Monthly

Monthly: scrapbook: reborn each month
(Monthly Note follows below)

Sexually Inappropriate
2017 10 17 Yeah, Carrrie (out of Debby)
https://www.yahoo.com/news/carrie-fisher-once-sent-cow-172246704.html
Some producer rolled on top of Carrie’s friend, Carrie threatened him with castration, in a funny way, insulting along the way his manhood. (Carrie pretended to know the extent of his dick: how? when did she measure it?) (If we all lived in a cave, we’d all know everything about everybody; but we’re civilized, it’s all surmise.
Anyhow, here’s further fuel for more than one side of any possible males-and-females are all but biologically incompatible). Bloack widow spider females devour the male who’s just mated with them: he cums, he’s confused, doesn’t know which way to run, she chomps him, food for babies: and what business is it of humans? The black widow female is the size of a blimp compared to the male’s “mosquito”: among humans the female is slightly slighter on average, but she’s got compensating weapons.
Personally I believe that the gender are already balanced by billions of years of evolution: we’ll keep changing, keep going extinct, but we’ve already changed, and yielded, and adapted, and put on disguises.

Jerk Attcha
2017 10 16 This, that, star speaks up: Harvey Weinstein gets them to his hotel room, promises the moon, gives them a splat in the eye. Then more report in, then a cascade: and suddenly we’re remembering Bill Cosby … Now hundreds more write in, “Me too! Me too.”
And I just remembered my own Me Too. Seventh grade: Lenny R. invites me over after school. He lived not in a house but an apartment, first time I’d ever seen one: sunken living room, dishes of hard candy around on the side tables. Lenny says do I want a candy. No thanks. Then Lennie whips out his dick. It’s a monster, almost as long as my own. It’s all news to me, I’ve never had an orgasm, didn’t know about them, never tried. Lenny ships it, Lenny grunts, Lenny goes Oooo, And splat, creamy cum is splashing on his fist.
I didn’t know what it was then, I had no expectation of a result from whipping your dick. But I certainly know what it is now.
Did I report this to anyone? No: I din’t know thre was anything to report: guy jerks at me, all new to me, I go home. I had no idea whether such things happened to other boys, to girls, to White House interns …
And just a minute ago I was watching a basketball news desk, and there was Isiah Thomas with his angelic smile: another predator. How come he’s a news star: doesn’t anyone remember the accusations at the Knicks?

Is such behavior common as dirt? I bet it isn’t. Human society has always been taboo saturated; we’re in an exceptional time.

Weinstein Bros.
2017 10 14 “In an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, the younger Weinstein who cofounded Miramax and The Weinstein Company (TWC) said: ‘I want him to get the justice that he deserves’.” Can someone please explain to me how we are to know what justice a human predator “deserves”? The Bible says “judge not, lest ye be judged”. Actually, forget about the “lest ye” part; the judge not is clear and familiar. Judgment is supposed to be God’s exclusive bailiwick: a monopoly. OK, so we don’t believe in God: E’en so, how does it follow that we inherit his domains. I don’t believe in God’s judgment. Fine. How does it follow that I believe in man’s judgment? society’s judgment?
I don’t believe that Pilat was competent to judge Jesus. I don’t believe that kleptocrats are competent to judge Harvey Weinstein.

But answer me this also: with or without “proof”: where does anyone, least of all the NYTimes, get off being shocked at studio heads alledgedly whoring candidate actors and acrtresses? It’s a cliche I’ve heard all my life, “She slept her way to the part”. How stupid do the denizen s of hell have to be to know that they’re in hell? or not in hall? It looks like hell, it smells like hell, tastes like hell, why shouldn’t we understand that it’s hell?!
No God? it doesn’t follow that there’s no hell.

I also repeat: you say you don’t believe in God: fine: does that prove that there is not God? What if another two thousand years pass and there’s still no evidence of God? That still doesn’t prove anything. Even if the end of the univers came, that still wouldn’t prove anything.

Proof Roundabout
2017 10 14 Quentin Tarantino expresses dismay at the allegations about Harvey Weinstein. Think for a minute, think of Pulp Fiction: isn’t that the movie where some leather freak locks people up, molesting them, torturing them, murdering them? Wash’t it Harvey who got the money for that?

