Defying death as your job description

Have you ever been to the circus? There were three adults and four children, ages 8, 8, 5 and 3. Guess who had the most fun? ME. Maybe I’m a cheap audience (which is what I’ve always suspected) but I was in awe. I don’t think the kids get it. Kids are too young for the circus. They don’t realize how difficult these feats are and, more importantly, that the performers could die at any moment. They just assume everything will work out and it does.

The staging is a show-within-a-show. While one set of performers are in the spotlight trying not to die, a crack team of stagehands are setting up the next act where someone might die. There’s no pause in the action. It’s rapid-fire, one performance right after the other.

I felt somewhat vindicated when The New York Times ran a glowing review of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus a few days after we attended. That the circus started in the late 1800’s and is still up and running today is pretty surprising, if you think about it.

The circus doesn’t do “funny” very well—I don’t recall laughing at any of the clown’s antics—but the acts whereby performers put their lives at risk are truly amazing. I was shocked that none of the acrobats hit the ground the wrong way and split their heads open or that two trapeze artists didn’t collide in mid air and break a few limbs.

The tiger tamer didn’t have his face slashed to ribbons by an unpredictable tiger. Remember Siegfried & Roy? It happens!

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Three Chinese gymnasts inside a small (small) plexiglas cube. What. The. Fuck. Just imagine the four-way possibilities.

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The Bionic Brothers. Astonishing feats of strength and balance. Zero body fat.

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The biggest lunatics have to be the family of motocross stunt riders. At one point, all seven ride inside a giant steel sphere, crossing each other’s path. It’s madness. How do you rehearse something like this?

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A parade of elephants. Peta distributed some literature on the train pointing out that the circus is guilty of animal cruelty. Trying to spoil our fun. I’ve never seen an organization do more to alienate people from their cause than the dolts at Peta.

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Hot Disney princess sexy-time

Disney has barely had time to recover from the last time I lambasted their Princesses.

[Truth be told, the stock is up about 50% since then. But I digress.]

How did they allow this to slip through the cracks?

Anyone with young daughters knows that no pediatric doctor or dentist worth his salt is without a healthy supply of Disney Princess stickers. Get a check up. Get a sticker. The kids love ’em. The stickers usually depict one of the Princesses in a demure, modest pose, sometimes surrounded by little bluebirds and bunnies.

In 2007, Disney released Enchanted starring Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey. Though intended for a young audience, it’s a send-up of princess movies that’s actually a hell of a lot of fun. It’s big wet kiss to New York City, so it deserves a viewing for that alone.

In the opening sequence, Amy Adams’ Princess Giselle is depicted as an animated figure. She is pushed into a well by her evil stepmother (a deliciously over-the-top Susan Sarandon) and ends up crawling out of a manhole in the middle of Times Square into the”real” world. Hijinks ensue.

Here’s the sticker 3-Year Old Daughter just got from the dentist. It depicts the animated Amy Adams character.

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Tell me the truth. I can take it. Am I being old and creepy? (I mean, more so than usual.) I don’t think there’s anything demure or modest about this pose. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen poses similar to this in Playboy.

In fact, the last time I had a girl look at me like this, with her too tight dress cascading off her shoulders and a come-hither gaze, I got my world rocked. It’s a cartoon, for cryin’ out loud! What’s my 3-year old suppose to make of this? I’m sure it must register something.

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Had a crazy roommate who cut off his earlobe

Whilst in Cleveland I took The Daughters to the Cleveland Museum of Art to see the Paul Gauguin: Paris: 1889 exhibit. It was fortuitous that we were in town for it because Cleveland is the only U.S. stop. After Clevo, it heads to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. What a coup for Cleveland!

The show recreates the exhibition that Gauguin organized on the grounds of the 1889 Exposition Universelle, which is now recognized as the first Symbolist exhibition in Paris. It included In The Waves, one of my favorite not-Polynesian Gauguin’s.

