So, I don't know if any of you guys watch LOST, but last night, they gave some info on one of the mysteries involving things from people's past appearing on the island. One described it as a "magic box" where things you want to appear, do.
After several months on a deserted island, I think the first thing I would ask the box for would be a beer. Then perhaps I would move on to a steak.
The Torment of Tom Carvel
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4 comments:
I've never seen Lost. Unfortunately, it runs against Liszt, which I watch religiously -- an inventive and riveting series about a virtuoso Hungarian pianist who's shipwrecked on an uninhabited island in the mid-19th century. While battling the elements and strange indigenous creatures, Liszt must somehow keep his musical skills sharp, so that neither his God-given talent nor his sanity deteriorate. Alas, Liszt's piano was lost in the storm that marooned him.
But one day, a "magic Bach" appears and teaches Liszt how to construct a crude piano out of bamboo, coconut shells, and Kunai grass. With the help of this Baroque ghost, Liszt pioneers exciting new avenues of music that surely would revolutionize the world...if his audience weren't merely hermit crabs and seagulls.
Liszt has no writing implements, so he is forced to compose his groundbreaking scores in the sand, which provides much of the show's gripping drama come high tide.
Among Liszt's greatest compositions in the series are the I'm So Hungary Rhapsody, the Mefishto Waltz, the Sansdental Nofood, and Piano Sonata No. 2 in Seaweed Minor.
It really is the "Robinson Crusoe meets Amadeus"--type show we've been hoping for since UPN purchased a second camera.
Uh, Pat... I think you're thinking of a fridge.
I ask my fridge for beer all the time.
Hmm, you could be right. That would explain why even when I ask for a Hoagie, that frozen hotdog from Spring 1987 remains.
I recall the spring of 1987 vividly...especially President Reagan's visit to West Berlin, during which he challenged Soviet Premier Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall.
I immediately got out the hot dogs for my traditional "Freedom barbeque," just as I had done when Ferdinand Marcos was deposed in the Philippines.
Unfortunately, it became clear by mid-September that Gorbachev had no immediate intention of meeting Reagan's challenge. So rather than eat the dogs sans political triumph, I put them back in the fridge and turned off the grill.
By the time the Wall finally did come down in 1989, the hot dogs were forgotten, buried behind a six-pack of Mr. Pibb, and my grill had long been stolen by a Century 21 salesman eager to make a neighboring property more attractive.
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