Archive for the ‘Plays’ Category

10/30: not just Halloween Eve

October 30, 2025

In my posting yesterday “Penultimate October”, 10/30 was billed simply as Halloween Eve (with two, more eventful, days to follow). In fact it’s two — two! — occasions in one: Grace Slick’s birthday (1939), and the War of the Worlds broadcast anniversary (1938), 86 and 87 years ago (so GS is just a year older than I am). Very brief notes.

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Cellarettes and cabinet drinks

October 9, 2025

Adventures in furniture inspired by a Benjamin Dreyer posting on Facebook yesterday:

Goshamighty, I completely forgot to mention, when I posted my Old Acquaintance piece a few hours ago, that in commencing this morning to read John Van Druten’s 1942 The Damask Cheek (co-written with one Lloyd Morris), I learned a new word! It’s cellarette: “a movable cabinet or container, often made of wood, designed to store and secure alcoholic beverages.”

If there’s a more perfect word to turn up in a play set in “The library of MRS. RANDALL’s house in the East Sixties, New York. December 1909,” [the  setting of The Damask Cheek] I can’t think of it.

BD locates the sociocultural milieu of the item (and then its name as well) as privileged urban upper class — traditional, elegant, and elite — and we will see that his classdar is first-rate.

I then broke in with the news that I have one of these things, a very nice one, of Danish design, made of teak, on wheels, with a durable bar top, in two parts that slide open to reveal the storage spaces within (there will be photos). I am neither elegant nor elite — I have several good points, but they are not these — but this clever and handsome object suits me (and it was mine and Jacques’s, and before that mine and Ann’s, so it comes with with waves of sweet memory; I will soon pass it on to my grand-child Opal).

But first, the cellaret / cellarette. The object and the name.

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Withering, take 2

June 1, 2025

🐇 🐇 🐇 rabbit rabbit rabbit — the trois lapins inaugurating the month of June, and in the northern temperate zone, devastating young gardens; meanwhile, summer rushes in, as chronicled in a modest way in my posting yesterday, “Withering away, or not” (the cymbidium orchids are rapidly withering away, with only 5 flower stalks still standing at the end of yesterday’s garden work; in contrast, I was thriving)

This morning’s update (I was up at 3:40 and labored steadily on house and garden from 4 to 9, when I started work on this posting): only 2 flower stalks remain (the withered flowers and the long thick stalks have been cut into compostable bits); while I continue to thrive, despite seasonal allergies (one more day of stunningly good morning vitals — blood pressure and pulse rate). Meanwhile, in a kind of compensatory bloom, the big-leaved hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla) has three flower heads opening up into bright pinkish-red panicles, the tallest (and reddest) on a stem that now looms over 4 ft from the ground (since the plant’s in a big pot, that flower-ball is now right at my eye level).

And then I got the sweetest compliment from Robert Coren this morning, in a comment on yesterday’s posting that took off from the verb wither in the posting. To which I had a complex response.

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Foxes, camels, and Jeff the Tongue

April 5, 2025

From Jeffrey Golderg the Linguist (not Jeffrey Goldberg the Journalist — Jeff the Tongue, not Jeff the Pen) on April 3, passing on a Facebook posting with an old Soviet joke, along with monitory commentary from On Tyranny author Timothy Snyder the Historian:

(News note: Snyder, his historian wife Marci Shore, and his philosophy colleague Jason Stanley are all leaving Yale to move to the University of Toronto in the fall)

I’ll comment here briefly on two things: old Soviet jokes, some of them now startlingly applicable to life in the Soviet States of America under President Putinitsa and her sidekick Evilon; and the naming convention in Jeffrey Goldberg the Journalist and Jeff the Tongue.

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Goulash, couscous, and herring, oh my!

January 10, 2025

(1/5 through 1/9 were days of great anxiety for me, on both medical and personal fronts; I am at my wits’ end, and I’m also now hopelessly backed up on postings in preparation, probably never to recover. So I’m just posting whatever I can get done fairly easily in the moment.)

