The Luna Park Gazette

I may not want to be king of Scotland, but Macbeth and I have at least one thing in common. We’ve both been tortured by ghosts. Shakespeare’s blood-stained nobleman was haunted by the spirit of Banquo, a general he had ordered killed to make sure the guy’s descendants don’t inherit the crown. Macbeth thinks all is well until Banquo’s ghost makes an unscheduled and quiet unwelcome appearance at a state dinner that the murderous monarch is hosting. Macbeth, the only who can see the spirit, promptly freaks the hell out, and begs the apparition to take any other form than that of his slain friend. “ Approach like the rugged Russian bear, ” he says, “ the armed rhinoceros, or the'Hyrcan Tiger. Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves shall never tremble... ” Buddy, I know where you’re coming from. Last week I had a nightmare that rolled over my psyche like a runaway locomotive on rocket fuel. I’ve had many late-night whoppers in the past that have shaken me up something

Not all clutter is created equal. Every single year I promise myself that I’m going to clean up my apartment: toss out the mounds of paper, give away the old clothes and books, and finally— finally --bring some order out of the chaos. And every single year, about the only that gets thrown out is that vow to throw stuff out. Now, just to be clear, I’m not about to become the third Collyer Brother and I don’t think my home will be featured on a cable reality show. Still, this place is messier than I’d like it to be, which can be quite depressing, especially now that we’re all trapped in our homes under Covid-19 lockdown. I have some vacation time coming up and since travel is probably not a good idea, I’m going to work on getting rid of the damn papers. But whatever goes out, I fully intend to keep my greeting cards. God knows, I’ve tempted to ditch some of them, just to make a little room in my files. Nothing personal, of course, I just to want to tidy up a little bit. B

“Obeying the ego leads to bondage; obeying the soul brings liberation.” --Paramahanasa Yoganada When I was a child, my father liked to sing an old music hall number called “ Abdul Abulbul Amir. ” Written in 1877 by the Irish songwriter Percy French, the song tells the story of the eponymous Amir—“bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah”--and a Russian soldier named Ivan Skavinsky Skavar, bravest of the troops led by the Tsar—who fight to their mutual deaths in a duel that beings when one guy steps on the other guy’s foot. It seems that Ivan, who had donned his most truculent sneer, started things off, whereupon Abdul informs him that “vile, infidel, know, you have trod on the toe Of Abdulla Bulbul Amir." They both reach for their swords and they both end up dead, which I guess is supposed to be tragic, though, honestly, I'm not feeling it. If only they had Prozac back then... I hadn’t thought of this song for decades until a recent incident at a local fruit and vegeta

In the various versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers , bad things always happen when you go to sleep. The story of soul-stealing aliens taking over humans by creating replacements in giant pods has been made at least five times since Jack Finney published his 1955 novel--with yet another one reportedly in development. I’ll always prefer the 1956 original with Kevin McCarthy, but it’s a testament to the story’s enduring creepiness that filmmakers keep coming back to the concept to give it another try. Think about it: you get up one morning and find your friends and family all look and sound the same, but you know it’s not really them. And if you nod off, as Kevin McCarthy warns us, “you’re next!” Sleep can be my weakness, too, and I got a firm reminder on that fact on Saturday—Independence Day, ironically enough--when I zonked in front of the TV. I had spent a wonderful day with my sister, our first day out together since Covid-19 muscled into our lives in March and turn