Imagine Judgment. Imagine Tarantino in the dock. Imagine God showing Pulp Fiction, intercutting to Weistein’s fat face, sweating Tarantino.
Now imagine a God who isn’t a terrorist bully. Imagine that reason is something that can be reasonably discussed by humans. Who should be swearing?

Harvey Wants a Second Change
Second? Second?! Hasn’t he already had a thousand chances? Two thousand?

Statute of Limitations
My dear patron, friend, host Catherine astonished me back in the 1990s when she said, apropos of sexual misconduct allegations against some supreme court candidate [Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill], the alleged offense hving taken place a while before [early 1990s], never previously reported, that there should be a time limit for accusations. What, if the Nazis ca nlock the Jew away for five years the Jew has only four years to complain? The woman goe4s into therapy but only feels strong enough to speak out after the limit has expired?
I’d like to see nature set such statutes: tell the cavemen, You’ve got five years to figure out fire: if you haven’t kindled a fire in five years theh you may not, not matter how much flint you master.

Dictating Pop
2017 10 15 I’ve got to redraft this. First I start with a generalization: I’ve long resented like hell amateurs passing opinions as truths: The Beatles are the greatest band. The Beach Boys are the greatest band. Guy Lombardo has the greatest band. This is double annoying when I’ve already long held differnt opinions: Duke Ellington has the greatest band: except for Count Basie: so long as you don’t count Miles Davis.
But of course the people pushing the Beatles in your face aren’t competent to know why Duke is revered, or the Count.
I remember a student (not in my class) pontificating that The Graduate (when it was playing locally as a new release) was “the greatest movie ever made.” The girl was zophtic, blond, had champion buttocks, but had she ever seen Intolerance? Grand Illusion? Modern Times?
La Strada? 8 1/2?
Her authority resonated best with her peers, student her age, with similarly shallow experience.

2017 10 14
My recent binging on Monty Python has spilled into related binges. I’ve long followed the Pythons as individuals: Cleese did Norway, Land of Giants, and Fawlty Towers, and Fish Called Wanda; Michael Palin did Missionaries, was in Time Bandits … This time around I’m also paying attention to the female regulars: Life of Brian offers good opportunities. Earlier this week I watched and admired physical comedy via fisticuffs between Connie Booth and John Cleese. Simultaneously Ive been enjoying reviews of the Beatles, enjoying them even more than when they were current. Such indulgencces can go on and on since som much material was recorded, kekpt, cared for. and I’m also enjoying Beatle feales< Pattie Boyd, her sister, other men in Pattie's life … I'm enjoying seeing parallels between Paul's Beatle mop and Pattie's deadpan cuteness. Richard Lester cast Pattie, George felt sympatico, asked her out … married her …

What I don't like about this nostalgia is beng in my face reminded of Beatle era judgments: The Beatles are the best blah blah, Sgt. Petter is the best blah blah …

When I was about ten someone loaned me a windup Victrola. I took it into the yard and played Spike Johes desecrations at full volume. The neighbor asked me to turn it down. I realied: annoying the neibhbors, imposing my whim on them was 99% of what I was doing. Once I collected jazz and was very chosey, I brought more power, more volume to my backyard: Lionel Hampson really made everyone racism race.
If I hadn’t known how offensive black genius was to local white prejudice I found evidence galore and found it pronto.

back in a min

Theological Normalcy
2017 10 12 A couple of thoughts were mixing oddly as I gradually awoke this morhing. One, I was visiting some of my usual ironies: people imagine divine judgment, but trust that God’s judgment will be subject to their, human, approval: God wouldn’t dare allow something to be true that offended (or failed to flatter) a human majority. And, two, at the same time I was watching collisions between unfamiliar extentions of humas familiarites. How shall I express this? I was watching and enjoying a British TV show on a travelling medical clinic: doctors and nurses visit your neighborhood: and the cameras look up people’s ass, into their twat: look at their enflamed penis stalk … One woman is worried that her labia extend abnormally: she’s reluctant to be intimate, not trusting what a companion would think of her. The nurses assure this woman that her little lips protruding from her big lips is not abnormal. Funny, the woman is afraid to show her details to a lover but does show the TV world. And I was reminded of porn star Houston having her labia trimmed. She looked good to me both before and after.) (But of course I don’t look at a pussy so much as I dwell in it, touching, breathing, tasting.)
So I was imaginging God at such a clinic probing his abnormalities: is his dick a little big, is his stalk a little red …? and of course immediately there’s the idea that God had to have come first, the egg, the chicken, so any idea of normalcy must see him as normal, the source, and us, as the ones who got it wrong (or right).
Regardless, I love the idea of God discussing his particulars with a tent full of nurses.

