- Moroney on Moroney
Robin Moroney, journalist at large. Read excerpts of his witty and insightful thoughts.
Housekeeping
Ritik, the bundle of one hundred dollar bills on your bed is the money i owe you for the peruvian white. John, could you tell the maid not to polish the vase with whatever stuff she's been using, she's already broken the three Ming's, I don't want to see her fade our one remaining Qing. I got a call from the neighbors about constructing the observatory. I said we could launch the satellite if they provide the ditch (is that fair?). The dead tiger is mine, I'll move it tomorrow morning.
Genius
I think it's important not to forget the genius: here's how i remember it:
And then there's my sister ... so STRANGE ... she's so STRANGE ... SO STRANGE ... she's like .... she has no social grace ... it's like ... no social grace, YOU KNOW? ... it's like she's my lawyer ... (i am trying to collect back money on my social security) ... and she says to me she says ...."the point of contention is moot" she says "the point of contention is moot" ... who says that? ... I mean WHO SAYS THAT ... THE POINT of contention is MOOT! ...THE POINT of contention is MOOT !... THE POINT OF CONTENTION IS MOOT! .., I MEAN ...who SAYS THAT? who SAYS THAT? who SAYS THAT! whosaysthat Thepointofcontentionismoot! THEPOINTOFCONTENTIONISMOOT!... no WONDER she gets fired from the philadelphia inquirer! and at the "detroit free press" by way of La weekly ... AND I HAVE DOCUMENTS .... documentaion that PROVES I am LEGALLY insane from 1982.
The Bible
is there an interpretation other than the one that i have?
Deuteronomy 28: 53
And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters, which the LORD thy God hath given thee, in the siege, and in the straitness, wherewith thine enemies shall distress thee:
Is god telling people to eat their children?
Loneliness
i'm so tired of being lone-ly.
Don't you have some love to give.
Won't you show me that you really care.
Hong Kong (I)
By the way Hong Kong is just like New York, No difference whatsoever. The language is the same. the buildings are the same. The people are people. The weather is the same. Being on an island is the same.
Eating Right
I predict i will lose 60 pounds in Hong Kong, thanks to a new diet of being terrified to ask for food. Damn my earth-saving, ethical dietary restrictions. I'll have that [point at symbol], include as much shrimp as you dare!
Becoming Oriental
I am indeed becoming oriental. When i come back, watch me play the violin and do very hard sums.
Hong Kong (II)
Hong Kong is actually a remarkable place. Even more than NY, it would be quite something to be wealthy here. I pick up Time magazine, hoping to learn more about the Bob Kerrey, and discover that just across the border there is an area of sin, lust, and money where wealthy Hong Kongers keep second wives, who get paid $2000 a week for their spousehood. Also, the only thing to do in Hong Kong is keep fit and consume things with money. It is a society riddled with consumption, and more so than in the US, the only thing you can express with any certainty is how wealthy you are or aren't. It's inspiring stuff. Also i spend a lot of time on ferries, which i find enjoyably quaint. I missed the last ferry home on Sunday night and had to take a taxi to a harbor, negotiate with a small old man as to what my destination and fare would be (mainly with my hands) and then sat in a pleasantly small boat going through the mist and passing by the most gigantic tankers, cargo boats and cruisers, all with different lights and looking like their own constellations.
And of course they do like thir chinese food here. And i like it too.
Pat and Mike
Pat and Mike: are they not in all the jokes involving the Irish? Still, I'm embarrassed by my mistake.
Utility Bills
I'm not sure what we pay Keyspan for either. Don't pay them and see what stops working. I believe their gas might heat our water and not just our food. Hot water isn't in the rent, is it?
