The Explorers Club
No. LXXXIV - The Piper Alpha disaster, which claimed 167 souls, twenty years ago to the day, 6 July 1988.






Perchance to Dream
I was awakened a little before 7:30 on Saturday morning by the sound of my father working up in the attic (per the "Special Request" post from 1 July). As this was at least two hours before I intended to arise, after patronizing the water closet I settled back into a fitful sleep.

In the resulting dream, I was in 1962. And even in the dream I knew that President Kennedy had died of a massive gunshot wound in late 1963, but still I was convinced that he was going to die of poisoning on that very evening. I don't think I was part of the poisoning plot, but neither did I take any action to save him, I just knew he would be fatally poisoned. I was in a group of three, a friend and I escorting a gorgeous female acquaintance. I had no idea who the guy was, and I never saw his face, but I knew we were close friends. We bluffed our way past security - apparently, not only was the president to be poisoned, but he was on the premises - by insisting that were were well-known late 1950s/early '60s celebrities, but even in the dream I had no idea who were claimed to be, nor why our pathetic subterfuge worked. Immediately upon entering the ballroom (?) I spied the first face I recognized and declared, "Hey, there's Jose Ferrer!"

And only then did I realize that my distaff companion was Olivia Thirlby. And that's when I woke up.

Special Request
I do not write about my job because I am a firm believer in the Golden Rule. I have many, many flaws, but I always try, though sometimes I fail, to treat people as I'd like to be treated. Most people's jobs are stultifyingly dull, and I refuse to believe that my friends, who are a far more interesting group that the average slobs, have nothing better to discuss than the manifold indignities and inanities they must suffer to earn their paycheck. I wish not to hear your workplace anecdotes; so, 'tis only fair that I spare you mine.

Lots of people claim to be appalled by the party question, "So, what do you do?," but their claims are empty. I really am appalled by that question, if for no other reason that I sincerely doubt most of you are defined by your jobs. If one of you has your dream job, incredibly rewarding work you enjoy so much you can hardly believe anyone pays you do to it, you have my congratulations and my envy, though I am all too well aware that the latter is a sin. (I'm working on it.) But I know that most of you are far more interesting than the profession in which you find yourself. It is not a lack of interest in your and your life that keeps me from asking about your work, but a firm belief that you are more than the sum of your toils.

Now, once Project TROIKA comes to fruition so that it and subsequent writings migrate from the hobby realm to paying work, then I will consider revising this policy, as I will have joined the dream job set and will be ever so annoyingly eager to share my good tidings.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Your Racist Friend" from Flood (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Can't shake the Devil's hand and say you're only kidding."

Samstag, 5 Juli
Guster, "Great Escape" from Goldfly (T.L.A.M.)

Freitag, 4 Juli
Less Than Jake, "Great American Sharpshooter" from Hello Rockview (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "You didn't need her anyway!"

Also, happy birthday, America! I was very remiss in my Independence Day celebrations, though I did participate in the Fenton Freedom Festival, to be detailed later in "Vote For Kodos: All Politics Is Local."

Donnerstag, 3 Juli
Nirvana, "Lounge Act" from Nevermind (T.L.A.M.)