CALL ME SNAKE

Last night I sold a condo (at a price well above its market value) to a dead man. Or I should say to a man who is now dead. He wasn't when I sold it to him. Or at least I didn't think so. But upon reflection, I realized that he really was dead, and the fact that I had soaked him troubled me quite a bit when I considered the plight of his widowed wife and two young children. But I then figured out that I’d just been dreaming and that I actually don’t have any condo to sell, so I shouldn’t feel bad about conning this guy, dead or alive. So once I put all that together and concluded that none of the above happened, why did I proceed with the foregoing? Simply because I liked the title: “I Conned A Dead Man.”

On my flight to Chicago, I sat between two middle-aged men. With me wedged in between, I guess that made three of us (though I'd rather apply the term "middle-aged" to others rather than to myself). A few minutes into the flight, all three of us were working on our own sudoku puzzles. An hour later, we all donned headphones and watched a rebroadcast of "The Office," laughing together, more or less at the same moments. During the two-hour flight, the three of us sat there pretty much in synch, like three peas in a pod, you might say. Then we landed in Chicago and went our separate ways, never to see each other again.

As to why I saw fit to recount this story, I'm not sure. It's sometimes said that "travel can be so broadening." But in other ways, as the above attests, travel can be so narrowing...

After years of maintaining my independence, I've gone and done something I thought I'd never do--I've joined a group blog. It's called the "Cambridge Blog" [http://blogs.townonline.com/cambridge/], an adjunct to "The Cambridge Chronicle" newspaper. I'm a columnist for the Chronicle and was asked by the editor to contribute to the blog as well. Yesterday I posted my first entry, as an introduction of sorts, which the editor had suggested would be a good way to start. The title of my entry--"Who am I? Why am I here?"--was taken from 1992 vice presidential candidate James Stockwell, who posed the questions in a televised debate. My discussion got rather longwinded--perhaps too longwinded for some readers.

In a comment, one reader submitted a joke that answered the second of the questions posed by Stockwell and, 15 years later, by me: It starts with a man who suspected his wife of cheating on him. He went home early one day. He looked in the bedroom and did not find anyone. He looked in the kitchen and did not find anyone. He looked in the bathroom and saw no one. Then he opened the shower curtain and saw a man standing there. He asked the man “What are you doing here?” The man replied, “Everyone’s got to be somewhere.”

That, in a nutshell, is as good an explanation for this blog, Call Me Snake, as I can muster. It also explains, in five words or less, why I've switched over "to the other side," though my visits there may be infrequent.

It's time to announce the winner of our First First Annual Let No Man (or Woman) Write My Epitaph contest. And the winner is (drumroll please) ..... ME! Sorry, I couldn't resist saying that. But in this case, I've just earned honorable mention for my epitaph: "I COULDA' BEEN SOMEBODY." The real winner, as usual, is Gatemouth for: "IF YOU LIVED HERE YOU'D BE DEAD NOW." I'd like to thank all the other contestants whose entries earned them a runner's up prize (to be determined). Save any new ideas for the next epitaph contest, which could become a daily occurrence. Until then, this is one Snake signing off from sweepstakes central.

Some months ago, I wrote about the boost I received by virtue of sending an entry to a prestigious magazine, one of our most distinguished. Although I knew it would probably be rejected--the odds, based on pure statistics, were against me--until I was notified as such, I could always hope. Well, the word from "on high" came yesterday, and the verdict was a polite thumb's down: "Dear Mr. ___, We're sorry to say that your piece, "_______," isn't right for us, despite its evident merit. Thank you for allowing us to consider your work. Best regards..."

Looking on the bright side, there's not much to go on here expect those two words, standing out like beacons of truth: "evident merit." Not to be a nitpicker, but I always thought the expression was "obvious merit." But maybe it wasn't "obvious" to them, only "evident." And what was "evident" to me was that despite it's undeniable "merit," they still didn't like it.

"Solaris," the 1972 sci-fi classic, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky and based on a novel by Stanislaw Lem, has clearly seen better days. Earlier this week, I saw a copy of the video sitting near a subway entrance in Central Square, where some of the most destitute, most down-and-out people of Cambridge parade by, day and night. I pass by that spot on the way to my daughter's elementary school, and one day later and the day after that, the video was still there in the exact same spot, apparently untouched.

