RBOC: Cobweb edition

"My name is Celexo, and I'm here to recruit you!" to keep reading my blog, that is...Hello all, it's been a while, so without further ado, my random bits for the past few days:

• I just received an early birthday present the other day; is that a computer in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? No -- it's an Ipod touch. It's awesome, and I keep discovering new, cool and actually helpful tricks on it every day.
• I'm not disappointed that Sean Penn won an Oscar, I thought he was very good...but, I think that I discounted his performance because he was recreating a character, whereas Mickey Rourke was creating "Randy the Ram" from scratch. Now that I put it down on paper, I'm beginning to see all the holes in that line of reasoning -- so it's something I'll look out for in the future.
• Speaking of the Oscars, did you catch my old buddy Yo-Yo Ma playing a Bach cello suite for a Hyundai ad? This guy will do anything for a buck -- perhaps, we should be using him to bailout the country.
  
• And Cuba Gooding Jr. showed up at the Oscars, too: don't you think he felt embarrassed to stand up there with Kevin Kline, Alan Arkin, Joel Grey and Christopher Walken? And what does he do? He screams some more, this time at Robert Downey Jr. for stealing roles from black gusy.
• I went to see a preview performance of Dmitri Shostakovich's opera The Nose last night. This satire features a nose that disappears from Koyvalov's face, only to turn up later on to occupy a position of higher rank!! It turns out that this absurb concept works particularly well as a critique of the so-called "socialist" culture -- where hierarchy exists, yet everyone is equal. No wonder the opera was shut down after 16 performances!
• And finally, LOST, what more can I say? It's really getting down to the nub of things now, with John Locke caught in between two different forces -- love it!

Oscars...

Just wanted to get in my thoughts before the show tonight...since I've only seen WALL-e, Batman, The Wrestler and Milk, I'm not exactly qualified to talk about much.

But, in the male actor category I've got to say that Mickey Rourke's performance is pretty stunning -- and I'm not just talking about the purely physical aspects of his performance; I felt a wide range of emotions, and that's what it's all about right?

I watched 'The Wrester' and 'Milk' back-to-back yesterday afternoon, and it occurs to me that the two portraits represent two separate paths to the same end (spoiler alert: they both die!); The Wrestler represents the gradual deterioration -- both mentally and physically -- of a washed-up superstar from the 80s, while 'Milk' illustrates the slow accumulation of power/influence in Harvey Milk's life.  In both cases, the portraits showed the challenges inherent in living a public life: Milk loses multiple partners (and one to suicide) because of his sheer pursuit of gay rights; Randy the Ram is divorced from his wife, estranged from his daughter, yet still manages to forge a bond that nevertheless cannot keep him from the ring.

My favorite part of 'The Wrestler':  once Randy takes his job at the supermarket, but just prior to entering the floor, he halts at the doorway; we hear a crowd, quietly at first then building, chanting Randy's name...it's a very poignant reminder about the seductiveness of the spotlight.

Emile Hirsch, by the way, is a revelation in 'Milk.'  In spite of those horrendous glasses, he plays an initially preening, then a more substantial member of Milk's coterie -- he especially incredible when he's preening!

Anyway, enjoy the Oscars...

What Kind of Liberal are You?

In a review of the new book by Alan Wolfe, "The Future of Liberalism," K. Anthony Appiah undertakes an impressive overview and succinct history of Liberalism -- with a big L. Despite it's current state as a party concerned with important questions -- pro-choice, anti-gun, big government, Liberalism began as a concept more associated with social realism. Appiah points to Immanuel Kant's slogan sapere aude ("Dare to Know") as a liberal's guiding light, and Appiah connects this with the stereotypical image of the liberal artist/scholar. Kant's view of Man's role is not to fulfill god's work, but to create our own path. This stands in stark relief to Rousseau's view of the Man in nature, trusting his instincts (i.e., using faith) to guide him.

Tangentially, this is one of the many reasons I love ABC's Lost. With characters like John Locke and Rousseau -- who, by the way, lived alone (mostly) on the Island for 18 years until Flight #815 crashed -- populating the island, along with many more obscure scientists and mathematicians, create a dense fabric of allusions that keeps the internet buzzing.

Back to the point, here are Alan Wolfe's seven elements of Liberalism: how many define you?

