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The Mix-Matched Marriage
Any outsider could see that the marriage was a no-go from the start, and that Artie, the doting and loving husband, had brains that were no match for those of Ophelia, his wife. In fact, compared to Artie, Ophelia was an intellectual giant.
Trying to compare their brains would be like comparing a planet the size of Jupiter to a marble, and not the shooter, I'm talking about the smaller ones. Or perhaps a tiny ball bearing would be more accurate.
Artie was just a simple guy. A nice guy. A really, really nice guy that everyone in the small town of Bunkville liked.
It was always: "Hey Artie!" as Artie would drive his beat up old pickup truck past the mailman. "Hey Artie! as Artie would hang out at the firehouse with the boys on a Wednesday night, or when he stopped by the Post office, where Artie would always have a good talk with the good people there.
And, like those people, artie had "Buddies" who were good people. I mean, they were "good people". And all buddies. Take Artie's buddy Joey, for instance, in the barber shop. Joey would cut Artie's hair and tell Artie cornhole jokes that would make Artie laugh. And Artie liked Joey's jokes, and oh how Artie liked to laugh too. Because that made Artie happy! (more stuff here) And Artie knew, that it was good to be happy.
That was why Artie couldn't never understand why his wife, Ophelia, who worked as a teacher teaching biology at the Bunkville U, and had several degrees from the City College, always seemed very unhappy. Artie was proud of his smart wife because she was not just smart, she was really, really smart. But still, Artie had to admit that sometimes she really confused him, and she would say things that Artie didn't understand. She also worked over at the Cold Spring Harbor Labs, and did Biology research on mice and rats. And she sure knew a lot about rats, Artie would say to himself, and the kinds of things she would say on the phone to her friends, like her friend who also worked at the Cold Spring Harbor laboratory, that had the Noble prize, would confuse Artie. And Artie wasn't too impressed about the Noble Prize like Ophelia was, because Artie figured: "What the heck? So what does that do, make her a Queen? And then Artie would make a mental leap and add: "Who does she think she is?" to himself. Because Artie didn't like snobs, because snobs are no good. Artie liked Good People, who weren't like that. They weren't like that because they were good people.
Sometimes Artie would try to make his wife Ophelia happy, and crack her up with stuff he would buy in the gag shop, like hilbilly bubba teeth, or fake poop that you put on the seat of the toilet bowl. Artie would always crack up when he did that, and their only child and son Poindexter would laugh too. But Ophelia always got mad. And artie never understood why she was always gettin' mad at him. Even for doin nothin. Artie thought hilbillies were funny and he never understood why Ophelia didn't think so too.
But Artie always figured it was just because Ophelia was a little high strung. Artie remembered that when they had to get married in the VFW hall , that Ophelia was a really unhappy bride, and cried a lot. But she married him anyway, because they had to get married, and that was that, and Artie always figured that maybe she didn't love him too much, but she was probably glad now that he had a good job with the Union, and making good money. Because it was good to make good money.
And so, there they were. They were married, and they had their only child, Poindexter, to take care of. And, like I said, that was that. But Artie really loved Ophelia. He always did, and always will. He really did, because that was Artie. A Poor sweet simple guy named Artie that liked to give his heart away, and was always happy if someone wanted to take it.
But sometimes Ophelia would do strange, things, and Artie would be confused by it. Take for instance, the day they were walking around the grounds of the Arboretum and enjoying the crafts fair. Ophelia bought a painting from a local artist that Artie didn't like because the artist was a snob, and had a pointy beard and a Pierre hat. Artie hated Pierre hats. And, Artie, as I said, didn't like snobs. The painting was modern art, and Artie didn't care for modern art. To Artie, modern art was all crap! All of it! Artie liked pictures with people in them. Or with cowboys and Indians. That was the kind of Art that Artie liked.
But while they were walking around some more, their son Poindexter excitedly said: "Look! Look!"
Poindexter's thick glasses reflected excitedly as he kept pointing and said: "Look Mommy, Mickey Mouse!"
And sure enough, there was a guy--or it coulda been a woman, Artie didn't know-- walkin around the crafts show in a Mickey Mouse costume, and surrounded by several small children who were happy, and their parents were happy too. To see Mickey Mouse that is. Some of them even were taking pictures, and Artie felt bad he didn't have his camera with him, because Artie would have liked to get some pictures of Poindexter and Mickey Mouse too.
"Hey!" Artie said to Ophelia. Let's go take Poindexter to meet Mickey ......
But Artie paused when he saw the expression on Ophelia's face. It had blanched, and Ophelia looked horrified, like she just saw a real mouse or a snake or something, and it was crawlin' up her leg and heading towards her vagina. And Ophelia looked a little fearful, as well, and even sort of angry too as she said:
"Get that filthy thing away from my child!" And Ophelia then moved Poindexter, who looked a little confused, behind her.
