Posts filed under ‘THOUGHTS’
THE BLOB: A CLASSIC WITH FLAWS
THE BLOB: A CLASSIC WITH FLAWS
I just finished watching, perhaps, the worst science fiction/horror movie I ever saw. And I have seen quite a few science fiction movies because they are my favorite genres. Yet this movie is one of the most famous movies of this type made during the 1950’s.
The movie was The Blob made in 1958. I must have seen it as a kid. Now I wanted to see the movie again because I live in the middle of Blob country., West Chester, PA. Mentioned in the movie is the town of Downingtown, which is just down the road. But the hub of Blob country is the nearby town of Phoenixville home of the Colonial Theater. The town holds a Blob fest every summer. And if you want to be part of the main event during the fest and redo the most famous scene from the movie you can be part of the crowd running out of the Colonial Theater.
The inspiration for this post was the ending seem in many monster movies of this era, The End ?.
In the movie Steve McQueen is the only name which survived the test of time. I can’t really say he acted in the movie; no one really acted in the movie, they just talked. And I would say the plot was weak at best. The blob comes down as a meteor and forms a crater. In the crater is a small sphere which opens when an old man discovers the crater and when the sphere opens, there is the blob which attaches to the man and the ‘action’ begins. Later in the movie Steve McQueen’s character, along with some of his friends, discovers the crater and a hot rock which they theorize as the origin of the blob. This is never corrected so the origin of the blob goes from being a sphere to a rock.
McQueen’s character and his friends spend the majority of their time trying to convince the town sheriff that there is a monster rolling around town eating people. Soon the sheriff goes from disbelief to accepting the fact that people are being eaten and puts the number at 50 for no apparent reason while trying to disperse the growing crowd. Little to nothing is explained in the movie as to the origin of the Blob. Things just happen. What inspired this piece is how the Blob is defeated.
It turns out that the Blob cannot stand cold. After cooling it down using fire extinguishers they somehow load it onto a transport, I assume the plane is refrigerated, there is a lot that needs to be assumed in this movie. The blob is transported on a pallet which is attached to a parachute and dropped into the arctic.
The end of this movie should, especially if you are a science fiction writer, start your mind churning. Visit my blog on January 21 and your imagination will receive some direction.
VENEZUELA VS THE AFFORDABLE CARE ACT
VENEZUELA VS THE AFFORDABLE CARE ACT
Could someone explain to me why there is not enough money to help millions of Americans to keep their medical benefits through The Affordable Care Act yet there is enough money to send 105 aircraft, carrying highly sophisticated weapons, to attack Venezuela and at the same time maintain a massive naval force off the country’s coast?
And now there is another list of countries who may deserve America’s attention.
I don’t understand anything anymore.
Where are the Adults?
BOWL GAMES: GREED DILUTES SIGNIFICANE
BOWL GAMES: GREED DILUTES SIGNIFICANE
I first noticed a trend in Bowl Games beginning a few years ago. The number of Bowl Games had increasedcontinues to do so.
I can remember, and I’m talking about maybe 60 years ago, the number of college Bowl Games were few and for a school making it to a Bowl Game was quite an honor. The Bowl Games in existence back then, were to the best of my memory, the Rose Bowl, Orange Bowl, Cotton Bowl and Sugar Bowl and along with three or other Bowl Games, most of which were planned on or near New Year’s Day.
How things have changed.
Here are the Bowl Games listed recently in my local newspaper.
Reported on 12/27/2025
Go Bowling Military Bowl
Bad Boy Mower’s Pinstripe Bowl
Wasabi Fenway Bowl
Pop-Tarts Bowl
Snoop Dog Arizona Bowl
Isleta New Mexico Bowl
TaxSlayer Gator Bowl
Kinder’s Texas Bowl
Reported on 12/29/2025
Radiance Technologies Independence Bowl
Liberty Mutual Music City Bowl
Valero Alamo Bowl
I’m sure there are more to come because the ones mentioned don’t include the ones I remember.
Do you see the existence of the trend I mentioned. To me having made it into a Bowl Game has much less significance these days. I could be wrong but the increase in the number of Bowl Games has more to do with profit and recognition of the sponsor then the significance of the game and the honor of playing.
What do you think?
