Today is the birthday of a great American entertainer, Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, in 1878. Both parents died when he was an infant and Robinson was raised by his grandmother. He started dancing as an 8 year old and made his name in vaudeville, and later, movies.
He was a man of many talents, with an inventive mind and lightning fast feet. It is said he could run backwards faster than many could run forwards, once covering 75 yards in 8.2 seconds. That alone would make him a You Tube star today.
He also was known for his ingenuity in developing a dance routine to be done on a flight of stairs – something Bojangles said he came up with on the spur of the moment as a creative way to go up some steps to receive an honor from the King of England. However he developed the act, it served him well. Here he is doing it in 1932.
And here’s Bill Robinson working the stair routine in a film with Shirley Temple three years later.
Although many think it was written about him, Bill “Bojangles” Robinson is not the inspiration for the Jerry Jeff Walker song “Mr. Bojangles”. In this fine recording, David Bromberg takes a moment in the middle to tell the story.
Even though it’s about an entirely different person, I couldn’t resist – the song is so good. I suppose it speaks to the popularity of the real Bojangles that a broken down bar dancer in New Orleans would adopt the name.
Bill Robinson is remembered for his cool, his skill, his generosity, and his “stair dance.” Not a bad legacy to leave.
If historians lift up one part of your “act” to define you, what will it be?
When you and a friend go on a trip to an exotic faraway place, you will probably come home with a few photos of you standing by some historical monument or in front of a landmark or in the doorway to a famous place you are about to enter. That’s just human nature. So it’s no surprise to see NASA release this touristy photo from the current shuttle mission with Andrew Feustel climbing back into the International Space Station after spending 8 hours doing handyman work alongside the photographer, well traveled astronaut Mike Fincke. (Not to be confused with legendary Ohio River keelboat character Mike Fink, though both come from Pennsylvania).
In popular culture, I think it was Star Wars that first gave us a glimpse of space as a place where people would spend an inordinate amount of time fixing dirty, broken machines. Feustel and Fincke put in extra hours outside on Sunday doing just that – trying to grease a mechanism that’s supposed to turn without grinding, but doesn’t, unless it gets a lube job every now and again. Weekend mechanics were no doubt happy to hear that the space jockeys had to slow down to deal with bolts that were mysteriously popping off the covers that had to be removed to get the work done. At least one bolt was lost in the vastness of the universe. Up to this point my idea of a miserable mechanical search job was the time I spent trying to track down a loose fastener that fell in the grease pit while my father was working on his old Corvair! Finding a single bolt in a rapidly expanding cosmos? Infinitely more difficult. “Did you look EVERYWHERE?”
So this is what space travel will become, with several companies hard at work on the next step – creating routine off-planet tourist trips. Above the atmosphere, even mundane tasks become exciting and heroic. Perhaps someone will pay a few (million) bucks for the chance to do the next greasing on that fussy solar array.
And while you’re out there, don’t forget to tend the animals.
Goats in space!
I happen to have a long list of outside chores waiting to be done. I have every intention of getting to this work, but other things get in the way. If it ever comes to the point where humans are living away from Earth, your space ship will likely be your home. And there is no reason to expect that any of us will change our handyman habits.
You’ll be able to tell my vessel by the piece of cosmetic siding that’s falling off, the junk I’ve allowed to collect around the air handling equipment, and that loose railing on the external observation deck.
What will the neighbors say about the upkeep on your spaceship?
A lot of the news isn’t news anymore, it’s opinion. Why? Because it’s much easier to generate an opinion than it is to track down and confirm a fact. Many “news organizations” rely heavily on pundits because it’s a low cost way to chew up time.
Here at Trail Baboon, we’re no different. Our staff reporter, Bud Buck, didn’t want to lose his weekend to all the turmoil at the capitol, and we didn’t want to pay his per diem! The solution? He spent Saturday and Sunday relaxing at home and checked the headlines every now and then. Late last night he was able to knock out this wordy document based on a few clips he caught on TV and some other stuff he saw online.
It’s not exactly the news, but it sounds important and knowledgeable, and it only took ten minutes for him to do it. Win-win! Cheap content is good enough if it makes you look. Even we can afford that!
This is Bud Buck with the Bud’s NewsBucket of News!
I have progress to report at the Capitol. That’s right, I said progress!
Though they were unable to reach a budget agreement with the Democrat in the Governor’s office, the Republican dominated legislature of Minnesota has at least followed through with a radical job creation bill – the Bogeyman Promoting, Alarm Heightening, Outrage Generating and Placard Producing Bill of 2011, otherwise known as the Constitutional Amendment on Marriage.
