"I close my ears, I read," she said pointing to her book and then turning to the professor who was on the phone joyfully arranging a Chinese dinner - his favourite meal - "You've got a television program to do tonight.
#Dr. julius sumner miller professional
In his professional wiseman role he doesn't suffer fools gladly.Īnyone who does not understand him or has the temerity to question him is either too young to know or too stupid, or both, as two BBC executives learnt to their cost after he had told them he was burn in 1909 in "Billerica, Massachusetts, USA." Until that moment he had given the impression that he had all the answers. everything in tied together and we shall likely never know the entanglement because it's too, too, too tightly woven." Indeed I don't believe we shall ever he able to uncover the real nature, with a small 'n' of Nature, with a capital 'N'. The mynahs suddenly flapped away into the gloom as a bigger bird landed. They will huff up to lodge quiet air in their feathers and quiet air is a good thermal insulator so it retains their body heat." And I enjoy watching them because pretty soon, as darkness consumes I will see them do something which I am sure you never saw them do. See those birds on the aerial, on the antenna there. "It's coming sundown and darkness will soon be here. "Now look what's happening," he said, quietly. Julius Sumner Miller, professor, from Torrance, California, is really a sombre, almost sad, old man, albeit a fascinating one, who, when he is not propounding, is still a consummate observer.
It was a good act.īut suddenly he was there, an ordinary man with an ordinary man's doubts. Two hours in which he had moved chameleon-like through his life: from farmboy, to butler, teacher, brilliant physicist, television name, stand-up comedian and mad professor, without really stepping out of his life role: professional sage and entertainer. It had taken two hours to find that old man, two hours of bombast, self-opiniation, irascibility, histrionics, anger (or was it pseudo-anger?), egomania, pedantry, and intolerance.
The evening was suddenly still - like the old man who lay on one of the single beds in the room, his curly grey chest hair crinkling over the top of his singlet, his dishevelled white hair a halo around his head. As it dropped, six Indian mynahs had come to roost on the television aerials on the roofs outside. The wind had stopped whistling and rattling the aluminium frame windows.
0 kommentar(er)
