ABC News Item this afternoon:
An outdoor news conference in perfect spring weather, with birds chirping loudly in the magnolia trees, is not without its hazards.
As President Bush took a question Thursday in the White House Rose Garden about scandals involving his Attorney General, he remarked, "I've got confidence in Al Gonzales doin' the job."
Simultaneously, a sparrow flew overhead and left a splash on the President's sleeve, which Bush tried several times to wipe off.
Deputy White House Press Secretary Dana Perino promptly put the incident through the proper spin cycle, telling ABC News, "It was his lucky day...everyone knows that's a sign of good luck."
***
"Can you not buy two sparrows for a penny? And yet not one falls to the ground without your Father knowing."
(Mt. 10:29)
"The gypsies say, and I know why,
A falling blossom only touches lips that lie."
("A Blossom Fell," 1955, popular song by Barnes, Cornelius, and John, sung by Nat King Cole)
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Beautiful Weather, Rachel McAdams, and Barack Obama
We've had a run of sunny, dry (not humid) days: cloudless blue skies and clear air such that you can see the features of the terrain from a distance without the blue haze we are accustomed to in these parts.
I remember a letter from one brother's friend (who was a gun-totin' cowboy in Arizona -- an editor for some kind of NRA organ) in which he said that the summer weather here was "sticky, foggy..." (He'd been born and raised here and loved to lord it over us Easterners that he'd escaped from. Hoosiers transplanted to Arizona can be obnoxious.)
I think that was before my family and I moved to the West (Utah) for an eight-year sojourn where it was usually not sticky or foggy. I remember the time I was amazed when it started to rain there, complete with lightning and thunder, amazed because the air seemed so dry. I remarked to myself that the air between the raindrops was dry.
And I loved the dry air. It was marvelous. When the air is not saturated with water vapor, it can dry the sweat on you more quickly than wet air can. Sweat drying on your skin cools your body. One summer I worked in a junkyard and the temperature reached 95 one day. When somebody told me I said, "Really?" When the air is not so humid it heats up in the sun but is markedly cooler in the shade and especially at night. Our kids were sleeping in winter pajamas in June, I noted.
If Indiana had not been sticky and foggy as it is, as a rule, we might have been overrun by transplanted Arizonans and Utahans here. Indiana could be Californicated -- what the Oregonians don't want. We are infested, to a small degree. People come to Indiana and particularly to bucolic little towns like Madison as "urban refugees." Even the Hoosier capital, Nap Town, has freeways in and around it that are easy to travel on in contrast with the likes of the Santa Ana Freeway. In recent years the immigrants have been able to live luxuriously here because of the difference in real estate prices, trading a modest ranch somewhere for a "historic" house on tree-lined streets here.
I concluded long ago that Indiana, especially rural southern Indiana, is a kinder, gentler place to live. When we came back here from Utah several people said, "Welcome back to God's country." I don't know about that, but I recall that I liked some things: we didn't have a sales tax on food; righteous people drank coffee and thought nothing of it; and although a lot of people thought their religion was the one true one, their belief was contested by others (who of course thought their religion as the true one) and, most important, it did not have the force of law. And a lot of us liked David Letterman, worldly and irreverent as he was, because he was, like us, a Hoosier. It was a good life, and we soon enough acclimated once again to the humidity. And, the first summer back, the fleas! At least Amanda and I did (!) -- poor old Sophie, our dog, suffered terribly. And people here, I concluded were friendlier and not just plain mean, as too many of them are out West.
Saw a thriller the other night, Red Eye, starring Rachel McAdams. I hope I'm not being a spoiler by saying that the thing I liked about it best is that Rachel turns out not to be too big a wuss in dealing with the villain.
I'm reading The Audacity of Hope, by Barack Obama. As you know, Senator Obama is running for president. At first I thought that wasn't a good idea because he has so little experience. I thought he should wait until he is more seasoned. But why? Being "unqualified" didn't stop a number of people. It certainly didn't stop the commander guy who a little over half of us glibly reelected even though the disaster under his command had already happened.
Anyhow, I'm learning from the book, because this guy knows what is going on and has a way of communicating it so that reading him, I think I know what is going on a little better. I'll vote for him if he's nominated. I trust him. As it stands right now, I wish we could have a triumvirate consisting of Barack, Hillary, and John Edwards. I think all three of them are presidential material. Compare these top three on the Democratic side to the top three contenders on the Republican side: Giuliani (give me a break!), Mitt Romney ("I think we should double Guantanamo"), and John McCain the Iraq shopper. But you never know what you're getting until the inauguration and the first days of celebration are over: every time we elect a president it's like buying a pig in a poke.
Anyhow, I like Barack. From his knowledge, intelligence, and ability to communicate, I think he would make a good president. So be it.
I remember a letter from one brother's friend (who was a gun-totin' cowboy in Arizona -- an editor for some kind of NRA organ) in which he said that the summer weather here was "sticky, foggy..." (He'd been born and raised here and loved to lord it over us Easterners that he'd escaped from. Hoosiers transplanted to Arizona can be obnoxious.)
I think that was before my family and I moved to the West (Utah) for an eight-year sojourn where it was usually not sticky or foggy. I remember the time I was amazed when it started to rain there, complete with lightning and thunder, amazed because the air seemed so dry. I remarked to myself that the air between the raindrops was dry.
And I loved the dry air. It was marvelous. When the air is not saturated with water vapor, it can dry the sweat on you more quickly than wet air can. Sweat drying on your skin cools your body. One summer I worked in a junkyard and the temperature reached 95 one day. When somebody told me I said, "Really?" When the air is not so humid it heats up in the sun but is markedly cooler in the shade and especially at night. Our kids were sleeping in winter pajamas in June, I noted.
If Indiana had not been sticky and foggy as it is, as a rule, we might have been overrun by transplanted Arizonans and Utahans here. Indiana could be Californicated -- what the Oregonians don't want. We are infested, to a small degree. People come to Indiana and particularly to bucolic little towns like Madison as "urban refugees." Even the Hoosier capital, Nap Town, has freeways in and around it that are easy to travel on in contrast with the likes of the Santa Ana Freeway. In recent years the immigrants have been able to live luxuriously here because of the difference in real estate prices, trading a modest ranch somewhere for a "historic" house on tree-lined streets here.
I concluded long ago that Indiana, especially rural southern Indiana, is a kinder, gentler place to live. When we came back here from Utah several people said, "Welcome back to God's country." I don't know about that, but I recall that I liked some things: we didn't have a sales tax on food; righteous people drank coffee and thought nothing of it; and although a lot of people thought their religion was the one true one, their belief was contested by others (who of course thought their religion as the true one) and, most important, it did not have the force of law. And a lot of us liked David Letterman, worldly and irreverent as he was, because he was, like us, a Hoosier. It was a good life, and we soon enough acclimated once again to the humidity. And, the first summer back, the fleas! At least Amanda and I did (!) -- poor old Sophie, our dog, suffered terribly. And people here, I concluded were friendlier and not just plain mean, as too many of them are out West.
Saw a thriller the other night, Red Eye, starring Rachel McAdams. I hope I'm not being a spoiler by saying that the thing I liked about it best is that Rachel turns out not to be too big a wuss in dealing with the villain.
I'm reading The Audacity of Hope, by Barack Obama. As you know, Senator Obama is running for president. At first I thought that wasn't a good idea because he has so little experience. I thought he should wait until he is more seasoned. But why? Being "unqualified" didn't stop a number of people. It certainly didn't stop the commander guy who a little over half of us glibly reelected even though the disaster under his command had already happened.
Anyhow, I'm learning from the book, because this guy knows what is going on and has a way of communicating it so that reading him, I think I know what is going on a little better. I'll vote for him if he's nominated. I trust him. As it stands right now, I wish we could have a triumvirate consisting of Barack, Hillary, and John Edwards. I think all three of them are presidential material. Compare these top three on the Democratic side to the top three contenders on the Republican side: Giuliani (give me a break!), Mitt Romney ("I think we should double Guantanamo"), and John McCain the Iraq shopper. But you never know what you're getting until the inauguration and the first days of celebration are over: every time we elect a president it's like buying a pig in a poke.
Anyhow, I like Barack. From his knowledge, intelligence, and ability to communicate, I think he would make a good president. So be it.
Monday, May 14, 2007
God Is Reconciliation?
This post by Stacy Parker Aab, titled "Obama's Way," caught my attention and I would like to pass it on to those who might care to read it. It seems to be about reconciliation, about resolving our differences and first trying to understand what is vital to the other person and looking for ways of connecting with him or her.
I want to quote the whole thing here, and I will quote liberally (Forgive me, conservatives!). For example, this:
"Every time I've heard the Senator speak, or have read his work, there seems to be food for everyone. I read Dreams from My Father and The Audacity of Hope back-to-back, and I noticed a certain pattern emerge. [Senator Obama] would take a tough subject, such as immigration (as he does in the "Race" chapter in The Audacity of Hope), and allow all parties to sit at the table. He states one case, tells us why they have a point, moves on to the next party, tells us why they have a point, until he gets all the way around the table, without taking a stand that excludes or shames anyone seated.
"He does not say everybody is right. He lays out their arguments, giving validation in the process, so that hotheads can cool down and common ground can be sought.
...
"For those of us who feel passionately about one principle over the other, this can be maddening. We want someone to say that we're right and they're wrong. This may be soothing for the ego. But is this good for progress?
"Sen. Obama's way is how conflict gets diffused and consensus gets built. Sen. Obama was clear to say this morning on This Week that he is not naïve to think that he's going to get the whole country to hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya'. Instead, these are the skills he needs if and when he brings warring DC parties to the table -- a table that, as things stand now, is practically burnt to the ground.