In some ways, the movie is controversial. Although it still has a cult following in some quarters, other viewers find it unbearably tedious--"like watching paint fade," as one friend described it to me. Love it or hate it, people used to get passionate about the film. But now, it seems, the prevailing response to Solaris is one of indifference. Is that something to be concerned about? It depends on how you feel about watching paint fade.

E. POWER BIGGS WRITES: Hey Snark, This comment has nothing to do with your blog post, but that never stopped ZARDOZ so why should it stop me? Didja see the story in the Globe today about the shooting in Montreal? I was relieved to hear that the police said it was not terrorism. I'm sure the 19 people who were injured and the family of the person who was killed feel the same way. You're a journalist so I hold you responsible for the rest of your ilk who let the authorities get away with uttering this bullshit.

AND SNAKE (aka "Snark") REPLIES: Thanks for your comment, Biggs. Or must I call you Mr. Biggs? I'm glad you feel free to speak up on any topic, regardless of what I write about. Please feel free to fire away any time you're so inclined. Under the circumstances, I suppose, I should say, "speak away," rather than "fire away." Now as to your point: Holding me accountable for all of journalism is quite an honor, in a sense, given that I'm actually a very marginal player (a "bit player," you might say) in that hallowed field. (Writing about flying squirrels and the inner game of volleyball tends to do that to you.) No one would listen to me, even if I got up on a stump and made a fuss. Even if I was naked at the time. But, getting back to your point. If I'm reading it correctly, yes, you are right--there is a double-standard here. And it also illustrates how vague the term "terrorism" really is. If the gunman yelled "Allah is great!" before firing the shots, would that have made him a terrorist? (Probably so, in many quarters.) If he yelled, "Christ died for your sins!" before pulling the trigger, would that have made him a terrorist? (Probably not, in these parts; more likely he'd be called a "disturbed" or "deranged individual, perhaps with a misplaced Christ-identification complex.) I considered writing about the incident myself--about how what used to be a uniquely American form of violence, going "postal" in the schoolyard, has, unfortunately, caught on internationally--but I had the good sense to refrain. Until now.

I've never gotten into the ritual patriotism that is di rigeur on the 4th of July. That said, this was still, for me, just about a perfect day. I spent all day on the beach playing volleyball, swimming, and body surfing. This evening I watched a silly Disney comedy from the 60s with my daughter. (She laughed loudest during the ridiculous chase sequence.) Then, after helping to put the children to bed, I hopped on my bike and went to watch Boston's fireworks display over the Charles River--the best I've ever seen. Afterwards, I raced off on my bike and got ahead of all the traffic--thousands and thousands of people--within just a few blocks, which is a very satisfying feeling, second only to seeing the fireworks themselves.

Some time ago, I made wisecracks about the latest trend in cookie fashion, Whole Wheat Chips Ahoy! I can't remember what I said though it was probably the usual cynical stuff you've come to expect from me. But today I broke down and actually tried them. And, the fact is, they're, um, um..., well, I'm not sure. I'm going to need more time to make a thorough assessment but they may, in fact, be pretty good and possibly better than the original. Not that the original, although still quite edible, didn't have a somewhat sickeningly-sweet, trashy taste. Anyway, I'm going to keep an open mind on the Whole Wheat Chips Ahoy! line, despite my early skepticism. It may be the way of the future for me, a real turning point, you might say. Next up, no doubt, will be flaxseed Doritos and soy potato chips. Junk food just ain't what it used to be.

With the holidays soon upon us and all the additional stuff that needs to be done--gift buying, social gatherings, etc. (not that I do any of that, but some folks evidently do)--things are starting to pile up for me. A clear sign of that is what I called the "Sudoku backup." I cut 12 puzzles a week out of the Boston Globe and the disposable daily, "Boston Metro," and I'm already behind by four. With two coming out per day through Friday, I don't see how I'll manage to work through that backlog and keep up with the new ones. Now I know why some people consider the holiday season a very stressful time. I never used to until I took up this wonderful new hobby on top of that other wonderful new hobby I took up called blogging.