Immigration
I found out today that my visa has been approved (hooray). I plan to return stateside some time in very early June. I will be on a boat. The Statue appears on the horizon and will grow as we approach. The violins will play. My fellow immigrants rush behind me, so that my ribs hurt against the rails. No words will be spoken in any of the many tongues we have. The language of Liberty requires no mouth to speak it, and yet it roars above tyranny's effeminate simper. And all this we will feel, we hungry, we sick, we needy, we masses stuggling. We will pass the statue by, and enter a mighty nation without being able to alter its will for freedom, no more than a mouse that runs through the wheat can bend a single blade. I will be held in Ellis Island. I will have tuberculosis. But once in New York, lost in the maze of brownstones and street vendors, I will take on the Black Hand and defeat him. My American dream will acquire the substance of employees and tools. My power will grow. And in my hands I will hold the lives of thousands, compelled to let some thrive and others perish according to one code -- a code of HONOR, RESPECT, MONEY -- FAMILIA!. Extremism in the pursuit of justice is no vice. Moderation in the defense of liberty ... is ... NO ...VIRTUE!
Amen.
Balance
Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Heaven, God went missing for six days. Eventually, Michael the arch angel found him on the seventh day, resting. He inquired of God, "Where have you been?" God sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds "Look Michael, look what I've made." Archangel Michael looked puzzled and said, "What is it?" "It's a planet," replied God, "and I've put LIFE on it. I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to be a great place of balance."
"Balance?" inquired Michael, still confused.
God explained, pointing to different parts of Earth, "For example, North America will be a place of great opportunity and wealth while South America is going to be poor; the Middle East over there will be a hot spot and Russia will be a cold spot. Over there I've placed a continent of white people and over there is a continent of black people," God continued, pointing to different countries. "This one will be extremely hot and arid while this one will be very cold and covered in ice."
The Archangel, impressed by God's work, then pointed to a small land mass and said "What's that one?"
"Ah," said God. "That's Great Britain, the most glorious place on Earth. There are beautiful lakes, rivers, streams and hills. The people from Britain are going to be modest, intelligent and humorous and they're going to be found travelling the world. They'll be builders of empires, hard-working and high-achieving, and they will be known throughout the world as diplomats and carriers of peace."
Michael gasped in wonder and admiration but then proclaimed, "What about balance, God? You said there will be BALANCE!"
God replied wisely, "Wait until you see the wankers I'm putting next to them. I call them 'French'.
Australia
I would say that this song recalls or expresses closeted homosexuality. Not to be read as a code (bears=gays, tears=kissmarks, pandas=pansies, and so on). INstead, the emotions and situations that come from keeping a decent exterior and internalizing your true nocturnal self.
Subject: Waltzing With Bears
I didn't write this song. I'm singing it right now, though.
I went upstairs in the middle of the night,
I tiptoed in and I turned on the light,
And to my surprise, there was no one in sight,
My Uncle Walter goes waltzing at night!
Chorus
He goes wa-wa-wa-wa, wa-waltzing with bears,
Raggy bears, shaggy bears, baggy bears too.
There's nothing on earth Uncle Walter won't do,
So he can go waltzing, wa-wa-wa-waltzing,
So he can go waltzing, waltzing with bears!
I gave Uncle Walter a new coat to wear,
When he came home he was covered with hair,
And lately I've noticed several new tears,
I'm sure Uncle Walter goes waltzing with bears!
[Repeat Chorus]
We told Uncle Walter that he should be good,
And do all the things that we said he should,
But I know that he'd rather be out in the wood,
I'm afraid we might lose Uncle Walter for good!
[Repeat Chorus]
We begged and we pleaded, "Oh please won't you stay!"
We managed to keep him at home for a day,
But the bears all barged in, and they took him away!
Now he's waltzing with pandas, and he can't understand us,
And the bears all demand at least one dance a day!
[Repeat Chorus]
Surveillance
Me: Hello?
Voice on Phone (V.O.F): Hello, is William Westbrook there?
Me: No, I only recently got this number. LEt me look him up. Is he a reporter?
VOP: Well, he gave this as his day number.
Me: ACtually, I see from this that he's now in Brussels. Why are you calling?
VOP: He visited Cargnegie hall last Summer and the year before.
Me: Really.
VOP: Yes and we wanted to give him this exclusive deal. Or for someone just like him
Me: You know when he last visited you?