"I would argue that Sen. Obama's desire to damp-down difference is part of the peacemaker's way. The leader who brings adversaries to the negotiation table is smart to validate points of each argument, to give confidence that she or he knows opposing concerns are legitimate and worthy of discussion. The leader instills confidence that everyone will get a fair hearing. We've had six years of my-way-or-the-highway. A strong peacemaker stands the best chance of creating progress at home and salvaging what's left of our good name abroad."
Then I was caught unawares when I read these very personal disclosures:
"I am from Detroit, a northerner by birth. I remember my first trip to Mississippi two years ago. I spent a weekend in Jackson, often at tables of people I've never met before, people of deep religious faith and conservative belief. We told personal stories. The workings of God's love and spirit came into conversation often. I felt common ground, for I believe in a loving God and a sweetly responsive universe. When we talked like that, the best of our hearts was in communion. But the minute someone asked us to define our politics -- "yes, I'm a Democrat...yes, I'm a Catholic" -- then poof, there it went. I became "this" and they became "that" and suddenly our differences loomed larger than our commonalities and inside I could feel us retreating to our corners. (my italics)
"I've experienced this in my churchgoing as well. I think of myself as deeply spiritual, but I am not committed to any organized religion. I was raised Catholic, and I sometimes go to Mass. But if given the choice, I'd often prefer to spend Sunday in a loving Baptist or Pentecostal service, because among those worshipers I feel the Holy Spirit in a vibrant, passionate way that I don't often do at Mass. Now, if the pastor decided to use the sermon to go political, chances are I would grow anxious or angry. And I know if I sat down and talked belief structures with the worshipers, and we started talking about "I believe this but I don't believe that," -- well, the "don't believe that" is going to get us in trouble. But for that hour+ we were focused on love, on cooperation, on opening our hearts to something greater than ourselves, we were all connected. (my italics) We were all capable of working in concert. It is in that space -- the space a great leader can summon -- that we can make great changes in our own life and in the lives of others."
Two years ago, when Ken and I co-founded a group to discuss God's Politics by Jim Wallis of Sojourners, I had that "space" -- common ground, higher ground -- in mind. Although we ended up with a group of folks with common views who were a lot of fun, I was disappointed that we were not truly diverse, that the other end of the spectrum was not represented. (I give us credit for "going out into the highways and hedges and compelling them to come in," but they were not willing. They were afraid, I think.)
I am still disappointed. The forces of division are still reigning. Some might say that Satan is reigning. Have I allowed my opponents to drive me away, or have they retreated to their corners too? I know it's both. Bitterness and acrimony (I used that word a long time ago on this blog) prevail. May God dispel it. (If God is not "the booger man," as some of my ancestors seemed by their actions to believe.)
I've never remotely been able to practice what the dearest and best of the preachers (Bill Laws, David Smook et al.) have preached, but I know that the ideal still hangs there. Nancy Pelosi, our first "Madam Speaker," quoted the Sunday school song, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me." Francis of Assisi's prayer:
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred -- let me sow love,
Where there is injury -- pardon,
Where there is doubt -- faith,
Where there is despair -- hope,
Where there is darkness -- light,
Where there is sadness -- joy.
"Divine Master,
grant that i may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life."
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." -- Mt.5:9
Amen.
I want to quote the whole thing here, and I will quote liberally (Forgive me, conservatives!). For example, this:
"Every time I've heard the Senator speak, or have read his work, there seems to be food for everyone. I read Dreams from My Father and The Audacity of Hope back-to-back, and I noticed a certain pattern emerge. [Senator Obama] would take a tough subject, such as immigration (as he does in the "Race" chapter in The Audacity of Hope), and allow all parties to sit at the table. He states one case, tells us why they have a point, moves on to the next party, tells us why they have a point, until he gets all the way around the table, without taking a stand that excludes or shames anyone seated.
"He does not say everybody is right. He lays out their arguments, giving validation in the process, so that hotheads can cool down and common ground can be sought.
...
"For those of us who feel passionately about one principle over the other, this can be maddening. We want someone to say that we're right and they're wrong. This may be soothing for the ego. But is this good for progress?
"Sen. Obama's way is how conflict gets diffused and consensus gets built. Sen. Obama was clear to say this morning on This Week that he is not naïve to think that he's going to get the whole country to hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya'. Instead, these are the skills he needs if and when he brings warring DC parties to the table -- a table that, as things stand now, is practically burnt to the ground.
"I would argue that Sen. Obama's desire to damp-down difference is part of the peacemaker's way. The leader who brings adversaries to the negotiation table is smart to validate points of each argument, to give confidence that she or he knows opposing concerns are legitimate and worthy of discussion. The leader instills confidence that everyone will get a fair hearing. We've had six years of my-way-or-the-highway. A strong peacemaker stands the best chance of creating progress at home and salvaging what's left of our good name abroad."
Then I was caught unawares when I read these very personal disclosures:
"I am from Detroit, a northerner by birth. I remember my first trip to Mississippi two years ago. I spent a weekend in Jackson, often at tables of people I've never met before, people of deep religious faith and conservative belief. We told personal stories. The workings of God's love and spirit came into conversation often. I felt common ground, for I believe in a loving God and a sweetly responsive universe. When we talked like that, the best of our hearts was in communion. But the minute someone asked us to define our politics -- "yes, I'm a Democrat...yes, I'm a Catholic" -- then poof, there it went. I became "this" and they became "that" and suddenly our differences loomed larger than our commonalities and inside I could feel us retreating to our corners. (my italics)
"I've experienced this in my churchgoing as well. I think of myself as deeply spiritual, but I am not committed to any organized religion. I was raised Catholic, and I sometimes go to Mass. But if given the choice, I'd often prefer to spend Sunday in a loving Baptist or Pentecostal service, because among those worshipers I feel the Holy Spirit in a vibrant, passionate way that I don't often do at Mass. Now, if the pastor decided to use the sermon to go political, chances are I would grow anxious or angry. And I know if I sat down and talked belief structures with the worshipers, and we started talking about "I believe this but I don't believe that," -- well, the "don't believe that" is going to get us in trouble. But for that hour+ we were focused on love, on cooperation, on opening our hearts to something greater than ourselves, we were all connected. (my italics) We were all capable of working in concert. It is in that space -- the space a great leader can summon -- that we can make great changes in our own life and in the lives of others."
Two years ago, when Ken and I co-founded a group to discuss God's Politics by Jim Wallis of Sojourners, I had that "space" -- common ground, higher ground -- in mind. Although we ended up with a group of folks with common views who were a lot of fun, I was disappointed that we were not truly diverse, that the other end of the spectrum was not represented. (I give us credit for "going out into the highways and hedges and compelling them to come in," but they were not willing. They were afraid, I think.)
I am still disappointed. The forces of division are still reigning. Some might say that Satan is reigning. Have I allowed my opponents to drive me away, or have they retreated to their corners too? I know it's both. Bitterness and acrimony (I used that word a long time ago on this blog) prevail. May God dispel it. (If God is not "the booger man," as some of my ancestors seemed by their actions to believe.)
I've never remotely been able to practice what the dearest and best of the preachers (Bill Laws, David Smook et al.) have preached, but I know that the ideal still hangs there. Nancy Pelosi, our first "Madam Speaker," quoted the Sunday school song, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me." Francis of Assisi's prayer:
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred -- let me sow love,
Where there is injury -- pardon,
Where there is doubt -- faith,
Where there is despair -- hope,
Where there is darkness -- light,
Where there is sadness -- joy.
"Divine Master,
grant that i may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life."
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." -- Mt.5:9
Amen.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Wow! We Could Have Had a V-8!
Today is the fourth anniversary of the "Mission Accomplished" speech by the Commander in Chief following his fighter jet landing on the USS Lincoln, way out there on the Pacific Ocean (uh, actually in the bay right next to San Diego -- just one of many staged illusions). The beginning of the end of innocence of even those enamored of the Noble Global War on Terror. Four years ago.
Keith Olbermann tonight did an excellent feature on the inconsistency of the statements on the "progress" of the war since then and concluded quite logically that we always seem to have made enough progress to warrant our staying the course, by whatever name you call it, but never enough to justify our coming home.
Visited friends Keith and Mary Ann in northern Indiana this weekend. One thing we always enjoy talking about is politics, at least in the misery-loves-company-enough-to- have-a-good-laugh-before-we-break-down-and-cry sort of way. I introduced them to the Stephen Colbert roast of the Commander in Chief (which, although the Washington press corps concluded it "fell flat," was popular enough with opponents that there have been over 4 million hits of it online). And they showed me an interview of Jon Stewart by Bill Moyers they'd taped.
I want to share some of that with folks. I guess I understood what was happening when Alberto Gonzales gave his disgraceful testimony before the Senate committee but Jon is brilliant and incisive in a way that I will never come close to being and I appreciate it when he cuts through the PR and BS and reveals to me what is going on.
From the Moyers-Stewart transcript:
JON: For instance, Alberto Gonzales, and you've been watching the hearings. He is either a perjurer, or a low-functioning pinhead. And he allowed himself to be portrayed in those hearings as a low-functioning pinhead, rather than give the Congressional Committee charged with oversight, any information as to his decision-making process at the Department of Justice.
And I used to think, "They're doing this based on a certain arrogance." And now, I realize that it's because they believe there is one accountability moment for a President, and that is the four year election. And once you get that election, you're done.
MOYERS: They're right, are they not?
STEWART: They're completely not right. The election moment is merely the American public saying, "We'd rather you be President than that guy." That's it. The next four years, though, you still have to abide by the oversight process that is there to prevent this kind of bizarre sort of cult-like atmosphere that falls along. I mean, I accept that kind of veil of secrecy around Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, but I don't accept that around our government.
BILL MOYERS: Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of words were written about Gonzales' testimony last week in Congress. And I still don't think a lot of people get it. And all of the sudden, there on THE DAILY SHOW that evening, you distilled the essence of it.