1) Sympathy for equality
2) Inclination to deliberate
3) Commitment to tolerance
4) Appreciation of openness
5) Disposition to grow
6) Preference for realism
7) Taste for Governance

Boston Ballet's "Black and White"

As promised, I'm including a little more structured description of last night's production of Jiri Kylian's "Black and White" that TW and I went to see. I was so looking forward to this production -- because of the music, mostly -- that I ended up buying tickets.

The production consisted of 5 pieces: Webern's Five Pieces for String Quartet; two slow movements from Mozart piano concertos; what was advertised as a Bach partita, but was really two snippets of the partita separating a very radical transformation of that same music; Steve Reich's Drumming; and a little dollup of whipped cream, six (little) dances by Mozart.

The choreography spanned a wide gulf: from ultra-modern movement, which resembled architecture more or less, to what in context was more "traditional." I use the scare quotes around traditional because even the most conventional choreography last night was completely modern in orientation.

A series of over-sized dresses provided a continuous link between all five pieces -- sometimes rolled, sometimes lofted overhead, everpresent.

The first piece, "No More Play," played with different spaces throughout the stage. A series of squares of light were projected onto the floor and scrim that helped to demarcate different areas of activity. Dancers strolled behind the scrim, leaned over the lip of the stage into the pit, and were projected high up onto the scrim. The modern choreography often resembled a school-yard jungle gym as the dancers climbed over and upon each other (see the above picture); and the dancers perfectly mirrored the angular musical lines.

The second piece, "Petite Mort," began with an unaccompanied rhythmical dance with swords -- a first for me! But once the music (Mozart piano concerti) kicked in, the choreography slid into a more traditional territory.

The third work,"Sarabande," literally scared the bejeesus out of TW: at one point, the dancers turned to the audience and shrieked. This work juxtaposed the old and new, but it also played around clothes. In addition to the large rolling dresses, the five men pulled their shirts over their heads -- and danced; and then pulled their tights down around their ankles -- and danced! Oh, and they shrieked...I know I'm not selling this very well, but it was a very interesting work. The entire piece was enacted with the rolling dresses hanging halfway up over the stage. I interpreted this as a commentary about either a) woman's domination over men; or b) modern technology's domination over man. Either way, it made me think -- and cower a little bit.

The penultimate work, "Falling Angels," was most likely my favorite piece. It's complete integration with the music made it so succesful. Reich's piece, "Drumming," is a minimalist masterpiece: Minimalism, in a nutshell, consists of very small cells of music repeating over and over again; and these repetitions start to reveal variations as they build layer upon layer. Not for the faint of heart, but very cool when combined with such unique choreography. The dancing paired ensemble precision with outburts of soloistic flair; the rhythmic persistence of the score was illustrated in the constant fluctuations in the dancers.

The final piece, "Six Dances," was the perfect cherry on top of the evening. (Overly) Powdered wigs and actual skirts on the woman were consistent with the more traditional movements -- yet, the head butts and pattycakes enlivened the affair!

Overall, a great evening of modern dance...check out a tragically short version below. The clips are: "Six Dances," "Sarabande," "No More Play," "Petite Mort," and the final piece is "Fallen Angels."

Sunday's for rest, right?

Not for me...what follows is a mild brag!

8:30 am -- Leave the house to fill my slowly leaking front right tire; then, drive to watch TW play an early-morning soccer game.

9:00 - 10:00 am -- Watch TW play; she's pretty scrappy down low in the corners, and she assisted on one goal and hit a post; I leave from the game and drive directly downtown to work at B*#tix.

11:00 am - 4:00 pm -- Work at the booth, which is swamped by the way: it's a three-day weekend and the start of vacation week for most schools up here in the Northeast.  

4:30 - 6:30 pm -- Arrive at Ivy for dinner; yummy, delicious Italian food served tapas style...try the butcher block of cheese and other assorted goodies, especially if you have a gift card from your mother (thanks mom)!!

7:00 - 9:15 pm -- Watch the Boston Ballet's production of Black and White...no, it's a staged version of Michael Jackson's ill-fated single, but a fantastic series of five ballets presented by the Czech choreographer Jiri Kylian.  It was awesome, by the way, and I'll be blogging it more completely once I've had a time to digest it all.  

10:00 pm -- Just got home and am now telling all you about it!  

