Superstitious

Today is Friday the 13th. Or, a randomly assigned date on the Julian calendar with no real significance other than a way to keep track of the Earth's revolution around the sun. Of course, for millions of superstitious people, Friday the 13th is a day to be extra cautious. They avoid walking under ladders; stay away from black cats; don't open umbrellas indoors do their best to not break mirrors. Friggatriskaidekaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th, the origins of which are unclear, but probably date back to the early 1800's, when just about everyone was religious. According to Christian mythology, Jesus died on a Friday after having been betrayed by his 13th disciple, Judas. 13 is also an unlucky number in Norse mythology involving the mischievous Loki who turned up as the uninvited 13th guest at a dinner in Valhalla.

Even as a kid (when I believed), I was never very superstitious. Being in the theatre (out of respect for my fellow actors who are superstitious), I do avoid saying  "Macbeth" in a theatre, if only to keep my cast-mates from freaking out - even though the production of Macbeth in which I played Ross was completely free of problems, injuries and/or technical glitches. And Friday the 13th is nothing compared to some of the superstitions people hold around the world. Here are a few of them (via):

Spit on a new (baseball) bat before using it for the first time to make it lucky.

It's bad luck to put a hat on a bed.

To protect yourself from witches, wear a blue bead.

It is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same match. (This is from WWI, when the glow of a match lit long enough to light three cigarettes could reveal your location to the enemy)

It's bad luck to leave a house through a different door than the one used to come into it.

To drop a fork means a man is coming to visit. (I better start dropping forks!)

If 3 people are photographed together, the one in the middle will die first. (But what if you are in more than one picture of 3 people?)

If you leave a rocking chair rocking when empty, it invites evil spirits to come into your house to sit in the rocking chair.

Do not place shoes upon a table, for this will bring bad luck for the day, cause trouble with your mate and you might even lose your job as a result (Uncle P's mother insists it is bad luck to put new shoes on a table).

If a woman sees a robin flying overhead on Valentine's Day, it means she will marry a sailor. If she sees a sparrow, she will marry a poor man and be very happy. If she sees a goldfinch, she will marry a millionaire.

The number of Xs in the palm of your right hand is the number of children you will have (This childless gay man has three).

The list goes on and on. And superstitions vary from country to country. For example, the seventh son of a seventh son has magic powers, according to Irish folklore, but is a vampire in Romanian legend. 

Here's the thing: it's all nonsense. There is no such thing as magic. There are no supernatural forces controlling your life. Eating 12 black-eyed peas on New Year's Day will do nothing but send the peas' nutrients into your system and playing with a Ouija board will not invite Captain Howdy to possess you. There are no such things as vampires; werewolves; demons; angels; Bigfoot or chupacabras. Fairies exist only in Disney movies; handling toads does not give one warts; cats don't steal babies' breath and repeating "Bloody Mary" three times into a mirror in a dark room will not cause an evil spirit to leap out of said mirror and kill you. Wearing special underwear will not help you win a game or land a role in a play for which you're auditioning. A rabbit's foot key-chain is just a preserved bit of a dead rabbit and a four-leaf clover is simply a genetic anomaly. Blowing all the candles out on your birthday cake just means you have good lungs and wishing on a falling meteor or a coin tossed into a fountain or well is as effective as playing special numbers in the lottery (i.e. not effective at all). Wearing green on game day does nothing to help the Eagles win; rubbing a lamp will not release a djinn who will do you bidding and kissing the Blarney Stone will only transfer germs from the 10,000 other people who kissed it that week. 

If you believe in any of the above-mentioned nonsense, I feel sorry for you. Get over it and get on with your life, already.

Still, Friday the 13th makes for some great horror movie fodder:



You're all doomed.

More, anon.
Prospero

I Am Not Liam Neeson

Liam Neeson as Qui-Gon Jinn

I don't remember exactly how the conversation got started today, but we were talking about brushes with celebrity and a friend asked me if I'd ever had any weird or funny celebrity encounters. I've had several, but the one I am about to share has stuck with me, if only to remind me how not famous I am.