CLIP: THE DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART
JON STEWART: So there it was today, the big fight. Gonzalez v Senate. Are you ready to bumble!
SENATOR: Who's [whose] idea was this?
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I don't recall specifically
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall the-the contents.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I have no recollection.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I-I don't have any recollection.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I have searched my memory.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall remembering…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I can only testify as to what I recall.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I don't recall…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I firmly believe that nothing improper occurred.
JON STEWART: After weeks of mock testimony, there you have it, Alberto Gonzales does not know what happened, but he assures you what he doesn't remember was handled properly.
END CLIP: THE DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART
JON STEWART: And by the way, that was all just — that was a game, and he knew it, and the guys on the committee knew it. And for the President to come out after that and say, "Everything I saw there gave me more confidence in him," that solidified my notion that, "Oh, it's because what he expected of Gonzalez was" it's sort of like, do you remember in GOODFELLAS? When Henry Hill got arrested for the first time and Robert DeNiro met him at the courthouse and Henry Hill was really upset, 'cause he thought Robert DeNiro would be really mad at him. And DeNiro comes up to him and he gives him a $100 and he goes, "You got pinched. We all get pinched, but you did it right, you didn't say nothing."
BILL MOYERS: Gonzales said nothing.
JON STEWART: Right. And "you went up there and said nothing. You gave them no legal recourse against you, and you made yourself, a smart man, a self-made man, look like an utter pinhead on national television, and you did it for me."
[My italics.]
Get it? Get the contempt? The utter contempt that this gang -- this cult, indeed -- these WISE GUYS!!! have for us the people?
An old saying: "There is honor among thieves." "Honor" meaning they have loyalty to one another: they don't rat one another out. And these particular thieves run this country; they rob us blind and we have no power to resist it.
Yet.
Deliver us, O Lord.
Keith Olbermann tonight did an excellent feature on the inconsistency of the statements on the "progress" of the war since then and concluded quite logically that we always seem to have made enough progress to warrant our staying the course, by whatever name you call it, but never enough to justify our coming home.
Visited friends Keith and Mary Ann in northern Indiana this weekend. One thing we always enjoy talking about is politics, at least in the misery-loves-company-enough-to- have-a-good-laugh-before-we-break-down-and-cry sort of way. I introduced them to the Stephen Colbert roast of the Commander in Chief (which, although the Washington press corps concluded it "fell flat," was popular enough with opponents that there have been over 4 million hits of it online). And they showed me an interview of Jon Stewart by Bill Moyers they'd taped.
I want to share some of that with folks. I guess I understood what was happening when Alberto Gonzales gave his disgraceful testimony before the Senate committee but Jon is brilliant and incisive in a way that I will never come close to being and I appreciate it when he cuts through the PR and BS and reveals to me what is going on.
From the Moyers-Stewart transcript:
JON: For instance, Alberto Gonzales, and you've been watching the hearings. He is either a perjurer, or a low-functioning pinhead. And he allowed himself to be portrayed in those hearings as a low-functioning pinhead, rather than give the Congressional Committee charged with oversight, any information as to his decision-making process at the Department of Justice.
And I used to think, "They're doing this based on a certain arrogance." And now, I realize that it's because they believe there is one accountability moment for a President, and that is the four year election. And once you get that election, you're done.
MOYERS: They're right, are they not?
STEWART: They're completely not right. The election moment is merely the American public saying, "We'd rather you be President than that guy." That's it. The next four years, though, you still have to abide by the oversight process that is there to prevent this kind of bizarre sort of cult-like atmosphere that falls along. I mean, I accept that kind of veil of secrecy around Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, but I don't accept that around our government.
BILL MOYERS: Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of words were written about Gonzales' testimony last week in Congress. And I still don't think a lot of people get it. And all of the sudden, there on THE DAILY SHOW that evening, you distilled the essence of it.
CLIP: THE DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART
JON STEWART: So there it was today, the big fight. Gonzalez v Senate. Are you ready to bumble!
SENATOR: Who's [whose] idea was this?
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I don't recall specifically
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall the-the contents.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I have no recollection.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I-I don't have any recollection.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I have searched my memory.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall remembering…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I can only testify as to what I recall.
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: Senator, I don't recall…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I don't recall…
ALBERTO GONZALEZ: I firmly believe that nothing improper occurred.
JON STEWART: After weeks of mock testimony, there you have it, Alberto Gonzales does not know what happened, but he assures you what he doesn't remember was handled properly.
END CLIP: THE DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART
JON STEWART: And by the way, that was all just — that was a game, and he knew it, and the guys on the committee knew it. And for the President to come out after that and say, "Everything I saw there gave me more confidence in him," that solidified my notion that, "Oh, it's because what he expected of Gonzalez was" it's sort of like, do you remember in GOODFELLAS? When Henry Hill got arrested for the first time and Robert DeNiro met him at the courthouse and Henry Hill was really upset, 'cause he thought Robert DeNiro would be really mad at him. And DeNiro comes up to him and he gives him a $100 and he goes, "You got pinched. We all get pinched, but you did it right, you didn't say nothing."
BILL MOYERS: Gonzales said nothing.
JON STEWART: Right. And "you went up there and said nothing. You gave them no legal recourse against you, and you made yourself, a smart man, a self-made man, look like an utter pinhead on national television, and you did it for me."
[My italics.]
Get it? Get the contempt? The utter contempt that this gang -- this cult, indeed -- these WISE GUYS!!! have for us the people?
An old saying: "There is honor among thieves." "Honor" meaning they have loyalty to one another: they don't rat one another out. And these particular thieves run this country; they rob us blind and we have no power to resist it.
Yet.
Deliver us, O Lord.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
The Hiding Place
Today is Wednesday, the 25th of April. We’re watching The Hiding Place, the movie based on the true book by Corrie ten Boom. She and her father and sister, devout Christians, decided to help Jews escape the persecution of the Nazis in the Dutch city of Haarlem.
The Ten Booms’ Christian behavior was exemplary.
Then the Nazis captured them and imprisoned them and they were persecuted -- just as Jesus said they would be if they followed Him to the letter. And furthermore, Jesus tells them not to hate those who persecute them. And they do their best.
I could never hope to practice the kind of Christianity that these people did. To counter evil with good, hate with love -- it is almost inconceivable. I know that Paul said, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me..."
Ms Ten Boom was released from the Ravensbruck concentration camp in 1944 owing to a "clerical error" and she spent the rest of her life preaching Christ's message.
The Ten Booms’ Christian behavior was exemplary.
Then the Nazis captured them and imprisoned them and they were persecuted -- just as Jesus said they would be if they followed Him to the letter. And furthermore, Jesus tells them not to hate those who persecute them. And they do their best.
I could never hope to practice the kind of Christianity that these people did. To counter evil with good, hate with love -- it is almost inconceivable. I know that Paul said, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me..."
Ms Ten Boom was released from the Ravensbruck concentration camp in 1944 owing to a "clerical error" and she spent the rest of her life preaching Christ's message.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Some Ravings, and A Prayer
Sheryl Crow, the popular singer who I once trashed for murdering “Begin the Beguine” in De-Lovely, the biopic of Cole Porter (she did, she did), tangled with Karl Rove at a White House correspondents’ dinner the other night and it was ugly. “Don’t touch me,” Rove said. I can see a couple of Secret Service agents rushing to Ms Crow and tackling her, throwing her roughly to the turf. It wouldn't be pretty. I'd hate to see it. This lady turns out to be a good kid, a patriot, like the Dixie Chicks.
We did it. We gave Karl his power and protection. We the people -- in the voting booth -- at least enough of us did -- empowered this guy by giving the man that he handles the illusion that he had a "mandate" after that man squeaked by in the last presidential election. "We have met the enemy and he is us," saith Albert Alligator. We're to blame for the quagmire we're in.
Here's one more comment about Kurt Vonnegut because it applies to what I've been writing about. David Hoppe, Associate/Arts Editor for NUVO in Vonnegut's hometown of Indianapolis (dear old Nap Town), said this in a tribute:
"Many people, even admirers, persist in calling Kurt Vonnegut cynical. I’ve never understood this. A cynic believes the truth doesn’t matter. If going to war suits him, he’ll make up reasons for doing it and to hell with the consequences. A cynic believes the only real crime is getting caught. (My italics.)
"Truth, or at least our efforts to try and figure out what that means, always mattered to Mr. V. What he’d seen of human behavior made him a pessimist about the future we’re making for ourselves. But this was also a man who, upon hearing of the almost inconceivably simultaneous deaths of his sister and her husband, responded by adopting three of their children.
“'There’s only one rule I know of babies,' he wrote. 'God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.'” Jesus could have said that, God damn it.
I saw a Hallmark movie last night that made me cry, God damn it. It was titled Crossroads: A Story of Forgiveness. Dean Cain (that's Clark Kent in Lois and Clark) is a husband and father who has his wife and daughter killed by a speeding teenager. He goes about getting the youngster prosecuted. Then he goes about forgiving the young man. It was really touching.
That forgiveness. Lord, we need more of it in this world, right now, like love, sweet love. "Go thou and sin no more." Oh if we could all just be confronted and then hear those words from the Big Guy. God have mercy on us. Amen.
We did it. We gave Karl his power and protection. We the people -- in the voting booth -- at least enough of us did -- empowered this guy by giving the man that he handles the illusion that he had a "mandate" after that man squeaked by in the last presidential election. "We have met the enemy and he is us," saith Albert Alligator. We're to blame for the quagmire we're in.
Here's one more comment about Kurt Vonnegut because it applies to what I've been writing about. David Hoppe, Associate/Arts Editor for NUVO in Vonnegut's hometown of Indianapolis (dear old Nap Town), said this in a tribute:
"Many people, even admirers, persist in calling Kurt Vonnegut cynical. I’ve never understood this. A cynic believes the truth doesn’t matter. If going to war suits him, he’ll make up reasons for doing it and to hell with the consequences. A cynic believes the only real crime is getting caught. (My italics.)
