Burning Down the Clone Snowmen

I speak as though you could burn down the ornaments on the table. But we need ketchup as much as we need salt and pepper. And napkins!

Turn the philosopher kings to liquid and send them downstream.

Philosopher kings, like overturned buckets of rock salt and ice leftover from an attempt at making homemade ice cream, turned liquid.

Be careful about pouring that rock salt down the sink or ruining the homemade ice cream with it. Vanilla sucks when it's salty. Or don't be careful. To hell with the Clone Snowmen--just don't send them to the lowest bolgia of the Inferno where they would stay as fresh as Lucifer in his Sea of Ice.

Are you thinking Frosty whines too much in those Christmas cartoons?

But what if we could melt Plato's Clone Snowmen? Give Darth Vader fingerprints? What would our universe be without grim? Having melted, only your coal eyes and top hat remain?

Blow Out Your Candles

                          



















The hand with the lit match is beautiful, but as usual, the Clone Snowmen have replaced her. See how beautiful the hand is? I don't know if I should post this picture in black and white or color. You should feel the flame. The Clone Snowman replaced my Birthday Girl with a much less interesting creature in this odd Glass Menagerie.

For a second, I wanted you to think of the melancholy almost inherent to the work of Tennessee Williams--especially that line, "Blow out your candles." Then I don't want to think about Tennessee Williams. I want you to think about celebrity and film.

But then we're back to Tennessee Williams, who got it right: Hollywood stuck its projector through our collective imagination and directed us to worship at the altar of half-baked royalty, American style.

You see the Snowman in the picture? But he looks to be made of porcelain or metal. He's not melting though he might glow. Yes, yes, "Blow out your candles." This scene might turn to comedy.