IN THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS
I post this piece on or around Christmas each year to relive Christmas spirit which in the holiday rush, is sometimes lost.
A CHIRISTMAS TREE STORY
For many years my family practiced a Christmas tradition involved in obtaining a Christmas tree. This experience holds a special place in our hearts. Those of you buying a live tree this Christmas season, a tree with an enormous price, may shed a tear after reading this story.
Many years ago, a friend at work told me about a unique tree farm where trees cost seven dollars. I can assure you that the prices of trees on Christmas tree lots, at that time, were much more. I obtained directions to the farm, and one Sunday afternoon, piled the family into our car and off we went. After a few wrong turns I found the farm. And for years we went there for our Christmas tree and experienced the true meaning of Christmas.
The tree farm was south of Phenixville Pennsylvania. I learned from the owner that the property was once the site of a small airport having a hanger in which he could store his powder blue tail-dragger single engine high wing plane. After many years the hanger was falling apart, and much to his amazement, he was able to fire up the engine and taxi the plane out. But I doubt that the plane will ever fly again.
Now back to the trees.
The tree farm was made up of groves of jack-pine trees, and he spent the off season trimming the trees for sale for Christmas. He was in his late seventies or early eighties, and you could tell, for now, it was his life’s work.
Now a jack-pine is an evergreen with branches, far apart, along its trunk. They were scraggly looking trees, but you could load ornaments along the full length of the branches. As opposed to the usual ‘full’ Christmas trees where only the tips of the branches could be decorated. Once decorated, these jack-pine trees were beautiful.
For tree selection my two daughters brought along multiple scarves to drape on trees which showed promise. Once the ‘perfect tree’ was chosen I cut it down and carried it to the small trailer he kept on the property. He wrapped the tree with twine then went inside with my wife and daughters to sip hot chocolate. While I was left to tie the tree to the car roof coming close to suffering frostbite.
On the wall of the trailer were mounted news articles. Clippings about the farm and his generosity. He donated trees to churches and organizations. I’m he would give trees to those suffering hardship.
Once home, we decorated our scrawny ‘Charlie Brown tree’ and turned it into a thing of beauty.
After a few years of getting our trees at the farm the owner told me he thought he was charging too much so he lowered the price to five dollars. I began bringing him a loaf of homemade cinnamon raisin bread and he told me I could have a tree for free. I assured him that five dollars was what I would pay.
The man through all the years had a collie running free on the property. But the dog wandered somewhere causing someone to complain. A township official arrived and warned the man about his dog. The next time we went to buy a tree he told me that that’s it and he was selling the property. I hope he got a good price and I’m sure some developer filled the land with McMansions sitting cheek to jowl. Houses with no character, only volume.
I will never return to that property because it would spoil my memories of a wonderful Christmas tradition. That fellow was the epitome of the Christmas spirit with the kindness and generosity of the holiday season.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
A TWO-YEAR-OLD DIED TODAY
A TWO-YEAR-OLD DIED
12/22/2025
I heard on the news this morning that a two-year-old just died. To make the news the circumstances must be suspect. This news grabbed me and would not let go. I suspect the reason is the season and I associate children with happiness, especially now.
What follows are thoughts trying to be a poem.
A TWO-YEAR-OLD DIED
A two-year-old died today,
Does anyone ask, “Why”?
Or break down and cry.
A two-year-old died today,
Will it happen again?
Just a matter of when.
UKRAINE’S POSSIBLE FUTURE
UKRAINE’S POSSIBLE FUTURE
There is a window into what Ukraine’s future might become and it is not pleasant. Trump’s ‘peace deal’ is, to say the least, very suspicious. Some time ago I accidentally discovered a book which offers a glimpse of what the future might look like for Ukraine. A window into what Ukraine may experience if Russia succeeds in having its way with determining Ukraine’s future.
I am a fan of James A Mitchner’s books. If you are familiar with his books you know they are real doorstoppers, long works with infinite detail. But some of his early works were not so lengthy. One of his books which I read and enjoyed was The Bridges At Toko-Ri. I somehow obtained another of his books, The Bridge At Andau, and thought this was also a work of fiction which I would enjoy. The book is, in fact, a work of nonfiction recording the uprising in Hungary against the occupation of the country by the Soviet Union. What is described is a heart-wrenching story of Hungary’s bid to win back its freedom. Written in 1957, the book contains interviews with some of the freedom fighters and descriptions of what took place.
