M

Raise it to the sky, hold your crown up high

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 10:58:00 +0000

Both Neil Gaiman and Amanda Fucking Palmer appeared in a dream I had the other night. This dream also featured a sea of dead cars, a fair (of course with Faris wheel [Yes, I can rename passenger gondola wheelies if I damn well please]), the Linn County Court House traffic offenses office, and a small cafe as bright and cheery as can be. Pink and black striped sleeves. Basements. Locked doors. It was nice to not dream of teaching and the perils therein for once. Perhaps it was because I fell asleep while still drunk after watching M and half of Casablanca because I asserted that one could easily jump between Peter Lorre movies, even if only one of those movies overtly featured real Nazis. The mafioso was the Nazi in M. He had a bowler hat. And leather gloves. I pointed out how Jon Lewis emphasized that in Rome, Open City, the Nazis have a plan for the city! They're going to restructure it according to said Nazi plan. They're going to turn the women against you, luring them with drugs, furs, and lesbian sex. Because that is what Nazis do. Oh you, Rossellini. It won the grand prize at Cannes.

I shall now pen a letter. Dear Italian Neo-Realists, I watched the Catholics and Communists collaborate in Open City, and I thought perhaps now they could do the same. I am writing you today to tell you about a great opportunity. Have you heard of the majestic turkey vulture? Let me fill you in, dearhearts...

It is very hard to get a prize for a book that has not been written. Almost impossible. You've no idea.

With the internet, think just how much of our lives are spent searching. I'm a fucking mystic. They do tend to pursue, don't they. To seek. To search. There's a town in Iowa named Mystic. It is very small. The census person probably only need a few pages of a yellow legal pad to jot it down. 500 or so people? Almost all white. Mystic coal. A creek. The end of businesses before they've even begun. Perhaps I am unkind.

I need to spend every minute of the next week reading if I am to make any sense of anything. I cannot possibly do this, of course, which means meaning shall elude me; and I'm destined to babble my poor superior to death with a horribly-written paper in the infancy of my graduate "career." Send zombies. I'm not live; I'm Memorex.

Even if I decided wholeheartedly, without hesitation, and with great fervor that today I will be frightfully clever, I'm not sure it would come to much. Bit dismal as of late. Teaching very difficult. Lots of writing to be done. Constantly. Any worse than as an undergrad? Probably not. Same worries? Yes, but magnified. Responsibilities? Increased.

Clifford Geertz is out interpreting cultures. God^Marj rest his soul.
I'm eating instant oatmeal ~~rish~~ with raisins (got a bit ahead of myself there).
Pomegranate vodka is a very foul thing, a very foul thing indeed.
Lawrence says "nothing is written."
Arwen says "some things are certain."
In a battle between a conflicted British officer and an elf who once dreamed of fucking Rex Manning, who wins?
Hard to say really. Hard to say.

Listification

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:48:00 +0000

~~Email students with reminders for Tuesday's class~~
Read 1-58 of Convergence Culture
Write response to Convergence Culture
Read 95-134 of Convergence Culture
Write response to 95-134 of Convergence Culture
~~Lesson plan for Tuesday (Grammar Day! Raise high the banners!) and Thursday (Final draft due, expect nobody to do readings!)~~
~~Write Toulmin + inductive/deductive reasoning quiz~~
~~Do the three Democracy-related tasks from the previous list (You ne'er-do-well! List cross-over? Extreme laziness? Get on top of things!)~~
~~Read student drafts of essay 2 and respond via email~~
~~Send students questions/guidelines for essay 2~~
Reread Old School
Finish reading Fun Home
Read Blankets
Read Epileptic
Read a bunch of researchy books and articles about graphic novels.

Disaster Log

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 07:53:00 +0000

The day started out well. I had high hopes and excellent lesson plans. The day ended with me sitting in my car crying. I came home to fresh sushi and chow mein. And hugs. Put on my robot jammies. This weekend I will visit Mother and Schwester Zwei, grade 25 essays, do a lot of graphic novels research. Now I can cross off "Write a real blog post." What an accomplished young lady I am.

