Found this old newspaper article about Lizzie Borden’s confession.
(Today’s date. Need I say it? )
(Recycled from 2008)
“Any similarities in the following to real people are purely coincidental.”
Flash Forward – Summer, 2027. Orlando, Florida. Setting: An old 1-story wood frame, weather-beaten house, window screens torn and hanging askew, paint peeling, shrubbery overgrown (think Edie Beale).
Two sisters, one age 65, with dark short hair flattened on one side from a night’s sleeping on a stained uncovered pillow, an elongated face strongly resembling Stan Laurel that shows the stress and disappointment of unfulfilled dreams as represented by her tattered crinkle fabric slacks and frayed t-sheet emblazoned with “arthurlizziemarilyn.com”; the other age 70, long gray hair to her ankles distracting from the several pencils protruding from her headr; wearing pinch nez glasses, a long floral gauze-like frock, barefooted she moves at a slow and aged pace, her back hunched as she carries a large 3-ring notebook cradled in her arm. The sun is nearly set and the room is dark and musky, the only light is from the computer screen.
They drink tea from delicate, ornate bone china cups and converse wistfully about never marrying or having children. Alone, save for each other, the conversation turns –
Agatha: She died 100 years ago today.
Ditz: Who died?
Agatha: Why, Lizzie, you old fool.
Ditz: How do you know that? What’s your source? And don’t call me Lizzie.
Agatha: I didn’t mean YOU Lizzie. I meant “our” Lizzie. Oh, nevermind.
Ditz: Well, I only ask for the source so that I can check it, but I may already have that information. Lessee, where did I put those other binders. (She steps over several cats and piles of xerox copies of newspapers going back 150 years, and picks up a stack of papers, dropping the binder from her arms and hitting her toe, causing her to jump awkwardly up and down, her foot landing in a pile of catshit.)
Agatha: I would laugh at you if you weren’t so pathetic.
Ditz: Ha! You haven’t laughed in years.
Agatha: Neither have you.
Ditz: Yes, but I said it first.
Agatha: No, *I* said it first.
Ditz: Said what?
Agatha: Said that you haven’t laughed in years.
Ditz: I thought you meant who said it first.
Agatha: Who said what first?
Ditz: (pulls a pencil out of her hair): I’m going to document that. What time is it?
Agatha: 8:07 pm.
Ditz: (she writes down 8:07 pm): Are you certain? How do you know that. What’s your source?
Agatha: The watch I’m wearing.
Ditz: You don’t have a watch.
Agatha. Well, if I had a watch it would read 8:07 pm.
Ditz: You’re making that up.
Agatha: No I’m not.
Ditz: Are too.
Agatha: Am not.
Ditz: Are! Are! Are!
Agatha: Why do you have 9 pencils poking out of your hair?
Ditz: I’m a researcher, remember? I’m a fact-checker. I need to have pencils with me at all times.
Agatha: What are you researching now?
Ditz: How many times Knowlton used the word “The” in his summation at the Trial.
Agatha: Hey, that’s a good one. I bet nobody’s ever thought of that.
Ditz: Uh huh. And another thing nobody’s thought about: When Lizzie went back up stairs to baste a sleeve….
Agatha: Sew on a button.
Ditz: Baste a sleeve.
Agatha: Baste a hem.
Ditz: Sew on a button.
Agatha: Baste a sleeve without a button.
Ditz: Hem a button.
Agatha: Whatever. What’s the other thing nobody’s thought about?
Ditz: Nobody’s thought about what?
Agatha: What you were going to say?
Ditz: What I was going to say about what?
Agatha: Watch it. You just stepped in cat shit again.
Ditz: Oh, I remember. When Lizzie went back upstairs which foot did she put on the first step. Her right foot or her left foot?
Agatha: I see. Because if she was right handed, her left hand would go on the railing and she would lead with her right foot.
Ditz: I’m checking the Witness Statements. It might be in there.
Agatha: You know who would know?
Agatha: Phoebe Bowen. Or maybe Luranna. One of the two.
Ditz: I think I need to measure the size of Lizzie’s feet first.
Agatha: How can you do that?
Ditz: By taking her body composition times the length of her elbow to tip of her middle finger, dividing by 7 and calculating her height without shoes against the depth of the stairs and factoring the humidity of the air and the number of birds in the pear tree.
Agatha: Sounds plausible. Don’t bother me now, I’ve got to finish working on my presentation.
Ditz: Another one???
Ditz: But you just gave me one this afternoon.
Agatha: But this one’s different. This one’s in Dutch.
Ditz: Okay. I’ll make us some soup.
Agatha: You’ve got a cat turd stuck to your dress.
Ditz: How do you know? What’s your source?
More nonsense tonight on Ghost Adventures relative to the Lizzie Borden House in Fall River, MA. i know the first 3 people: Liz since 2005, Lee-ann since 2004, and Eleanor since 1998. They believe. One attempts to remain prudently unbiased; one has a reputation to protect, and one tends to believe in all things paranormal.