Old Jews Telling Jokes...

...dot com, that is. I've been spending a few spare moments over there, and laughing a bunch. It's pretty self-explanatory: old jews telling their favorite jokes. In my opinion, here's the best one:



For short and sweet, check out "Chicken." I can relay it here:

Do you know how to sell a chicken to a deaf guy? You say, "HEY--DO YOU WANT TO BUY A CHICKEN?"

Priceless...

Meme-ing it, high school style!

Directions: Fill this out about your SENIOR year of high school. REPOST with the name of high school and graduating year in the subject box.

1. Did you date someone from your school?
Yes; I dated the vet from the end of junior year and on for quite a while...

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?
No; she was a vegetarian and I should have known right then and there that it wouldn't work out.

3. Did you car pool to school?
No; I took classes in "A" period (before school began) all four years: the first two, my dad dropped me off on his way to teach; and the second two, I drove because I invariably had to drive to a rehearsal after school each day -- practically!

4. What kind of car did you have?
My first was a gold Toyota half-hatchback monstrosity that I loved; next, I drove my grandma's oldsmobile something or other...

5. What kind of car do you have now?
Toyota corolla, 2000.

6. It's Friday night...where are you? (then)
If I didn't have a rehearsal, I was most likely at a movie (we loved movies), and then off to Denny's or later Applebee's to discuss/flirt with everyone else.

7. It is Friday night...where are you? (now)
Most certainly not at dinner and Denny's; mostly hanging out with TW, but the location varies.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?
I taught cello lessons the entire time, which I suppose was the reason I could afford to always drive everyone -- that, and I was one of the few to have a car that others weren't embarrassed to be seen in.

9. What kind of job do you do now?
Musicologist-in-training/B@#tix lifer...

10. Were you a party animal?
Hardly; I don't think I went to a single party during high school that wasn't a cast party for play or musical.

11. Were you considered a flirt?
I think perhaps I might have been considered a flirt, at least in a very small circle of friends -- I would need some objective observations to back that up, however...

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Orchestra and showchoir, yes that's right -- showchoir!

13. Were you a nerd?
Music nerd, yes; regular nerd, probably to others but I didn't think so...

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?
The closest I ever came to punishment of any sort would have been for giving my middle-school string teacher my middle finger; but, in my defense, it was made out of wax and how could she possibly have known that it was my middle finger?

15. Can you sing the fight song?
Did we have a fight song? Sarah, you'll have to fill me in...

16. Who was your favorite teacher?
Both the Eichenbergers (my string and choir directors), and later Mr Marsh who was my Senior Humanities guru cum inspirational guide through life!

17. Where did you sit during lunch?
I had variable locations, but I always had chips and coke for lunch...never went through the cafeteria line once!

18. What was your school's full name?
McCluer North High School

19. When did you graduate?
1997

20. What was your school mascot?
The North Star, and I didn't realize it at the time but one of my best friends -- Sarah -- was actually the mascot!

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
Perhaps; but it would depend on my mood at the time.

22. Did you have fun at Prom?
Which one? I went to 4 proms in 5 years, which I contend must be some sort of record...I did have fun, I suppose, but it wasn't really "dear diary" stuff, if you know what I mean.

23. Do you still talk to the person you went to Prom with?
No.

24. Are you planning on going to your next reunion?
I just went to my 10-year reunion, last fall, but I don't think I'll be doing any of that again anytime soon.

25. Do you still talk to people from school?
Actually, I still talk to more teachers than students; but, Sarah and Chris have been there through the thick and thin of it all!

Vegas, baby, Vegas...

I'm continuing my Celexo's Great Stories series in honor of the recent trip Cryin' Grandma and Crazy Aunt just took. As you can read in the title, this particular story is set in Las Vegas -- that wretched hive of scum and villainy.*

The setting: Las Vegas; the time: Spring Break, 2001; the players: Celexo and his roommate of four years, Paulie Leggs.**

Looking back on this story now, I am a) amazed that I could afford a trip to Las Vegas when I was a senior in college; and b) saddened that I had no idea that there was a thriving poker there at that time...c'est la vie.

I think that Paulie was a little more experienced with the concept of gambling than I was, at that time, although neither of us had been to Vegas. He understood the basic concepts of Blackjack, while I understood that Aces were good for 1 or 11; neither of us understood much more than blackjack, but Paulie was certainly alot more worldy than I was.