Columbus Day
2017 10 09 I never thought I’d see the day when kleptocrats were embarrassed by formative exploitativeness. So now let’s blame yesterday’s heroes. If Columbus hadn’t planned to exploit whatever he found would Queen Isabela have funded him?
If you want funding today the best principal is to avoid embarrassing your fellow kleptocrats: take the lead in lying.

Plagiarizing LeBron
2017 10 08 King James wrote that a champion team invited to the White House was a great honor “until you (Donald Trump) showed up. Millions read it. “You bum.” Only these couple of days later Trump writes the same line!: in order to pick petty at the great Steph Curry.
Plagiarizing LeBron is the greatest blunder I’ve ever seen in politics: or would be if everyone else weren’t also a moron..

Continues as reverse chronology: Monthly Archive

Such archives date backwards: counter chronological: today, yesterday, the day before … (Continues in several archive choices.)

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Posted in pk Personal, pk Teaching

Schooled Movies

/ DeCentral / DeGate / Deschool / Rants

Homefront (2013 film)
Jason Statham, James Franco, Winona Ryder, Kate Bosworth … Well, the cast sounds good. YouTube gives me a sample. Statham is called into the school his daughter attends. She’s punched the hell out of some bully, daddy is called on the carpet. Statham admits “Well, maybe that’s partly my fault: I taught my daughter to defend herself.”
No one accuses the school of having taught his daughter to defend herself: but why is he half defending his inalienable right as a parent? (as a human)? But she hit him so hard one bureaucrat complains.
In the school parking lot James Franco tries to pressure Statham. Statham puts him on the ground, fast and hard! Imagine me trying to lean into Joe Louis!
But did you have to take him down so hard? queries another upstaged bureaucrat, some sheriff. Ask Joe Louis not to hurt Max Schmeling!
But it’s ridiculous: Franco looks tough: until you see Statham!!!
Back in the truck with Kate Bosworth, she accuses Franco of being a “pussy”. Clearly the school system here represents Franco, and Boswoth; not Statham or the daughter!

One think pricelss: we already know how very very English Statham is: what’s he doing with these egregious rednecks? Clearly the idea of free markets, freedom of any kind, had nothing to do with it!

Deschool Menu

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Agitating Manners

/ Culture /

I just remembered a date from the 1970s. I was invited to a party by a client in Rockville Centre on Long Island. The party was in Balkwin. My client’s granddaughter would be there: a former Broadway show girl, a singer, dancer, actress, now unfortunately crippled. The girls at the party all were attractive and looked ripe for an affair. They looked non-plussed as I paid attention only to the cripple. I’m not sure what Grandma intended but I began to fantasize about the cute hips and round once-dancer’s-bottom of the girl I’ll call “Hair”, ’cause that’s the title of the show she had been appearing in when she became crippled. I invited her for a weekend and her family delivered her to me in Long Beach: she needed taxi service and they volunteered trip one.

I want to ponder one thing that made my attraction to her evaporate:

Who Is the Waiter Serving?
Women and Children; Not Work-A-Daddy.

Hair wants veal picata for diner, she requested a favorite restaurant. The waiter recognized her: fine: catereed to her: fine: ignored me; not fine.
The waiter brings menus, asks Hair only if she’s ready to order, ignores me. He finally takes my order too, as an afterthought. Mid meal the waiter asks Hair, not me, how everything is.
We eat, we have desert, the waiter shoves the bill by my elbow, still not looking at me.