"Truth, or at least our efforts to try and figure out what that means, always mattered to Mr. V. What he’d seen of human behavior made him a pessimist about the future we’re making for ourselves. But this was also a man who, upon hearing of the almost inconceivably simultaneous deaths of his sister and her husband, responded by adopting three of their children.
“'There’s only one rule I know of babies,' he wrote. 'God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.'” Jesus could have said that, God damn it.
I saw a Hallmark movie last night that made me cry, God damn it. It was titled Crossroads: A Story of Forgiveness. Dean Cain (that's Clark Kent in Lois and Clark) is a husband and father who has his wife and daughter killed by a speeding teenager. He goes about getting the youngster prosecuted. Then he goes about forgiving the young man. It was really touching.
That forgiveness. Lord, we need more of it in this world, right now, like love, sweet love. "Go thou and sin no more." Oh if we could all just be confronted and then hear those words from the Big Guy. God have mercy on us. Amen.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The Cho Show
Harry Shearer wrote today in the Huffington Post:
"So Mr. Cho gets his fifteen minutes. The question bewildering journalism observers--why'd he send his goodie bag to NBC News?--has an easy answer: it was in gratitude for their firing of Imus.
"Not so easy is the answer to the question: what is the possible journalistic explanation for splashing Cho's self-dramatizing poses and self-justifying bullshit over network and cable air? Did we learn anything useful during the spate of interviews of Charlie Manson years ago, except that he was one crazy motherfucker? Cho's pathetic outpourings deserved to be put back where they came from -- in a small room, with FBI guys sentenced to read/see and parse them. Instead, a hundred thousand self-pitying mentally ill young men (and women?) have just been shown the road to glory one more time. A society in which it's easier to become famous for killing people than for doing something useful or constructive is one remarkable place in which to live."
In the 1970s, when I was a good tree-hugger and even the Nixon administration had founded the Environmental Protection Agency, I bought a bunch of beautiful, healthy trees and shrubs for next to nothing from a retired postal employee, a man named Elmer Job, last name pronounced the same way as his Biblical counterpart. An old saw is "to have the patience of Job," which means to have patience abounding long after others have given up.
This gentle man had the patience of his namesake. You have to be patient to grow trees, I thought, planting the seeds, watering, feeding, sheltering from wind and frost. And you must wait.
But it takes no patience whatever to cut trees down, not with a well-sharpened, gasoline-fueled chain saw. I planted those shrubs and trees at the house where we lived then and watched them grow over the next five or so years. (Then every last one of them was cut down by subsequent owners, but that's another story.)
Just up the street, a couple of old ladies moved into a house with seven beautiful, healthy young maples. They promptly hired men to cut down all seven. They had a couple of picture windows in that house and they hastened to cover those windows with shades to keep out the sun. Twenty years of God's work, some would say, destroyed in one day.
The young gunman at Virginia Tech has "earned" his infamy, as did the Texas tower sniper, the black-trenchcoat teens at Columbine, the three little boys who wanted their mommies and teddy bears in jail after the schoolyard killings in Arkansas, the ... well, you know, the list, as we say, goes on and on.
They all did their atrocities in minutes.
How long does it take to grow a human being?
How long does it take to grow a sane, just, merciful, caring society?
Harry Shearer understated it: "A society in which it's easier to become famous for killing people than for doing something useful or constructive is one remarkable place in which to live."
God have mercy on this world. Amen.
"So Mr. Cho gets his fifteen minutes. The question bewildering journalism observers--why'd he send his goodie bag to NBC News?--has an easy answer: it was in gratitude for their firing of Imus.
"Not so easy is the answer to the question: what is the possible journalistic explanation for splashing Cho's self-dramatizing poses and self-justifying bullshit over network and cable air? Did we learn anything useful during the spate of interviews of Charlie Manson years ago, except that he was one crazy motherfucker? Cho's pathetic outpourings deserved to be put back where they came from -- in a small room, with FBI guys sentenced to read/see and parse them. Instead, a hundred thousand self-pitying mentally ill young men (and women?) have just been shown the road to glory one more time. A society in which it's easier to become famous for killing people than for doing something useful or constructive is one remarkable place in which to live."
In the 1970s, when I was a good tree-hugger and even the Nixon administration had founded the Environmental Protection Agency, I bought a bunch of beautiful, healthy trees and shrubs for next to nothing from a retired postal employee, a man named Elmer Job, last name pronounced the same way as his Biblical counterpart. An old saw is "to have the patience of Job," which means to have patience abounding long after others have given up.
This gentle man had the patience of his namesake. You have to be patient to grow trees, I thought, planting the seeds, watering, feeding, sheltering from wind and frost. And you must wait.
But it takes no patience whatever to cut trees down, not with a well-sharpened, gasoline-fueled chain saw. I planted those shrubs and trees at the house where we lived then and watched them grow over the next five or so years. (Then every last one of them was cut down by subsequent owners, but that's another story.)
Just up the street, a couple of old ladies moved into a house with seven beautiful, healthy young maples. They promptly hired men to cut down all seven. They had a couple of picture windows in that house and they hastened to cover those windows with shades to keep out the sun. Twenty years of God's work, some would say, destroyed in one day.
The young gunman at Virginia Tech has "earned" his infamy, as did the Texas tower sniper, the black-trenchcoat teens at Columbine, the three little boys who wanted their mommies and teddy bears in jail after the schoolyard killings in Arkansas, the ... well, you know, the list, as we say, goes on and on.
They all did their atrocities in minutes.
How long does it take to grow a human being?
How long does it take to grow a sane, just, merciful, caring society?
Harry Shearer understated it: "A society in which it's easier to become famous for killing people than for doing something useful or constructive is one remarkable place in which to live."
God have mercy on this world. Amen.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut (and Mr. Carpenter)
Another wonderful eulogy of Kurt Vonnegut, this one by Dan Carpenter, columnist in the Indianapolis Star. Worth quoting:
"Crediting the Indianapolis Public Schools for 'my crazy ideas about socialism and pacifism,' Vonnegut said in 1973 on one of his many visits here: 'The most intelligent people in the city went into teaching then . . . I was taught to be proud that the generals were not listened to in our country. I did not get my crazy ideas on the Eastern seaboard or from crazy intellectuals in the East. I just remembered what I was told in Junior Civics.'...
"Vonnegut's essential moral grief, his atheist's yearning for God and good in a species that showered him with evidence to the contrary, lies at the heart of his literary stature.
"Among the most accessible of serious novels, Vonnegut's works are characterized by capricious evil, forlorn idealism, frenetic plots, frank autobiographical elements and cartoonish concepts meant to convey obvious messages -- the birth control pill that works by taking the fun out of sex, the secret weapon that freezes all the world's waterways, the space aliens who bring Earthlings a formula for peace that goes unheeded because they can communicate only by tap-dancing and passing gas. Immortal characters, such as the saintly Mr. Rosewater and the misanthropic science fiction writer Kilgore Trout, appear and reappear from book to book.
"Leery of being lionized as a secular prophet, Vonnegut once went so far as to say 'a writer is just a person who makes his living with his mental disease.'
"He also confided late in his career that he wrote 'intuitively, reflexively, as if skiing down a mountain with no time to think.
"'And as I look back on the marks my skis have left on the slope, I see that what I wrote again and again are stories of ordinary people who tried to behave decently in an indecent society.'"
Footnote: I admire Dan Carpenter for his courage and integrity, and obvious determination. I do not envy him his calling, which is to be a "lefty" columnist in a "righty" newspaper, city, and state. The vilification he receives from his opponents is almost universal, and mean-spirited and unrelenting. I suspect Dan has even received death threats, because we are talking about the kind of people who drag people they don't like behind trucks, who unapologetically pack the guns they worship along with Jesus, who bomb abortion clinics; I suspect he doesn't become too upset when someone merely curses him, telling him he is lost and damned to hell for all eternity. (Dan, by the way, gives every indication of being a devout Roman Catholic, and he is certainly thoroughly familiar with the teachings of Jesus.)
I also am grateful that the Indianapolis Star employs him and in no way tampers with his editorial integrity. There was a time when such an arrangement would have been unlikely.
"Crediting the Indianapolis Public Schools for 'my crazy ideas about socialism and pacifism,' Vonnegut said in 1973 on one of his many visits here: 'The most intelligent people in the city went into teaching then . . . I was taught to be proud that the generals were not listened to in our country. I did not get my crazy ideas on the Eastern seaboard or from crazy intellectuals in the East. I just remembered what I was told in Junior Civics.'...
"Vonnegut's essential moral grief, his atheist's yearning for God and good in a species that showered him with evidence to the contrary, lies at the heart of his literary stature.
"Among the most accessible of serious novels, Vonnegut's works are characterized by capricious evil, forlorn idealism, frenetic plots, frank autobiographical elements and cartoonish concepts meant to convey obvious messages -- the birth control pill that works by taking the fun out of sex, the secret weapon that freezes all the world's waterways, the space aliens who bring Earthlings a formula for peace that goes unheeded because they can communicate only by tap-dancing and passing gas. Immortal characters, such as the saintly Mr. Rosewater and the misanthropic science fiction writer Kilgore Trout, appear and reappear from book to book.
"Leery of being lionized as a secular prophet, Vonnegut once went so far as to say 'a writer is just a person who makes his living with his mental disease.'
"He also confided late in his career that he wrote 'intuitively, reflexively, as if skiing down a mountain with no time to think.
"'And as I look back on the marks my skis have left on the slope, I see that what I wrote again and again are stories of ordinary people who tried to behave decently in an indecent society.'"