A few of the people that were nearby turned and looked when she said that, and Artie got confused and embarrassed, because they were all starin'.
Artie looked in the direction she was looking and didn't see anything wrong. Then he looked back at Ophelia, and then back to where she was lookin, and all he could see was Mickey Mouse and the kids and their parents.
"Whatta talkin about?" Artie asked Ophelia.
"That thing! Ophelia exclaimed. I don't want it any where near my child. It's disgusting!"
Artie took off the baseball cap he always wore and scratched his head. He looked again towards Mickey mouse, and asked: "Who? Mickey Mouse?"
"Yes! replied Ophelia. It's an abomination! It's evil!"
Now Artie was really confused, and really embarrassed too, because lots and lots of people were watchin now, and Artie was starting to feel stupid, so he tried to make a joke:
"Ah, you're funny!" He said.
But Ophelia wasn't jokin. She was serious. Dead serious, and started leading a resistant Poindexter away.
To Be Continued
Note: To the Aussies: This narrative voice is sort of like who you are really talking to, if you ever happen to stumble across a typical American, and greet him with a "G'Day!"
Well.......maybe it's a little exaggerated, but the characters maybe loosely are based on my ex-wife, who had studied Biology, and had a job at Plum Island, and me, because sometimes I really feel, sound and think dumb. The views and opinions all come from me of course, and not my ex-wife.
The title is actually: "Mixed Matched Marriage", and not the title you see for this post, which I did just because I figured it would grab attention in the blog lists of the other bloggers.
Ny ex-wife had once mentioned a book about the Consciousness in the Bicameral mind or something or other, and It was totally out of my "discipline" you could say. Moreover, I had the misfortune to be at a dinner table once with a couple of others that actually knew the book as well, with all ending up discussing the book (except me). One woman had very long fingers, held up her hand at one point, and crossed her index and middle fingers, to express herself. It freaked me out, because they were able to cross, and then almost seemed to go halfway round again. Almost coiling, in other words.
So maybe I am bright in some academic areas, but in some other areas I am very deficient. Like most of us I guess.
Also, the name Artie is a goof. (i.e. "Art") and the name Ophelia is picked at random and no relation to the Hamlet character, unless it is unconscious.
Now that I think about it, "Hey Artie!" might have been my unconscious mind borrrowing from the old movie with Earnest Bornine called "Marty", and maybe the premise for the relationship comes from there too ;), but I had to figure out a way such disparate types were brought together, so pregnancy will do the trick. I should make the both their familys very traditional and religious, so as to shore that pregnancy reason or excuse up a bit.
But now that they are together, i have the benefit of expressing myself through the fictitious Ophelia. (So maybe I have reinvented Jeeves and Wooster?)
Still, there are real life people that the story is base on, and which are woven into the tale.
Biology works, because I can go into evolutionary goofs with more remarks by Ophelia contrasting American barbarians , or rather than comparing them with cave-men. You know--all done thruy her so I can say later: "She's juss a character, and that's not what JD Painter really thinks. Stuff like that.
But I gotta stop all this meandering.
So here is the Prreacher story I am working up, and I can fill the rows with the right people. Maybe even including A&O. Not that would be interesting. You know, to have Ophelia's reactions to the sermon, or thoughts. And maybe I can do a bit with her Hamlet context if I can find a way. Who knows? Like the painter Richard Ross, who would always put me to sleep, but in a nice way, used to say all the time: This is our little world and we can put anything we like in it. A happy tree, or rascally bush or whatever.
Again, I gotta stop this. It is 4 Am and I have to try and sleep. It is not healthy to go day after day with only 4 or 5 hours of sleep.
One last thing: the cornhole joking barber is from Clint Eastwoods Grand Torino character, and I question CE's premise for the barber, and the very premise of why CE is a celebrity in the first place, which I still need to work up and make more explicit. In other words: Why is CE telling us all how to live, and just who or rather "what" is he anyway? High art? Or just another rich "thing" like mickey mouse.
That's what I mean, the SL's are taking my mind into some very dark corners. I wish I knew Dante Allegheri better, then maybe I could work him into the story as well.
Well.......maybe it's a little exaggerated, but the characters maybe loosely are based on my ex-wife, who had studied Biology, and had a job at Plum Island, and me, because sometimes I really feel, sound and think dumb. The views and opinions all come from me of course, and not my ex-wife.
The title is actually: "Mixed Matched Marriage", and not the title you see for this post, which I did just because I figured it would grab attention in the blog lists of the other bloggers.
Ny ex-wife had once mentioned a book about the Consciousness in the Bicameral mind or something or other, and It was totally out of my "discipline" you could say. Moreover, I had the misfortune to be at a dinner table once with a couple of others that actually knew the book as well, with all ending up discussing the book (except me). One woman had very long fingers, held up her hand at one point, and crossed her index and middle fingers, to express herself. It freaked me out, because they were able to cross, and then almost seemed to go halfway round again. Almost coiling, in other words.