I’m mad at the waiter, mad at the restaurant for having such an ill-trained waiter, but I’m also a little mad at Hair for so utterly cooperating with the waiter’s ignoring of me, the presumed Work-a-Daddy: the scmuck bill payer: the Daddy who not only knows not-best, but not-at-all: like the Romanoff’s during the Russian Revolution.

I’m with her, it’s a first date, I’m trying to be nice: but I was tempted to insist that the waiter present the bill to Hair! not me. What did I, 1970 inventor of the internet, have to do with the bill?

Hair and I were going to walk on the boardwalk later one. My apartment was 210 Shore Road, right on the boardwalk, open sky all around, left to right. I’d screw her brains out, then we’d have a nice walk. But the TV was on, PBS, and the announcer promised a documentary on Edvard Munch.

Edvard Munch
after David’s Death of Marat, Munch and girlfriend modeling

thanx theculturetrip

“Oh, wait, I have to see that.””
But Hair never understood what I was talking about: and I was despairing that she’d never understand anything I said. Maybe I shouldn’t have pronounced the artist’s name in Norwegian. Maybe she wouldn’t have known Picasso either.

Her family picked her up the next day. And that was that.
No, A month later she called me, how was I? I wasn’t rude, not too rude, but I wan’t encouraging. She heard that and got off the phone. And that was that.

I don’t think I could ever explain to her what restaurant manners used to be once upon a time. We grew up in different worlds. But there was something else too, something I absolutely would not address with her:
In the 1950s and into the 1960s Barbara Streisand’s People was all over the jukebox. I’d get up and leave the West End when it came on. She was emoting, but it wasn’t singing, she was screaming: I couldn’t stand it. So, mid-meal Hair announces to me that Barbara Steisand is the greatest singer. I didn’t leap in to agree: so she insisted that I understand that she, Hair, a Broadway singer, was an expert, a professional singer herlself, blah blah blah. No, no: it shouldn’t be for me to introduce this barbarian to Billie Holliday, to Lena Horne, to a couple of really great singers.

If you don’t understand that I’m the founder of FLEX, a disciple of master Christian Ivan Illich, that my FLEX gave the world a chance to become Christian, at least to discuss a couple of the implications, you can’t know what I’m saying or who’s saying it.
I failed: before, then, since: but I join a host of failures (results not yet in).

A re-edit might help. There’s a zillion find points not yet mentioned.

Culture

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Political Symbols

/ Scholarship / Symbols /

Symbols can be tricky. Don’t rely on the symbol user(s) to understand more than a fraction of the symbol. And absolutely don’t expect the symbol user(s) to fully aware or honest about their symbols. Do expect symbol users to assume that you will assume that their use is intelligent and honest. Expect them to assume it in the face of evidence to the contrary: take our present president for example”: is he inciting us to murder, to arson, to disorder; or is he talking us out of it?

His appeal to our being “Americans”, for example. Does that have any objective meaning? What’s the meaning of a mob or protest?

Charlottesville 2017 08 mid-month
What’s the meaning of people, mostly men, marching with torches? That has a long-standing meaning among Americans. Isn’t it so familiar as to be obvious? Doesn’t it mean “We’re a lynthing party? The law means whatever we say it means? and we can change our meaning thirty times an hour. It means We’re Christians! But God didn’t give us this land: we took it! We took it fro the natives, we built it by slave labor, we order it by terrorism.

We all have some idea what “cross”es mean; how well do we understand the burning cross. You wake up, there’s a seven foot wooded cross planted in your lawn, flaming. Is your piety being saluted? Or is your life being threatened? Have your “rights” now been revoked?
Those revoking your rights: how did they get the “right” to revoke them?

Whether or not you voted for Trump, does he now have the right (or power) to redefine the law? Does freedom of speech mean that you dare not speak? and if you do speak, do you dare not say anything challenging or difficult? or unconventional?

Aspects of Symbols To Watch Out For
School compels us to attend and to profess belief that forced attendance and free speech somehow go together. People seem to be so stupid that they can “think” that writing something down makes it true. Slavery is illegal now: therefore, all those people trapped in their cabins on this plantation (or in Chicago tenements, there’s not much difference) are free, not slaves: Christians, not robots.