When your audience involves both those who are into true crime (specifically unsolved murders) and those who are captivated by the occult or paranormal, you have to keep re-inventing the product. Getting talking heads to serve up the fodder is easy because they enjoy the broadcast celebrity or, if they have vested financial interest in the location, they know such broadcasts result in increased business. And producers, always budget conscious on these “formula” productions, love getting their input for free.
The twist here is being “assaulted” by the spirit, ghost, energy (take your pick) of Andrew Borden. Time has rendered us a rather transparent evolution of experiences by these people. What was once a mysterious mist becomes a cold hand upon the shoulder. What was thumping upstairs when no one WAS upstairs, becomes a slap across the face and what was a slap upon the face becomes….wait for it……Rape. Yes, you read that right. You can’t keep taking the same girt to the Proms unless she changes her dress. These shows have a target audience that keeps oooohing and ahhhing – so they continue to regurgitate with “variances on a theme”. Enough with the metaphors.
Remember, these shows ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT VALUE. It’s the Travel Channel – not PBS.
Aside from taking into consideration Lizzie was a prolific reader and didn’t “do things in a hurry”, I think she would agree with my sarcasm on the following):
I’m so grateful I live in a digital world that allows me to view movies I’ve already seen or maybe not have seen because I didn’t want to buy it but now can for only $7.99. And I’m grateful that my cable company, for a moderate fee, allows me to view those movies on my 60” flat screen.
More to my happiness is the fact I can view a movie on my Galaxy wristband while traveling on Hawaiian Airlines unless I want to see one on my laptop, I-phone, I-pad, or cell phone. And my purchase of Kindle and all the cheap downloads relieve me of carrying a book or two or three inside my carry-on. And if I want to watch the in-flight movie on the seatback screen in front of me, I absolutely can for less than $20, which includes music, games and current events.
I am grateful for the fact, I check my emails on the go with my digital devices and whether I’m waiting in a theater for the movie or play to start, or just sitting in my baca lounger in front of that flat screen waiting for the HBO boxing event to start, the latter of which I’m proud to have access for an additional fee of less than $40.
I’m grateful I can have Netflix notify me anytime one of my favorite movies becomes available because of my special apps used on several of my digital devices. I’m grateful I can be on a beach sipping pina colladas knowing that what cute sayings my friends on Facebook are posting won’t go missed because of my audio alerts. I’m grateful I won’t miss any Tweets from friends or celebrities lest I miss a beat on trending topics or global events that would take hours to appear in traditional print news media.
I’m grateful my cell phone is linked to my I-Pad and can download music to my laptop. I love that I can DEMAND a movie from my cable TV provider, record it, then upload that to my digital wrist device and watch, holding it up to my ear and watching it while sitting in my seat at the cinema without people nearby knowing what I’m doing.
I’m grateful the digital devices and the monthly fees, as well as the apps costs, surpass my monthly cable bill by an amount that has yet to reach 4 rounded digits. I’m grateful most people will recognize the appropriate device on my person when I have fallen and can’t get up. And if they can not, I’m grateful I will have an abundance of digitized communicating devices from which they can use to call for additional help. I’m grateful first responders will most likely reach me in time so I don’t miss my Netflix choice to be shown on my cell phone as I recline in my hospital bed asking a nurse why I can’t upload to the mounted t.v. in my semi-private room.
I’m grateful you’ve spent so much time reading this entire “comment” when you could have been searching the Web for the next new thing in this self-indulgent digital world. But I suppose you already know there’s a app for that.
Isn’t it sad when the only thing you have to nurture in life is your own self image? And isn’t it even more pathetic when that image is predicated on an infamous character of an unsolved classic crime?
“Look at me. I’m over here.”
“Hey! I’m in that picture but you didn’t cite my name.”
And isn’t it even sadder when you have to bellow on social media “Look at me, look at me, I’m over here” when the response is so silent it only serves to validate what I have been posting for years, to wit: Nobody cares.
To those who are so self-involved with nurturing the only thing that gives them self-gratification and meaning to being, I say: Look over there. Look over there. A sad and aging visage bellows in the dark and endless tunnel. A series of failures, a partner who won’t commit and another cycle of long-term unemployment. The shriek-infested soul leaves pock-marks upon the landscape of a narrow life stuck and stagnated. No one wants to look at that. 😉
As an unrelated sidebar notation: I don’t know which is the bigger mystery: What happened to Flight MH370 or why Fall River doesn’t have a Gay Pride Parade. You be the judge.
The post here from Ellen Smith (i.e. Angel), in reply to Michael Brimbaugh (mbhenty) is so insightful and very clever. LOL!
If you’re still one who salivates over anything that might have been owned by, touched by, seen by, walked passed by, yaddayaddayadda on Lizzie Borden, check this out:
Scroll thru and take particular note of the “Lizzie Borden as a baby”, and “Lizzie Borden’s compact”, complete with her L.A. B. initials.
I swear, this feces never stops. I would be curious, however, to know how much the “baby lizzie” framed image went for.
BTW, I have a pansy broach that belonged to Lizzie, inscribed “Daphne”.
That’s an inside joke if you’ve read Parallel Lives. 😉