Like our Beauty from two weeks back, Ruby Keeler was born in Canuckistan and whose family moved to the U.S. when she was still at an early age. Speaking of early ages, she got her first stage role at age 13 (lying that she was 16), and never looked back. She married Al Jolson at age 19, divorced him at age 31, married another guy at age 32 and retired from Hollywood later that year to raise her family.
Dancer’s legs, pretty face, extraordinary talent and a devoted mom. Nothing wrong there.
Longtime Readers will be very familiar with my penchant for travel, especially to the U.K. and parts of Euroland.
However, as I’ve been paging through my travel pic folders to find landscapes and cityscapes to post on Thursdays, a feeling of gloom and melancholy is starting to make its appearance.
I’m not sure I want to travel internationally again.
There are several reasons I make that statement, but let me deal with the easier one first.
I’m getting old, and while my overall health is pretty good (according to my doctor, not just for my age but for just about any age), I’m not sure how I’d feel about, for example, climbing up the steep cobbled street from the ferry dock at Meersburg to the town itself on top of the hill.
Hell, it was tough when I last did it — in 2004 — so now, over two decades later… you get my drift. And I loved Meersburg, with a passion.
Also, when strolling around cities like Paris or London, I thought nothing of walking all day — I mean, for those who are familiar with the cities, from Notre Dame to Sacré Coeur and back to our hotel next to the Sorbonne; or from the V&A Museum to World’s End at the other end of Chelsea, and back.
Either of those little jaunts would take me two days, now.
Which brings me to my second thought.
Even if I could do those walks, I’m not so sure I’d want to because of the crime that seems to have overtaken most of Europe’s cities. It’s not that I’m afraid of becoming a victim of some Rolex Ripper on Bond Street or Rue Royale; I’m not a fearful person by nature — but I can be an aggressive person when faced by thuggishness of that kind, and I don’t want to deal with the possibility of having to explain to an unsympathetic bobby or gendarme why some little scrote is lying there screaming with a broken arm or, for that matter, having to deal with the NHS or its French equivalent when said little scrote hacked at me with a machete because I had the effrontery to refuse his attempt at property redistribution.
And we all know how the Filth in Britishland regard the matter of self-defense Over There. Nothing puts a damper on the travel experience like having to explain to some judge why you didn’t want to just let the little choirboy take your property and shake your head sorrowfully at your loss. That you applied your walking-stick to the little shit’s cranium (in lieu of having the old 1911 at hand) would no doubt land you in Serious Trouble, just as your attitude to the cops being more or less on the criminal’s side rather than on yours might also result in the cop’s uniform being ruined by the flow of blood (his).
Altogether, not a prospect worth spending thousands of dollars (which I don’t have) just to visit their poxy paradise.
And then there’s this little nugget, from one of my most-favored places on the planet:
Most famous districts in Vienna are in the heart of the city and during summer or at Christmas season they become overcrowded, which can lead to pickpocketing, mugging and even terrorist attacks. In these areas frequented by tourists, bus and train stations, people around you need to be carefully watched and your possessions should be kept close to you.
WTF? Now add to that the chance that some “migrant” takes offense that your female companion doesn’t have her head covered to his satisfaction… do you see where I’m going with this?
Fuck that for a tale.
One might think, given all the above, that the places to visit in Europe would be those which haven’t allowed untrammeled African- or Muslim incursions. We’re talking here of Poland and Hungary, for instance.
But here’s my problem. I would love — love — to visit those two countries, but I’m completely unfamiliar with both their languages, and honestly, I’m not sure that my old brain can handle learning even a smattering of either with the facility that used to be one of my strengths.
This really sucks.
So it may be that at long last, I’ll have to trim Ye Olde Bucquette Lyste of the travel items therein, sadly and regretfully.
I think I’ll just go to the range, assuming my eyesight is still up to the task of seeing the sights of a gun instead of the sights of a foreign city.
Bah.
This from our friends at PSA:
Whoa… a full-size Kimber 1911 for $500? Get ’em while they’re there. (It’s a Good Thing — I guess — that my 1911 shelf is full, so to speak…)
…for stupid people, that is:
“Skip the sandals when you fly — seriously. If there’s an emergency involving fire, broken glass or the need to evacuate fast, you’ll want real closed-toe shoes to protect your feet and help you move quickly. Sandals slow you down and leave you exposed when seconds matter.”
I always shake my head when I see people wearing flip-flops or the like when they travel.
That said, I’m not a huge fan of wearing sneakers to fly, either — unless they can be easily removed or put on (#VelcroFasteners).
If I’m flying into somewhere cold — e.g. Chicago or Yurp — the go-to are my favorites, L.L. Bean’s Snow Sneakers:
…although I see with some irritation that they currently only offer these to women. Fucking morons. It’s a good thing I ordered two pairs the last time I bought some. Considering that I only wear mine in winter (i.e. those few of non-consecutive days in north Texas when it’s really that cold), these should last me pretty much for the rest of my life. (My previous pair lasted me well over a decade, and they went to Europe and the U.K. over a dozen times.)
If you’re interested, try another brand, e.g. Propét (although they look kinda heavy):
All other times that I fly, it’s on with the faithful Minnetonka mocs:
I prefer the moosehide type, because once they’re worn in (which takes about a couple days), they’re fantastically soft and (most importantly) they’re not a hassle to put back on at the end of a flight, when your feet are all swollen from the cabin pressurization or whatever. They also squash flat in your suitcase to save space.
And yes, I always wear socks when flying and rest my feet on my backpack so nothing touches the airliner’s foul floor. (Don’t get me started about the fools who go to the airliner toilets in bare feet…)
All that said, my chances of flying internationally ever again are becoming vanishingly small. But that’s a topic for another time.
The other day I was confronted by a situation that has become depressingly familiar: an allusion to someone who is clearly well-known to many, but whose existence had hitherto been completely unknown to me.
In this case, it was the redoubtable Tom Knighton, whose substack efforts are definitely worthy of subscription in general, but sadly out of my reach because #Poverty. Writing a very Kim-like essay (minus Kim’s swears), he was talking about the evils of technology being used to spy on people and control their lives — in this case, electricity supply — which is an issue near and dear to me, as Loyal Readers will be aware.
However, towards the end, Knighton writes this:
When I thought I wanted a cyberpunk future, I meant with Dina Meyer running through the streets of some city while we tried to find a cybernetic dolphin, not this crap.
Who?
It turns out that this Dina Meyer is an actress who has had a fairly long and interesting career, with appearances in many, many movies and TV shows: none of which I’ve ever watched, other than (in the TV case) a few episodes of a show in which she may have appeared but clearly didn’t register with me. Here are a few examples, just to illustrate the situation.
Apparently, Miss Meyer started off her career in Beverly Hills 90210, of which I’ve never watched a single episode. She’s also appeared in some movies (Johnny Mnemonic, Starship Troopers, Saw I-III, Dragonheart and one of the Star Trek movies), none of which I’ve seen because their genres (sci-fi, fantasy, horror etc.) have absolutely no appeal to me.
While Tom Knighton clearly knows who she is and uses her as some kind of cultural reference, it’s perfectly possible that as good an actress as she may be, Dina Meyer has heretofore floated completely under my finely-adjusted and alert Totty Radar, however much of a cultural lodestar she may be. Lest others find themselves sailing with me on board the same Ship Of Ignorance, therefore, I submit the following:
It seems somewhat strange that she’s survived and prospered thus far (into her late 50s, good grief) without my ever having spotted her before, but it’s a factor of her role- and genre choices rather than my inattentiveness.
Anyway, there’s no need to thank me: it’s all part of the service.
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