You have freedom of assembley: that’s why the cops set off the tear gas.

Another trick is: if we compare our experience with what we’re told about ancient Romans, then we may seem free. No, no, compare yourself and your moviements with the humans who walked out of Afrida tens of thousands of years ago. I don’t know how well they were free; but I know perfectly that we are not.

scribble always needs revision, editing

To date I’ve commented on personal symbols, pk idiosyncracies; I’ve taken common understanding for granted. But some symbols which are huge, under our nose, escape detection, are more micro-understood than macro-understood: dwell in musunderstanding.

K. Teaching Thinking Tools
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Nietzsche Notes

/ Scholarship / Reading Notes /

I first heard of Friedrich Nietzsche as a freshman in college. I didn’t then claim to have read much or well (or understood much, or well) but on a number of occasions since then, 1956-57, I realize I’d read (and understood) more than I’d claimed. I remember walking with my favorite intellectual, Myron (age fifteen), from Battery Park back to Columbia on Morningside Heights and we talked as we walked, Nietzsche, Nietzsche, Nietzsche.

It’s hard for me to remember, humiliating, because Myron was a Schopenhauer scholar: I still only barely know who Schopenhauer was!

Yesterday evening I watched Genius of the Modern World, Chap 2, Nietzsche. Now I’m about to watch it again: and prepare this spillway for notes.

I like this presenter, Bettany. Three days ago I watched Merx, two days ago I watched Marx again! Then I watched Nietzsche, and yesterday watched Nietzsche again: and watched part of Nietzsche again this morning. Some of my thoughts from the mid 1950s return to me now, and most welcome. Bettany tells us that Nietzsche despised Darwin: in his search for a post-Christian morality, a morality that didn’t need any authority, any God, Nietsche argued that his superman had no need to procreate, or even to survive himiself: martyrdom (non conventional) might be the best, the most noble, heroic path. Suddenly my own life, my whole life, shines before me as an example. The herd needs survival, not the hero.
Note: people misread Darwin, impose alien misreadings on him, it’s the readers’ fault, not Darwin’s. Ah, but Nietzsche: that’s partly the philosopher’s fault: he wrote so vividly, leading into our prejudices. It’s certainoly Elizabeth’s fault.

I’d always heard the Nietzsche’s sister (Elizabeth) fooled the world by appropriating his work, abandoned by him, and making it hers, adhering to her lights. So: which Nietzsche are you reading?
I’m reminded of Thomas Hardy. Mrs. Hardy was forever being told that she was married to a genius, a great writer: Oh, yeah, well I’m a pretty great writer too, Mrs. H. thought: by which she mean stock Christian. No, no, that is not what Hardy was.

So funny: remembering my Victorian studies from 1963: Hardy today, Eliot yesterday!

Reading Notes A — L By Author M — Z
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Mushroom Anniversary

/ Culture /

I have a rare memory: I remember Pearl Harbor! US involvement in WWII was packed into the next couple of years: ’41 to ’45. I also remember in that period hearing huge airplanes overhead: bracing, trembling. There were airplanes before WWII, but it wasn’t until Hiroshima that the sky was filled with nghmare. Little kid, six, seven years old, hears the loud bombers: we brace, we freeze, we’re ready for eclipse.

By 1950 people my age were ready for any day to be our last. It didn’t matter whether the US won or lost some war, we expected our life to be at an end. And we certainly didn’t believe that even at age 3 or 4 that we were innocent in the matter. There followed Kennedy’s threats and Khrushchev banging his shoe and bombs and bombers filling Havana.

Most Christians believe that they’re the exception, No? I was always ready to believe that we are the rule: there’s no essential difference between us and the goofballs who stood by while the Romans, led by the pecker by Jews, crucified Jesus. We’re stupid, we’re evil, and we’ll do stupid and evil things at every opportunity.

But let’s concentrate on only one thing here: I heard loud noises in the sky, monster machines roared overhead, I was not the only mortal expecting any moment to be my last. We bombed, why shouldn’t we be bombed? The Passion typified our acts of justice: we built a republic on slavery, not to mention genocide: anyone can see the quality of our innocence.