Footnote: I admire Dan Carpenter for his courage and integrity, and obvious determination. I do not envy him his calling, which is to be a "lefty" columnist in a "righty" newspaper, city, and state. The vilification he receives from his opponents is almost universal, and mean-spirited and unrelenting. I suspect Dan has even received death threats, because we are talking about the kind of people who drag people they don't like behind trucks, who unapologetically pack the guns they worship along with Jesus, who bomb abortion clinics; I suspect he doesn't become too upset when someone merely curses him, telling him he is lost and damned to hell for all eternity. (Dan, by the way, gives every indication of being a devout Roman Catholic, and he is certainly thoroughly familiar with the teachings of Jesus.)
I also am grateful that the Indianapolis Star employs him and in no way tampers with his editorial integrity. There was a time when such an arrangement would have been unlikely.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
More Killing II
Keith Olbermann just pointed out that at least as many American military servicemen in Iraq died in the last ten days as those people who died yesterday at the hands of an enraged sicko kid named Cho Seung-Hui at Virginia Tech. Keith asked why we citizens are stunned, shocked, angered, and saddened by those deaths so much more than we seem to be by the three thousand deaths before them in Iraq and Afghanistan -- not in any way, of course, minimizing the enormity of the Virginia Tech tragedy. May God console the victims' families and friends and indeed all of us.
Many flags today are flying at half-mast because of the Virginia Tech killings, Keith said. He asked, Why aren't our flags flying at half-mast all the time?
Good question.
To me it looks like we are a nation whose Stars and Bars should fly only at half-mast from now until the monstrously unjust war we are in has ended.
God, Lord, please deliver us. Amen.
Many flags today are flying at half-mast because of the Virginia Tech killings, Keith said. He asked, Why aren't our flags flying at half-mast all the time?
Good question.
To me it looks like we are a nation whose Stars and Bars should fly only at half-mast from now until the monstrously unjust war we are in has ended.
God, Lord, please deliver us. Amen.
Monday, April 16, 2007
More Killing
At Virginia Tech, a college in Blacksburg, Virginia, a gunman massacred over thirty innocent people today. Then shot himself to death. Kurt Vonnegut would say, "So it goes." But he too is now dead. "Farther along ..."
Friday, April 13, 2007
Howard Redux
Early this morning I bought a 20-inch Magnavox and took it to Rosie's dad at Thornton Terrace. He told me he wanted a radio too. I said we'd take care of that. He said he wasn't going to the dining room today. I told him his daughter wouldn't be there until after lunch and would be upset with him if he missed a meal. I told him it was paid for and the seniors there would miss him.
So he agreed to go to lunch. Then the two of us walked to the lunch room, a good hike for him with his walker. I told him I was walking with him on his left, because military etiquette dictated that the person junior in rank walks on the left. Because of his trouble with hearing and a little with comprehension I'm not sure he understood what I was saying. But I meant it. I respect the old guy.
We waited a while for things to get going, the drinks served, the food served, etc. We sat alone at his table and that made him a little anxious because he is nothing if not a social person. Finally arriving at his table was a World War II vet, a heroic fighter pilot, who is one of my dearest friends and as a fellow retail merchant a man Howard has known all his days working in downtown Madison. Then Howard's grandson Brian showed up.
Anyhow, someone recently told us that it generally takes about two weeks for a senior newly placed in a nursing home to adjust to his or her new environment. Well, the old gentleman is ahead of the curve.
Good for him.
So he agreed to go to lunch. Then the two of us walked to the lunch room, a good hike for him with his walker. I told him I was walking with him on his left, because military etiquette dictated that the person junior in rank walks on the left. Because of his trouble with hearing and a little with comprehension I'm not sure he understood what I was saying. But I meant it. I respect the old guy.
We waited a while for things to get going, the drinks served, the food served, etc. We sat alone at his table and that made him a little anxious because he is nothing if not a social person. Finally arriving at his table was a World War II vet, a heroic fighter pilot, who is one of my dearest friends and as a fellow retail merchant a man Howard has known all his days working in downtown Madison. Then Howard's grandson Brian showed up.
Anyhow, someone recently told us that it generally takes about two weeks for a senior newly placed in a nursing home to adjust to his or her new environment. Well, the old gentleman is ahead of the curve.
Good for him.
Hackers, Redeem Yourselves
I have this dream that is forming in my mind. (Maybe it'll become a teleplay, but that's the other dream.) Anyhow, here's the dream: this geek kid -- perhaps looking a little like Michael Moore but not quite as fat and unkempt -- who at age 28 still lives with his mom, sleeps in his basement room, lives on pizza, doughnuts, and Buffalo wings, and has never, never had a date. His whole world is his Mac laptop and IBM desktop.
[Breaking News: Harry Shearer, one of the lovable voices on The Simpsons, said that First Amendment rights do not guarantee the constitutional right of somebody to have a nationally syndicated radio and TV show. Doh!]
Anyhow, this geek kid -- we'll call him Dylan, for the hell of it -- is a computer virtuoso and he has been responsible for about ten viruses and a worm or two, some of them really harmful and all of them obnoxious. He's just a pain in the ass. OK?
In April 2007, Dylan gets this knock on the door. He doesn't usually answer the door but he's upstairs, watching the MSNBC anchor Alison Stewart on Mom's TV (he has the hots for Alison Stewart but I digress) and commercials are on and he goes to the door and there's this blonde chick in a business suit, one with a skirt, and she's well hot.
So he says, what the hey and he can't see what kind of shoes she's wearing (toes in view?), she tosses her hair back and she's heck, pretty young, just a little older than he is. So he answers the door.
"Dylan?" she says. She doesn't say his last name. She smiles and looks into his eyes, right into his eyes. Oh God, does she smile! And the light catches her eyes and they are the most gorgeous shade of --
"Yes?" he says, with an upward inflection, like a question, and -- ooh! -- his voice cracks.
"Dylan, I'm Monica. I work for Representative Henry Waxman? You know, Congress?" She shows him ID. "We're looking into some missing e-mails that are of interest to the United States government."
He looks at her without comprehension.
"Dylan" -- here she says his last name -- "We know that you're responsible for" -- she rapidly rattles off two of the nicknames for his worms and four of his viruses. "There are more..."
Dylan mutters, "Oh shit. I'm busted."
"Maybe not," she says. "How would you like to use your computer skills to help us?" ... Have you ever heard of Karl Rove?"
"Y-yes. Bush's brain? Boy genius? T- ... T-Turd Blossom?"
"That's the one. He claims that all his emails over the last five years have been erased. We understand that it doesn't work that way. We think you might be able to help us."
***
The year is 2009. Karl Rove, in his prison cell, turns on the TV. His roomy is Rush Limbaugh. Karl hasn't been seen with his supercilious, shit-eating smirk for a year now. Nobody in the prison, guards or prisoners, pays a bit of attention to the little butterball in blue chambray shirt and denim pants like the rest of the losers.
On the TV he hears President Clinton say, "Dylan, we want to thank you for your patriotic service in helping us uncover the scandal which has shaken us for the past five years. Therefore I am pleased to award you the Medal of Freedom." The abashed Dylan, uncomfortable in a suit and tie and with a clean shave, doesn't look at the President but manages a sort of smile as she hands him the medal. Cheers and whoops from the young audience are enthusiastic and loud.
Rove snorts and reaches for the remote to turn to Judge Judy.
Ben Dover (of Fletch) comes in.
"Oh no! Me today?" Karl says.
Ben nods. "Remember? I did Rush yesterday. Drop 'em."
[Breaking News: Harry Shearer, one of the lovable voices on The Simpsons, said that First Amendment rights do not guarantee the constitutional right of somebody to have a nationally syndicated radio and TV show. Doh!]
Anyhow, this geek kid -- we'll call him Dylan, for the hell of it -- is a computer virtuoso and he has been responsible for about ten viruses and a worm or two, some of them really harmful and all of them obnoxious. He's just a pain in the ass. OK?
In April 2007, Dylan gets this knock on the door. He doesn't usually answer the door but he's upstairs, watching the MSNBC anchor Alison Stewart on Mom's TV (he has the hots for Alison Stewart but I digress) and commercials are on and he goes to the door and there's this blonde chick in a business suit, one with a skirt, and she's well hot.
So he says, what the hey and he can't see what kind of shoes she's wearing (toes in view?), she tosses her hair back and she's heck, pretty young, just a little older than he is. So he answers the door.
"Dylan?" she says. She doesn't say his last name. She smiles and looks into his eyes, right into his eyes. Oh God, does she smile! And the light catches her eyes and they are the most gorgeous shade of --
"Yes?" he says, with an upward inflection, like a question, and -- ooh! -- his voice cracks.
"Dylan, I'm Monica. I work for Representative Henry Waxman? You know, Congress?" She shows him ID. "We're looking into some missing e-mails that are of interest to the United States government."
He looks at her without comprehension.
"Dylan" -- here she says his last name -- "We know that you're responsible for" -- she rapidly rattles off two of the nicknames for his worms and four of his viruses. "There are more..."
Dylan mutters, "Oh shit. I'm busted."
"Maybe not," she says. "How would you like to use your computer skills to help us?" ... Have you ever heard of Karl Rove?"
"Y-yes. Bush's brain? Boy genius? T- ... T-Turd Blossom?"
"That's the one. He claims that all his emails over the last five years have been erased. We understand that it doesn't work that way. We think you might be able to help us."
***
The year is 2009. Karl Rove, in his prison cell, turns on the TV. His roomy is Rush Limbaugh. Karl hasn't been seen with his supercilious, shit-eating smirk for a year now. Nobody in the prison, guards or prisoners, pays a bit of attention to the little butterball in blue chambray shirt and denim pants like the rest of the losers.
On the TV he hears President Clinton say, "Dylan, we want to thank you for your patriotic service in helping us uncover the scandal which has shaken us for the past five years. Therefore I am pleased to award you the Medal of Freedom." The abashed Dylan, uncomfortable in a suit and tie and with a clean shave, doesn't look at the President but manages a sort of smile as she hands him the medal. Cheers and whoops from the young audience are enthusiastic and loud.
