
I do like Minnie Driver
But not Maria Shriver
Is she a Democrat?

I've never watched the Osbornes
I know he needs his locks shorn
Every family locks horns
Where's the fun in that?

I don't read the Enquirer
Monica? Let's hire her
Or let Joe Schmo re-wire her
Who came up with this?

I do watch science fiction
They need help with diction
It's a grand depiction
of cosmic monkey biz

Come to think of it, you never see top hats anymore. (That relates to a line I edited out. Sorry. Moving on.) Another case of art imitating life. As if science fiction could be considered art. Which I suppose it could, if you turned off the sound. I only enjoy it if it doesn't try to take itself seriously. Otherwise I feel guilty for laughing.