A cheap and easy cynicism rails at everything. The master of the art accomplishes the formidable task of discrimination.
Now that I have passed on my letter, my good deed is done and I can close up and go home. Hope everyone enjoys the Holiday Season and that you get what you deserve, I mean, that everyone gets what they hoped for…
I will see you all on the other side…
Give this book as a gift…Can’t hurt, might help
So I know it has started…Did Taylor discover a cure for autism this year? Or, did Mallory’s team win the World Cup? Is little Logan still working at the homeless shelter? You have begun to receive those annoying, not to mention, pretentious Christmas Letters from people you haven’t thought about since they annoyed you last year with their stupid Christmas Letter. Why anyone would dream that I care about all their drivel is beyond me…The season to be jolly is bad enough without being reminded of the overabundance of nitwits in the world. Fa-la-la this!!
Never fear, as always Sir Basil rides to the rescue and supplies you all with the perfect Christmas Letter, so you too may annoy as many people as possible during this joyous season. Please send it early and often…
Dear Friend,
It is that time of year again to share with you our adventures in this journey we call life. 2009 has been another year of magic and wonder…
Hudson almost 3, is quite a talker. She continues to amaze the professors at Oxford with her intuition in foreign languages. It was fun for her to serve as Official Translator for Hilary Clinton at the Mideast Peace Talks. She intends to spend this Holiday transcribing War and Peace into Arabic and Cantonese and has just had her first novel published.
Baron, now 15, is growing in leaps and bounds. When he got his first set of building blocks he seemed quite interested in large buildings. This year he designed his first skyscraper and ground was broken in Hong Kong for the new “Baron” Towers. It is great to have a budding architect at home as he made a new addition to the house and a wonderful gazebo for our garden. Martha Stewart will be filming her next show here in April, and Oprah will visit and film in May. His finishing second at Augusta and his performance of Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto with the London Philharmonic at Albert Hall were also exciting parts of the past year.
Countess had a very busy year. In between her work as President of the American Cancer Society and Senior Partner of Goldman Sachs, she introduced a line of children’s novels and hand made active-wear. She remains occupied with the children and has introduced them to Shakespearean acting and is reading the Latin Vulgate aloud with them each night. We are particularly proud of her for reaching the Women’s Singles Final at Wimbledon this year.
Basil was immersed with his Graduate School teaching, and managed to co-author a paper on Multidimensional Customer Attribute Analysis by Conjoint Survey and accept a Nobel Prize for his discoveries in Quantum Physics. Along the way Basil took three start-ups through their IPO. We are proud of his work serving on the Board of Directors of IBM, Coca-Cola, and Walt Disney, where he was personally responsible for most of the nation’s job cuts this past year and as a personal mentor to Pope Benedict in Rome. Basil was also active with the kids teaching haute école and helping Baron become a scratch golfer. We were able to squeeze a little traveling in this year. We started in London, went to St. Petersburg, Lapland, Denmark, Vienna, the Galapagos, Greenland, Holland, Brazil, where we helped displace an entire Amazonian tribe in order to clear the rain forest for loggers, Italy, Japan, Nepal, Malaysia, New Zealand, Australia, and Pitcairn Island. Our trip sailing our new boat around the world was a great experience for the kids, we learned to herd Dolphins into the Tuna nets, sailed with the whaling fleet, where the kids had great fun in helping the whalers sink several Greenpeace boats, and tagged along on a baby seal hunt and discovered a new region of deep water volcanoes which has been earmarked as a new nuclear test site.
And Weimer, our German shepherd, learned to speak. Latin. Other than that, it was a very quiet year. So from our household to yours, all the Blessings of the Season and may your New Year be prosperous. We found out yesterday that we won the $500 Million Powerball Lottery.
The Countess, Sir Basil and Family
Of course, my original plan was to introduce the P’s to as many people as possible and what with that and their own meeting of folks from work, school, etc. Old Sir Basil would soon be off the hook and left alone with his books like in the good old days…
Well, I’m still seeing them, and I’m quite sure it is out of spite on their part and that they are in league with the Countess, I do not doubt. They all seem to have this funny idea that Sir Basil wants to be sociable…Humph…
On Friday night we took them over to the Winter Court of the SCW which is held at the St. Louis Country Club, with the thought that they would be meeting many more people, most of them long winded…Well, it might have worked, since I did see many an exchange of numbers, etc. Although I might have the purpose for this said exchange all wrong, I’m still hopeful.