The bridge at Andau is actually a bridge between Hungary and Austria over which approximately 200,000 escaped the onslaught of the Soviet Union. I feel the book offers an idea of the future awaiting Ukraine if Russia has its way in the peace negotiations.
The Hungarian revolt began on October 23, 1956. The Soviet Union returned in force on November 4 to stop the revolt. Described are the reasons for the uprising. Before the occupation the Soviet Union described to the Hungarians the benefits of their occupation. They were all lies. Life in Hungary become dismal with every aspect under the control of the Soviet Union. Another source of the persecution endured by the Hungarians was the police force made up of their own people. So, you had Hungarian pitted against Hungarian. Hungarians were responsible for making their own people to live in a life of fear.
As with the occupation of Ukraine by the Russians, the then Soviet Union gave unfounded excuses for their occupation of Hungary. The Russians claiming that their actions were the result of Nazi influence in Ukraine which was unfounded. More lies spread by Russia the justify their starting the war.
Hungary thought the U.N. would come to their aid. It did not. And no help was provided by the United States.
I feel all that are against of providing aid to Ukraine, especially Congress, have on obligation of understanding what may be Ukraine’s future if assistance is not provided. And if possible, to read this book to understand what the impact of their decision to not help Ukraine means.
THE DAY KENEDY DIED
This piece has appeared on my blog in the past but I thought it appropriate that it appears again today.
THE DAY KENNEDY DIED
November is the month of thanksgiving, when the weather no longer bounces between summer and winter, when the chill of fall sets in with a vengeance preparing us for the hard cold of winter. It is also the month Kennedy died.
During November 1963 I was a junior at East Side High School. I already had a deep interest in science and forfeited my study hall to work in the school biology lab. I designed an experiment to study Mendelian heredity. The experiment required two black and two white mice, which I purchased, and began mating the mice in all the various combinations possible, trying to predict the color of the littermates. I soon ran out of space in the cellar where I was keeping my mouse colony and asked permission to move my many mice to school. During the experiment, I took meticulous notes, recording much more than I really needed to. One quirk of the mice, which totally threw off my experimental results, was the fact that they sometimes eat their young. When nervous or upset, they would chew off the chord and wouldn’t know when to stop, leaving only the head and a small piece of protruding backbone. I pressed on, until I began seeing litters of mice with brown siblings, something I had not anticipated. This brought an end to my experiment and an introduction to the unpredictability of science.
It was while I was working in the school lab one November Friday afternoon that someone came in and said that the president had been shot. I recall reacting to the news with horror and disbelief. The emotions of that moment will always stay with me, the sense of experiencing a moment that defied all logic, the vitality of our president in jeopardy. I had the sense that the world had changed; this quiet November afternoon would become a milestone in history. All I knew was that the president had been shot; there was still hope of survival as I headed home from school that day. But as I walked the mile and a half home from school, I saw something I shall never forget, something that dimmed my hope. On my way I saw clusters of people standing on corners and most were crying. The residents of Newark are not known for their emotional displays, so this sight was disturbing. It was the first signal I had that the worst had occurred, that the country, the world had changed forever.
When I reached home, my father was already there, not unusual for he began work early in the morning and was home before me most of the time. I would find him sitting in the kitchen with his beer and paper, but today he was in the parlor watching the TV and he was crying too, something I recalled seeing only once before. The last time I saw my father cry was when my mother lost a baby girl shortly after birth. Ironically, my sister died almost the same time the Kennedy’s lost their child and also for the same reason, underdeveloped lungs. As my father sat weeping before the TV, he told me that the president had died.
The days that followed seemed unreal. Long before the age of cable and satellite dishes, there were just three major networks and a few independent New York stations broadcasting to Newark. All normal broadcasting ceased; TV carried nothing but news and insight into the assassination. On the radio, all normal programming ceased. The radio played nothing but somber music and news of the assassination. Everyone watched the news all weekend, watching history unfold before our eyes. Shortly after Kennedy died, Oswald was captured. The nation viewed live, the instrument of their sorrow. We watched Oswald’s murder at the hands of Jack Ruby, adding confusion on top of the misery. Everyone’s thoughts were in turmoil as these historic events concluded with JFK Jr. saluting his father’s casket.