To do: Ta da:

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 21:14:00 +0000

~~Start researching representations of literacy (events? myth? practices? contact zones?) in non-fiction graphic novels~~
~~Write 10 pages of creative non-fiction~~
~~Read Elbow or Bishop article~~
~~Respond to Elbow or Bishop article~~
~~Wonder why I am the only first year in Rhetoric and Writing who is also teaching. (How will I build my army?)~~
~~517 Midterm Reflection ("I was four the year the circus came to our little town on the prairie...")~~
Read Gee's Why Video Games are Good for your Soul
~~Respond to Gee ("I find your lack of faith disturbing...")~~
~~Read last section of Gee (sigh sigh sigh)~~
~~Respond to Gee~~
~~Reread 121 readings~~
~~Lesson plan for Tuesday and Thursday~~
Read Democracy
Plan 7 min discussion of Democracy
~~Use new diabolical weather machine to plan distracting thunderstorm for day of Democracy discussion~~
~~Read In Pharaoh's Army Part I~~
~~Read In Pharaoh's Army Parts II and III~~
~~Email students on Sunday to remind them to do ILP tutorials and to include all elements of Unit 1 Portfolio.~~
~~Write a real blog post~~

To do:

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 18:27:00 +0000

~~Read Shaleena and Jeremy's thesis prospectuses for MAWG~~
Read chpaters 1-3, 7, and 9 of The Longman Teaching Assistant's Handbook
~~Read Didion essays~~
Read The Medium is the Massage
Write response to The Medium is the Massage
~~Read article for practicum~~
~~Write response to article for practicum~~
~~Reread 121 assignments~~
~~Lesson plan for Tuesday and Thursday~~
Ten zillion other things for 121
Try not to be overwhelmed by crippling doubt and fear
~~Get parking permit for the Bubble Mower~~
~~Decide on seminar paper topic for Language, Technology, & Culture~~
~~Think about literacy and technology narrative~~
~~Scan and email Martin article to class~~
~~Pick up books on hold at public library~~

The handbook said that if I made a list and checked it off (one for the weekend, one for the week, one for long term, etc), I would feel accomplished as I went along. I would also be organized and get things done. I made this list. I did some things. I feel anything but accomplished. Unless, of course, one considers the expert art of bemoaning an accomplishment.

Ringing in October

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:20:00 +0000

School has started up again. Summer recap? This summer I read some books, visited with family quite a bit, got married, went to Vegas, worked at the Writing Center a great deal, ate a lot of tater tots, wrote a paper for Lisa's book, made first contact with the entities known as editors (frightful!), painted my toenails once, spent too much time in the sun, and went to orientation to learn about the fine art of teaching.

I taught my first class on Tuesday. It went all right. Tomorrow I'm starting class with Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall." If I were a freshman and were going to discuss issues in education, that's what I'd want to watch. Who doesn't love late 70s rock operas, I ask you, who? Crazy people.

I can imagine Big Bird as a methhead. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has thought of it.

I'm really tired. I'm going to go read a book. This post has too many sentences that begin with "I." Next up, "you."

The Book Smugglers

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 02:50:00 +0000

I've become particularly fond of The Book Smugglers. Collaboration. Books. Reviewing. They're marvelous. They share my love of bookery (and unreliable narrators! aww, they're so precious) and especially my liking of young adult books. Quite often those get overlooked or disregarded as unimportant, but many of the books that shaped who I am and how I view the world are young adult books. Oh yes, I value other books too, but it's nice to see a website paying attention to young adult novels and speculative fiction and what not. I'm not very fond of romance (as a genre. I don't mind when it's incorporated into other books), but there is plenty to like at the Book Smugglers. They review everything from the super popular and obvious choices (Neil Gaiman, Suzanne Collins) to the not-so-expected (Margo Lanagan, Megan Whalen Turner). Their reviews are thoughtful and engaging, and you can tell they love reading and writing about what they read. I've found all kinds of new series and authors by reading their reviews, and for that I am ever so grateful.

P.T. Barnum lies

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 06:36:00 +0000

I am going to start signing all letters, emails, texts, etc in the manner of P.T. Barnum writing to the editor of the Nation: "In great haste, truly yours." I think it will add that little something extra to my professional correspondence.

Sometimes I make up jokes that feature P.T. Barnum and Captain Ahab walking into a bar.

I was once a ventriloquist in Barnum's American Museum. It was the only job I could get that didn't involve selling opium for John Jacob Astor.

File under "H" for "Huh?" 6

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 02:11:00 +0000

File name: reporting
Contents: From the couch : "I hate you, Gretta van Susteren."

File name: twilight2
Contents: After I complained to S that Jessica's hair wasn't right in Twilight: "There were no Elves at Helm's Deep!"

File name: holidays
Contents: The Cranberry Baklava fumes are going to her head.

File name: sonotfair
Contents: It just galls me that John Larison was right.

File name: honey
Contents: I love you like a Full Text Electronic Journal list.

File name: plight
Contents: Last term, I heard a girl describe Modernism as "that time with all the flowery language..." I damn near had a heart attack right then and there.

File name: awholenewworld
Contents: "Who introduces Disney movies now?" "Hitler."

