Thursday, May 3, 2012
I know what you’re thinking…
But nevertheless, I need to convey to One & All the Extinction, yes, you read me right, the Extinction of the Mini Cocktail Table Lamp…you know, the ones you used to find in dark-lit lounges from the 500 Club to the Copacabana…
How did we ever allow this to happen?
SO many wonderful things have happened in, under, over and around these mini cultural treasures…Big Wig’s negotiating deals worth zillions, married Presidents dillydallying with Blond Bombshells, Mobsters deciding who was a “Good Fella” and who was not, newly in-love couples forgetting the world around them, outlandishly gay writers extoling the very refined and rarefied virtues of, well, themselves, to others, all sitting enraptured around these wee little glowing gems.
I’m truly surprised we as a Western Society function at all without these lamps.
As a woman, they were always your friend…why, you ask? Well simply because you could never look bad under such subdued and up cast lighting. Never a wrinkle nor a tired eye would show, your eyes and your teeth sparkled as if made out of diamonds, heck, even Phyllis Diller could get her husband, Fang, to see why he married her in the first place, I’ll just bet.
I want’em back!
I wanna be able to go to an upscale lounge, see an upscale lounge act or listen to good jazz all under the glow of one of these luminaries. I know for a fact, my IQ rises at least 2 points while being at tables that have’em.
Pot and track lighting is fine, heck, even those glowing bars are super cool but something is amiss in a society bereft of these beauties. They had the power to empower you and I’m just positive I DID solve the world’s woes more than once under many a quirky lamp. It was as if the night, the lounge, the entertainment and the drinks were the cake of the evening but the cherry on top was always reserved for that mini lamp.
You want to know how Obama got the el Queda Bad Guys when Bush Jr. tried so hard and failed?
I’m guessing unlike Bush who went sleepy-bye by 9pm, Barrack schmoozed under such a lamp and the light bulb inside his head went on. Yep. Hey. Not everything is Pentagon, you know.
The idea of the “plumbers” for Watergate probably was born under one in a non-descript piano bar in Washington. Ernest Hemingway most likely figured out the ending to “For Whom The Bell Tolls” beside one in a local Havana bar. Heck, I’ll even betcha Jackie Gleason chatted up many a cutesy-pie chickie on his Party Train Express from Miami to New York over one.
If humanity goes to heck-in-a-hand basket, mark my words, it started with the Fall of the Lamp.
My laundry is dry now, thanks for listening.