Some gleanings from the next batch of epistles.
“Everything on Broadway is
pyrotechnic Puccini, and not even good Puccini, and I don’t even like Puccini,
so there!”
So sayeth the Nostrumite.
The next epistle, curiously enough, talks about George Pataki's second run for governor of New York, and possible run for the presidency sometime in the future. Which is now. The Mite wasn't particularly sanguine: "Another empty suit...spending umpty-ump dollars." Well, he was wrong there, since old Georgie's campaign today doesn't seem to have two dimes to rub together, but that's probably only because the Republican PACs are handing out the money evenly to all the candidates, and a billion dollars only goes so far when there's two billion office seekers. On the other hand, the Mite does give a shoutout to a long-age Presidential crook: “He wasn’t much in some respects,
but at least Warren Harding knew how to play poker. Where are the heroes for
the new millennium?” The Nostrumite was nothing if not full of opinions.
As we continue to read... After thinking of converting from Ethical Culturism, the Mite gets a job at the Cambridge Ma ‘N’ Pa Video Bazaar, run by a man named Mr. Ma ‘N’ Pa. Then Jules goes on his own mental jaunt:
The Tango Incident, which like all
of Nostrum is “based on a true story,” is the subject of this week’s episode.
We put “based on a true story” in quotes to reflect a touch of grammatical
irony. We could have even been more ironic and said, Based on a “true story.”
Or even, Based on a “true” story. Or best of all, Based on a true “story.” Our
favorite quote marks are in the phrase: Out of “Order.” The irony added to the
word order is, as far as we can determine, a hermeneutic commentary on the
postmodern state of existence, where the signified and the signifier can no
longer be connected. “As seen on TV,” for instance—which hardly seems to be
much of a recommendation for anything because what isn’t seen on TV? -- becomes
much more interesting when phrased, As seen on “TV.” Or best of all, As “seen”
on TV. Of course, there is a possibility that we are reading too much into
this. After all, last week we saw a sign that said, For sale, Beanie Baby’s.
Beanie Baby’s what, was our first response.
Punctuation, like handguns, should not be put into the hands of the
untrained.
And, well, then we go seriously into Nostrumite land:
The Nostrumite is in a state of
permanent depression over his latest assignment at the Cambridge Ma ‘N’ Pa
Video Bazaar. Apparently the owner, Mr. Ma ‘N’ Pa, read an article this week
about how computers can now generate artificial speech well enough to conduct
reasonable business conversations, and how a lot of big companies like United
Airlines are doing just that. Not wishing to appear to be behind the
technological curve, Mr. M. N. P. has appropriated the idea of speech
synthesis, but unfortunately his organization does not yet have to means to
appropriate the apparatus. The Mite’s job now, therefore, when he’s not
recommending Home Alone 3 in person to some poor family with six kids in tow
and what they really want to watch is Boogie Nights but they’re all pretending
to be church-goers so they ask for something with Pat Robertson’s seal of
approval on it, is to answer the telephone and take orders while pretending to
be a computer. Seriously. According to the Mite, it goes something like this:
“Welcome to the Ma ‘N’ Pa Video
Bazaar. “ He claims he does all of his talking sounding like a mix of Hal 9000,
C3PO and Cruella de Ville. “Hit the number one if you have a touch-tone
telephone.”
The unsuspecting caller inevitably
hits the number one. Who doesn’t have a touch-tone phone in this day and age?
“Thank you,” the Mite says. “Would
you like to reserve a video?”
“Damn it, what number should I
hit?”
“You do not have to hit a number. I
can understand you if you talk slowly and don’t mumble and you don’t have some
un-American foreign accent.”
“Okay. I’m down with that.”
“Yo, phat, dude!” The Mite likes to
keep the lingo current.
“Yeah. Right. Anyhow, do you have
The Searchers available?”
“Was that The Searchers or The
Surgeons?” If the Mite sounds too human, no one will believe he’s a machine.
“The Searchers.”
“Excellent choice.” The Mite stares
at the shelf in front of him while the caller thinks he’s surfing his internal
database. “We do not have that film in stock. May we suggest a similar film?”
“Sure..."
"Sure."
“We do not have shirts.”
"I said, ‘sure.’ “
“Yes, sir. Shirts. Sure.” Pause.
“May we recommend, for those who like The Searchers, Babette’s Feast?’"
"Babette’s Feast? As a substitute
for The Searchers? What are you, nuts?”
“According to my data, they are
very similar movies. Please hold.” When in doubt, you can never hold too much.
“Yes. According to my data, John Wayne, Denmark, very similar. May I reserve
this film for you.”
“Forget it. How about Citizen
Kane?”
“Please hit 2 on your touch tone
telephone.”
The unsuspecting caller hits 2.
This serves no purpose whatsoever, but it does satisfy the craving for physical
activity.
“We do not carry Citizen Kane,” the
Mite now says.
“What? It’s the number one movie of
all time. How can you not carry it?”
“It may be the number one movie of
all time, but no one has ever seen it, no one wants to see it, and we do not
carry it. We do however have a large supply of copies of My Stepmother is an
Alien if you would like to change your request.”
“Rosebud!”
“I’m sorry. I am not programmed to
accept vulgarities.” At which point the Mite hangs up.
Needless to say, he hasn’t cut too
many deals yet in his digital persona. As you can imagine, the Mite is not cut
out for this sort of thing.
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