We took the red eye out; and to this day, I attribute that to our downfall. We landed around 2am, Vegas time, which felt like 4am to us. Being the cheap college students that we were, we didn't book a hotel that night: we decided to drop off our bags and hit the strip -- ugh! Except we didn't so much as hit the strip, as hit the casino floor. Oh, by the way, we were staying the very classy Circus Circus hotel.

At the time, I think we both grossly underestimated our bankrolls. I'm guessing here that between the two of us, we had about $600 for a four-day trip -- that's $300 apiece, for those of you keeping score at home. So, we promptly sit down at a $5 a hand blackjack table, and you know how this is gonna end, right?

WRONG!! Paulie goes on a huge run: he's so hot that they switch dealers, they cut the deck mid-deal and they eventually bring in a cooler...we had no idea what they were doing, but an old grizzled local leaned over and educated us little by little.*** I, on the other hand, was up and down, and after a four-hour session (or so) I had lost about $200 (or 2/3) of my entire bankroll.

Bankroll updates: Paulie is +$300; Celexo is -$200; for a total of $500 between the two of us.

It's now about 7am or so and we discover that we'll be able to check in around 9am...so go to the little cafeteria, grab a bite to eat, and then walk around the place. It's huge!! There are multiple towers and casinos; there's even a bonafied circus midway that sits directly atop the casino floor -- there's nothing sadder than a Vegas casino at breakfast; although Paul won, I was most definitely loser at that point and I fit right in with the locals.

Day #2: We wake up around mid-afternoon and repeat our late-morning ritual: we walk around, grab a .99-cent slice of pizza and decide our plan of action for the day. Dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe (okay, but not great) and then off to Caesar's Palace to (hopefully) turn around my luck and continue Paul's!

Let's jump ahead to the action: Caesar's only has $25 tables, and Paul's still feeling his oats so he sits right down -- I, of course, have only $100 dollars and don't feel lucky, so I get to watch the blood bath. Paul proceeds to lose 12 hands in a row, or about 60% of our entire bankroll, as I stare on blankly...

We get out of there with the shirts on backs, but just barely. We decide to walk home (saves $), which isn't that far, but has the disadvantage of taking us right next two about 3 more casinos, including the Treasure Island (cleverly repackaged as TI). Paul claims, to this day, that I was so desperate for $$ that I discussed selling our belts and shoes -- I'm sure that I never discussed selling my shoes; the belts, on the other hand, were possibly brought up, who knows?

Once we get to our hotel, we walk past the main casino floor (phew!) en route to our rooms; but, the tower casino (closer to our room) calls our name and we decide to try our luck once more...you guessed it, things do not go well. We finally pull the plug with a grand total $50 remaining BETWEEN THE TWO OF US!

We have no credit cards, no cell phones and no money -- well, actually we had $50 for two more full days in Las Vegas. That night, as we sat in our hotel room licking our wounds, Paulie called his girlfriend...like a saviour from the heavens, she mentioned that her step-dad just happened to be in Vegas at the time and that he would help us out. He showed up the next time and took us on a tour of the Hoover Dam; he bought us lunch (something other than .99-cent pizza!) and generally killed a full day for us -- it was a Vegas miracle.

The fourth and final day as miserable...we spent it walking up and down the strip; watching the volcano, the pirate show and fountains; we sat in the sportsbook at the Mandalay Bay, and generally felt like the degenerates that we were...we even discussed the best (i.e., cheapest) way to get to the airport. Since the Mandalay Bay was closer to the airport, we took a shuttle with our luggage there, dropped it off and then walked away from and then back toward it by the end of the day...ugh, what a schlep that was.

All in all, we had a great time although not a very profitably one**** -- and of course, we got a fabulous story!

* No, not Mos Eisley ... God, I hope anyone who reads this blog will get that reference.
** I wished we actually called him that because he was all of 5'3" tall.
*** Looking back on it now, I'm sure that my "unorthodox" play was driving him mad; but he must have known that we were relative newbies...
**** I think I just had enough money in my pocket to buy a delicious cina-bon in the airport.

It's about the Arts, stupid...

