Do You Like Starbuck?

moby-dick-queequeg.jpgFlipping through long list of books I have yet to read and even a goodly number that I have already read I was overcome by a curious sense of urgency, possibly corresponding to my rapidly advancing years. It started in the Js and became stronger as I scanned through the Ks and Ls, becoming a visible trembling as I dipped into the Ms. Could it be?

Is it time for one last and massively enjoyable read of one of the greatest American novels?

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

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2020, A Big Deal?

imagesOne would have thought that my initial reading list would reveal a glimmering pool of sublime literature but alas, when I look over it I see the same conglomeration of reading that I exhibited in 2019. Should 2020 really be something special, just because it inaugurates a new decade (does it?) and celebrates the final demise of Dishonest (Donald) John Drumpf and his pending banishment from the Leakin’ Lena?

For those that follow the obscure references of an old man, the DJ I am referring to is the puppet although in the case of Der Drumpf, either the cartoon or the puppet is highly accurate.

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Johnny Unitas: The Greatest Quarterback

imagesThe older you get, the less you try to acknowledge evidence of the ever-more rapid passage o time. Yet, being human and a typical example of the ugly American, I did scan the various end of year lists (and some end of decade lists) on the internet: best books, worst movies, and even those whom we lost. As far as movies and television are concerned there are fewer and fewer celebrities available for me to revere other than as a distant memory.

Living as I am with my daughter’s family I have noticed that more and more of my most mundane references are met with black stares and rolling eyes. Help! And grandpa isn’t even senile. My heroes are being forgotten.

But I still have books!

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