This is an aggressive effort to pump hundreds of millions of local and outside dollars into businesses that provide every possible avenue for influencing public opinion, be it advertising, analyzing, punditizing, provoking, generalizing, demonizing, radicalizing and traumatizing. Over the next 14 months, anyone with an incendiary idea to sell on either side of the gay marriage debate will have Minnesota buyers eager to invest! Thousands of gallons of bile will be produced! There will be lots of jobs for exaggerators! And it’s good news for quote manufacturers too! Politicians throw exclamation points around casually, but did you know that before professional reflex provokers can cast a single aspersion, a punctuation worker somewhere has to dig an exclamation point out of the soil with his bare hands? It’s good, honest work, and it’s growing because lots of exclamation points will be needed in the coming months! Really!
And the timing couldn’t be better, since these same hyperbolic industries frame much of the conversation around presidential campaigns. They were expecting to have a big, big year in 2012. But now that Barack Obama is getting credit for taking down Osama Bin Laden, the political calculus is leading potential Republican challengers to forego a run. One notable exception – the Pawlenty campaign officially launches today!
And yes, it’s a job creator! This campaign will be a shot in the arm for the Overly Dramatic Music Industry. Pawlenty videos lay it on thick, the same way I smother a salad in bleu cheese dressing – because I hate the leafy vegetables underneath! There’s so much volume on the voices and the strings that by the end of his pitch, I can hardly hear what he’s saying. Probably just as well, but I think it’s something about telling us “the truth”.
The last time a Minnesotan ran for president and promised to tell us the truth, it was Walter Mondale in 1984 and he was admitting he would regretfully have to raise taxes. I have a feeling that won’t be the message this time!
But I sure hope there are no gay people involved in any of these necessary word and image-based political industries. It would be a shame if they got the idea that Minnesota was inhospitable and left the state for greener pastures. After all, Iowa is right next door.
This is Bud Buck!
Bud is meandering all over the place, but he might have a point in there someplace. It could turn out that the struggle for hearts and minds will spark an economic resurgence in Minnesota. Unlimited spending starts now and goes through November, 2012!
What role will you play in the Outrage Based Economy?
We had an unusually busy Saturday, thanks to rain and the timeless allure of the end of time. So I thought it would be good to hit the “reset” button for today, in case baboons would like to continue a conversation.
Here’s a morning after limerick, for those nonplussed about the non rapture.
A man who predicted the ending
Received less than what he was intending
Just some minutes of fame,
While the world stayed the same
Its predicted apocalypse pending.
Looking over yesterday’s comments, at least we got a chance to spend some time thinking about end-of-the-world wine, cigars (for tim) and hugs.
As a general principle I avoid making predictions, though I may have assured someone in the summer of 2000 that Al Gore would be the next president.
Oh my, what to say about the predicted end of the world?
There is an apocalyptic mindset that is satisfying in a weird way. Things become simple when you know for sure nothing will matter after today.
It is easy to mock people who make such claims on religious grounds, but even science confirms that the world will, in fact, end someday. Just like comedy, the essence of the thing is in the timing. Is this the day? Tomorrow? All we know for certain is that it wasn’t yesterday.
It could turn out that the promoters of armageddon TODAY will get lucky and their (and everyone’s) number will come up. It will appear to the rest of us that they had it right all along, but their “I told you so” time will last for about 20 seconds, I guess. Is there any pleasure in that?
In some cases, even relatives of the doomsayers are laying on the ridicule. The New York Times profiles a family where the parents have bought into the apocalyptic scenario and their children are left shaking their heads. The kids come off as being remarkably well adjusted to the bizarre dynamic inside their own family.
Tomorrow will likely be a difficult day for those who predicted their own heavenward ascension in the “rapture”. Some folks even stopped paying the rent and quit saving for the kids’ college fund. Oops. Super embarrassing moment if we’re all still here on Monday! The lesson I’m taking from this – at a time when it seams like zealots have their heels dug in at the capitol and political positions are unmovable, it is still possible to get a human being to believe something so amazing and irrational, it changes their behavior.
A story is a powerful lever.
But why would anyone choose to accept this prophesy? Skeeter Davis said it best – sometimes we’re so mixed up emotionally, it FEELS like the world is ending, or that it SHOULD end.
I wonder of today’s frenzy has helped boost Skeeter’s You Tube views? She’s well over one million, and no doubt there will be many more today as people all around the globe search for the first video evidence of The End Of The World and wind up listening to this song.
The good news for those who were alive in 1963 – we managed to survive Skeeter’s hairdo. That gives me hope that we can withstand anything!
