Today is Friday the 13th for those who care about such things. Personally, I’m not taking any chances and will be behind locked doors all day. I actually do have a good excuse as a wicked late-winter/early-spring cold has taken hold filling my lungs with an odd substance, the consistency of which varies between ‘watery doufu’ and ‘rubber cement.’ Ah well, such is.
It’s also the birthday of Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl Grey (1764-1845), Prime Minister of the UK from 1830-1834, and whose early life was depicted in a positively dreadful film The Duchess, one of only a handful of options available for viewing in United Economy class on my most recent trans-pacific flight. It was one of those movies that made me wish for hijackers, if only because being tortured to death at 35,000 feet seemed at the time less painful than the prospect of watching Keira Kneightly act. The other movie selection was the apocalyptic sci-fi smash-up Death Race, and seriously folks, when Jason Statham shows more range and character development as a futuristic demolition derby driver than you do in a period piece, it’s time to start thinking ‘career choices.’ Oh yeah, Did I mention that