There is a winter storm warning declared for today, a mix of sleet and snow predicted to fall atop the icy residue of last week. We had recovered sufficiently that I washed the car of the crusty layer of salt and chemicals. So the return of winter is technically my fault, and I apologize.

I spent my day before the Super-bowl as a sort of anticipatory atonement. The Commentators were calling for a fierce defensive battle in the Super-Bowl later in the day. I thought about that one. To my mind, the circus that goes along with the self-proclaimed World Championship of American football could be many things. Entertaining, certainly, boring sometimes. Even inspirational, like the story of Max McGee, the wide receiver who had not expected to play for the Green Bay Packers in Super Bowl Number One. Consequently, he partied before bed-check, slipped under the covers in his dress clothes, and sneaked out to party until dawn before the game. The starting receiver got hurt and Max, the oldest player on the team, had to go in, thinking he was going to throw up.

He had the game of his life, and the first touchdown ever scored in what has now become a cultural icon.

Now a real fierce defensive struggle is like that one that concluded fifty-one years ago. To commemorate it, Comrade Stalin issued the following general order to the Troops of the Don Front of the Red Army:

“I congratulate you and the troops of the Don front on your successful carrying out of the liquidation of the encircled enemy troops at Stalingrad. I express my gratitude to the commanders of the Red Army men and the political workers of the Don front for their excellent military activities.

The Supreme Commander in Chief”

According to the account in the New York Times, 503,650 Nazi troops were killed or captured, along with fifty-six locomotives, 1,125 railway cars, 750 planes, 1,150 tanks, 6,700 guns, 1,462 mortars, 8,135 machine guns, 90,000 rifles, 61,102 trucks, 7,369 motor cycles, 480 carts, tractors and transports; 320 radio transmitters, three armored trains, 235 ammunition and arms dumps and a large amount of other equipment.

German radio claimed 300,000 Russians died in the offensive. So with that, the misery turned west, and the great drive to Berlin can be said to have truly begun.

But neither that nor the freshly washed car is the direct reason I spent the day on my knees. It was the construction of the cabinet which sometime, Ins’hallah, will contain the famous Murphy Bed. This will be a titanic week in the struggle against disorder. The Plantation shutters have been scheduled for installation on Friday, and passers-by will no longer be treated to a full account of my activities about the house. And the Cabinet to the Murphy bed is coming along quite nicely, thank-you.

The cabinet is coming together, thirty-eight integral parts, hundreds of screws and dowels and intricate locking devices worth yesterday alone.

The sun was down and the news was burbling in the background. I had become so pre-occupied that I failed to change stations to hear the National Anthem as the festivities began. I heard later is was something to experience. Beyonce Knowles was escorted to the microphone by General Peter Pace, Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

But I was putting the last touches on the Cabinet structure, pivoting each of three sections of the wall unit. There are two bookcase units on either side and a large central box in which my double bed, or me, for that matter, could fit neatly in the vertical.

I was pivoting one of the units, hoping it would not collapse on my head when I thought about another famous cabinet. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was a silent film shot in 1919 by Director Robert Wiene, just after the conclusion of hostilities in Europe. It was one of the first of the great horror films, a pleasnat alternative to life on the streets of Germany or the madness of the previous five years. Cabinet is set In the little German town of Holstenwall, where performers have come from all around to perform at the village festival. Dr. Caligari is one of them, and his freak for display is a Somnambulist named Cesare who has slept for 23 years, or literally since the Nixon Administration. The sleeper has gained knowledge of the past and future through his trance, just like Mr. Nixon did at the end.

But shortly after the Doctor, his sleeper and his famous Cabinet arrive, a serial killer begins to work the little German town. The film is supposed to be a example of both German expressionism and effective commercial entertainment. It is hard to watch without the original musical accompaniment, but ex-Boy Toy Justin Timberlake took care of that in the Super Bowl half-time show when he disrobed Michael Jackson’s little sister. They say it might have been pre-arranged.

I don’t believe it, anymore than I think Brittny’s kiss with Madonna at the Emmy Awards was anything but a demonstration of spontaneous affection. I was working on the spring mechanism on the bed, the one that pivots the mattress and frame smoothly into the cabinet. If I had seen the conclusion to the show, I might have become entangled in the springs, and they wouldn’t have found me for 23 years.

Maybe not until the next Nixon Administration. From inside the cabinet, I think I heard the Patriots won the game.

Copyright 2004 Vic Socotra