greatest re-read! for (me!) ~topps undercover agent
no way i could visit the spy museum, and not re-read my all time favorite spy related story the day i returned home! and i will repeat here.. about the 'expert' who said we laugh more in the company of others, it's a social thing, and not so much when we are alone.
FALSE
i was alone, re-reading fear of spying, and laughing so hard i had to stop, take a break, get my breath back, and dive back in..
and then! the laughter was just as intense re-reading his columns on the economy, geography..
and i'm going to honor my literature giize here, by re-typing some excerpts:
Fear of Spying -august 3rd, 1977, by Ray Orrock for the Daily Review, Bay Area, California
**
...skip to..
THERE ARE A number of other careers I could have chosen, I suppose. Being a spy is one of them. I know spies lead exciting lives because I read a lot of espionage novels, and sometimes I get so excited just reading about the things spies do that I have to put the book down, go out to the kitchen, and make myself a sandwich.
And once in a while, I find myself daydreaming about being a spy. In some ways, I think I might have been a good one.
FOR ONE THING, spies smoke a lot of cigarettes -- and I've always been very good at smoking. Another thing spies do a lot is sit in cafe booths, sipping absinthe. I like sitting in cafe booths, but I'm not too crazy about absinthe. I tried it once and it tasted just terrible. I don't see any reason why I couldn't sit in a cafe booth and sip bourbon, though, or even a diet cola.
But, despite these occasional daydreams, deep in my heart I know I could never make it as a spy. That's because I lack one essential talent that every spy must have: The ability to remember a message the first and only time he hears it.
I JUST FINISHED reading an espionage novel in which one spy is walking down the street, waiting to be contacted by a second spy. Suddenly a figure comes upon him from behind, walking briskly, and as this second figure strides past, he leans over and whispers "St. George Hotel. Room 268, Nine-thirty tonight. Ask for Mr. Graber. Give your name as Griswold." And, in a flash, the whisperer darts across the street and loses himself in the crowd. The contact has been made.
Now, what knocks me out is that that night --at precisely 9:30-- the first spy walks into the lobby of the St. George Hotel and says to the desk clerk, "I'm Mr. Griswold. Would you please phone Mr. Graber in 268 and announce me?"
THERE IS NO WAY in God's world I could do that. I have enough trouble trying to remember the two or three items my wife sent me to the store for--and I'm usually looking right at her when she tells me.
If a fellow spy whizzed past me in the street and whispered a message like that and then disappeared into the crowd, I'd immediately start running after him and shouting: "Hey! Wait a sec! What hotel did you say? What room? What time? Gimmee those names again!"
And, failing to catch him that night--anytime between six-thirty and quarter to eleven--I'd wonder into the lobby of the Holiday Inn and say to the desk clerk: "Good evening. My name is Greaseball. Or possibly Gresham. I'd like to speak to Mr. Gable in room 862."
And, when told that there was no one by that name registered there, I'd probably panic and start babbling things like, "Uh... well, then how about a Ginsberg in 628? Or do you have a Gerber in 826? Or a Cosgrove in 497? Aw, hell; what do you have?" And pretty soon some enemy agents would come along and take me away and stand me up against some wall and shot me. ..
****
and i share that in common with my favorite columnist, which is probably why it makes me laugh so hard. we are earnest, if that skill matters at all, -but next to knowing my (lack of) memory eliminates me from ever becoming a spy
even if some hyper-advanced brain surgery could improve my memory, we'd need to stay under the knife to fix my sense of direction and understanding of world geography
-he wrote about that too: (excerpt, which way to zanzibar may 13th 1985)
...My own blind spot is geography.
OH, I CAN make it home from work at night and I have occasionally reached nearby cities without getting lost enroute. But on a statewide scale I am a babe in the woods, on a national scale I am a dunce and on a worldwide scale I would score several notches below a visitor from another planet.
If you say to me; "Where are the New Hebrides?" my eyes will begin to fill with tears and my lower lip will start to quiver. And if you were to take pity on me and try to make amends with something like, ; "Well, that's a pretty tough one, Let's try something easier. Uh.. where is Yellowstone National Park?" I would burst into tears and run blindly from the room.
.... THE TRUTH IS, HOWEVER, that I haven't the faintest idea where Ceylon is--or any other place I can't see from the roof of my house on a clear day.
For years I thought Washington D.C., was somewhere near the Great Lakes. Only recently I learned it's not there at all. I can't remember where it is, but it isn't there.
ACTUALLY, I LIKE to travel and visit new places. I've been to Japan and Hong Kong and a number of spots that the average person may never visit. But I was always taken there, and I never paid much attention to the turns that were made along the way. If I had to find my way back to Hong Kong I would be in a hell of a fix, I can assure you.
PROBABLY, I'LL BE ABLE to get by with this blind spot for the rest of my life. But if geographical expertise ever becomes a condition of citizenship in this country, I'll just have to pack up and move to Tahiti.
Which, as I recall, is just off the coast of Norway.