I've been reading the coverage on the new stimulus bill, which is now in the Senate, with a mixture of anticipation and dread. On the one hand, I'm amazed at the amount of hand holding Obama's been doing with the Republicans. I'm sure that we can all agree that the current financial crisis is certainly equivalent to the crisis of 9/11, and in that aftermath, Bush most certainly did not reach out to the Democrats -- let alone the Republicans. Do we really think the Senate minority will filibuster what is most likely the most necessary piece of legislation in recent history? No, I do not -- I think that they are trying to score cheap points now, which they can cash in later down the road when they're running for re-election.

One of their whipping boys is, of course, funding for the arts. This particular topic is highly sensitive around Boston these days -- see the Brandeis threat* to close and sell off $350 million worth of art to cover a budget shortfall -- and, in particular, with me. The horrible economy has finally trickled down to my (admittedly small) rung of the ladder. I'm now heading into the second semester of my graduate years, of which there have been many, that I have not been hired to teach either as an adjunct or an instructor.

This brings me back to my original point: why would anyone cut funding for the arts? There are examples too numerous to recount here in total, but suffice to say that the flowering of Rome, Florence, Vienna, Paris and London all had their attending artistic movements.** Now, whether those movements were funded directly by the government is not the point; people spend money on the arts, and that is precisely we need.

I'm not arguing that the Arts Alone Will Save Us (worst action movie, ever!). So, why don't we hit the problem where it started, with the houses. Allegedly, we have scores of houses just rotting out in neighborhoods across the country...the longer these houses sit, the harder it is to sell them, and the local government collects even less taxes, and the local schools get hit harder than before so that they have to cut music and art classes -- look at how easy that was cut arts funding!

Here's my solution: why don't we take 3 million (or billion) dollars, which we're doling out like candy anyway, and pay small teams of men -- and women -- to rehabilitate these houses: mow the lawn; clean the property; paint the front doors...not only do we prepare the houses to sell, which generates local taxes, but also we spread some income throughout these teams of workers out painting/cleaning & mowing.

Just my two cents...



* I'm including the latest letter from our President in its entirety to see if you can parse his meaning.

Dear Members of the Brandeis community:

The past ten days have been extremely difficult for all of us. I have heard from many of you and listened carefully to your criticisms and constructive suggestions. I have read every message on the faculty list serve, and the thoughtful letter sent to me by a group of faculty last night. I have also heard from students, staff, alumni, university presidents and complete strangers about my statements regarding the vote by the Board of Trustees concerning the Rose Art Museum.

In retrospect, I wish I had handled the initial statements I made in a far more direct way. Unfortunately, those statements did not accurately reflect the Board’s decision authorizing the administration to conduct “an orderly sale or other disposition of works from the university’s collection.” The statements gave the misleading impression that we were selling the entire collection immediately, which is not true. The University may have the option, subject to applicable legal requirements and procedures, to sell some artworks if necessary, but I assure you that other options will also be considered. The Museum will remain open, but in accordance with the Board’s vote, it will be more fully integrated into the University’s central educational mission. We will meet with all affected University constituencies to explore together how this can best be done.

I regret as well that I did not find a more inclusive and open way to engage the Brandeis community in the deliberations that led to the Board’s decision.

I take full responsibility for causing pain and embarrassment in both of these matters. To quote President Obama, “I screwed up.”

Having learned from this experience, I will do my best, as will the entire administration, to work together with all of you in a collaborative manner. We must cooperate as we move forward to confront our financial crisis. But we also have to take bold steps. Obviously, we have many tasks ahead of us regarding the curriculum and the budget.

In meetings with members of the faculty and with students in the past few days, I have been heartened by the enormous reservoir of good will, imagination and willingness to work hard to guarantee that Brandeis will continue to thrive as a first-rate institution of higher learning.

Sincerely,

Jehuda Reinharz

** I also think the correlative works too: the last eight years saw the rise in pretty crappy entertainment -- i.e., the proliferation of reality TV -- and a similar nadir in public service/government.

RBOC: Edition Incoherent...

Today's random bits are sponsored by the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, or MBTA.  "The MBTA -- guaranteed to get you where you need to go, precisely when you don't want to get there."  

