A good friend convinced me that my dissatisfaction with Facebook isn’t with the service itself but with my failure to exercise good quality control over the entire process. So I took her advice and culled a few aggravating personalities. Dang, that felt good!
I considered pulling the plug on Facebook long before now and even made a couple of halfhearted attempts to do so.
These resolutions didn’t stick for two reasons. First, I used my Facebook ID to log into Spotify; and second, I clung to the pathetic delusion that maintaining a presence on this social media platform would ignite lucrative post-retirement freelance opportunities.
Since I already have Apple Music, I’ve decided to quit both Facebook and Spotify. People who are my real-world friends already know how to contact me.
I’m also going to quit Twitter. I never use this service. Besides, if something important is tweeted, the lamestream media are quick to report it. Also headed to the trash heap: Pinterest, Instagram and Periscope. Good riddance.
The biggest advantage to deep-sixing Facebook is that I’ll suddenly become a lot more productive in other areas of my life.
In short, I’ve awakened to the realization that Facebook isn’t mass communication, it’s masturbation.
I just received images back from The Darkroom of test film I shot a couple weeks ago with a Spencer Co. Full-Vue. I still need to do more work with this 120 format faux TLR camera to determine how well it does in brighter conditions.
My choice of film might have caused the less-than-stunning results. I usually get good latitude from Kodak Tri-X, but these photos just didn’t exhibit much shadow detail. I’m thinking Ilford XP2 might yield snappier tones. I also bought some redscale film to try in the Full-Vue, but that’s for a later time.
Overall, I’d say that the Spencer Co.’s camera is slightly less impressive than a Holga.
I just bought a Full-Vue camera manufactured by the famous “Chicago Cluster” of companies associated with philanthropist Jack Galter. The companies were located at 711-715 W. Lake St., which seems to be pretty much now in the middle of the Kennedy Expressway. I’m thinking of using this camera to photograph some of the Galter family’s contributions to the world — like Galter Pavilion at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and Galter Life Center at Swedish Covenant.
It turns out that two of my favorite movies also are my favorite Christmas movies: “The Bishop’s Wife” and “Die Hard.” At first glance, these pictures separated by a span of more than four decades have nothing in common — but both celebrate the power of faith and redemption in subtle and entertaining ways.
In 1947’s “The Bishop’s Wife,” clergyman David Niven believes that heaven-sent angel Cary Grant is the answer to his prayers for help in squeezing millions from an obnoxious old matron to build a cathedral whose construction she’s micromanaging. But Niven’s marriage to Loretta Young is headed into stormy seas, and he gets more than he bargained for when Grant charms everyone from a comic-relief agnostic to the bishop’s wife — played by professional Catholic Loretta Young.
Their faith restored, the agnostic turns to religion, the matron gives her millions to the poor, and Niven realizes that his wife has the power to give him heaven on earth.
Another marriage is on the rocks in 1988’s “Die Hard,” in which New York cop Bruce Willis travels to Los Angeles to attend a Christmas party in the skyscraper headquarters of a Japanese multinational where his estranged wife Bonnie Bedelia is a top executive. When terrorists take over the building, several characters are forced to find faith in themselves.
A cop who has been afraid to fire his gun since accidently killing a kid becomes a hero, a desk-flying police chief learns to respect street cops and Willis and Bedelia symbolically reaffirm their marriage vows when they must snap open the clasp on a Rolex watch she’s wearing to drop villain Alan Rickman to his death.
Cerebral use of Christmas music ranging from Run DMC to Beethoven to Sinatra adds greatly to the holiday spirit.