Before I become as old as one of my fave numbers I thought it time – in this age of communication – to set up a site of those of my interests that might interest someone besides myself. I do have others than those listed, but I have no wish to offend anyone beyond the multitude of possibly offensive things that will at any rate present themselves in the Liza Minnelli Blog. My opinions are of course mine, but that doesn’t mean they won’t have some validity to others; there may, after all, be the odd gem peppered atop the drivel.
I was born (some suspect hatched) in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan on Labour Day in 1944. For my mother, the 33rd of August was certainly that, as I weighed in around five keys while she was all of forty-five. Thanks in part to the silver spoon I was fortunate enough to have been born with, and to the generosity of my father – one of my few relatives not to be a thief – I am now semi-retired. I would have been completely retired some time ago were it not for an unfortunate propensity to insert the spoon where it became tarnished. Therefore I teach and write about the card sport of bridge for a partial living, while engaging in my main endeavour of writing “something definitive”.
As a hobbyist I have given up an assortment of pastimes – golf, chess, badminton, curling, snooker – to concentrate on a select few, namely “pickin’ & grinnin”, a euphemism for guitar playing and singing/performing, “sucking on the Glass Teat”, an Ellisonian euphemism for watching television (and movies), and playing the absolutely wonderful ‘game’ of bridge. It is a fact of life that as we fall victim to time and gravity and begin – if lucky – the downhill slide, we attach more importance to fewer things. For one who has never suffered fools gladly I now tolerate them not at all. The fact that I am sometimes foolish myself is not a deterrent to my lack of patience with others. I tend to observe “Sturgeon’s Law”, a premise put forth by Theodore Sturgeon, one of Speculative Fiction’s writing greats. He said: “90% of everything is crap”. I have found little in life to dispute that apparent fact.
After paying snow and rain dues in Saskatchewan, Ontario, Minnesota and British Columbia for around a half century I looked in a mirror and promised myself “Never again!”. I have therefore sought Palm Tree Land for most of the past two decades, with Thailand, Hawaii and California being the objects of my affections. My druthers tell me it’s better to winter in a cardboard box in Palm Tree Land than to teeze my fresticles in a mansion in a northern clime. I’ve never regretted that decision.