Here is what my TV will look like in another week or two:

As I posted the other day, I bought a Monty Python’s Flying Circus complete boxed set during a big sale at Amazon.com. I think I made a good purchase — but soon after seeing the Monty Python set, I saw another boxed set for the same price, and I had a little twinge. Should I have bought that one instead?

Well, my youngest brother and his family gave me an Amazon gift certificate for my birthday, and I decided I would apply it towards that second box set purchase. When I got home this afternoon, I discovered the big sale had ended and the box set had returned to its normal price — but I found it on one of Amazon’s “Marketplace” partner merchants for a price that was pretty much as good as the sale, and that allowed me to apply my gift certificate.

Yes, it’s “The Prisoner,” one of the most imaginative and thought-provoking TV shows of its era, and one I haven’t seen in years.

For those of you too young to remember this show (and I was much too young to appreciate it on its original run), it’s sort of a cross between James Bond and “Lost.” Patrick McGoohan’s character is a British spy who suddenly resigns his position, much to the consternation of his superiors. He is gassed and whisked away to a surreal facility called “The Village.” Everyone in The Village is referred to by a number. The top man on-site is “Number Two,” who reports to a mysterious and unseen “Number One.” (”Number Two” is not a very secure job, apparently, and the person in that role changes constantly throughout the 17-episode series.)

McGoohan’s character, Number Six, can’t be sure who the ultimate power is — his own government? The enemy? Some third party? — and so, even as Number Two uses various schemes, ruses and strategies to try to get McGoohan to reveal the reason for his resignation, McGoohan looks to escape and/or to unravel the mysteries behind The Village.

The one thing about the series that did fascinate me as a young child was The Village’s means of capturing escapees — a big, bouncy white ball which chased the fugitive. (You may have seen it lampooned on an episode of “The Simpsons.”)

I haven’t seen this show in many years and can’t wait to see it again, complete and in proper order.

Title	Content
Movie:	"The Prisoner"
Release Date:	1 June 1968 (USA) / Other Countries
Genre:	Drama | Mystery | Sci-Fi
Tagline:	No Man Is Just A Number.
User Rating:	1,398 votes, average 9.2 out of 10
Runtime:	52 min (17 episodes)
Awards:	1 nomination
Cast:	...
Others:	Additional Details Close Move Title Content MPAA: County: UK Language: English Color: Color Aspect Ratio: 1.33 : 1 Sound: Mono Company: Everyman Films Certification: Singapore:PG | Australia:PG IMDBTag: Powered by IMDBTag & imdb.com Sound Mix, Aspect Ratio ...
Photos:	N/A
	Powered by IMDBTag

The actual birthday was Thursday, of course, but we had cake, ice cream and hamburgers tonight:

“The Office” creator Ricky Gervais interviews John Hodgman on Gervais’ blog.

R.G. 2. When you wear this “suit” you often accessorize with facial eye glasses. Again the why?
J.H. LIKE MOST PEOPLE, my eyes are located in my face, so I find that the facial eye glasses are really the only way to go.

(For the uninitiated, Hodgman, an author and book editor, is now known as a performer as well. On The Daily Show, he is “Resident Expert John Hodgman”; he’s also the personnification of the PC on those Mac ads.)

My birthday present from the West-Coast-but-soon-to-be-Tarheel branch of the family included these two handmade items. The washcloth was knitted by my sister-in-law, and the melt-and-pour soap was colored to match, under the personal supervision of my nephew — the same S-I-L and nephew I blogged about earlier today.

The melt-and-pour soap is a not-so-subtle hint for me to get to work on a new batch of homemade from-scratch soap, or “Uncle John Soap,” as they refer to it in their household. And I need to do that.

This made me laugh out loud:

“I’m explaining to Huck about trains.”

Well, of course. The cat doesn’t know much about trains.

Sounds like my nephew likes explaining things, my favorite part of journalism. It can also be a sign of chauvinism, apparently, but I’d like to think that the Little Guy and I aren’t that particular species of explainer.

I like my sister-in-law’s post title, too.

I got home from the symphony concert and I had three messages on my answering machine. Two of them were much-appreciated birthday greetings from family members, featuring nieces and nephews who always bring a smile to my face.

The third message was from a representative of the Tennessee Conference of the United Methodist Church.

A good while back, I submitted a sermon for consideration in the selection process for the first-ever layspeaker to preach during Annual Conference.

I’ve made the short list, apparently, and they want me to come to Franklin this Saturday and give my sermon for the selection committee.

I am so glad I went to see Verdi’s Requiem after all. In a strange sort of way, I think I’m glad I was by myself — I could focus on the music. And what music! The symphony, the chorus and all four soloists were in top form, and the acoustics at Laura Turner Concert Hall wrap the music all around you in a way that’s powerful and moving. I was torn between trying to read the supertitles and watch the expressions on the faces of the soloists versus just closing my eyes and getting lost in the music. (I frequently close my eyes when listening to really good music.)

Getting there was strange. I first parked in the wrong place — the parking garage under the SunTrust building as opposed to the parking garage across the street from, the bank. By the time I figured out what was going on, ran back to my car, got out of the first garage, and finally found a parking space in the second garage, I was scared I was going to cut it close getting to the concert. I was in such a hurry that I didn’t pay close attention to on which level I had parked, which meant I had to do some looking around at the end of the evening. I was covered in sweat by the time I got to the concert.

What a fabulous evening. I got another surprise when I got home, but I don’t want it to get lost and so I’ll make it into a separate post.

Even though I work in the newspaper business, I must warn you that you can’t believe everything you read in newspaper advertising. To wit:

I do, in fact, have the best sister on the planet.

Well, I’ve decided what to do. I’m going to the symphony. It should be a great concert — as one of the commenters on my previous post indicated — and it will be my first chance to see Giancarlo Guerrero, the symphony’s music-director-in-waiting, conduct. And I think I have pretty good seats. So I’m going to go.

It won’t be the first time I’ve been by myself; I attended the gala opening night on my own, because I was covering the festivities for the paper, and only had one ticket. In fact, on opening night Laura Turner Concert Hall was packed but, for some reason, I had an entire row in the side section of the floor to myself. I’m guessing the other seats were set aside for media people who covered the red carpet but didn’t stay for the concert.

My parents, meanwhile, called to offer to take me out for an early supper here in Shelbyville before I hit the road.

I turn 46 today.

Our family celebration of the event won’t happen until this weekend. Meanwhile, for various reasons, I have free tickets to a performance of Verdi’s “Requiem” by the Nashville Symphony tonight at the Schermerhorn. As I posted the other day, I don’t really have anyone to take right now, and the one person I asked platonically turned me down.

It’s been a busy and stressful week at work. I’m now trying to figure out whether I want to go ahead and make the drive to Nashville tonight by myself or whether I want to just relax and forget about it. If I went to the concert, I could park in the SunTrust building and all I’d be out is gas money (plus dinner, if I stopped for dinner on the way from Shelbyville).

I should probably go.

Guess what I bought from Amazon for $38.99?

Every single episode of one of the funniest shows ever telecast:

I defy you — no matter what your relationship to sports — to watch this without a catch in your throat, and a little water in your eyes.

Thanks to Times-Gazette community blogger Steve Mills for posting it.

Be afraid. Be very, very afraid ….

My brother sent me a link to this terrific list of the best commercial parodies of all time.