Rove snorts and reaches for the remote to turn to Judge Judy.
Ben Dover (of Fletch) comes in.
"Oh no! Me today?" Karl says.
Ben nods. "Remember? I did Rush yesterday. Drop 'em."
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Milestones from Nap Town Natives and a "Shock Jock" Who Got his Just Deserts
Novelist, essayist, short story writer, playwright, lecturer, Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007) was at his peak in the 1970s when this writer discovered him and became star-struck. His big book is generally agreed to be Slaughterhouse Five: The Children's Crusade, about an autobiographical hapless infantryman who is taken prisoner of war by the Germans in World War II. He, "Billy Pilgrim," is imprisoned in Dresden, and is in a subterranean meat locker when the US Army Air Force fire-bombs the city, causing more casualties than occurred in Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. The enormity of this disaster was not widely known up to that time. Kurt was one of seven American POW's who survived that holocaust. The irony of that dripped from Slaughterhouse Five. It is a fantastic novel.
Kurt didn't lose his edge right up to the end. In an interview he said this:
"I myself feel that our country, for whose Constitution I fought in a just war, might as well have been invaded by Martians and body snatchers. Sometimes I wish it had been. What has happened, though, is that it has been taken over by means of the sleaziest, low-comedy, Keystone Cops-style coup d’etat imaginable. And those now in charge of the federal government are upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography, plus not-so-closeted white supremacists, aka “Christians,” and plus, most frighteningly, psychopathic personalities..."
Kurt was born in Nap Town and he was always charitable toward and affectionate of his hometown. Another Nap Towner was born there 60 years ago today -- David Letterman! I hope Dave appreciates being a SEXAGENARIAN. (What a lovely word! And truer than you know!)
Don Imus, NOT a Nap Town native (and I, as a not-so-closeted Hoosier chauvinist, am glad!), is unemployed. He deserves it. Bob Herbert in his column today recalled a 60 Minutes interview with Mike Wallace, who confronted Imus for saying that he kept his producer around to "make n----- jokes." Imus said he thought his conversation was off-the-record. "The hell it is!" Wallace came back.
Dick Cavett, of all people, defended Imus. He said that Don is a "real cowboy,"that he reads, and is one of few people who pronounces both c's in "arctic." God dog! Why, I bet he even doesn't say "nucular!" (Then why not be an English teacher?) I understand that he overcame an alcohol and cocaine problem, and that he has a ranch for disadvantaged kids.
He's a nice guy, right? He's just got a mouth that has been heard by millions every Monday through Friday for three decades and an attitude that insulting the innocent -- blacks, women, Jews -- for the amusement of the guilty is OK. As was the case with the obnoxious Bob Knight, Imus will be greeted enthusiastically in some other venue and carry on pretty much as he has all these years. And heck, he's not the only one. He said so himself. There's a whole damn network ... oh well.
But, ending on a sweet note, Kurt Vonnegut was a sweet man and he will be missed. So it goes. And so is Dave Letterman and I hope he will be with us a long time.
Amen.
Kurt didn't lose his edge right up to the end. In an interview he said this:
"I myself feel that our country, for whose Constitution I fought in a just war, might as well have been invaded by Martians and body snatchers. Sometimes I wish it had been. What has happened, though, is that it has been taken over by means of the sleaziest, low-comedy, Keystone Cops-style coup d’etat imaginable. And those now in charge of the federal government are upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography, plus not-so-closeted white supremacists, aka “Christians,” and plus, most frighteningly, psychopathic personalities..."
Kurt was born in Nap Town and he was always charitable toward and affectionate of his hometown. Another Nap Towner was born there 60 years ago today -- David Letterman! I hope Dave appreciates being a SEXAGENARIAN. (What a lovely word! And truer than you know!)
Don Imus, NOT a Nap Town native (and I, as a not-so-closeted Hoosier chauvinist, am glad!), is unemployed. He deserves it. Bob Herbert in his column today recalled a 60 Minutes interview with Mike Wallace, who confronted Imus for saying that he kept his producer around to "make n----- jokes." Imus said he thought his conversation was off-the-record. "The hell it is!" Wallace came back.
Dick Cavett, of all people, defended Imus. He said that Don is a "real cowboy,"that he reads, and is one of few people who pronounces both c's in "arctic." God dog! Why, I bet he even doesn't say "nucular!" (Then why not be an English teacher?) I understand that he overcame an alcohol and cocaine problem, and that he has a ranch for disadvantaged kids.
He's a nice guy, right? He's just got a mouth that has been heard by millions every Monday through Friday for three decades and an attitude that insulting the innocent -- blacks, women, Jews -- for the amusement of the guilty is OK. As was the case with the obnoxious Bob Knight, Imus will be greeted enthusiastically in some other venue and carry on pretty much as he has all these years. And heck, he's not the only one. He said so himself. There's a whole damn network ... oh well.
But, ending on a sweet note, Kurt Vonnegut was a sweet man and he will be missed. So it goes. And so is Dave Letterman and I hope he will be with us a long time.
Amen.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
God's Language: Music
I read once (God knows where) that God's language is music. And if we could only understand it, we could understand all that God represents: love, joy, peace, all the good things. It's been an intriguing idea for many years. Oh Jesus, how I wish I had learned music. It's too late now. And of course I would have come no closer to understanding God almighty. Who ever does? But I think about all those wonderful works of Johann Sebastian Bach, all dedicated to "Soli Deo Gloria" -- to the glory of God. Would to God that I could write just one piece of music and dedicate it "To the Glory of God." Amen.
"Music Is My Rampart, and My Only One"
One of my favorite movies is The Milagro Beanfield War, and the music is by Dave Grusin. He won the Oscar in 1988 for the music for that movie! Of course, I don't think much of the judges who award Oscars, and I have no idea how they came up with their decision, but Grusin beat out Johnnie Williams for The Accidental Tourist, George Fenton (Dangerous Liaisons), Maurice Jarre (Gorillas in the Mist), and Hans Zimmer (Rain Man). I don't recall the music of any of those except that of Williams, but I would say from the names that Dave's winning -- I should certainly say the music he composed -- was a tour de force. George Fenton did Shadowlands, for example. Hans Zimmer did Driving Miss Daisy and many wonderful works. Of course you know I'm a nut for The Milagro Beanfield War. Play the music, if it's available, at my funeral.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Global Warming Needs to Be Given a Mustache
I thought this post by Daniel Gilbert was quite thoughtful, and cognizant of psychology, as well as amusing. Now I will tell you that the subject is global warming: if you decide not to read it, you will have proved Mr. Gilbert's point.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Also!
There is a BLIZZARD out there right now. Honestly, a white-out, of the sort we used to get in northern Indiana. Dude, does that suck or what? Fortunately it isn't sticking but I hope Rosie, who is on the road right now, can see where the heck she's going.
Howard, her daddy, went to Thornton Terrace this morning. He wasn't happy about it but he submitted to it like a man, Rosie said. "He's a hell of a man," she said. Indeed he is.
Rosie told me a touching story about him yesterday. She's told me many touching stories about him, how he would read the comics and the Bible and stories to her when she was a little girl, the only child. I can readily picture the two of them. But she discovered this one since her mother died a month ago. Clara was a "pack rat" and saved every bill and every piece of correspondence they'd received over seventy-plus years. Rosie found an anonymous letter.
Howard was twenty-nine when we entered World War II. He had a very bad case of stomach ulcers and when he tried to enlist, he was rejected as "4-F." He was a patriot and was dismayed and he tried again a number of times to enlist but was always rejected. "They also serve who stand and wait." If Howard had faced our enemies in combat, he would have acquitted himself as bravely and honorably as the next man, I do believe.
Rosie told me about the letter. Someone -- someone who didn't divulge their identity -- does anybody appreciate how repugnant, how vicious such ambushes from hiding are? -- wrote a letter to his home saying that he or she thought the Kroger store had good meats, but that the one who cut them and sold them was a "sissy" -- I think that's the term the anonymous writer used -- because he hadn't gone off to the war.
Clara saved that letter and I'm glad she did, because Rosie saw it, told me about it, and I'm writing about it on the "world wide web" to declare to all the world that Howard Lawrence Jones, father of my wife, was no "sissy," but a brave and good man, a man of Tom Brokaw's "greatest generation."
So, with lots of love and much great misgiving, Rosie deposited her ancient dad in the old folks' home today. He will be fine. He has always coped. He will abide until his time comes. Amen.
Howard, her daddy, went to Thornton Terrace this morning. He wasn't happy about it but he submitted to it like a man, Rosie said. "He's a hell of a man," she said. Indeed he is.
Rosie told me a touching story about him yesterday. She's told me many touching stories about him, how he would read the comics and the Bible and stories to her when she was a little girl, the only child. I can readily picture the two of them. But she discovered this one since her mother died a month ago. Clara was a "pack rat" and saved every bill and every piece of correspondence they'd received over seventy-plus years. Rosie found an anonymous letter.
Howard was twenty-nine when we entered World War II. He had a very bad case of stomach ulcers and when he tried to enlist, he was rejected as "4-F." He was a patriot and was dismayed and he tried again a number of times to enlist but was always rejected. "They also serve who stand and wait." If Howard had faced our enemies in combat, he would have acquitted himself as bravely and honorably as the next man, I do believe.
Rosie told me about the letter. Someone -- someone who didn't divulge their identity -- does anybody appreciate how repugnant, how vicious such ambushes from hiding are? -- wrote a letter to his home saying that he or she thought the Kroger store had good meats, but that the one who cut them and sold them was a "sissy" -- I think that's the term the anonymous writer used -- because he hadn't gone off to the war.
