2003-10-09 - 8:15 p.m.
Thursday eve it is now once again, which of course means I'm going to be dragged out for brief submission to a Ghastly Torture. Garotted? Thumbscrewed? Boiled alive? Shown in horrific psychic visions glimpses of the desperately bleak future of a California governed by Schwarzenegger? No. I refer, of course, to that most terrible Ancient Japanese Art... karaoke.I went to an Oliver Jones concert once years ago, and during the intermission little slips of paper were handed out on which we were invited to write our requests, which Oliver would draw from a hat during the second half of the show and play for us. Several people added requests to the hat, and then Oliver came back out, took the mic, and told us all that he would give $100 to each of us if not one soul had put a request for "Misty" into the hat. He and a stagehand searched through the hat, and sure enough, there were several. No $100 for us.
In a similar way, I could probably pose as a remarkable psychic to someone unfamiliar with karaoke simply by turning to them on the way to the karaoke bar and saying, "you know, I've a funny feeling we're going to hear Neil Diamond's 'Sweet Caroline'" -- and I'd look like a genius as, thirteen nanoseconds into the karaoke splendour, a dorky-looking middle-aged man with coke-bottle glasses took the stage and bleated out the Diamond juggernaut with the spirit of an opera star and the musical talent of a kumquat.
Seriously. What is so compelling about this song? Is it the "BAH! BAH! BAH!" of the horns? I think that's it. Goddess and her friend like to pantomimetically thump hips with one another each time that bit comes up, shouting "BUM! BUM! BUM!" -- and I'm sure ol' Neil would be proud.
And speaking of cockroach-like karaoke songs that JUST WON'T DIE, there's that insipid 'The Rose' number. Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Nuts to that. Others, like me, say love, it is a merciful power-outage that drowns the karaoke sound of cats-tumbling-around-in-the-clothes-dryer.
Of course, I recently wrote this entry, in which I complained that the expertise of regular karaoke-goers had shouldered aside the true star of the art, the musically inept. This is evidence, of course, that Mirabile Visu is not necessarily utterly consistent -- that he may indeed be large, and contain multitudes. Excellent observation, young grasshopper -- you are discovering the tendril of understanding that lay at the heart of my corner of the web: that I just kinda write whatever.
The other day, when listing good codenames my friends have given me that I have neglected to use, I was reading off a list I'd jotted down, lost in the ghastly chaos of my apartment, and subsequently discovered. Because of this, I neglected to include Warrior Princess, who told me her codename over beer. God knows how many others I'm forgetting. What a waste of excellent names my sieve-like brain makes. Mea maxima culpa, as I believe I may have mentioned once or twice before.
I spoke to my mother on the phone a while earlier this evening, and she mentioned her fondness for stopping by my corner of the Wired World to read whatever new drivel I have posted each day. She has a theory for explaining something about visitors to my site that has always vexed and intrigued me. I've always loved the fact that someone from Ohio prefers bringing up my page by searching "Craig Melhoff" on dogpile.com rather than following a bookmark. I think I've always liked this because it reminds me of some of the many roundabout things I do at my computer.* Turns out my mother is pretty sure this is... get ready for a new addition to the roster of Mirabile Visu nicknames (this one suggested by my mother)... Redheaded-Jennifer. Hiya, Redheaded-Jennifer -- you'll be proud to know that, as a result of your unique method of finding my site, you have the honoured distinction of being "By Far My Site's Coolest Visitor, Because the Coolest Visitor Would Have to Be At Least As Odd As My Site's Creator, Me." You win a prize!
* For some reason, I have never had bookmarks for Hotmail, the Internet Movie Database, the Merriam-Webster dictionary site, ThinkGeek, Ain't-It-Cool-News, or Wikipedia. I don't know why, but I invariably type these URLs into the address bar, and go everywhere else that I regularly visit by bookmark. This is because I am Odd -- though I'm confident I've e-published more than enough evidence to support that claim already...