File name: unicorn
Contents: Today I told Matt that the future is now! Tomorrow Harrison Ford will freak out when he sees an origami unicorn. Anyone would, knowing what he knows.

File name: whoathere
Contents: I want a walking stick with a snake's head that kills people and transports me back in time.

File name: hehe
Contents: "Let's watch the X-Files movie, Buddy!" "It's Stanley Kubrick's finest hour!"

File name: writingamusical
Contents: [Children sing in unison while doing the traditional Zombie Jesus Day dance]
"It's gonna be the best Zombie Jesus Day ever!
It's gonna be the best Zombie Jesus Day yet!
It's gonna be the best Zombie Jesus Day ever!
It's gonna be the best Zombie Jesus Day yet!"

Survive or Revise

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 08:27:00 +0000

Yesterday I actually said, "Oh noes! I is caught in new rhetorical situation!" Your undergraduate years turn your brain into academic LOL sludge like that. And then, you build a sand castle or something. It's all talk. I'm shifting my eyes dodgily. Dodgily. That's right. I adverbed it. AND moved the adverb away from the verb. I'm living on the edge.

Psst! Those fish, those fish over there. I think they're eating TetraFin. I read that it has the Omega-3 fatty acides needed to foster fish growth and energy! Immune boosting! You probably wish you were a fish.

When I forget Tobey Maguire's name, I refer to him as Spiderman Who Performs Abortions.

When I learn to knit, I can make hats. Hats for everyone. Somehow, despite my excitement over the idea of being surrounded by hats of all colors and head sizes, I have made somewhere between little and no effort to actually learn to knit. So if you've written down on next week's calendar, "Hideous afghan knitted by Marjorie arriving by post," I'd suggest pushing that back until at least January 2011.

I was typing my outro for an OWL just now which goes something like "Because the Online Writing Lab is limited by time and space, I’m unable to go over everything that might be of use to you when choosing how to revise." But instead of "revise," I typed "survive." Choosing how to survive is very important as well. Hopefully she knows this already without added help from the Writing Center.

I haven't blogged in a month, and I still have nothing to say.

It started to pour

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 08:31:00 +0000

8

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 07:47:00 +0000

Happy Birthday

Summer Bookery

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 01:22:00 +0000

Right on schedule, the beginning of the summer reading list. It's good to record books one has read in the summer. This shall be updated as books get read.

Bad to the Bone by Jeri Smith-Ready
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Forty Stories by Donald Barthelme
And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks by William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac
Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher
Lives on the Boundary: A Moving Account of the Struggles and Achievements of America's Educationally Underprepared by Mike Rose
Hunger of Memory: The Education of Richard Rodriguez by Richard Rodriguez
Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris
Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris
Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris
Club Dead by Charlaine Harris
Dead to the World by Charlaine Harris
Dead as a Doornail by Charlaine Harris
Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris
All Together Dead by Charlaine Harris
From Dead to Worse by Charlaine Harris
Thank You for All Things by Sandra King
Everything Beautiful by Simmone Howell
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
Going Too Far by Jennifer Echols
Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris
The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell
Ill Wind by Rachel Caine
The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
The Boy Orator by Tracy Daugherty
It Takes a Worried Man by Tracy Daugherty
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Axeman's Jazz by Tracy Daugherty
They Say/I Say: The Moves That Matter in Academic Writing by Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Heat Stroke by Rachel Caine
The Secret Countess by Eva Ibbotson
The Academic Writer: A Brief Guide by Lisa Ede
Readings for OSU Writers (no editor listed)
The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 05:48:00 +0000

I have one more final left on Thursday. Tracy was kind enough to provide us with the questions in advance. Today I did fantastic things. I went to school and sat in the quad and read a book I actually wanted to read rather than one I had to. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. I haven't read much of her work before. Quite impressed. Thought-provoking book. I then went to Jarrod's thesis defense. I had never been in Hovland before, so it was quite the experience. I learned about mystical poetry. I asked a question, though I had tons. There just wasn't enough time. But really, when and where is there enough time for all my questions? He passed (yay!). Had dinner with Dennis and his daughter. She is marvelous. I was happy to meet her finally. Also, beer and sammiches are good for one's health. Then I went to Safeway and bought olives at the olive island of most certain d00m! It's been a pleasant day filled with little requiring effort and most everything as it should be in the world.

