On Bloodcurdling Screams

Several years ago I fancied myself just a hair's breadth away from being a potentially fluent reader of Russian. (Need I mention this tale is headed for disappointment?)

Bloodcurdling, An Introduction

To prove it, I picked up a trashy novel (crime, not heaving bosoms) thinking that the Russian would be easy to acquire, and one never knew when one would need to feign a perverse knowledge of the murky underworlds of Russian crime and black-marketeering. Well, not so underground. But you get my drift.

It didn't take me long to discover that there are many ways to describe a woman's dead washed-up body being found on shore, and that they can all be used to fill up five pages of lurid text. I also learned the word for bloodcurdling. As Dorothy Parker once remarked, "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force." And so I did, reasoning that I would never, ever need to know the word "bloodcurdling" in Russian. I had never used it in English, after all.

Fast forward to the future. Well, to the present, to be more precise. Or to be yet more precise, to the past. (And finally, to complete this idiotic circle of specificity: to earlier this week.)

Awoken by a Bloodcurdling Scream

I was daydreaming about my favourite part of the world whilst listening to a new CD gifted me by a good friend, paging some hapless book on Post-Soviet politics, or something equally typical. And then it happened. As I considered which mountainous Central Asian state I'd rather transverse by camel (what, you don't have those thoughts??), I heard... *dum da da dum!* A Bloodcurdling Scream.

As some of you might know, I have actually heard a scream in my neighborhood before, and so I'm a mite sensitive to them. (Because one should validate any fear one has of hearing a neighbor scream in such a fashion.) I leapt up and paused the CD. And listened desperately.

And listened.

And listened.

And then a pin-prick of comprehension dawned upon me. With a slight huff, I turned back to the CD player and rewound the track to double-check. And indeed, the Phantom of the Opera had just struck. Curses, you scary CD!!!

Elsewhere in the World...

Meanwhile, I came across this article this morning. And thought of the screams that should be resounding. Here are some snippets. It's from Turkmenistan, which is always generous with the Surreal News of the Day segment of the blog...
Turkmenistan Shuts Hospitals

Summary: Turkmenbashi (Father of All Turkmen, the preferred title of the President -for life) has decreed that all hospitals outside of the capital of Turkmenistan be closed. In his words, "what do we need them for?"

The article continues: As part of a radical government plan, 15,000 health workers were sacked and replaced with army recruits.

Oh brilliant thinking. The Phantom strikes again...