We had an enjoyable evening and for once we left of our own volition. Except for the little cucumber things Mr. P and I kept dropping on the floor in order to get one of the serving maids to bend over and pick them up during cocktails, we were on our best behavior. (And yes, it my idea) The food was very good, although the white wine they served with dinnah was an Australian wine, which I detest. So I threw the bottle across the room, with the Countess’ permission, of course and opted for the red, which was French, and therefore acceptable. The P’s seemed to enjoy the evening which I attribute to fact that the Countess was with us.
Fingers crossed.
For this week’s movie night, John and I, the beer and Mrs. P’s club sandwiches took in 1939’s Bachelor Mother starring David Niven and Ginger Rodgers with supporting actors Charles Coburn and E. E. Clive.
Another sweet little film on top which deals with serious issues underneath the romance and comedy. It also provides several shots of Miss Rodgers’ legs in the obligatory dance scene, for which, I am very grateful.
Niven and Rodgers are very good and have good on-screen chemistry and Rodgers especially is very funny. With some first-rate dialogue and good acting in supporting roles (although Charles Coburn is wasted a bit here by not having enough to do) it is worth looking at.
It involves a Foundling Hospital, which shows how really old this film is. Google it if you have no idea. Cases of mistaken identity and mistaken parentage provide the gags and the film plays these serious issues deftly. The New Year’s Eve Party scenes are very funny and I’m sure you’ll like the ending…
Two drinks up from Sir Basil and John….
This is what they look like. They all have a contrasting waistcoat, and some have a slanted ticket pocket as well. Ask Mrs. P for live details as she has seen them many a time….This style only works if you still posses a waist, which I do…Barely…
I think Mrs. P has some live photos somewhere…You’ll have to ask her…Mrs. P has also been present when Sir Basil dons the old dinnah jacket and pumps…
Of course I barely survived the ordeal, but I did want to note that the young, loyals endeavored to throw a few new wrinkles into the thing to keep things fresh, I’m sure…One of the new twists they came up with is to approach Sir Basil in pairs and ask him if he thinks they are wearing underwear…Well, not having been asked this in a bar for some time, you must forgive me, I believe I didn’t really have a ready answer to that one, but they were nonplussed and both lifted up their skirts and showed me their thongs (which is a type of under garment), asking for my learned opinion on style and fit. Well, of course, I mumbled, what were, I think, the appropriate pleasentries in these situations and shambled off. When I noticed the next two loyals peel off and angle my way I braced myself and felt ready for the challenge. Which meant I was leaning against the bar in the back of the room with no ready exit. They approached and asked if it looked as if they were wearing underwear and would I care to touch a cloth sample on the lower back area of the dress to check. When I demurred, which I thought quite clever, the hand was grabbed and pressed to said sample area. Of course I said now that I think about it, that no, there doesn’t seem to be any underlying support under the dress. Wrong answer, as both dresses went up and I was shown, in minute detail, that yes they were wearing underwear, they were just very thin. Well, they really thought this funny, but really the joke is on them, because I have seen women’s underpants before you know.
By this time, as you might imagine, I was on guard with the bean on a swivel…I had hoped that the young loyals had not noticed the 47 drink tickets which the VP had passed my way, and I certainly hoped they hadn’t noticed my liberal use of same. Evidently they had and were taking full advantage of sloshed Sir Basil. The little devils.
The next game was to manuver one of the young loyals into a position standing in front of, with back to Sir Basil, pretending a conversation with someone. While Sir Basil stood, sipping the needful, another miscreant would reach around Sir Basil, grab the posterior of the young loyal in front of Sir Basil and then run like hell. The grabbed loyal would then slowly turn to see nothing behind them but an innocent Sir Basil looking rather guilty. Then they just smile and say ” Oh I know you didn’t do it Sir Basil” and walk away…Little Bastards.