Clara saved that letter and I'm glad she did, because Rosie saw it, told me about it, and I'm writing about it on the "world wide web" to declare to all the world that Howard Lawrence Jones, father of my wife, was no "sissy," but a brave and good man, a man of Tom Brokaw's "greatest generation."
So, with lots of love and much great misgiving, Rosie deposited her ancient dad in the old folks' home today. He will be fine. He has always coped. He will abide until his time comes. Amen.
Tavis Smiley, Hoosier! And THE MAN
I read with delight in the Nap Town Star that Tavis Smiley is going to be the commencement speaker for Indiana University this year. Excellent choice! I wrote the following to the online edition:
"I had no idea Tavis Smiley was from (sic) small-town Indiana man! And I can claim pride in him as a fellow Hoosier along with the admiration I already feel. My daughter was in a swim meet at Maconaquah! I recognized Tavis's excellence instantly when I saw him moderate a discussion on PBS among four religious leaders of diverse backgrounds. Now there was a "fair and balanced," not to mention dignified and congenial, presentation of differing views. I know that Tavis helped to make it happen. This gentleman is a man for all seasons. I really like, respect, and admire Tavis Smiley and I am tickled pink that IU has chosen him for commencement. (Poor BYU! The administration there chose **** (sic) Cheney for their speaker! My family and I lived in Utah and I'm glad we moved back here.) I can't say enough good things about my Hoosier brother Tavis Smiley!"
I read with dismay the error I made in the first sentence but let it stand when I posted a second comment:
"I see the first name of Mr. Cheney was bleeped by the censor. He is pretty profane, isn't he?"
I wrote the above before I had seen prior comments on the story. I then read those and sure enough, Tavis took it in the shorts from some of the TFM's out there. One said he was a "nobody." (Boo.) But somebody countered with, if Tavis is a nobody, what does that make you? (Yay!) Another TFM said they got Tavis because Mr. McFeeley wasn't available. (Boo.) Mr McF's been coopted by BYU when even the rightwing students protested the choice of **** Cheney. (Yay!) Then there was the Star reader who said he watched Fox News "religiously" [I'll bet] and had never heard of Tavis. (Boo.) He was slammed by about four readers who questioned his presumption that he was "informed" by religiously watching Fox News. (Yay!) Then there was the TFI (two steps down on the intelligence scale from a TFM) who said that Tavis was "liberal" and "agenda-driven." (Boo.) As it is with whose ox is being gored, it depends on whose agenda is being driven. Joe McCarthy claimed Ed Murrow was "agenda-driven." (Yay!)
Tavis is in the same league as Ed Murrow. Good night, and good luck.
"I had no idea Tavis Smiley was from (sic) small-town Indiana man! And I can claim pride in him as a fellow Hoosier along with the admiration I already feel. My daughter was in a swim meet at Maconaquah! I recognized Tavis's excellence instantly when I saw him moderate a discussion on PBS among four religious leaders of diverse backgrounds. Now there was a "fair and balanced," not to mention dignified and congenial, presentation of differing views. I know that Tavis helped to make it happen. This gentleman is a man for all seasons. I really like, respect, and admire Tavis Smiley and I am tickled pink that IU has chosen him for commencement. (Poor BYU! The administration there chose **** (sic) Cheney for their speaker! My family and I lived in Utah and I'm glad we moved back here.) I can't say enough good things about my Hoosier brother Tavis Smiley!"
I read with dismay the error I made in the first sentence but let it stand when I posted a second comment:
"I see the first name of Mr. Cheney was bleeped by the censor. He is pretty profane, isn't he?"
I wrote the above before I had seen prior comments on the story. I then read those and sure enough, Tavis took it in the shorts from some of the TFM's out there. One said he was a "nobody." (Boo.) But somebody countered with, if Tavis is a nobody, what does that make you? (Yay!) Another TFM said they got Tavis because Mr. McFeeley wasn't available. (Boo.) Mr McF's been coopted by BYU when even the rightwing students protested the choice of **** Cheney. (Yay!) Then there was the Star reader who said he watched Fox News "religiously" [I'll bet] and had never heard of Tavis. (Boo.) He was slammed by about four readers who questioned his presumption that he was "informed" by religiously watching Fox News. (Yay!) Then there was the TFI (two steps down on the intelligence scale from a TFM) who said that Tavis was "liberal" and "agenda-driven." (Boo.) As it is with whose ox is being gored, it depends on whose agenda is being driven. Joe McCarthy claimed Ed Murrow was "agenda-driven." (Yay!)
Tavis is in the same league as Ed Murrow. Good night, and good luck.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Generic Title
Listening to a symphony by Charles Gounod -- for the readers who had German instead of French, it sounds like my friend Van De Graaff pronounces it "Sharl Goo-KNOW" -- and it sounds quite like a symphony by none other than Ludwig van Beethoven, a clean, elegant, less dramatic one, with less crescendo and descrescendo than Beethoven -- such that you don't have to constantly adjust the volume so that you can hear it without disturbing those around you.
Gounod's most famous work is the opera Faust. Perhaps his most well known work, at least to us oldsters, is "Funeral March of the Marionettes," which was the themesong for the ancient TV show, Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
I'm not saying that Gounod apes Beethoven, just that he uses some of the same classical/romantic techniques and phrasing and styles (don't know what I'm talking about, of course, having had no formal training (or discipline) in music, just have this ear for music and a lot of my life spent listening to it when I should have been doing something constructive -- e.g. learning to play a musical instrument). I still would like to be a classical DJ and that may happen yet. But I doubt it. Maybe a podcast or something.
Since Gounod's "dates" are 1818-1893, his orchestral composing sounds a little retrograde -- Beethoven's dates are 1770-1827, I seem to recall, and his music became increasingly more "romantic" and less "classical" in contrast with Gounod's -- at least in this symphony I'm listening to as I write. One parallel of the two is orchestration: whole orchestra here, horns or oboes there, both composers seem to use them in about the same way. Well, it's over now and the hearing was a delight. And I'm not left with a feeling of doom and death and so forth. In other words, Gounod's symphony sounds more light-hearted -- more fun -- than much of Beethoven's work. I guess I must add that I don't have the feeling of triumph that Beethoven evokes either, in such works as the mighty Eroica (Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major). This Second Symphony of Gounod is definitely "lighter" than the Eroica. Vive la difference.
Gounod was a Parisian, his pianist mother gave him his first lessons in music, he attended the Paris Conservatoire, and he studied 16th century sacred music, Palestrina in particular. Besides operas and symphonies, he wrote string quartets and oratorios. No mediocre composer. And we hardly ever hear him on "classical" radio.
I've been watching piecemeal Electric Horseman afternoons while sitting with Howard. That's the '80's movie shot in Utah when we were living there and Bob Redford and Jane Fonda were younger and prettier (Willie Nelson never ages!). The scene in which Bob and that magnificent horse escape from the St. George cops is still thrilling to me, and of course comic. There's something about a human being riding a horse at full gallop that evokes all kinds of powerful emotions in me. I know, I'm a big sappy sap, but I love the scene where Bob rides that horse -- and it's really him most of the time, although a stunt rider takes over some of the dicier leaps etc. (Greatest ride on film is that of Ben Johnson as a cavalry soldier in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, a Duke oater from way back when. It's Ben all the way. He was the best dang stunt rider ever was. You may remember him from The Last Picture Show or possibly the guy who fights in the saloon with the "sod-buster" Shane.) I also love the scene where Drew Barrymore and Andie McDowell are riding galloping horses in the admittedly awful movie Bad Girls. Which I loved. Forgive me. I have also loved other stinkers, like Havana and -- oh well, you get the picture.
And I can't keep these ravings apolitical. I just have to comment about some of the outrages of, as Gary Keillor calls him, the Current Occupant (of the "Oval Office"). Let's see how many peccadilloes I can get into one sentence: GWB chastised Congress for taking a "spring break" instead of giving him a bill for funding Iraq that does not impose any deadlines on a pullout, although it gives him every dollar the troops need, but he will veto it and keep them in harm's way longer because he can't have his way as he had it when the GOP was totally in control -- just before he himself takes off to clear brush and ride his mountain bike in Crawford for the umpteenth time -- he has taken more vacation than any president by far -- and before he took off, he made a recess appointment of one of his buddies, a guy whose nomination he had to withdraw when this guy, Fox, faced drilling from John Kerry the very guy who had been slimed by the Swiftboat/Rove clowns who this guy donated 50K to.
Well, let's all watch Law and Order -- Fred Thompson, who did one term as a senator from Tennessee, is being considered as a presidential candidate. Some people are "excited about him!" He did not disgrace himself during those six years. Might not even have broken the law! Desperation of the GOP for a candidate?
Gounod's most famous work is the opera Faust. Perhaps his most well known work, at least to us oldsters, is "Funeral March of the Marionettes," which was the themesong for the ancient TV show, Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
I'm not saying that Gounod apes Beethoven, just that he uses some of the same classical/romantic techniques and phrasing and styles (don't know what I'm talking about, of course, having had no formal training (or discipline) in music, just have this ear for music and a lot of my life spent listening to it when I should have been doing something constructive -- e.g. learning to play a musical instrument). I still would like to be a classical DJ and that may happen yet. But I doubt it. Maybe a podcast or something.
Since Gounod's "dates" are 1818-1893, his orchestral composing sounds a little retrograde -- Beethoven's dates are 1770-1827, I seem to recall, and his music became increasingly more "romantic" and less "classical" in contrast with Gounod's -- at least in this symphony I'm listening to as I write. One parallel of the two is orchestration: whole orchestra here, horns or oboes there, both composers seem to use them in about the same way. Well, it's over now and the hearing was a delight. And I'm not left with a feeling of doom and death and so forth. In other words, Gounod's symphony sounds more light-hearted -- more fun -- than much of Beethoven's work. I guess I must add that I don't have the feeling of triumph that Beethoven evokes either, in such works as the mighty Eroica (Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major). This Second Symphony of Gounod is definitely "lighter" than the Eroica. Vive la difference.