VOP: Oh yes we have his number. We know when he's visited us and what seats he sat in. We know a lot about people. CArnegie Hall keeps tabs.
Me: [dropping phone and running out to the elevator]
VOP: Yes, Robin. There's no where to run.
(Last two exchanges fictional...)
Nicholas Cage
I will do it. I will. No work for me tomorrow. The only interview I have tomorrow is with Nicholas Cage.
ME: Nicholas, was this a hard role for you?
CAGE: Yes.
ME: Was Italy beautiful?
CAGE: Yes.
ME: What was it like working with Penelope Cruz?
CAGE: Yes.
ME: Yes?
Brussels (I)
And what of Brussels? Well the most exciting thing about it is England winning 5 to 1. How about fucking that? The British lion once more roars above Europe. Europe cowers, fears the power of my island race. I regained my football consciousness at exactly the convenient time. Apeshit does not sufficiently describe the mood in the pub (with the Belgian name of Sean O'Casey's) when Owen got his hat trick. Drunk, violent, ugly, ecstatic, sweaty, frothing, and odorous does. I passed for English and then some. I wasn't, however, wearing a flag, which makes people look like refugees, I think. Since it was a Scotland game yesterday, Brussels was filled with kilted, sporrined people. It really is an international city. Otherwise the city has some good moments. It looks good sometimes. There are medieval parts and Victorian parts.The roads have names like (translated) road of the law, road of the arts, Butter street, Pepper street, Street of Cheeses. It is quiet. I usually turn a corner only to see someone else disappear around another one in the distance, leaving me alone with silent cars. It is always raining. ("I would like for my love to die And the rain/ to be raining on the streets and on me,/ mourning her who thought she loved me" S. Beckett) I watched, while drinking my Belgian beer, on my Belgian table, a young man park his car in the middle of the road, get out, and wait three minutes, in the middle of the road, for his girlfriend to appear and get in the car. I thought, Jesus not only is there no alternate side parking, there's no don't park in the middle of the road for twenty minutes parking. Men also kiss here. I would say that it is not gay. But it is. Even when 40 with a belly and a moustache. MWAAA! It is strange. I am looking for apartments right now and am getting a little bit horrified with NY rents. You should all come and visit me in my penthouse and swimming pool and heli-pad (I know a helipad is grossly affluent, I will say, but I do so relish the irony) and walls made of fish tanks and gold things like doorknobs and television screens displaying all channels related to my media empire (CNBC, panning shots of Nantucket Observer and Chronicle and Register) and tromp l'oeuils on the ceiling showing God not just reaching for my hand but later shaking it putting a ring on it accompanied with a speech bubble that reads "Robin, you rock, will you marry me?" and busts with heads which detach to reveal buttons which operate the sliding panel which hides the poles which lead to the batcave!
Brussels (II)
Brussels is the only known material that can staple rain to your clothes and hair. It is wet here every day. But there are a few beautiful things here. There are many old buildings. Where i have breakfast is at a large wooden table with ten perfect strangers with jam, honey, butter and stuff in the middle. We all read our papers. If it was not the four minutes from my apartment that it is, i would go there in pajamas and kiss everybody on the cheek, and say "bonjour, ma cherie" before opening up the English paper and reading about ministers of parliament and cricket scores.
Yesterday, a man woke me up by bannging on the door and when i opened it he asked me, in French, if i had a "fuite." He seemed quite desperate for one. I invited him to come in to my apartment to hunt for a fuite. He headed straight for the bathroom, opened the cupboard beneath the sink and then turned to me and said "you have no fuite." "But what is a fuite?" I asked for the third time. A fuite! he said (that much was obvious to me) while he turned the faucet on and off and pointed down the sink drain saying, a gain "un fuite." To this day, I swear he meant a plunger. But i was getting fed up with this talk of a fuite. And i still am. He seemed amazed that i had no fuite. His tone veered from amazement to suspicion. You would have thought he knew that this wqas, essentially, not my apartment, and my fuillessness was not my fault. Perhaps it was. It all depends on what is a fuite, I suppose.