They also stooped to the old one of getting one on either side to pose for a picture and then both kiss you as the picture is snapped. That ones so old I fell for it about ten times…
One other stange thing stands out…One of the big VP types in charge of all the shit and drink tickets, spent the whole night with us down at our end of the room. Can’t imagine why…Anyway, at the end of the festivities they had a fleet of Escalades to take us back to the hotel. We were waiting outside, he, me and the loyals and some female Marketing VP…We were waiting and he sends the Marketing VP back into the club for something and she ran back inside. The big VP hurried to the next Escalade in line and bundled us in and told the diver to step on it. One of the loyals asked what about the other VP, and he said, “screw her, she can find her own way home…Who wants McDonalds”? So we had McDonalds and sadly I left the fries on the hotel parking lot and several hotel corridors, but I did save the McRib. The big VP was an alright chap, the last I saw of him he was being asked numerous pointed questions by the loyals as I let myself out to head down to an abandoned room.
I hope he’s okay…
It is now the most dangerous time of the year for Sir Basil Seal. It is time for the annual Company Christmas Party. Each year at this time Sir Basil gathers his employees together and carts them off to the Corporate shin-dig. My staff, which is approximately 70/30 women with the oldest staff member being about 34 years of age, and the oldest in terms of maturity, about 12. Yes, I thought it very dangerous as well. I always have to attend this party alone as the Countess is wise enough to always have something else to do when it rolls around, so I am completely unprotected. Even the upper lip which is stiff and the shoulder that is cold will avail me nothing at these things.
I suppose it would not be quite so dangerous if our young people had anything resembling self-control when faced with an open bar. Although these young things fancy themselves quite the party animals, in reality they haven’t a clue. I have learned (the hard way) that to them “party” means to rush to the bar when the doors open and down as many shots of hard liquor as the barkeeper can pour…In about ten minutes they’re drunk as skunks and at the thirty minute mark they are either praying to the porcelain God or asleep under a table. Party over. The idea of pacing oneself seems to have gone the way of my Spectators.
Anyway, my female staff have attended said party wearing the obligatory “party dress” which is usually a pocket-handkerchief pinned to a corsage, as far as I can tell. Each year I admonish my loyal staff to have their knees throw a party and invite their skirts down, but to no avail. Since they all look so nice and wholesome sitting in the office in their work clothes and shoes, so to speak, it is always difficult for me to view them dressed like hookers and discover that said work clothes and shoes are covering more tattoos than one would see in a Marine barracks and piercings which are just to painful to contemplate. The mind, as you know, boggles. It’s sad when they can’t even leave an old man his illusions…
Midway through said party, and after I have spoken to everyone, including all the wait staff and can avoid them no longer, I will saunter over to where my group is sitting (or laying, as the case may be) to see how they are getting along. It is at this point that things get really dicey. The male loyal staff are all out cold by this time (they seem to understand pacing less than the females), but by some unknown alchemy the female staff are still at it (mostly). I always end up having conversations like this:
SB: How is everything? Everyone having a good time?
Table: Groans, hysterical laughter, sounds of running water…
Candy: Hiya sure baysel!
SB: Hello Candy, I certainly hope you’re having a good time…
Candy: Time, yeah, good…Hey did yer know I have a new tattoo of a cupcake on my ass cheek?
SB: Well, no, I didn’t know that…How nice for you…Why did you put it there?
Candy: Because my ass is so sweet Sure, sure baysel…Do you want to see it? I can cover my crack with my hand if it bothers you…
SB: Well, no, no, I do appreciate the offer, I am quite sure it’s very lovely…
Candy: My boobs are fake too…Did you know that? You can touch them if you want…
SB: Really? I would have never known that if you hadn’t told me. No, no, I’ll take your word for it…Amazing, the things one learns…
Candy: (At top of voice to entire room) Hey! Do you want to see my ass, or not?
SB: Thank you, no, not just now…If you’ll excuse me…(exit stage left)
Or:
SB: Hello Chauntel, that’s a lovely dress you’re almost wearing?
Chauntel: This old thing…You like it?
SB: It’s very nice Chauntel, are you enjoying the party?
Chauntel: Parry! Great Parry! sure bay baby…You know you’re pretty good-looking for an old guy…Can I say “old guy”?