I work with a group of astronomers who comb deep space for evidence of planets that are not part of any solar system. I work a lot. Since I’m the only unmarried member of the team it’s assumed I can stay late every night and through weekends!
Here’s the good part – we’ve been finding a lot of planets lately and our research has made the news, which is good for our morale. But when I read these articles I feel uneasy about some of the things my colleagues say.
They’ve taken to calling these unaffiliated bodies “Lonely Planets”, simply because they are not orbiting a star. Planets don’t have feelings, so why would a scientist talk this way? I understand that it’s important to describe scientific research in terms that are accessible to laypersons, but why must we assume being unattached is the same thing as being lonely?
Even if planets DID have feelings, couldn’t it be that some of these planets are satisfied with their status? One of these planets might even be glad he isn’t in the thrall of some stupid shiny star, especially if that star is always so far away and out of reach that the planet doesn’t get any warmth from her at all. The close-in planets, the ones that push to the front, think she’s so HOT. Fine. Let them all snuggle close and act like she’s the center of their universe if that’s what they want to do. It’s not that great, you know, orbiting and orbiting and orbiting. Anyway, the closer you are, the faster the run-around you get. And it never stops.
I’d prefer to think of the so-called “Lonely Planets” as Free Planets! Free to go from place to place around the universe, visiting different galaxies if they want. Free Planets are independent spirits, not easy to corral, and they don’t need to have a star to orbit just because some other planets do.
But if a star came along, especially if she was very bright and wanted to have only one planet and not a whole string of them stretched out over millions and millions of miles – well, that kind of orbital relationship might be worth the risk of allowing yourself to be captured by a little gravity.
Dr. Babooner, how do I tactfully indicate to my colleagues that I disagree with the term “Lonely Planet” without seeming like a geek who is hopelessly fixated on his own social status? My objections are purely scientific, and to be seen as emotional on this matter would be humiliating.
Sincerely,
Gas Giant
I told Gas Giant he should not use terminology that makes him uncomfortable, and since “Lonely Planet” isn’t a scientific name, he should feel no guilt about refusing to say it. Furthermore, he should pick a name he likes and start using that exclusively to refer to these “Lonely Planets”, and perhaps as he gains credibility his name choice will too. But it would help if the new name had some appeal for those who have accepted “Lonely Planet”, so I proposed that he call them “Orbisons”, after Roy Orbison, who sang “Only the Lonely.”
But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?
It’s garage sale day today, tomorrow and Saturday.
Geez, we’ve just hauled enough stuff out of the basement to fill two houses. It’s the Clown Car Scenario – there’s no way they could all fit in the back seat and yet clowns keep popping out. That’s how I feel about board games. Did we really play all those?
We’re rich in cheap plastic toys, obsolete software, computer printers, yo-yo’s, kites, puzzles and electronic gadgets where one feature (cassette player, CD, radio) inexplicably stopped working. Do people really repair these things, or are they only useful as doorstops that happen to have a digital time readout?
Something happens to stuff once you have decided to retire it but not throw it away – you put it in an out-of-the-way place and it becomes invisible, like the dark matter that dominates the universe. An astronomer named Fritz Zwicky coined the term “dark matter” in the 1930’s to describe all the stuff that his mathematical models told him must be holding things together, even though we can’t see it.
I could be wrong, but I think Fritzwicky is the name of one of those board games I just dragged up the stairs.
We’ll open the doors this morning with about 1% of the debris priced. I wonder if I would have bought any of this stuff if it had come with a Truth In Consumption label – the retail price ($49.99) with the expected garage sale price ($3) right next to it. Of course there is no Truth In Consumption label requirement. That’s just another job killing socialist idea of mine – something I wish had been in place to protect me from my own impulsive decision making and grandiose ideas about what I was going to do.
So goodbye (with luck) to the Hilton of rat cages, the lovely canvas sling chairs we rarely sat in, the plastic pig that I was going to modify so it would light up, the tennis and racquetball rackets I stopped using, the power washer that I bought to do a difficult job that I eventually hired someone else to do with his own equipment, and so on and so on.
Another mailing has arrived from the office of Congressman Loomis Beechly of Minnesota’s 9th District – all the water surface area in the state. I’m not sure what he’s talking about here – it may be just a bit of morning haze. Sometimes an elected official needs to connect with his public, or a public that might someday become his!
Beechly at his "State of the Dock" address.
Greetings Constituents and Guests!
My sincere apologies to any fishing opener attendees who resent the way that bitter mid-May gale blew you around the beautiful 9th district last weekend. While you’re still getting over the chill, please allow me to extend the hand of welcome!
