RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
2001-07-31
Jim Backus (b. James Gilmore)
B. 2.25.13 Cleveland, Ohio / D. 4.3.89 Santa Monica, California
Parkinson�s Disease
Oh to possess the sweet equanimity of Mister Magoo. I was going to say that whatever you do, don�t see Jurassic Park III (here visualize claw slashes) at Park Slope�s Pavilion Theater.
To be like that patient, uncomplaining, bat-blind gentleman of leisure. Because they�re showing it on one of those eight-by-twelve foot attic screens, completely out of focus.
Taking life as it comes� In the heat of the velociraptor attack I�m back in the stairwell, shrieking at the usher�
one illusion at a time. �Jurassic Park is STILL out of focus! Please get the manager up here! I am a paying customer! Do your job! Do your job!�
Should a banking errand bring me to the city zoo, I could tip my hat to the sea lions (�Good day, ladies!�) and proceed to seek assistance from the tellers in the panther cage. Then I�m back in the dark with the manager; she�s saying, �I think I can see what you mean.�
Just as the panthers� diffidence has nearly circled to attention, an elephant�s trunk could whisk me upstairs to where my old friend the bank president is grunting into a banana phone. But despite my efforts nothing about the focus improves�in fact it appears to deteriorate. No one else seems to mind. Thinking, �Great, nine-fifty, for a radio play,� I resign myself to murk and bleary edges. People don�t know they have rights, beyond the right to bring infants and cell phones wherever they go. Eventually, out of the mist, creeps something utterly horrifying.
Of course, I can�t resist the little children who surround my friend in the shelter of his sunny office, as they chatter adorably in brown languages�they�re refugees, you say? Of course, a million dollars, say? Here�s my check (I sign an armadillo with a startled ibis; the armadillo rolls away.) Walking home after the show, I was ready to give Jurassic Park Threeeeargghh! at the Pavilion in Park Slope my very worst review, until I discovered to my great annoyance that the streets were somewhat out of focus, too, unless I held my head just SO.
Cap off the visit with a modest self-extrication from a python�s grateful embrace�all in a day�s work, madam, for Magoo, that legendary humanitarian. Maybe next episode he can help the poor adolescent staff of the Pavilion forget how they suffered from that crazy cartoon lady�s adjustment to her new bi-focals. They�re not actually bi-focals�they�re called �progressive� lenses.