Poop Bags

Everyone is talking politics and nobody wants to, it just seems to occupy most of the conversation, and writings of our Era.  Not me. Not today. I have decided to discuss something different, POOP BAGS.

Bambu the wonder dog.

I will try to tell this story without using the word shit.  However, since I already wrote the word  this may be an exercise in semantics only, not good manners.  However, for the rest of this blog any word written in italics is a substitution for the word shit.

Every urban dog owner knows what a Poop bag is. As the name implies it is a portable device (bag) used to transport dog poop for a short distance to be deposited in a more socially acceptable place than left on the street.  The PB is a protective sanitary barrier between the human hand and dog doody.  It works sufficiently well for that task, usually.  Details to follow.

First off,  I don't like the name, Poop bag for a reason you might guess.  As a ventriloquist I am always aware of words that have heavy plosives consonants and difficult phonetics.  Poop begins and ends with the letter "p" which is one of the no no plosives ventriloquists struggle with.  This is followed by another word beginning with the most difficult plosive, the letter 'b" in bag.  Poop bag is not a word phrase  I would use in a stage act and would not really come up unless I inserted it into a conversation with one of my wooden american friends.  Attempting to be a consummate professional using the phrase poop bag on stage is something I would not do.

The problem of the name was solved recently by my friend Mary Willard.  She gave me some poop bags imprinted with the face of Donald Trump.  The bags are called... dumps for Trump.  So now I just refer to the poop bags as "trumps".  Technically there is a "p" (plosive) at the end of the word trump but for some reason it doesn't bother me to slur that name just a little bit. 

Everyone has their own way of dealing with a trump.  I think I am over cautious in sealing the tump with a good knot in the top of the bag so no accidental contact with the contents can occur.  But for me, tying a knot in a thin plastic bag is difficult.  Over the years of walking dogs I have developed a technique to accomplish the important part of securing the trump.  I twist the top of the thin plastic until it becomes more rope like than bag like, since it is much easier to tie rope than a flat surface. I have even perfected a way to spin the bag using the weight of the contents to twist the top into a cord. After that a knot is easy to maneuver.  With practice the "rope spin"  can be done with one hand.  

This method works efficiently... most of the time.  However when I explain the physics of this technique you will see that there is a flaw in execution.  Twisting the top of the bag causes the package to condense and compact into a tight bundle.  The inertia of the spinning causes the contents to lose it's relative position and order in the cosmos.  It also puts pressure on the trump which it was not designed to handle.  If there is a weak seam, or god forbid a hole in the bag, the deliverable inside the bag squirts out like the last contents of a toothpaste tube, which the law of odds states will happen one out of a hundered times.  When it occurs you find yourself blocks from home with your dog on a leash and dirt on your hands if not your shirt. It is not a pleasant experience.  

So now in addition to walking the dog with plenty of trumps, I also have to carry sanitary baby wipes for the occasional emergency.  Leash, sun screen, a hat, walking shoes, sun glasses, water, trumps and baby wipes are now on the check list before Boo and I can leave the house.  I sometimes feel like Batman suiting up to fight crime every time Boo wants to take a walk. But once again the name Baby Wipes contains two "b's" and a "p" another ventriloquial nightmare.  So, today I came up with the work around solution.  Instead of Baby Wipes, I call them Muellers. Muellers are made to clean up the mess that a trump makes when the pressure causes a breach. Pressure on the thin skinned trump can sometimes cause the contents to spew forth from a nasty break in integrity.  So in addition to carrying Muellers I take one more safety precaution. I check the flaccid trump for imperfections. I inspect the trumps very carefully for tears and holes, I call them tweets, in the plastic skin. 

My suggestion to all dog walkers is to never leave home with out some Muellers just in case the trump fails to do what it is supposed to do; which is be responsible for the stuff it is supposed to keep inside.  

As you were,

Jay

The Fox and his Hen house

You can't really see the energy and power generated by nuclear fusion, but you can see the reactor where it happens.  Such is the case with the nuclear talents of Charles Fox.   One can open their ears and their minds to hear the incredible gift of Charlie Fox, but to SEE it one must visit the factory where it is generated. Such was the case a few days ago when I was invited into the "sanctum" of the Fox.

The studio has all the tools one needs to write music, score films, compose operas and arrange orchestral beauty.  There is a huge mixing board in front of a large flat screen, cabinets filled with arrangements and charts, audio media of every kind and a play back system to access it. There are platinum records, prestigious awards and pictures of Charlie with every musical talent in a who's who of show business. 

In the opposite corner of the room from the mixer is a desk that could belong to any executive.  Perpendicular to the desk accessible with the turn of his chair is a 9' Steinway Grand Piano. Even among the Emmy and Grammy awards and impressive electronics this beautiful instrument stands out.  The only time a guy like me might see a 9' Steinway Grand is from a cheap seat at Disney Concert Hall.  In this case, however, I was not alone in my appreciation of this beautiful instrument, standing next to Charlie and me is Richard Sherman.  Not the Seattle Seahawk football player Richard Sherman but Richard M. Sherman the Disney composer and legend.  That word legend is kicked around a lot but if the word ever applied to any person it applies to both the men I find myself standing with at this moment.   

Richard and Charlie's "other woman"

As Richard walks around the desk to briefly play this beautiful piano, Charlie's wife walks into the studio.  She notices that I am stunned by what is happening before my eyes and says, "Oh I see you have met the other woman."  

Richard finishes a musical  riff with a bass chord that shakes the room.  As the vibration begins to slowly fade Richard says, "She is beautiful". As he starts to continue this musical romance, Elizabeth Sherman says, "You've played enough Richard." In my twisted mind I hear her say, "Get away from that other woman, Richard."  What I saw was the instant connection between a musician and a beautiful instrument.

My Dad used to say he was the luckiest guy in the world. Dad was wrong, he RAISED the luckiest guy in the world. I am the luckiest guy in the world. To stand next to two high priests in Fox Music Temple was exciting, humbling and inspiring.  Genius comes in many packages, and sometimes that package is not tightly wrapped.  To find the core of their genius you sometimes have to peel away layers of onion skin that protect that creative spark.  Not so with these two men.  To know them is to love them and I am blessed that I can call them both my friends.

However, there is nothing so inspired that a ventriloquist can't screw up.  The next day I sent and email to my friends to thank them for a wonderful evening.  I wrote to Charlie and Joan, "I was delighted to meet Charlie's "other woman".  Given that my dyslexic perceptions are sometimes corrected by auto text in my favor, this was a time when the computer corrections did not save me.  Rather than write "delighted to meet Charlie's "other woman" the text actually said "delighted to meet Charlie's "MOTHER woman".  I did not notice the error until after the email was sent.  I immediately sent another email explaining the error.  Joan wrote back to say, she was glad to read the corrected text and glad that there wasn't also another "mother woman" in Charlie's life.  Charlie simply signed his email response with the phrase Charlie and the Mother woman.  

It was just one moment in an evening with the Foxes, the Shermans, the Johnsons and the Willards (Fred and Mary).  Moments of extreme laughter, great show business stories and talk of music and comedy punctuated the dinner.  Those moments are not to write about here, but they are for me to hold close and cherish in the memory of my creative soul.  I celebrate the artistry of this company and embrace the blessing of having been put into an orbit that brings me close to such genius.  

As you were,

Jay

Charlie, Richard and Elizabeth (who asked me if I could photoshop her to appear taller)