So maybe I am bright in some academic areas, but in some other areas I am very deficient. Like most of us I guess.
Also, the name Artie is a goof. (i.e. "Art") and the name Ophelia is picked at random and no relation to the Hamlet character, unless it is unconscious.
Now that I think about it, "Hey Artie!" might have been my unconscious mind borrrowing from the old movie with Earnest Bornine called "Marty", and maybe the premise for the relationship comes from there too ;), but I had to figure out a way such disparate types were brought together, so pregnancy will do the trick. I should make the both their familys very traditional and religious, so as to shore that pregnancy reason or excuse up a bit.
But now that they are together, i have the benefit of expressing myself through the fictitious Ophelia. (So maybe I have reinvented Jeeves and Wooster?)
Still, there are real life people that the story is base on, and which are woven into the tale.
Biology works, because I can go into evolutionary goofs with more remarks by Ophelia contrasting American barbarians , or rather than comparing them with cave-men. You know--all done thruy her so I can say later: "She's juss a character, and that's not what JD Painter really thinks. Stuff like that.
But I gotta stop all this meandering.
So here is the Prreacher story I am working up, and I can fill the rows with the right people. Maybe even including A&O. Not that would be interesting. You know, to have Ophelia's reactions to the sermon, or thoughts. And maybe I can do a bit with her Hamlet context if I can find a way. Who knows? Like the painter Richard Ross, who would always put me to sleep, but in a nice way, used to say all the time: This is our little world and we can put anything we like in it. A happy tree, or rascally bush or whatever.
Again, I gotta stop this. It is 4 Am and I have to try and sleep. It is not healthy to go day after day with only 4 or 5 hours of sleep.
One last thing: the cornhole joking barber is from Clint Eastwoods Grand Torino character, and I question CE's premise for the barber, and the very premise of why CE is a celebrity in the first place, which I still need to work up and make more explicit. In other words: Why is CE telling us all how to live, and just who or rather "what" is he anyway? High art? Or just another rich "thing" like mickey mouse.
That's what I mean, the SL's are taking my mind into some very dark corners. I wish I knew Dante Allegheri better, then maybe I could work him into the story as well.
And, again for the mood:
I am strong. I am weak.
Just straw for the fire.
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The Chairman of the Board Has Retired
(With Sin as his equity, and Damnation his just recompense)
There was the usual loud hum of murmuring and excited people talking amongst themselves as they filed into the vast University auditorium. It was early, but already most of the seats were filled on the lower level, and noticing that, the ushers started guiding the crowd towards the back, and feeding them up the stairways that led to the balcony. Perhaps excitement is not the right word to describe the mixed feelings of the crowd, because underlying that excitement was a newly awakened spirituality, though vague, within the breasts of all in attendance.
IN fact, this spirituality might have been said to be bordering on full conversion into a sort of fanatacism that had been brought on by several of the Reverend's most recent sermons over the past four months. All who had attended one or more of those sermons had felt that they were gradually being drawn in, and led down a nebulous path that they neither wanted or felt the need to even explore; and yet, here they were, sliding sideways and into the rows, and past the knees of those already seated, and who made up the ever increasing congregation of Reverend Edwards.
Ellie was already the auditorium as well, and she was not happy be find herself among the people now being led up the stairs. Unable to escape the momentum of the line, she looked around, and saw one of the maroon jacketed ushers, whose name was Shawn Hannity, and who was also her coworker and friend at the Town Hall. Hannity turned, then smiled and pushed his way towards Ellie. He took her arm and led her away from the staircase, and walked her down the long, wide middle aisle to their final destination: Ellie's customary and reserved seat in the front row and which was also directly in front of the pulpit.
(I have to get some sleep)
This song is central to the story:
Oscar Wilde was right (Basil I mean, or was it Lord Warburton Jeeves?)
This really is a new form of artistic expression, and a big event for the human beans.
So kids, throw away your TV sets. I saw a bunch of people filming a scene for a TV show yesterday, and I thought it was an awful waste of time. I mean, who is going to watch it?
And just about the entire film crew seemed sort of uncommonly scary tough. Like rough and tumble "city people", but that doesn't describe it either. And I looked at their demeanors as they filmed the same scene over and over and over. Sophisticated in a way, yet not. I can't describe it. But inwardly I shrank a little, and I thought, in the midst of all the redundancy, how Hollywood must be a rough and tough place, and sort of like the way Mario Puzo described it in the Godfather novel, and hardly the sort of place for us. That's what I mean when I say I felt a little frightened. Can you understand that Jeeves?
"Indeed Sir." Said Jeeves.
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I did this today just to show you kids that I do have a memory, and that memorizing the law is necessary, but not sufficient for success on a Law School Exam, or in Law School. (See my transcript.)
And I'm trying to be a little funny. I hope people realize that.
