In the last few days, I've chosen entertainment over enlightenment about ninety percent of the time and I suppose that might re-confirm my membership in what Marx referred to as the proletariat. I've always been a member of the working classes, not what the Globe & Mail so archly refers to as the chattering classes. I confess, I'm just a simple prole
Last weekend I saw Ron James' two hour live stand-up comedy show and loved it. I was as impressed by his ability to remember all his jokes and stories as I was by the material itself. And on Saturday, I had my choice of two movies "Capote" or "The Legend of Zorro" and I chose the second one. I wasn't in the mood for enlightenment. I wanted to see great-looking men ride horses and brandish swords. --I wonder why must swords always be brandished, why can't they be flourished or waved? and why must hussies always be brazen? Maybe someone should brandish a brazen hussy sometime. --The movie was filled with impossible stunts (a horse on top of a train - oh sure), impossibly pushed up buxom bosoms (Zeta Jones must still have bruises), one impossibly good child actor and the requisite impossible plot. What more could an honest prole want?
The answer is ice cream, and I had some maple walnut.