Did Germans believe after WWI, with Hitler’s rise in the ’30s, that bellicosity made them safe? ? I suspect that’s a fault universal in human belief.

Look at Trump: he really seems to believe that leading with his face makes him look intelligent.
We want to look intelligent, fool the world, so we elect him.

What launched this babble last week was a Yahoo headlined Trump Has Been President for Six Months Now and It’s Exhausting. And North Korea is banging its shoe on our lectern. Between me in the early ’40s and this generation of kids is acceptance of your own doom the norm? or the exception?

I drafted this last week without posting it. Now I do post it, sparked by today’s Yahoo headline that N Koreas IBMs aren’t very dangerous after all. I believe it; but it doesn’t make me trust the world. I don’t trust humans, I don’t find human intelligence to be genuine: more like BT Barnum suckers: This way to the Exodus.

Note: Am I quoting Barnum’s sign correctly? Barnum charged admission, people pid it, but then stayed all day. Barnum wanted more cash at the entrance: so he put up sign intended to confuse the illiterate, get them to leave: they could come back in if they paid a fresh entrance fee. Good. But was “exodus” the word he chose to mask “exit”? You know what I mean whatever the word was.

Fire & Fury
2017 08 10 Uh oh, now Trump is toying with the nukes, toying with crazy men.
Read Jared Diamond’s stats on primitive warfare: seems to be universal, universally deadly: how did we ever get to here from there. One day we’ll really be here, and there, and everywhere: so much jelly.

Culture

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Sexist Quantification

Quantification is a key concept, modern and still only partially developed: Galileo timed things with his pulse: most people still don’t get it, not even if they’re in a science department at Harvard.

Wimbledon is coming, the tennis world, the civilized world, is about to retest its enthusiasms: who’s number 1? (on grass) Who’s #2? Who’s 1 and 2 among the women …

Johnnie Mac, a good tennis player but an even better stand-up (or sit-down) commentator, had said that Serena Williams was one of the greatest athletes of all time. He’d also said that she was the best female tennis player ever seen publicly. Ah, but people, people who don’t know their ass from their elbow, were saying that he said she was one of the greatest, period; so he had to qualify: greatest female tennis player. He qualified further: if we were talking about tennis players worldwide, without regard to gender, he estimated she’d be able to play competitively among the males at a level around 700 world-wide: the top 699 male tennis players would beat her off the court; she might split sets with players #700, 701.

Serena didn’t thank him for the compliment. Until we actually test such claims in a series of tournaments, it’s neither a compliment nor an insult. It would become a compliment if we knew, from rational testing, how other great female tennis players would have faired against the top several hundred men. Ask yourself, you can’t “look it up”: how deep among the males would Chrissie have had to play before she won, ever? before she won consistently? How deep would Navrotalova have had to play? Lenglen? Hingis? When would Sharapova have started to win a set now and then playing against males? 800? 900? Would Martina Hingis have been able to beat ranked males while the number was still three-figures? Played the 700th ranked male Hingis loses 0-6, 0-6? How about Court? Lenglen?
How many women players would win a single game before we got to male #1,000? #3,015?

Myth must not be tested.

No, no. Notice. Civilization doesn’t know the answer. We’ve been protected from the answer. We’re in the realm where reason is forbidden, myth rules. Myth must not be tested, no quantification for religious beliefs.

Serena’s reply to Mac was was cute: please limit yourself to things knowable!

Wait: no imagining allowed? Notice, the web interviews celebrities; no scientists, no philosophers. No, no. Our prejudices are far too important to us to allow rational inquiry: no testing allowed.

Chrissy’s responses to such speculations decades ago were right on the moneh: playing about John, her husband, Lloyd, she wouldn’t have won a single point! the best woman player in the world, multiply tested, not one point!!

later Tuesday afternoon
Wow, Mac got a lot of people’s goat. Now he’s said he wished that men and women did compete together: then we’d “know”; “We wouldn’t have to guess!”

Whatever John’s point; that’s my point: Guessing is all we’re allowed because myth is involved. Vested interest.