Everything just feels likes rain

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 09:17:00 +0000

"And as we all know from experiments conducted during the Korean War,Diane, sleep deprivation is a one-way ticket to temporary psychosis." -Agent Dale Cooper

I went to bed at 5 last night after writing, printing, and becoming angrified at my 50 poems for class. The collection is entitled Tea with Baba Yaga. I got three hours of sleep, woke to find David Carradine was dead (godfuckingdamnit), and went to school for my last four undergraduate classes. After writing and turning in 20 pages and taking one scheduled final, I'll be done with my BA. I'll be so happy to be done. Mother is having a celebratory BBQ after finals week, and all manner of merriness shall be had. She's using the BBQ as an excuse to get me to bring her the last two books in the Twilight Saga. Ha. She too has found how awful they are and how addictive.

I took a 2-hour nap after coming home from school and eating some chicken. There was a glorious storm this afternoon. Winds. Pouring, drenching rain. Thunder. Lightning. The evil Genocide Awareness Project people were out in the quad. A very Catholic student with whom I have classes, with her Lifeguard (Right to Life) shirt on, scowled at me when I joked that with all those fences, there was a good chance of them either packing up early or getting struck by lightning in an ironic display of god's awesome power. I stood in Moreland (Lesswater!) watching the storm feeling quite happy and content. My weather had returned! The lights flickered throughout Post World War II Novels. We sympathized and become frustrated with Gogol. In the Namesake. No qualms were had about the original Gogol. And I clutched my coat happily. Nabokov is right about beauty and pity. The first time I read "The Overcoat," I was in 7th grade, and I almost couldn't believe it. It took a long time to read because I was translating it from Russian to English. I'd only had a year and a half of Russian, so everything unfolded slowly--the plans for the coat, the choices to be made, the party in honor of the coat (how out of place he was!), and the crushing thievery. I could barely believe it when Akaky was left in the snow, and still felt sad and disturbed as his ghost haunted St. Petersberg; I felt almost displaced myself. And even though a lot of it was probably horribly translated, the story itself was still the kind that made you shake your head and lean back in your chair and exclaim "Jesus, Gogol..."

My eyes are all puffy and swollen. Itchy. I got eye drops, but to little or no avail. I'm racing Benadryl. It wants me to sleep. The OWL queue wants me to work. It doesn't matter that these things cannot possibly want.

Flouridation of water

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sat, 30 May 2009 09:06:00 +0000

Today I did many things. Sort of. I went to school to have a talk with a professor. I turned in homework since I missed all of my classes yesterday with a 10 hours sinus headache. I booked a room for a reception following the wedding of d00m. Did you know that Gad is one of the sons of Zilpah? I did. Read yer Genesis 30. Gad was also a Hebrew prophet. Read yer Samuel. Numero Dos. I'm watching Dr. Strangelove. Top Secret. I need to write a paper by Tuesday on Gilead. I could write about Zero or The Known World, but I'd much rather write about Gilead, though I haven't a lot to say at the moment. Allergies are kicking my ass. I don't look good in dresses. Once I finish all my finals, there are half a zillion books I want to read. Moving soon. I wish I had enough time to learn to write with my left hand.

An imitation Christ

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sat, 23 May 2009 08:54:00 +0000

A spider just descended upon me. From above. It was white. Long-legged. Delicately brushing my bangs. A fucking horror. I yelled. So very loudly. I hope the neighbors didn't hear. When I was young, I once yelled because a spider was crawling toward my foot. The neighbors called the police, who came and circled the house, guns drawn. Their response was admirable, but I do not think they fully understood the gravity of the situation when explained to them after they verified my safety. This was similar, only worse. The spider touched me. It brushed me. It was soon dead on the floor beneath my Shaq shoe. It broke the treaty. I suspect it was offended by a post of mine from September, 2006 which I had just read only a half hour earlier. Who are you? What do you want?

♥ Mamma Mia ♥

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Mon, 18 May 2009 03:14:00 +0000

Enjoy this video of the amazing Lucilla DeMoore and Tanzi Valentine at the OSU Drag Show!

Language of orientation

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Wed, 13 May 2009 14:42:00 +0000

"Religion is a framing mechanism...a language of orientation that presents itself as a series of questions. It talks about the arc of life and the quality of experience in ways that I’ve found fruitful to think about." -Marilynne Robinson

We all wanna save the world

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Thu, 07 May 2009 06:28:00 +0000

...but I'm gonna do it.

Was all this canned beef a good thing?

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 06:26:00 +0000

That question was asked by Miles Orvell from Temple University in his talk "Main Street in the American Mind: Crucible, Crossroads, Utopia." It's a question we all wonder about, no doubt. No doubt.

