Keith Handy 1.999

Death, taxes, and nazis

I have to admit, Turbotax has made leaps and bounds in the enjoyability department since my rantings of a couple years ago. Not only didn’t they take all my money, they managed to not take all my time either. Great jaerb, guys! New York state is a little weird, though…

So, are they asking if I got paid to be persecuted by Nazis? Or paid to persecute Nazis? In either case, I don’t think this pertains to me. Yes, I’m sure there’s a serious, non-funny explanation for that one, but, like, don’t harsh my buzz, man.

Anatomy of a family, through the lens of song

In innocenter times, while my mom, dad, sister and I were on one of our summer road trips, we jointly composed “Bubbles” as a game to pass the time:

Bubbles are the
Wonderfullest
Because they’re (or “they are”)
Round and poppable
But my friend
Henry says
He hates them
Each day

The idea (I don’t know whose it was) was that one person would sing three words, then the next person would add three more words, and so on. Because I have such a clear memory of how things went down, I can now distill its components to correlate them to our individual personalities:

Mom (Sandy): “Bubbles are the…”

Mom has always been the most innocent of the four of us. She never ever uses swear words of any caliber, let alone any nasty or cynical expressions, and she “just wants things to be nice”. Obviously she started this song with the intent to pay homage to something nice and happy.

Heather: “…wonderfullest. Because they’re…”

As we grow older, we lose our inclination to make up words like this. Well, some of us do. I remember that she thought her turn was done after contributing the “w” word, an easy error to make since it was the same number of syllables. But we had to coax two more words out of her. Later this warped into “because they are”, but I will insist all the way to my deathbed that it didn’t start out that way.

Me: “…round and poppable.”

Always a correct, literal, and scientific description from me. I mean, what else are bubbles? Wet, I suppose. Soapy, perhaps. But most importantly, what defines a bubble (and makes it more wonderful than anything else), is its roundness, and its capacity to be popped.

Dad (Fred): “But my friend,”

I don’t know what this says about my father, except perhaps “my friend” may have been the kind of thing that would be in a song he would hear on the radio. He could have initially meant it as “But, my friend,” — meaning we’re addressing the audience as “my friend” — but obviously we didn’t interpret it that way at the time. It’s not exactly bubble-specific, but that’s a good thing, because it opens the rest of us up to re-thinking the larger context of what we’re singing about.

Mom (Sandy): “Henry says, he…”

Who the hell is “Henry”? The only Henry we knew was Henry of “Henry and Amy” fame, who I’m thinking (but not sure) were grandchildren of one of my grandmother’s friends, and who Heather and I had to keep re-getting to know, because we only saw them once every two or three years. But I think this song is less about him, and more about “The EveryHenry” in all of us. Yes, I’m over-thinking this.

Heather: “…hates them, each…”

You could stereotype Heather as a child with a negative attitude — her first word was allegedly “no” — but to be fair, this line had to be something negative in order for the “but” to make sense. We just didn’t know how deep into negative territory she would go with it. At least it’s only Henry who is hating the bubbles. Really, that’s okay — we can’t all love them. Different strokes for different folks.

Me: “…day.”

Sure, I had credit for two more words, but the song was over (or was that the fun-ness of the game?). Besides, my father didn’t even get a second turn. Why should I be greedy?

Add this to the list

Y’know something I want for Christmas next year? A globe. I haven’t seen a globe in something like twenty years. How can you be sinister, and plot world domination, and go “bwahahaha”, without a globe to furiously spin and poke at with your crooked finger, indicating all the territory that one day will aaaalllllllll be yours? Nothing against Google Maps, but I don’t think it has quite the same effect.

Miracle

Multiplying the loaves and the fishes.

For those of you who like to keep current on the mundane aspects of my life, the consumable items pictured above (at least those on this side of the looking glass) have been the staples of my special “bread and tuna” diet, a practical survival strategy throughout my infamous eight-month “lost weekend” from the workforce in 2007. I have re-entered said force, but the diet remains prudent while I play catch-up. In addition to the pictured items, the diet is supplemented by water, vitamin pills, cereal, coffee, soda, and the occasional excursion into madness, in which I am defeated by the irresistible urge to eat out.

I am supposed to get my first paycheck this week.  (Please don’t let something go wonky with the deposit!) Until then, no such excursions into madness are permissible.

I’m currently reading a book about the history of animation (thanks, Santa!) and it’s helping to unclog my brainstorming pipes; even though I’m not lifting techniques directly from the pages, the mere fact that I’m reading about them helps my own ideas to swim around in my mind more freely.  Does that make sense?

In the meantime, be sure to chew something for a little longer than usual today… and while it’s smooshing around in your mouth, think about how awesome it is to eat.

Happy new year!

“An average level of candidness”

These are my results for one of those “no right or wrong answers” tests given by a local employment agency. I’d make fun of it, except I have to admit, it’s pretty accurate. (The stress management bar should have a little cartoon stick of dynamite at one end and a sparkly flame at the other.)

There must be a planet for me out there somewhere, though, because if the people in my society weren’t so damned “ambitious and assertive”, i.e. pushy, then I wouldn’t have anything to stress about in the first place. Anyway, now that everyone is so well-equipped to methodically assess my fundamental character flaws, does anyone want to offer an actual remedy for them?

No, seriously, the truth is, they don’t want you to be a total flake, but they want you to be just enough of a flake that when you’ve worked hard on something and then your supervisor destroys it in front of your eyes, your instinctive reaction is to smile and say, “rock on, boss”.

From the management

Dear Mr. Handy,

It has come to our attention that you are in love with yourself. The term for this is narcissism. Actually, it’s been painfully obvious all along, but your most recent posts just push it to a new level. Please rectify this situation at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

The Management

I don’t know… I mean, yeah, I’m self-absorbed, because you do kind of have to create and maintain your own little universe if you want to be prolifically creative. But I think what I’m in love with is music… and the idea and process of original music, which, in order to be original, has to be related back to me… am I wrong?