Gounod was a Parisian, his pianist mother gave him his first lessons in music, he attended the Paris Conservatoire, and he studied 16th century sacred music, Palestrina in particular. Besides operas and symphonies, he wrote string quartets and oratorios. No mediocre composer. And we hardly ever hear him on "classical" radio.
I've been watching piecemeal Electric Horseman afternoons while sitting with Howard. That's the '80's movie shot in Utah when we were living there and Bob Redford and Jane Fonda were younger and prettier (Willie Nelson never ages!). The scene in which Bob and that magnificent horse escape from the St. George cops is still thrilling to me, and of course comic. There's something about a human being riding a horse at full gallop that evokes all kinds of powerful emotions in me. I know, I'm a big sappy sap, but I love the scene where Bob rides that horse -- and it's really him most of the time, although a stunt rider takes over some of the dicier leaps etc. (Greatest ride on film is that of Ben Johnson as a cavalry soldier in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, a Duke oater from way back when. It's Ben all the way. He was the best dang stunt rider ever was. You may remember him from The Last Picture Show or possibly the guy who fights in the saloon with the "sod-buster" Shane.) I also love the scene where Drew Barrymore and Andie McDowell are riding galloping horses in the admittedly awful movie Bad Girls. Which I loved. Forgive me. I have also loved other stinkers, like Havana and -- oh well, you get the picture.
And I can't keep these ravings apolitical. I just have to comment about some of the outrages of, as Gary Keillor calls him, the Current Occupant (of the "Oval Office"). Let's see how many peccadilloes I can get into one sentence: GWB chastised Congress for taking a "spring break" instead of giving him a bill for funding Iraq that does not impose any deadlines on a pullout, although it gives him every dollar the troops need, but he will veto it and keep them in harm's way longer because he can't have his way as he had it when the GOP was totally in control -- just before he himself takes off to clear brush and ride his mountain bike in Crawford for the umpteenth time -- he has taken more vacation than any president by far -- and before he took off, he made a recess appointment of one of his buddies, a guy whose nomination he had to withdraw when this guy, Fox, faced drilling from John Kerry the very guy who had been slimed by the Swiftboat/Rove clowns who this guy donated 50K to.
Well, let's all watch Law and Order -- Fred Thompson, who did one term as a senator from Tennessee, is being considered as a presidential candidate. Some people are "excited about him!" He did not disgrace himself during those six years. Might not even have broken the law! Desperation of the GOP for a candidate?
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Plunder of the Sun: Adventure, Fun, Mexico, Music, Patricia Medina
Rodger Codger from Forlorn River sez:
Just got done watching Plunder of the Sun (1953), a surprisingly enjoyable movie. It was on Turner Classic Movies, which is a staple like bread and milk for me, of course. Black and white, it would have been gorgeous in Technicolor, on location in Mexico. The leads were Glenn Ford and Patricia Medina, and I do commend Joseph Cotten on his excellent taste in marrying that dazzlingly beautiful woman. She was a knockout!
I enjoyed the two buffoons who played the villains, namely Francis L. Sullivan, a Londoner, and Sean McClory, a Dubliner. They made the movie camp, whether it was supposed to be or not. Sullivan is the portly and in this case slovenly one (I was reminded of Sir Peter Ustinov in some roles), a quite familiar character actor, and McClory is the one with a college flattop cut for his platinum blond hair and wearing glasses with heavy black rims popular in the fifties. McClory is supposed to be a villain and he and Ford duke it out several times but I found the Irishman to be amusing and likable. (More than Ford!) And with his fifties-college do and specs, quite silly. In some scenes where he is running around in his summer ice cream suit he looks like some kind of kewpie doll, or a figure to be knocked down in a pinball machine or something. He's a very bad boy but you can't hate him! I hope to see him in other movies in which he plays the good guy because he's the kind of dude I would enjoy hoisting a few with. (Let him join my dream drinking buddies in heaven where all alcoholism is cured and drink only gladdeneth, never stingeth, along with Richard Harris, Peter O'Toole, Tony Hopkins, Dave Letterman, Chevy Chase, John Larroquette, John Berryman, and a host of literati and gifted people and perhaps some of my own relatives who have been cursed by drink in this life: certainly Bud, above all Bud, of Jong Mea and the Hillside and Joe and Betty's. But I digress.)
Diana Lynn is in this too, the same girl who played Cornelia Otis Skinner in Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, a lighthearted memoir of that writer. She is a "tramp" in this movie but an unattractive one, which is the point, because good-guy Glenn confronts her about her loser status as a hooker and she takes his come-to-Jesus talk to heart and appears in the next scene, reformed, as the sweet girl-next-door she always played well because it was real-life wholesome Diana.
Patricia Medina is just drop-dead-gorgeous. Knowing what I do about Duke Wayne's (the ghost producer of this movie) predilection for raven-haired, sloe-eyed Latinas (he married three), I wonder if he hung around the set and pined for her.
The music is by Antonio Díaz Conde, and it is delightful. Besides Senor Conde's dramatic action scoring, which is exciting and the kind of stuff I could listen to all day, the action is in and out of cantinas with sultry guitar and castinets and marimbas and things and a mariachi band, supposedly an intrusion in one scene but they are perfect musicians and the music gladdens your heart: who cares what Ford and Patricia are plotting?
Conde has no biography available that I can find, not even dates of birth or death, but IMDB shows that he scored 258 movies, almost all of them Mexican. He was nominated for awards for about ten of them and won the Ariel award for best score in 1950. He scored movies from 1942-1974.
So much for the "review."
The sky to the south is beautiful. We've gone from cloudless to overcast, and we're now under a severe thunderstorm watch.
"Big wind a-comin'! I hear it hummin'!
"Sky turnin' yeller! Head for the cellar!"
I remember hearing that bluegrass sort of song one morning on WCSI in Columbus when the twins were little during the spring storm season. I believe the year was 1974. Which reminds me, today is April 3rd.
We did get a warning but it only rained and blew and I think we dodged the bullet. The daytime will go from 80 today to about 50 tomorrow, I think. We may get snow flurries one morning on the weekend, Tom said. We're still getting rumbles of thunder and those make Rudy nervous. Me too, just a little.
Just got done watching Plunder of the Sun (1953), a surprisingly enjoyable movie. It was on Turner Classic Movies, which is a staple like bread and milk for me, of course. Black and white, it would have been gorgeous in Technicolor, on location in Mexico. The leads were Glenn Ford and Patricia Medina, and I do commend Joseph Cotten on his excellent taste in marrying that dazzlingly beautiful woman. She was a knockout!
I enjoyed the two buffoons who played the villains, namely Francis L. Sullivan, a Londoner, and Sean McClory, a Dubliner. They made the movie camp, whether it was supposed to be or not. Sullivan is the portly and in this case slovenly one (I was reminded of Sir Peter Ustinov in some roles), a quite familiar character actor, and McClory is the one with a college flattop cut for his platinum blond hair and wearing glasses with heavy black rims popular in the fifties. McClory is supposed to be a villain and he and Ford duke it out several times but I found the Irishman to be amusing and likable. (More than Ford!) And with his fifties-college do and specs, quite silly. In some scenes where he is running around in his summer ice cream suit he looks like some kind of kewpie doll, or a figure to be knocked down in a pinball machine or something. He's a very bad boy but you can't hate him! I hope to see him in other movies in which he plays the good guy because he's the kind of dude I would enjoy hoisting a few with. (Let him join my dream drinking buddies in heaven where all alcoholism is cured and drink only gladdeneth, never stingeth, along with Richard Harris, Peter O'Toole, Tony Hopkins, Dave Letterman, Chevy Chase, John Larroquette, John Berryman, and a host of literati and gifted people and perhaps some of my own relatives who have been cursed by drink in this life: certainly Bud, above all Bud, of Jong Mea and the Hillside and Joe and Betty's. But I digress.)
Diana Lynn is in this too, the same girl who played Cornelia Otis Skinner in Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, a lighthearted memoir of that writer. She is a "tramp" in this movie but an unattractive one, which is the point, because good-guy Glenn confronts her about her loser status as a hooker and she takes his come-to-Jesus talk to heart and appears in the next scene, reformed, as the sweet girl-next-door she always played well because it was real-life wholesome Diana.
Patricia Medina is just drop-dead-gorgeous. Knowing what I do about Duke Wayne's (the ghost producer of this movie) predilection for raven-haired, sloe-eyed Latinas (he married three), I wonder if he hung around the set and pined for her.
The music is by Antonio Díaz Conde, and it is delightful. Besides Senor Conde's dramatic action scoring, which is exciting and the kind of stuff I could listen to all day, the action is in and out of cantinas with sultry guitar and castinets and marimbas and things and a mariachi band, supposedly an intrusion in one scene but they are perfect musicians and the music gladdens your heart: who cares what Ford and Patricia are plotting?
Conde has no biography available that I can find, not even dates of birth or death, but IMDB shows that he scored 258 movies, almost all of them Mexican. He was nominated for awards for about ten of them and won the Ariel award for best score in 1950. He scored movies from 1942-1974.
So much for the "review."
The sky to the south is beautiful. We've gone from cloudless to overcast, and we're now under a severe thunderstorm watch.
"Big wind a-comin'! I hear it hummin'!
"Sky turnin' yeller! Head for the cellar!"
I remember hearing that bluegrass sort of song one morning on WCSI in Columbus when the twins were little during the spring storm season. I believe the year was 1974. Which reminds me, today is April 3rd.
We did get a warning but it only rained and blew and I think we dodged the bullet. The daytime will go from 80 today to about 50 tomorrow, I think. We may get snow flurries one morning on the weekend, Tom said. We're still getting rumbles of thunder and those make Rudy nervous. Me too, just a little.
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