/and i just crack up every time i read that column in its entirety.. i laugH at all the things i can painfully relate to -it seemed like every social situation was custom designed to unveil another blind spot; an ignorance; A lack of knowledge that eVeryone else but me seem to have.. so, to read, that a successful professional, a husband/dad, a college graduate.. had the same blind spots..
i cannot articulate how refreshing, helpful, Edifying, comforting. -ray orrock was funny and light-hearted about it, he didn't let it undermine his sense of self-worth.. he put his weaknesses in print for everyone to read -he used them to entertain people!
that's when i First started to realize, i belong qUite specifically in the entertaiNment industry.
anyway,
at the spy museum, they provide you with these plastic cards, and in addition to just walking around the museum, checking out all the gadgets, displays.. you can pretend to be an actual undercover spy. you just take your card to this machine to register; then you choose some pictures under severe time restrictions, which reveal countless and very private personality traits to total strangers, but which will ultimately provide you with your unique code word; your unique pretend/spy cover occupation, and then an overview of your assignment -geographically speaking- where you would be traveling
no surprise that i didn't get far. i can't even take the count-down clock in the upper write hand corner of the computer monitors at the library. even if i'm the only one there, and it gives me an hour
-something very distracting, and slightly disturbing about a count-down clock. i have to tape paper over it, cover it somehow, if i stand any chance of being productive. but this count-down clock is used everywhere..
-purchasing online, amazon. it says, hurry.. you better hurry... hurry or else....
and, so, when the pictures showed up on the monitor at the spy museum, -it wasn't a count-down clock, but there was a message, something like, Answer Quickly! You Are Being Timed.
and so, the unexpected pressure caused me to click on a picture of the ocean instead of the picture of the cat in a tree
you can't go back. you can't change your mind. i've already ruined my assignment
stupid game.
but just about the time i was going to give up
my undercover name and occupation (to be seen/read one time, and one time only) popped up on the screen: crafty; photographer
even i can remember that! and for a few fleeting seconds i was game to be an international undercover spy on a top secret mission
the next screen showed..
the next screen had like some odd shapes, dotted lines.. and something about indonesia
so, i placed my plastic undercover mission card in my back pocket
i am topps! -here with my sexy. we are RETIRED
- our mission is to enjoy a self-guided, self-paced, fun-filled tour of all things intriguing
***
mission accomplished!
***
i was thinkin' on the flight home, how i am like, the opposite of a spy. or, maybe, my skill level is so high, i can cause real spies to view my ineptness with suspicion! must be a coverup...
'cuz i do know things. i just can't remember what i know, or where i put it.
**
anyway again,
i so appreciate ray orrocks fear of spying, and which way to zanzibar,
and then i also laugh pretty hard at his writings covering politics and economics:
economics made simple, august 10th, 1983 & notes of interest may 12th 1983
so many great defintions/descriptions/explanations
THERE ARE TWO BASIC terms to keep in mind: simple interest, which is interest paid to people who aren't very bright; and compound interest, which is the interest on a loan taken out to build a prison-yard.
THE MAIN TROUBLE with economy right now is Inflation, which comes from a compound Latin word: in- meaning not or no, and flatus, meaning gas. We have Inflation because we have no gas. The Arabs have all the gas. The Arabs control the flow of gas through an organization called OPEC, which stands for, "Our Prices Escalate Constantly"...
ONE OF THE EFFECTS of Inflation is discovering that, if you pay all your bills, you won't have any money left for food. Conversely, if you buy enough food to survive, you won't have enough money left to pay your bills. This poses a serious dilemma for people who have grown accustomed to eating.
...
ONE WAY TO BEAT Inflation is to buy stocks that appreciate in value at a rate greater than the inflation rate itself. The thing to be careful about here is to buy only those stocks that are going to go up. Many frivolous people make the mistake of buying stocks that are about to go down, and have only themselves to blame for the mess they soon find themselves in.
There are two kinds of stocks: common and preferred. The difference between them is that common stocks are printed on coarse low-grade paper, and preferred stocks are printed on glossy, high-quality paper. Otherwise, they're pretty much the same.
OTHER TERMS THAT may have confused you are:
business cycle-- what we'll all be riding to our place of business if gas goes up much more.
sinking funds-- the average paycheck
capital expenditures-- money spent in Washington D.C. -- the cause of sinking funds.
escrow-- a Mexican raven.
the good old days-- two months ago.
Basically, what it comes down to is that productivity has fallen into an inflationary-recessive spiral in which indiscriminate pump-priming has resulted in an unfavorable balance of trade, confiscatory taxation, contemporary paralysis, conciliatory oratory, and peanut butter at $4 a jar.
I hope this has helped clear things up. Next week I plan to do a similar piece on nuclear fission.
****
/and read his writing from 1970's; 1980's; 1990's
add in some internet, cell phones, social media, but the fundamentals remain the same in 2023.
if i were teaching.. his collection of columns in this book would be mandatory reading, and we would spend entire classes discussing the craft, the content, the discipline, the humor, the truth, the brilliance, the light-heartedness, the seriousness, the we are more alike, than we are unalike, aspect of slice of life writings from a bay area columnist who wrote for the Daily Review, out of Hayward, California.
a true treasure in my personally inscribed books collection. a wonderful, funny re-read. amen.
posted by SANDRA HARRISON KAY @ 4:36 PM
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