I do spend a bit of time in New York and have lived in L.A. and have seen, passed and even met more than a few famous folks. Paul Winfield; Danny Aiello; Jimmy Fallon; Katie Couric; James Earl Jones; Chita Rivera and Treat Williams are some of the famous people I've encountered either in New York or L.A. But in the early aughts, I was working for the NYC Ballet at Lincoln Center, playing Louis XIV as part of their "Family Fanfare" educational program. I would take a very early morning train in, do two shows and then spend the afternoon either sleeping on the train home; shopping; wandering around the city or meeting friends for drinks in Chelsea, Soho or the Village.

One day, after the second show, I had time to kill before meeting a friend downtown for a drink, so I decided to pay a visit to the cafe at the Lincoln Center Barnes and Noble. I got a coffee and a pastry, studied lines for another show I was doing and then got up to head out to catch the 1-9 train downtown. The cafe at the Lincoln Center B&N is on the third floor, as are the Children's Books. I was heading for the Down escalator when none other than Liam Neeson came off the Up escalator, apparently desperate for a children's book of some kind. Our paths intersected and we did the right/left/right dance you do when you're trying to avoid a head-on collision with someone in your path. I think I said something completely lame like "Excuse me, Mr. Neeson" and got out of his way as he headed into the stacks in search of "Harold and the Purple Crayon" (I'm assuming).

Almost immediately after this, two young women came off the Up escalator. One of them approached me and said "Can I have your autograph?" I was stunned for a moment, until her companion yanked her arm and said "Not him, dummy! He's nobody!" The second girl then led her companion in the direction of Neeson, who seemed to me to be not in any mood to talk to fans. Of course, my first thought was "Well, neither are you, bitch!" Chagrined, amused and a bit confused, I made my way downstairs, marveling at the fact that I'd 'danced' with Oskar Schindler; Ethan Fromme; Rob Roy; Jean Val Jean and Qui-Gon Jinn, all at the same time.

If you're in New York and want to have celebrity encounter, I recommend spending time in Lincoln Center. ABC Studios are across the way and there are many shops where celebs spend their money.

More, anon.
Prospero

Ch-ch-ch changes...

Time to mix things up a bit around here. You'll notice I 've already changed my profile picture for the second time now. I had a hard time choosing. I almost used the image on your left, but thought that was more like Caliban's profile picture, not Prospero's. I've been holding on to this little guy's picture for a while, waiting for the right piece about Zombies to use it. I don't think I ever will...

Don't worry - I won't be changing much. Maybe the banner. Maybe the font (Uncle P is so old, I first typed "type face" instead of font. Quaint, ain't I?). It'll still be me and my usual nonsense; critiques; opinions; rants and the very occasional insightful commentary on something about which I am particularly passionate. You may hardly notice whatever it is I decide to do. Conversely, it may stick out like an elephant on the blog, which everyone wishes would go away, but won't until we acknowledge its existence. If so, I hope it makes everyone really uncomfortable enough to be forced to speak up and tell me how awful it is. 

I've been in a mood of late and feel many things are due for a change, so why not start with the one thing over which I actually have complete control? To be honest, don't get used to the new pic - it's not exactly what I'm looking for, but certainly as weird and interesting as the first two (though the first one actually was me in a Venetian mask). And somethings may change several times before I decide on which version I like. 

Oh, and yes I watched some of the Emmys, tonight. The two Jimmies rolling around the stage like 10 year-olds was funny. Charlie Sheen was actually and honestly gracious. Winner Juliana Margulies' dress was weird, wasn't it? The opening number stopped being funny long before it ended. Jane Lynch, representin, y'alI! Her 'gay agenda' joke was almost cute... Loved those Best Actress in a Comedy nominees standing tall with Amy Poehler and showing each other love. The singers, while all performers I enjoy, are silly and superfluous. Really, Joel Mchale? I hope to see you taking yourself down on next week's "Soup." Yay, Melissa McCarthy (love her, loathe her show)! Yay, Ty Burrell and Julie Bowen! They are consistently the most hilarious married couple on television.I normally hate the "idiot husband" character, but Burrell is so delightfully good-natured in the role, you can't help but love him. And Bowen has been a fav since her days on "Boston Legal." Halfway through I came in to check mail and Facebook and half-listened to the rest of it. Yawn, "Mad Men." Yay and yawn, "Modern Family!" Is it over now? Yay, it's over!

Keep watching for more changes, and please share your opinions about them. Maybe I'll make a game out of it, somehow. Hmm... 

Remember: Change is inevitable. Change is good. Exact change is better.

More, anon.
Prospero