In Facebook / Meta / Zuckie’s Litter Box (just Zuckie for short) / whatever on 1/8, Marina Muilwijk posted this diagram from the Terrible Maps site, with a comment:


[Terrible Maps caption:] Europe Divided (again)
[MM’s comment:] See that bit where couscous and herring overlap? That’s where I live [in the Netherlands] (no, I haven’t tried having both in one dish).

Now the site is called Terrible Maps, and the maps are indeed dreadful (but often thought- or laugh-provoking); in this case, having the three regions pictured via circles in a Venn diagram is utterly inappropriate for culture areas, so the picture is absurd (couscous in Wales?).

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Briefly noted: the new Caligula

October 25, 2024

Posted to Facebook yesterday. I had been recalling Albert Camus’s play Caligula (adapted into English by Justin O’Brien), which I happened to see in February 1960, during its famously brief — one month long — run at the 54th Street Theatre in NYC — which led me to investigate Wikipedia’s long and intricate entry on

Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (31 August 12 – 24 January 41), better known by his nickname Caligula …, Roman emperor from AD 37 until his assassination in AD 41.

and then to write on FB:

Was just musing on TFG as the new Caligula (vengeful, unclear on the separation of his personal fortune and the state’s coffers, declaring himself a god, etc.) when I thought to look for parallel uses in the press. I bring you

the Daily Beast in 2011, Benjamin Netanyahu as the new Caligula; the Times (of London) in 2015, Jeremy Corbyn, the new Caligula; the Irish Times in 2016, [Helmut Grabpussy], the new Caligula?; POLITICO.eu in 2020, Boris Johnson the new Caligula

(there are probably more)

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Hunky Halloween Hamlet

October 15, 2024

From Tim Evanson, on Facebook this morning, his image for 16 days to Halloween:


(#1) Hunky Halloween Hamlet, let’s call him Hunklet, contemplating Peter Pumpkin (who really should have a grinning face carved in him) instead of Yorick’s grinning skull

The Shakespearean context (written as connected text rather than as poetic lines):


(#2) “Here hung those lips that I have kissed” — so Hamlet cries in iambs dread

(though I note that #1 could be read as God — or Zeus / Jupiter — surveying the Earth; everybody sing: “He’s got the whole world in His hands”)

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The cartoon glory that was Rome

September 4, 2024

In this morning’s comics feed, two linguistic jokes from the Roman Empire (in a Rhymes With Orange and a Bizarro); maybe it’s just something in the air, but on the other hand, September 4th, 476, marks the end of the Western Roman Empire as a political entity and consequently (in some people’s view) the beginning of the Middle Ages. So let’s say goodbye to the boy emperor Romulus, aka Augustulus, and antiquity; and hello to the barbarians and, oh yes, medieval times!

Bye-bye, Imperial times
Took Romulus to the border, to see the Empire die

I’ll get to Augustulus in a while.  But first the cartoons.

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Treading down the thorny path

March 16, 2021

Two evergreen topics in grammar and usage: so-called “split infinitives”, where some usage critics have insisted that they must always be avoided, however unnatural the results of this avoidance are; and modifier attachment, where jokes are often made about one of the potential attachments, however preposterous the interpretation associated with this attachment is.

The two topics are connected through their unthinking devotion to dogmas of grammatical correctness: avoid split infinitives, avoid potential ambiguity. A devotion that leads adherents down the thorny path of usage rectitude to using unnatural syntax and entertaining preposterous interpretations.

But first, the thorny path. The (tough) counterpart to the (easy) primrose path.

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Samuel Beckett’s sitcoms

April 23, 2018

A literary cartoon by Tom Gauld that came to me (unsourced, but I recognized the style) on Facebook today:

Hybrids between the plays of Samuel Beckett and American tv sitcoms.

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