It must be time for Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

The message: we are, in fact, our brothers' keepers. At least, to some degree. Or, as someone once observed of Mrs. Dalloway:

. . . She was one of the most thoroughgoing sceptics he had ever met, and possibly (this was a theory he used to make up to
account for her, so transparent in some ways, so inscrutable in
others), possibly she said to herself, As we are a doomed race,
chained to a sinking ship (her favourite reading as a girl was
Huxley and Tyndall, and they were fond of these nautical
metaphors), as the whole thing is a bad joke, let us, at any rate,
do our part; mitigate the sufferings of our fellow-prisoners
(Huxley again); decorate the dungeon with flowers and air-cushions;
be as decent as we possibly can. Those ruffians, the Gods, shan't
have it all their own way,—her notion being that the Gods, who
never lost a chance of hurting, thwarting and spoiling human lives
were seriously put out if, all the same, you behaved like a lady.

Or, for that matter, a gentleman. Steve Martin is brilliant in this movie. Go see it soon; it's time, and it still counts as Thanksgiving viewing if you see it before the end of November. (In my family, it would count if you watched it before March, but we tend to run late on these matters. We also take our Christimas decorations down by July 4th, whether we need to or not.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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