Paying My Respects

I know I'm late jumping on this particular bandwagon, and there's not much I can say that hasn't been said. This is really the blogging equivalent of pissing for the sake of leaving a mark.

Nevertheless.

Those of you familiar with my YouTube output are probably aware that I've dabbled in mime, so it should come as no surprise that I was a great admirer of the man. His physical abilities were unmatched.

He was a born entertainer, put on stage almost from the moment he could walk, with a genius that was partly forged out of abuse. During his solo years he spent a good decade on top of his game and produced some extraordinary work. This is what I'll remember him for, and not the unfortunate business that followed.

So it's with great sadness that I bid farewell to this gifted performer, and extend my best wishes to all his surviving relatives.

Whoever they are.

Thanks for everything.

Thanks for the laughs especially.

















So long, Buster Keaton.

Again, I know. Late. He'd been dead almost 20 years before I was born.

Still, it had to be said.

I've never understood having pride in ones country. It's really all about taking pride in accomplishments you had nothing to do with and couldn't possibly have influenced. Why limit yourself to the country you reside in? Maybe I just lack discipline. If I leave my house and happen to notice something extraordinary being accomplished, I might feel a sharp twinge of pride over the fact that such a thing could occur in my own neighborhood on a busy sidewalk at four in the afternoon. If, however, word reached me that the same thing had been accomplished in Csömör Hungary that very afternoon, nothing would stop me from expanding my pride to the appropriate benefactors overseas. My pride is indiscriminate, which makes it very hard to be a sports fan. I'm just constantly delighted by whoever wins. In battle I'd be the soldier that congratulates the enemy for each man they kill. My pride is a beast that cannot be contained.

If I could limit the scope of my pride, it probably wouldn't leave my apartment. I'd have pride in myself, my furniture, my various collectables, and the ants that appear whenever I drop something. If I was feeling charitable I might have pride in the family that owns the apartment, but only because they're just upstairs. I'd have pride in anyone who came to visit as long as they were here, but as soon as they left my pride in them would cease, regardless of who they are or what they've accomplished.

But to consciously limit ones pride to their country? That's just nuts.