It’s too late to test the past; but we could try to figure out how to test the future: next Wimbledon women’s champ: schedule her against the men, figure her place: then, Always test.
Or, don’t: but then admit that you don’t want to know.

Knowledge isn’t easy, but some knowledge ought to be possible: at least more possible than it’s been.

2017 09 21 Way back memory:
I was just watching a doc with guys surfing in Scotland amid snow: and I remember first seeing Tne Endless Summer, so great, wonderful. and I’m reminded of a surfing profile from that period: California surfer gal explained why she wore a long pony tale. She explained that as a proud sufer gal she wanted her gender to be telegraphed at a distance: because if anyone mistook her for a guy they would think she was lousy! Bless that girl. That was the 1960s. Glad to be remembering you, gal: I love you.

I love women. I love athletic women. I love funny women. Just in the last couple of weeks I’ve been gaga over Jessie Graff, the marvelous stuntwoman. Search YouTube.

EG Scrapbook
Something related has been assaulting me on YouTube: clips of Jason Statham as a NARC among meth-cooking rednecks, you know, something like witness protection, he’s living in disguise: some fat ugly stupid bully, that is, a male, fails to intimidate the NARC daughter, Maddie. It’s ridiculous, it doesn’t correspond to the world: Holywood having no idea of reality. Do men ever bully women? Certainly they do, regularly, but distinguish extortion from harem building. Bulls don’t but heads with the females; they fuck the females and but heads with the candidate males.

Thinking Tools

first draft,
2017 06 26 -27

John McEnroe called Serena Williams one of the greatest athletes he’s ever seen. He ameded that to The greatest female tennis players, etc. Now Mac says that if she played on the men’s tour she’d be ranked maybe 700th. That’s very good: has any female player ever been likely to do better than that? It’s a surprise only to those who don’t know or understand a thing about it.

I’m reminded of an interview with Chrissie Everett from decades ago, she was married to tennis player John Lloyd at the time. Lloyd was a pro but was wasn’t top dozen or two. An interviewer asked Chrissie how she’s fare if whe played singles against her husband. “I wouldn’t win a single point,” Chrissie answered.
No. She was just the best female player in the world. The best.
And we fans loved her.

PS Would Chrissie have been around 700 among the men? I doubt it. That’s Serena’s accomplishment.
And of course she would have shellacked Bobby Riggs, the conning old drunk. But until it can be quantified, tested, it’s just bullshit. And “Bobby Riggs” isn’t a real test: he was the top male pro once upon a time, a long time ago. That was tested, quantified. But tests would have to be regular, and unregulated, that is not regulated by church or crown, to be rationally meaningful. I like to see Serena, at her best, say age twenty-five, tested against the top males, the top several hundred males, for lots of money, before we judge whether “700” is a compliment or an insult. I read it as a compliment, but what do I know? same as Mac knows: next to nothing.

There was a story today right on the money where Mrs. Mac said to John Why don’t you and I play mixed doubles together at Wimpledon. Johm replied, But you’re not a tennis player! She responded, “Exactly.”
You need a tradition of quantification, continuous testing.

I’m also reminded of the days when Nixon’s White House was acusing Times journalists of being “self-appointed.” And actual Times journalist mocked, “Hello, I’d like to appoint myself Nixon-critic at the New York Times“!
No, the jounalists are hired and promoted by the editors who are hired and promoted by the owners who are hired and promoted by the advertizers, the university journalism departments. … Right, Mrs. Mac, exactly, you don’t just walk into Wimbledon and appoint yourself to the qualies, then to the final sixteen …

If Mac is right, and Serena would really be able to play @ 70 +-, then where would Martina fit? and where Martina Hingis? and where Margaret Court? Evonne … If there are really difference between males adn females let us know rationally what they are, and not by court of no-data-allowed.

I would really like it if you’re average fan could instantly retort, Yeah, Serena can play at 700; could Martina have played anywhere near 700? or Hingis or Suzanne Lenglen?

Suzanne Lenglen

PS I was able to track down pix of the divine Suzanne Lenglan because since age 15, wandering MOMA, I’ve been a huge fan of her cousin, Jacques Henri Lartigue.

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