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Were you aware that the Cleveland Museum of Art has one of the greatest art collections in the country? It’s true! It can easily hold it’s own against the big houses in New York. They have some spectacular Calder mobiles and sculptures. I love Calder. So did the kids.

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One of my proudest moments so far as a parent occurred when we turned a corner and 8-Year Old Daughter casually said, “Look, Dad, there’s a Pollock.” My work is almost complete.

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Here’s something to tuck away in case you visit a museum in the near future: 3-years old is WAY, WAY, WAY too young for an art museum. Their attention span just isn’t there yet and you’ll have to divide your time between worshiping the art and making sure she doesn’t climb on the Degas sculpture pedestal. Just so you know.

3-Year Old Daughter did stop long enough to admire the Red Grooms diorama of New York. This scene is the corner of Broadway and Canal Street. Click on this one! Red Grooms and Alexander Calder are the most kid-friendly artists you’ll find in any museum, anywhere.

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3-Year Old Daughter got her first face-full of Monet’s water lilies. She was not impressed. Yet…

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The museum also has a pretty impressive collection of medieval armor and weapons. 3-Year Old dared him to climb down off of that horse.

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Teach your children well (about Romanburgers)

I introduced 8-Year Old Daughter to one of Cleveland’s finer culinary offerings. This…

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…is a Romanburger. As of this writing, you cannot buy one in either New York or New Jersey. You have to go to Cleveland and get them at Mr. Hero.

You take two cheeseburgers made from beef of questionable quality, lay them side-by-side in a soft Italian roll on a bed of lettuce, tomatoes and onions, gently sprinkle on some of Mr. Hero’s Italian “oil’n spice,” slather it with their “special recipe” mayo and then (here comes the game-changer) you lay on some grilled Genoa Salami and Italian Luncheon loaf.

That’s right. It’s a cheeseburger with grilled lunch meat. Pure genius. You want to lick the screen, don’t you? It’s trademarked, so don’t get any ideas.

Mrs. Wife said, “That looks gross.” 8-Year Old Daughter approves. I rest my case.

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Random observation: Drivers in Cleveland signal their lane changes about 80% of the time. A big gold star for you guys!

Christmas eve mishap

The night before Christmas I was reading The Night Before Christmas to The Daughters (as I am wont to do on the night before Christmas). I found this beautiful oversized hardbound edition with illustrations by Christian Birmingham.

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I’m not sure what medium Mr. Birmingham used for the illustrations. They’re either pastels or chalk or something of that ilk.

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The drawings have an eerie nighttime quality. I love them.

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I got halfway through the book and found a glaring typo! They left out a word! The fourth line should read: “With THE sleigh full of toys—” I checked it against other copies of this story we have and it’s definitely a gaffe.

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Mrs. Wife thinks I’m making too big a deal out of it but I am astonished that this could happen. Do you know how many eyes see this before it’s sent to print? It was printed in China so maybe they did it.

It’s one thing if they leave a word out of, say, Joyce’s Ulysses. Who would even notice?! Or care!? But if the entire page only contains 19 words and you leave one of them out, people are going to pick up on that. Even a dunce like me could spot it. (Yes, I’m fully aware the my blog entries are often riddled with grammatical and spelling mishaps.) I’m thinking of going back to Barnes & Noble to try and get my money back. Just to see if they would do it.

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My favorite James Joyce joke: James Joyce is sitting at a table weeping uncontrollably. Ernest Hemingway walks into the room and says, “What the hell’s the matter with you this time?” Joyce says, “Ernest, I wrote eight words today!” Hem says, “What are you crying about?! For you, that’s pretty good!” Joyce says, “Yes, but I don’t know what order they go in!”

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Fun fact about The Night Before Christmas: The actual title of the poem is A Visit From St. Nicholas, but those words never appear in the story. The opening stanza became so popular that they officially changed the title. It’s like The Who’s Baba O’Riley which is often misidentified as Teenage Wasteland.