SB: Oh yes, quite alright, and thank you for the compliment, I do appreciate it. I…
Chauntel: Hey! I love this sog…C’mon bay baby let’s go dance…You dance?
SB: Well, thank you, but no, I better sit this one out before someone turns around and shouts “play that funky music white boy”…
Chauntel: What?
SB: Nothing, left my walker in the mini van, must run, have a good time…(ducks and runs for cover)
See what I mean? Now don’t think I flatter myself in any way, I do understand that the loyal staff are somewhat inebriated and will avoid me for many weeks to come. I may be old, but not yet delusional. My problem is how do I get them all back alive without appearing on film at eleven. Then, at the end of the festivities while I collect various staff from bathroom stalls, tabletops, potted plants, piles of snow in the parking lot, and puddles in the middle of the street I heard them all to their rooms in the hotel. Of course within a few minutes of doing this they all end up in my room for what is called a “nime camp” or so I’m told.
Candy, Chauntel, et al: Basey Wasey baby…let’s parry here…We’re goin to sleep in here, this is a better room. How’d you get the better room? I like the bed…This where you sleep? I’ll sleep here with you basey…Where’s the bathroom I feel sick! Oh God! I hate it when I can’t reach the bathroom…Shit, who owns a blue jacket?
SB: Well, don’t you all have you’re own rooms? This one is very small and I snore something awful…I…What blue jacket?
et al: Hey I say dirty things in my sleep, wanna hear? Did you know I don’t wear pajamas or anything when I sleep? Don’t you have anything to drink in here? Hey baysel sure, you don’t smoke dope or anything do ya? How old are you really? You don’t really look as old as my grandpa, really. He’s really old, he’s forty or something terrible like that…How old do you think I am? Be honest…I’m older than I look…Did you know that she’s drunk? She is, that bitch is drunk. I’m a good drinker…Can men your age still have sex? Just wondering…
SB: I’ll be back…Don’t make too much noise and kill no one… I will see you in the morning…(Walks off to sleep in abandoned room with only key in pocket like every year…)
Company party’s are always such fun, are they not?
Mr. Cox, the editor of Easy and Elegant Life, (linked now in the area where I place my “name dropping” links) has asked me to play along and post ten random things about me, Sir Basil Seal. Ghastly, I know, but I enjoyed his newly discovered site so much, I have decided to break my own rule about remaining as antisocial as possible and give it a go…And all of this can be verified by Mrs. P, so you know I’m not making it up:
1. Although Sir Basil comes across as a cynical, misanthropic, sociopathic meanie, he is really a cynical, misanthropic, sociopathic meanie.
2. Sir Basil shoots ducks, geese, (he shoots these twice) turkeys and sometimes the occasional trespasser, but he never shoots fur-bearing mammals. Why? you might ask…Well, since his marriage to the Countess it was made plain to even the meanest understanding that no male members of the family shall shoot, nor in any way harm or molest Bambi or Thumper. And if there is one person you should fear more than the local game warden, it’s the Countess. So we kill birds.
3. And yes, Sir Basil does really dress that way. All my suits are bespoke and I wear only one style, a one button jacket with slanted pockets and a double vent, which I designed myself (with the help of my tailor) but in different fabrics and colors. I’ll post pictures one day.
4. Sir Basil is a Leo. I have no idea what this means, but it is random.
5. I am well liked by those who know me but slightly.
6. I once met and had a short, funny conversation with P. J. O’Rourke. I remember it, he doesn’t.
7. I do own a smoking jacket.
8. During my college days, I worked summers as a lifeguard and tennis instructor at The Breakers in Palm Beach. Nice work if you can get it.
9. I know enough German to run for it when the Countess starts speaking it faster than I can understand it.
10. I know how to fence (with a foil) not the other kind. Although I’m willing to learn…
That’s it…Lame and pathetic I know, but what does one do? I must tag someone so I think it will be: FLG…This should be good…
Details to follow…
In the words of good friend FLG: “Grow the fuck up”! You can’t have hot sex with a vampire, because they don’t exist outside of Bram’s imagination you pathetic losers. Please leave your children’s books alone and stick with Cosmo.