• Why oh why, dear MBTA, do you need to take the train, which I'm riding, out of service?  How about that nice, lovely little train right behind us?  No, okay...let me just depart the train, stand out in the cold for 12 minutes, and risk being late to work -- just for fun!
• Boss #1 and Boss #2 are both in Utah for a conference this entire week; I guess that elevates my status from Boss #3 to Boss #1 (sort of).* This means that I get to open/close Fanny 4 days in a row (woohoo!).
• Despite a raging snowstorm**, Aloha Mr. Hand went to trivia last night and placed third; this reserves us the final spot in next week's "Tournament of Champions."
• Tomorrow marks the one-week anniversary of our reduction in cable. The weekend was fine -- we watched most of Battlestar Galatica season 2.0, and generally survived.  This week's been easy, for me at least, because I've been working every flippin' day.    
• On Monday morning, I turned in my dissertation year fellowship...we're keeping our fingers crossed!  
• And thanks to Sarah for my blog to anything Aaron Sorkin could have written -- priceless!  

* Some of you, perhaps, will remember my Billy (sort of) sweatshirt from years past...I've been having a wicked sense of nostalgia lately.

** It snowed all of 2 inches; this storm was pretty much a pansy-ass bunch of hassle.   

Alex vs. The Mouse

Back in my pre-blogging days, I used to send out periodic (longish) mass e-mails. Since I'm not feeling particularly creative today, I've decided to re-post one of these e-mails. I'm writing this while watching the end of the Super Bowl: wasn't that Alec Baldwin/Hulu commercial during the 4th quarter brilliant?

Anyway, on to the story -- 

"Hello all-

Well, it's been a long time since I have delivered a mass e-mail so I thought I'd give it a try seeing as I don't talk to people all that often up here.

I'm getting really sick of telling my "old guy croaking on the plane" story, so if you haven't heard that one yet...ask somebody else! This story, entitled "Alex vs. The Mouse," is about a guy named Joe and a, ah I mean a guy named Alex and his (my) battle with a mouse in the apartment. This story needs to be prefaced by the fact that my roommate moved in the Saturday before Thanksgiving and for the 2 1/2 months before then I never heard, saw or imagined a mouse in the apartment. Apparently, Andrew (my roommate) made some OJ the other day (Thurs) and seems to have missed the trash can with the empty can. Friday night I come home after a long day of class and work. I go into the kitchen to get some Coke, obviously, and I see a huge tail sticking out from behind the trash can and then he scurries away...Damn, I think to myself, I pick up the trash and hope that the damn mouse forgets where he was. No such luck, after a night at T's pub I come home and go to bed. No sooner than my TV turns off I hear something scurrying around. I spring out of bed, grab my glasses and run to the kitchen (which is all of two steps) to hear the mouse run out of the trash and back behind the fridge. Round One goes to the Mouse...I can't get any sleep that night, every hour or so I hear him, spring out of bed-turn on the lights-scare him away and head back to bed...NO SLEEP AND ALL MOUSE PLAY MAKE ALEX A VERY TESTY BOY

Round Two is Sunday night...Saturday night I saw Monty Python at a midnight showing and was in too much glee to be bothered by a rodent...Back to Sunday night, I move the trash can to cover what I think is the hole Mr. Mouse is sneaking out of...No such luck, another on again off again night of sleep but I do think I win this round. I hear Mr. Mouse scurrying around like usual but this time I hear him in what I think is my stove...Once again, I spring out of bed (at this point, I'm thinking that my roommate thinks I have a huge bed-wetting problem) to run into the kitchen. I turn on all the burners of my gas stove and for one instance I hear this mouse scream...Have you ever heard a mouse scream? I did...freaky...Anyway, he still escaped but I'm hoping that I singed him a little.

Anyway, Round Three consists of me constructing a large Mouse-Hole blocking device (re: two pieces of 1x6's screwed together) to stop Mr. Mouse...Last night, I hear Mr. Mouse scratching away at the Mouse-Hole blocking devices but that's it and off to sleep I go.

Well, I'm hoping that Mr. Mouse decides to visit other apartments from now on, but who knows? Anyway, if anybody knows of any particular mouse traps or poisons that work well, please share..."

By the way, I ended up buying a sticky trap for the Mr. Mouse. It worked, insofar as it caught the mouse; but, he was still alive...so, I ended up scooping the trap+mouse into a plastic bag and (I'm not proud of this) threw it out of the window (3 stories up!). Bye, bye Mr. Mouse...