Wednesday, Sept. 17, 2003 - 9:22 a.m.
Greetings,
Tommy and I watched the John Ritter memorial special last night with Diane Sawyer. I enjoyed parts of it, and it did seem to be a fine tribute to the man and his talent, but some of it really bothered me.
For instance, why did we need to retrace his every step on the “last day”? Right down to the camera acting as John walking into rooms and down halls? Why did we need to know all the details of his illness? What purpose did that serve except to titillate and satisfy the great voyeur in us all?
It just seemed such a useless invasion of privacy.
And all those shots of his friends and coworkers breaking down in tears? Why?
Our grief (meaning the public fans) cannot come close to being the same as theirs and what purpose did it serve to watch them cry except to, of course, make us cry too. Make us a part of something that should have been kept private.
John Ritter was a great man, a wonderful actor, and a huge inspiration to many people. But the walking saint I heard about last night?
Why is it that we are served either all black or all white from the media? What difference does it make anyway?
And why does my cynical side think that part of this memorial was crafted by ABC to really push people into watching 8 Rules…to Dating My Teenage Daughter?
I wonder if I’m the only person on the face of the earth who hadn’t even ever heard of the show before he died. And suddenly it was like the best, brightest, most wonderful show ABC had on the lineup.
America has never been the most tasteful country in the world, I suppose.
Anyway, rest in peace, John, you will be missed.
**********************
Today is hump day, and as usual, I’m bored off my ass here at work. However, it is actually dare I say, cool, outside today. Even cooler than yesterday. I’d actually forgotten what it felt like not to walk out into a wall of heat. Autumn is truly coming now.
I can’t believe I have 8 and a half hours to go until 5:30. What bullshit.
I also want to take this time, yet again, to profess my utter hatred of cubicles. Curse the bastard who invented them. Curse him forever. Or her. I’m an equal opportunity curser.
I hate being able to hear every whisper, crunch, throat clearing, sniffle, paper shuffle, keyboard rattle and stomach gurgle from everyone around me. I have got it on all sides. And it doesn’t help, I suppose, that I only like one person in all the cubes surrounding me.
Grumpy, thy name is Mina.
A quick consultation of the calendar doth confirm my suspicions.
I have PMS. Yippee. Just what I need.
A couple people I know are going on vacations this week. I am officially jealous. I don’t get to go anywhere except the grocery store until the end of November.
Crap! There’s been this lovely tortoiseshell comb sitting on a cabinet here for three weeks with nobody taking it. Today I was going to confiscate it as my own (when no busybodies were around to see of course), but one of the attorneys from another section on the floor just came to claim it. Rat turds. It was a nice comb too.
Tomorrow my library books are due and I can stock up on new reading material for the weekend. At the moment I am working my way through the Harry Potter series again. I’m on “Prisoner of Azkaban”. I have been thinking about whether or not I have a favorite book and I have decided I really don’t, but if I did, I would lean in the direction of “Goblet of Fire”.
I’m ready for another movie installment of Harry Potter. Isn’t one coming out soon? Hopefully? I am also waiting for Pirates to come on DVD, although that will probably be a wait. I love that movie! It’s got everything.
Well, I am just rambling on without a point or a compass, so I guess I’ll bail out on this entry here.
Until next time,
Olrun