The day Kennedy died, I learned something of the unpredictability of life.
HOW DOES A WRITERS PRODUCE THEIR MAGIC?
WRITERS, WHERE DO THE IDEAS COME FROM?
Where do the ideas writers use to develop their stories they write come from?
I see major differences between producing fiction and nonfiction. For nonfiction the writer begins with a subject which I’m sure involves an interest and creative thoughts. Then comes the research. Sometimes a massive amount of research, but the writer has a concrete goal. This writing demands skill to create a work of value. And to complete a valued work requires writing skill but little imagination. However, the genre of creative nonfiction does require a creative approach to a nonfiction story..
Now for fiction.
In fiction the writer begins with an idea and then creates something from nothing and hopefully an intriguing story. But where does that initial idea come from along with the details that follow? What triggers the mind of the writer to begin down the road to producing a work of fiction.
I feel the answer lies in experiences and observations, which the writer has undergone on the way to developing their work. Some remembered consciously, but most stored deeply in the writer’s subconscious. We all have exposure to various situations, challenges – some won, some lost. But I feel the writer records these, to a much greater extent, than the nonwriter.
Another difference may be that most people are talkers where the future writer is more of a listener. And what they hear accumulates somewhere in the reaches of their brains. Eventually, this accumulated data on a subject of interest, an idea for a story comes into being with details filled in by the writer’s life. Then there is the skill the writer needs to form an effective story. Can that skill be taught or does it come naturally? I feel the answer is both. So many successful writers have gone through the process of an MFA. But look at all the famous writers who possessed great skill without the benefit of an education in writing. There are so many questions which spring to life when considering what prompts a work of fiction. Could we ever answer that mystical mystery of what process goes into creating a work of fiction? The answer is imagination, but is that an answer, or just fodder for more speculation?
What happens to a writer sitting alone with a pencil and paper or a computer and just begins thinking, I think, is a minor or sometimes major miracle.
WHAT DA VINCI SAID
WHAT DA VINCI SAID
In my last post I mentioned that I worked to leave a record. I feel most creative people (I feel it takes some nerve to call myself creative) somewhere in the corridors of their mind consider that purpose while they are producing their work.
Where my thoughts on this subject began was after I read Walter Isaacson’s excellent biography of Leonardo da Vinci. If you were at all interested in da Vinci’s life and work I highly recommend this book.
It is thought that if da Vinci had been alive today he would probably been on medication. He had difficulty completing a project. His most famous work, the Mona Lisa, was commissioned by a husband as a portrait of his wife. The husband never received the portrait, and da Vinci carried it with him wherever he went for the rest of his life occasionally adding a few brush strokes.
He was known to be a hard worker and when someone asked him why he worked so hard he said, “I want people to know I was here.”
WHO ARE ‘THEY’?
WHO ARE ‘THEY’?
I keep my blog with a purpose in mind. Leaving a record of my existence, my thoughts and the work I produced. That someday someone might stumble upon my blog and say, “Jesus Christ, this guy’s stories are pretty good.” One can only hope. But the internet has provided, for me, some competitors.
My record, I believe, will be drowned out for today everyone with a cell phone is also leaving behind a record whether they want to or not. The question is, how long will that record exist? For some, too long.
While using your cell phone ‘they’ know where you are and where you have been. ‘They’ have recorded your phone calls. For proof, listen to the news and see how many criminals have been caught through their phone calls. I don’t think they record only the phone calls of criminals.
‘They’ also record your past texts. Ask Fox News about that. Also, it seems that past texts, thought to be erased, still exist somewhere out there. Proof of this is how past texts, thought to be erased, bite people, especially politicians, some who change their opinions as much as they change their underwear depending which direction the wind is blowing. They change their opinions to save their careers, but their past opinions still exist.
This installment poses the question, who are ‘they’? And further, how long do ‘they’ keep the information ‘they’ obtain. And to whom do ‘they’ give this information to other than law enforcement? Are there nefarious actors involved in this distribution? So many important questions which could play a part in your future.
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