I have just barely revised and printed out a paper I wrote on Saturday, read 199 pages, considered most considerably my next paper due Thursday (it shall be dreadful, I fear; I haven't the heart for it right now. After 4 years, you'd think it would get easier; it doesn't), written 1 page of heartless paper, read a chapter about writing, read a short story, and then wrote a 2 page response. I get the sense that if I stop for a moment and procrastinate, I may never accomplish anything ever again. And I feel as though I've just woken up after a nap in the late afternoon to find that it's now dark and time is running out if I am to salvage any of the day to feel as though anything has really been accomplished. And this after having gotten up at 6:30, worked, and done all of the aforementioned activities. Also, I have eaten half a pork chop and a large salad. There is simply never enough time.

I want to curl up in a ball and watch Lawrence of Arabia in HD for the next five weeks. Fast forward to summer. There are things to do.

I haven't updated my blog in ages. And this isn't really an update. When you start three sentences with "and," you're just running from one thing to the next. And right now, I think I'll leave Ruthie reconfiguring darkness; and you, dear reader, you can pretend you're Virgie's struggle with hard plaid.

So what?

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 05:06:00 +0000

Of course, no matter how keenly, how admirably, a story, a piece of music, a picture is discussed and analyzed, there will be minds that remain blank and spines that remain unkindled. “To take upon us the mystery of things” — what King Lear so wistfully says for himself and for Cordelia — this is also my suggestion for everyone who takes art seriously. A poor man is robbed of his overcoat (Gogol’s “The Greatcoat”, or more correctly “The Carrick”); another poor fellow is turned into a beetle (Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”) — so what? There is no rational answer to “so what”. We can take the story apart, we can find out how the bits fit, how one part of the pattern responds to the other; but you have to have in you some cell, some gene, some germ that will vibrate in answer to sensations that you can neither define, nor dismiss. Beauty plus pity — that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for the simple reason that beauty must die: beauty always dies, the manner dies with the matter, the world dies with the individual.

From “The Metamorphosis”, an essay in Lectures on Literature by Vladimir Nabokov

Breaking Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 07:18:00 +0000

Even educated guesses are still just guesses.

Cheap imitation crab fish have always aspired to be something more. There was never really any hope for them. Really.

Read on the comments of Republica's "Drop Dead Gorgeous" video on youtube: "on occasion and without warning, god can be a cunt." The deity in me is hurt.

Look for my new book: What is Needed: Six Tips to Avoid Traps. Chapter 1: I Wear Sunscreen Every Day

It's the weekend before school starts up again. I have 11 more weeks to go as an undergrad. And it's possible I could make it through without a B, which would be nice, though I fear the poetry class for which I have so foolishly signed up. I have a plastic container full of hot pink, green, yellow, and orange eraser tops; and I'm not afraid to use them.

This past week I slept a great deal. Read Inkheart and Home. Started Inkspell. Watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Quantum of Solace, Rachel Getting Married, Synecdoche, New York, Tales of the Black Freighter, Coraline, Pineapple Express, and, of course, Twilight. Much movie-ing. And much watching of basketball. My bracket is totally fucked. That happens when you haven't much of a clue what you're doing. Though I do think mine was better than Mr. President's.

Not really feeling ready for school on Tuesday. But that's all right. I'm never much ready for anything.

Post 666 is coming up in about 4 posts, I think. How exciting!

Spring's begun. I'm sniffling and sneezing every day.

Now why would you want to go and do a foolhardy thing like that?

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 08:24:00 +0000

It is my sincere hope that "foolhardy" does not become obsolete any time soon. It takes a village.

I haven't updated in a while. I'm currently only updating to avoid working any further on my research paper (Post-Colonialism final). And by "working," I mean "researching a topic." And by "researching a topic," I mean "updating my blog." And by "updating my blog," I mean "overusing quotation marks." I am somewhat frustrated, as the assignment directions say that I should choose two or three critical sources for what is apparently the most mini lit review (2 or 3 pages) known to marj. Two or three people? What kind of a conversation is that? An incredibly focused one I'm not sure I want to have is what. I don't want to focus on two or three people. I want to talk to the whole world.

It's only one in the morning, but I'm tired. It's only one more week until Spring Break.

There's no crowd when the apocalypse is going on. The voice from the couch just told me so. My hands are cold, and I've been reading about the Duvalier dictatorship. Papa Doc. "President for Life." Tonton Macoutes. And such ugly ugly happenings. I'll have to save my powers of concision for tomorrow. I should be productive. There are such benefits of productivity. The problem is I have so very little motivation. And most everything has already been said before. This doesn't make me miserable at all. And I'm not being sarcastic.

The rest of the story

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Marjie) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 02:03:00 +0000

Paul Harvey died. He was 90. A long life, but it's still sad he's dead. Quite a pioneer. I remember listening to him every morning on the bus ride to elementary school. We all did. I think everyone knew his voice. He'll be missed.