Joy Ray

Travoltas Mutter, and other mysteries

Being in a blogging frame of mind today, I would like to share my favorite chapter in a German textbook I once used.  It addresses, of course, the mysteries of John Travolta.  Note the Pynchonesque symbology utilized on the cover page.  What are we to make of this?

 

This is followed by an equally intriguing diagram that seems to outline some kind of clandestine cabal led by Travolta's mother, involving Reagan, Superman, Germany and Englewood New Jersey.  This can't be good!

 

Finally, a selection of doubtlessly coded phrases are provided, which if spoken in a precise order may persuade Travolta to share his hard-won secrets.

(Thanks to Mark Case, for mentioning "John Travolta" and "book" in the same Facebook post today and reminding me of this cherished tome.)

Where's the dignity?

I just got my new passport - my first since 2000.  As happy as I am to have a new passport, and to be able to travel, all I can say is: the design is really embarrassing.

The outside, at least, still looks (more or less) the same. But inside is a kitchy klown kar of Americana: flags and eagles, monuments and pseudo-inspiring quotations reflecting a diversity so agonizingly precise that you know the selection process took months and dozens of meetings to finalize.  It's like a patriotic checkbook on steroids.

I liked my old passport.  Simple, plain, down to business.  Not a scrapbook.  Not a brochure.  Not an advertisement.  It was where stamps and visas went.  Now I find it hard to believe that stamps and visas will even be visible against all the background clutter.

Is this supposed to remind us as we venture abroad, how totally awesome the USA is?  Is it supposed to inspire us to live up to our true and exceptional American selves?  Are we supposed to whip it out at our next overseas dinner party, to dazzle foreign friends with our wicked cool bison and eagles?

 

The mind boggles.