We were talking about Trump not being "polished or smooth" and about a place called "Creatable World."

The first post of the day, here, quoted a NYT writer who said: Trump "wasn’t polished or smooth. His appearance was shoddy, strange, lacking all polish." Trump has tarted up the Oval Office with gold, but he's still rough, lumbering, and orange.

And here's the post this morning about Mattel's line of "gender-neutral" dolls called "Creatable World." But somehow the kids did not flow into the world that Big Toy had envisioned for them.

So this NBC headline caught my eye: "Obama world loses its shine in a changing, hurting Democratic Party."

You see the resonance.

There was once a place called "Obama World" and it was shiny.

Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot/For one brief shining moment that was known as... Obama World!

A brief shiny glimpse at the NBC News article:

Don't let it be forgot/That once — in 1967 — there was a spot/For one brief shining moment/That was known as that ridiculous movie I saw back then and rewatched now, "Camelot."

Camelot! Camelot!/I know it sounds a bit bizarre/But in Camelot — Camelot! — King Arthur is a clueless hippie and Guenevere is Vanessa Redgrave, a groupie in search of a rock star — That's how conditions are.

Well, I learned my lesson rewatching "Dr. Zhivago" (the 1965 entry in my "imaginary movie project"): A beauteous movie-star woman in a dramatic geographic location is just necessarily going to have hot sex with the best-looking man.

It doesn't matter that Guenevere is married to the king, and he's pretty nice and means well and all and he's not horrible looking (though what's up with the eyeliner?)...



Franco Nero comes to town...



... and sex must be had with that guy. Not just flirting and teasing, as you might think as things crank up in the first hour of this 3-hour monstrosity, when hordes of extras are cavorting and frolicking about how it's "the lusty month of May... when everyone goes blissfully astray" and "tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear" and "When every maiden prays that her lad will be a cad"...

The Anxiety Clown.

I was looking for an image of an "anxiety clown," because I was speculating — at the end of the previous post — that the use of the epithet "clown" to describe your antagonists reveals your own anxiety. You may want to say that your opponent is stupid and ridiculous, but people are anxious about clowns, so you're saying — perhaps unwittingly — I am unnerved and scared of my opponent.

I really just wanted to add an image at the end of that other post, but I stumbled upon that picture of Joseph Grimaldi (18 December 1778 – 31 May 1837) — an English actor who "expanded the role of Clown in the harlequinade that formed part of British pantomimes." The Clown took on the name "Joey" (for Joseph) and "both the nickname and Grimaldi's whiteface make-up design were, and still are, used by other types of clowns."

Grimaldi became recognised as one of London's leading Clowns. Grimaldi originated the catchphrase "Here we are again!", which is still used in pantomime. He also was known for the mischievous catchphrase "Shall I?", which prompted audience members to respond "Yes!"

But what made me break out that image for a separate post was the caption: "Detail from hand-coloured etching by George Cruikshank (1792 – 1878), first published in the 19th century."

Cruikshank! Man, I love blogging! We were just talking about Cruikshank! Remember? "Snuffing Out Boney" and "At the Monstrosities Café."

You know, Grimaldi's Clown was — according to the above-linked Wikipedia article — "the 'undisputed agent' of chaos." There's a lot of chaos in blogging. You have to love the chaos — and not be anxious about it — to blog (really blog). And if you're living in the chaos, when things match up — harmony strikes — it's a full-body thrill,  like the "frisson" (or "aesthetic chills" that "roughly two-thirds" of us can get from music.

Do you get that? The frisson? From what? I'd read the articles on people who get it from music — it was a trending topic in May 2016 — and noticed that I hadn't been getting that from music lately. But just in these last few weeks, I've noticed myself getting chills from songs that, intellectually, I believe are below my actual, official taste level. Just yesterday, I got chills on repeated listenings to Richard Harris singing about Camelot, which I'd brought up in the comments here, after somebody had quoted an anti-Trumper's confession "I carry a little plastic Obama doll in my purse." And later that day, listening to the car radio as we drove out to Blue Mounds, I got chills over "Please Come To Boston" — a song I wasn't aware I especially admired. Back when it was a hit, in the 1970s, I probably turned off the radio if the song came on.

And isn't Trump a bit like that? He is for me. I don't particularly like him. I don't know why he should be assessed as any good at all. He seems like a ridiculous man who belongs in a past decade (the 80s). But in some confounding physical way, he hits a button.

I am reading the Wikipedia article on "Please Come to Boston," and I see it was the first single from [Dave Loggins's] album Apprentice (In a Musical Workshop)." The Apprentice! See? Random resonance, attainable through blogging. It's all only chaos, and coincidences are part of the randomness.

The three verses of the song are each a plea from the narrator to a woman he hopes will join him in, respectively, Boston, Denver, and Los Angeles, with each verse concluding: "She said 'No - boy would you come home to me'"; the woman's sentiment is elaborated on in the chorus which concludes with the line: "I'm the number one fan of the man from Tennessee." Tennessee is the home state of Dave Loggins, who has said of "Please Come to Boston" - "The story is almost true, except there wasn't anyone waiting so I made her up. In effect, making the longing for her stronger.... Some forty years later, I still vividly remember that night, and it was as if someone else was writing the song."

Someone else was writing the song... for a woman who did not exist. I just hope there really was a girl who holds the world in a paper cup.

Here we are again! Shall I? Yes!

ADDED: My hope that "there really was a girl who holds the world in a paper cup" doesn't work as a hope. I assumed there was only one Loggins, but there are 2 — the Dave Loggins of "Please Come to Boston" and the Kenny Loggins of the girl who holds the world in a paper cup in "Danny's Song." So there was a girl like that, but she wasn't Dave's. She wasn't Kenny's either. Kenny wrote the song for his brother Danny. The line "think I'm going to have a son," didn't refer to a son of Kenny's named Danny. The son was Danny's boy Colin. Colin was also the inspiration for "House at Pooh Corner":



In other late-breaking Loggins family news (to me), Kenny and Dave are second cousins. They're both 70 now.

AND: I'm confused by too many Loggins and too many log ins.