Exchanging Sheep for Granola and Orson for Benny…

Well, I was seriously trying to sleep, but I have yet again abandoned all hope of rest. For the umpteenth night in a row, I have admitted defeat. Not even counting sheep and listening to old Mercury Theatre re-runs on the AM talk station helps this week, so I am all out of ideas.

It is better to get out of bed and try to be productive, than just lie there getting angry.

So now I am up, and back to the Benny research. For breakfast, I am eating my weight in some of the most fiber-volatile granola bars known to man, as they were the only things accessible in my office (thereby allowing poor John to avoid ending up a civilian casualty in my war against sleep).

Oh well, even if I am bleary, there’s always more downloading to do… And while Jack’s Jell-O Program doesn’t put me to sleep, it does amuse (greatly), so at least that may be some consolation.

In fact, Jack is an all-around silver lining for me these days. I know that a number of you out there may not be familiar with Jack Benny, but man what a comic he was! So bloody fearless in his ability to stretch a joke and hold it until it bled. A gesture, a brow, a sigh, a word, a slight smirk, an eye-roll… And such a screen persona that it must have come from some unholy pact with the Comedy gods!

And the real gold of this situation has to be what an all-around loveable man he appears to have been.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Groucho, and lord knows I make no bones about my adoration of Charlie, but those topics can feel like a wallow at times. Some of Groucho’s interviews leave a bad taste, and all that unpleasantness at the end of his life casts a pall over everything. And with Charlie, though I settled my qualms about his morals a long time ago, half of his biographies are too concerned with Freudian analysis and sexual perversion (not to mention STDs) to really be enjoyable reads. Frankly, after a while these research areas made me a little grimy feeling and in need of my own spray of iodine.

However, to refresh one’s pallet with a man who was not only funny as hell, but was also, by all accounts, loveable, charming and caring, as well as handsome, talented and well-rounded… Well, let’s just say it is a treat, much needed to revive the soul. Add to all that the joy of discovering a woman I hadn’t thought too much about, his beloved Mary Livingstone, and you get a recipe for a pretty happy Holly.

And I needed it, too. Between certain school-related annoyances, as well as the distinct impression that certain profs were avoiding responding to any email that might take them into unpleasant territory, and the general malaise that strikes whenever I finish my school each year, I was getting a bit sour. I sat down to write a creative piece today (while downloading, natch) and it came out as one of the most bitter and nasty pieces I have ever read.

(Amanda, I know that you told me that anger made humour, and I totally agree, but the anger and snarkiness in this piece is almost too bile-filled, even for me, so you may not see it. At least, not until after my therapist gives it the all-clear.)

So it is nice to re-discover decency, even if that term is a little sullied from decades of political use.

And I am now at my leisure. It’s 4am, and I am back to downloading Jell-O Program clips and bits, so if anyone out there is awake and feeling chatty, now would be the time to grab me.

I find myself with all the time in the world, all of a sudden.