It was wonderful to have you in our territory, and I hope you come back soon! We 9th districters love the summer months when the population swells. And we also love the late fall, when everyone finally goes home. Nothing personal. You know how it is when you’ve got guests. So few people live on the water year-round.
Because the human population is so low, some people overlook the 9th district completely, but to me it is very real. I consider every thing that lives in the district to be one of my constituents – not just the voters. So every time you pull a walleye out of a Minnesota lake, it feels like a bit of a loss to me. But I saw that Lion King movie like everybody else. Circle of Life, you know.
Some have asked me if redistricting might possibly be done in a way that puts their on-land homes in the 9th district. As you know, redistricting is a total crapshoot, and literally anything could happen. We’re a little bit protected from gerrymandering because water surface area is an important part of our identity here, but there have been instances where a water main break has caused some people’s basements to be in the 9th district temporarily. If something like this should happen to you on election day, I hope you’ll come downstairs and vote for me!
The boundaries of the 9th are constantly being re-drawn by nature anyway. When it rains a lot, the district gets larger. In a drought, the opposite happens. Some small dams on Minnesota rivers are being removed – that shrinks the district too. But then some wetlands are being restored – that creates new areas.
One of our biggest growth spots for the 9th district is in drainage ponds around suburban shopping malls. A single thunderstorm in Maple Grove can make my district larger for two days! And I’m delighted to have more metro area constituents, even if most of them are ducks and geese. In support of these potential votes, I’m working hard to fight expansion of unfair municipal rules about pooping in the park.
With all the housing foreclosures in the Twin Cities, I’m thinking some enterprising people might move to vessels anchored in these drainage ponds. It would be great to have more year-round residents and some stability in our head count, but beware the financing issues. You don’t want to have an upside down mortgage in a houseboat!
If it should happen, please contact my office. We’re here to serve you!
While riding my bike yesterday morning on the way to retrieve a car that has been in storage all winter, I was stopped short by a splash of color on a corner lot.
A friendly fellow named Pete was out tending his tulips. He told me in lightly accented English that he was from the Netherlands, and that gardening is something he does as a gift to share with the community, including lucky passers-by like me.
He was examining the beds. Some late-blooming tulips were mixed in with a few of the earlies, which is not a fatal flaw, but it means with a little bit of shuffling bulbs around, things could work better next year. Pete likes everything to be timed properly, just like the producer of a fireworks show wants to create amazing crescendos.
Also, once the petals fall, it’s tough to remember exactly which color is planted where, so it’s smart to take notes and make adjustments.
He showed me his map of the layout. I admire anyone who is a careful planner.
I felt lucky to have the chance to stop for a look at Pete’s garden – now that I’ve got the car back I’m much less likely to happen down a random street. In this case, a random street with an appropriate name – NE Summer St.
The calendar says we’re deep into Spring. Where have you seen the proof?
It was a blustery fishing opener again this year, but at least Minnesota’s Democratic Governor (Mark Dayton) and the Republican leaders of the House (Kurt Zellers) and Senate (Matt Dean) got together to support the state’s tourism effort by going out just after midnight to not catch any fish.
I haven’t seen any reports that put the three alone in the same small boat, though that would be an ideal situation to promote a settlement of the state’s 5 billion dollar budget shortfall. Or it could start an all out war. It would make a great scene in a movie, anyway.
The whole idea of three in a boat reminded me of the classic children’s poem by Edward Field, Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Offered here with sincere apologies to the author and everyone else. (Including Eugene Field, the real author of the original poem – Thanks for the correction, Verrily Sherrilee)
Dayton, Zellers and Dean one night
sailed off on a big pontoon –
Sailed on a lake in a mid may gale
By the light of a northern moon.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish and to accomplish
what they said could never be.
At least not under Pawlenty!”
Said Dayton,
Zellers
And Dean.
The old moon laughed and winked an eye
as they rocked on the frothy lake,
And the wind picked up as the three did try
to do some give and take.
The little stars, worth a billion each
they sparkled the whole night through.
But never enough could just one reach,
without the other two.
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Dayton,
Zellers
And Dean.
One said “taxes,” two said “cuts!”
To the stars as the waves did rise.
They barked and they howled, as would three old mutts
Avoiding compromise;
‘Twas such a predictable path they sailed
To get come round to where they’d be
At the very same spot from whence they’d sailed
Way back in January —
And I shall name you the fishermen three:
Dayton
Zellers
And Dean.
There’s a fourth verse which I didn’t have time to attempt, so you’re welcome to give it a try. Or tell us about your favorite childhood poem.
Trail Baboon 