John Wayland's Interlude
I presume all the rubbish in the beginning of your last email was about soccer. I shall leave that to itself.
I think you should know that we also now have a batcave. In fact, we have Two of them. One is where your closet used to be. The other is secret and Ritik says I shouldn't have told you where the first one is anyhow.
I am now Latino. It was decided by committee. Ritik says he is Norwegian, but he has not been approved and I don't expect him to be. He doesn't look or act very Norwegian.
I saw a wonderful 1932 crime drama called "Beast of the City" starring Walter Huston (John's father), Jean Harlow, and a 10 year old Andy Rooney. It began with a quote by Herbert Hoover decrying that if more films made heroes of police instead of gangsters, crime would plummet. Some quotes from
the movie included:
"Are ya bright enough to answer some questions?" "Sure, if ya don't ask 'em in Yiddish."
"He was the finest white man I knew."
(Finale: Police and Gangsters in standoff at night club. Police Captain's little brother is being held hostage by gangsters.)
Brother: "Don't worry about me - pump 'em full of hot lead!"
Police Captain: "Okay then."
(Police open fire, shooting their tommy guns at gangsters, killing both them and the captain's brother.)
I wish everything in our apartment was gilt.
john
Brussels (III)
The Brussels situation remains stable, punctured only by one or at most two hours of drunkenness out of the past one or at most two hours.
The Ixelles part of town, full of expatriates, is perhaps the best place to locate the base in the middle of the Brussels situation. In Ixelles, one can reasonably expect fluent English speakers in the bars. It has a substantial African population. Noisy on the main roads, in the side streets its hanging silence. And the rents don't kill.
Interviews on the Brussels situation, conducted mainly last night and afternoon have revealed the following:
>From an opera singer, aged 37, Nancy Allen Lundy, bombshell looks, reading an Oprah's Book Club book: To sing the works of Morton Feldman, in his serial period, one needs perfect pitch, she said. The 13 tones, arranged in a sequence determined mathematically, sound random, and the singer's faith in what note she chooses must be absolute, for all the other notes played at that instant suggest no notes, nothing. Ms. Lundy has had songs written for her by Tan Dun, and she supplied much information on the composer of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon's Oscar-winning score: his parents, affluent doctors in the midst of the cultural revolution, were exiled to the countryside to work as farmers. They left him, he was 7, to live alone in a large house. He arrived later in America with the maximum amount of currency which you could have as you passed out of Chinese customs -- $37 -- and now lives in China in a house which costs the minimum amount of currency one can spend on a house without suspicion of not being horribly rich -- $3 million. He listens to rap, reggae. puccini, taiko, techno, and uses it all. He's a genius, Mrs. Lundy, a mother, said. A genius.
Being a German Steward
From a cabinet attendant, Mannfried, former carpenter, and German -- These are the worst and best days to be a cabin attendant. Worst, obviously, because Mannfried's hands were shaking two Tuesdays ago as he served plastic-wrapped meals. And it hasn't stopped. Lufthansa is giving out new directives, which, while reducing the danger, place dying and burning firmly in an unlit corner of Mannfried's daily routine. Best days, too, not so obviously. The second worst day Mannfried had was his first, when a businessman refused to turn off his laptop as the plane began its descent. Refused. Even ignored Mannfried, at the end. Ignored him. Mannfried sat in his seat, scared to go to the cockpit, aged 29, and inform the captain about the man with the laptop, as he was meant to do. But now is a golden age of cabinet attendantry. Because people switch off their cellphones. They put their seats in an upright position. They stow their bags up top. Cabinet attendantry has transformed its praxis: from bureacracy to mysticism. The rules remain irrational and strange, the strangeness of the planes destroying the world trade center. It makes no sense to turn off your laptop near the end (it doesn't affect the navigation system) but the man would do it now, I bet, because he doesn't know any better way to stop himself from dying horribly. Mannfried also let me know that the name of 4711 cologne comes from the number Napopleon placed on the businness's door during his occupation.
