Monthly: scrapbook: formerly reborn each month
deactivated due to encroaching blindness: additions, editing nigh impossible.
“007”, “Licensed to Kill”
Race validates or invalidates such licenses. Black security guagd in a Chicago suburb pacified a shooter at a bar, 4 am. Cops arrived and the universally understood code was understood: black guy, with gun: shoot the black guy with gun.
Black guy is wearing unifrom, displaying badge? It doesn’t matter: it could be fake, he stole it from a costume store.
YouTube invites me to listen in on political tripe: sometimes I do, a little. Last night I learned that the Clintons stole furniture from the White House: wsere ordered to return said furniture: Trump people make a partisan mockery. I love it.
2018 09 30 YouTube is so great at providing interviews. I’ll now watch anything with Jordan Peterson: and for years now I’ll joyfully watch any interview with Steve Kerr.
But how come the powers that pay Kerr lots of money don’t demand that he keep his fingers out of his mouth while talking to the public? Peterson doesn’t havre a boss in the same sense, but that makes it more important: he’s a teacher, his speech must be clear.
Have you ever seen Anthony Hopkins mask his meaning with fingersin his mouth? If Brando did it he was almost certainly expressing character; not just being rude and ineffective.
I’ll tell you what’s inecusable: Steph Curry makes out eyeballs spin in their sockets. They hand him a mic. First thing out of his mouth, every time: “… uh … er …”
2018 09 17 Did Pilat know who Jesus was?
Do you know who I am? Do I know you?
Did Rome ever know who anyone was whom they condemned to torture, imprisonment, death?
The hunter shoots the bear in the woods: did the hunter know what the bear was? any better than the bear knew who the hunter was?
What would we accept as proof that we did know who or what the bear was? How about if we could sequence the bear’s DNA? Clone a bear from our knowledge?
What if Judgment arrives and God throws us all into hell: will we then know Jesus? Will you know me? Would Pilat then know Jesus? or the bear?
Could we show God that we know Jesus? or God? or anything?
pk & grandson, Benjamin, visit 1000 year Big Oak
I first met this tree in 1989. Highland Hammock State Park’s sign said that the tree had been measured to be 36 feet in circumference, four feet above ground level. I think it’s now shrunk a bit: like me.
No Irony Allowed
2018 08 28 Not Even Sarcasm
I was arrested by the FBI for sarcasm: theFBI even rewrote my sarcasms: as though I hadn’t known what I was doing. Not only would cops have to have a sense of play, so would teachers.
No, no. Forbidden. Banished.
2018 08 26 Wow, what a time in history: (A) the Roman Catholic Church is being raked over the coals for harboring pedophiles: they fuck the little girls, and the little boys too. Now, like Watergate we ask, Did the Pope know about it? Well, Nixon knew about his dirt, didn’t he? How could he not? And isn’t not knowing more sinful than knowing? Meantime, (B) Another headline claims that Americans deserve to know if the President is as currept as his key aids. Again, Nixon said the American people had a right to know “if their president was a crook”. Hey, aside a moment: the Anerican 1people have no such “right”; if they did, they’d know that their candidate was a crook before the election.
(C) Once upon a time when the princes of Europe saw that the people saw that the priests and popes and nuns we1re as crooked, as randy, as all get out they said Oh, Goody: now we’ll sell the state as full of promise. And they did. The sold the state to the hilt!
Don’t blame me. I don’t believe in the church or the state. I don’t believe in the people either!
more in a sec
2018 08 20 Aretha died, bless her. YouTube featured her singing Nessun dorma, from Turando: an aria for tenor: Pavarotti had a sore throught, and they turned the occasion transgender. I was thrilled, tears runing down my cheeks. Then I watched it again: then I loaded up a video of Pavorotti himself doing the honore. Jeeus, what a song.
I invite you to eheck on a few things with me: boy, is the culture all mixed up here:
Tourdandot means daughter of Turan. Turan was a place name in central asia. Princess Turandot is supposed to be available for suitable proposals. It’s a sphynx kind of mythg: there are three riddles to solve: solve them you get the princess, fail andyou die. The prince solves all riddles, still the princess doesn’t want to marry: and there dlesn’t seem to be any reins on her absolutism. The danger escalates: now everyone will die at dawn: and still there’s been no putsch, no revolution, people volunteer to support arbitrary absolute power and its abuses.
When I was a kid my regular playmate was Anne Carol. She wanted to pretend that I was the khan and that she was the beautiful queen. She swiftly made it clear that my role was to lavish jewels as well as attention on her; but all I wanted to to abuse power. “Off with her head”, I’d order. That was seventy years ago. I didn’t know Turandot then, and I still didn'[t know it as of yesterday afternoon. Now what I don’t know is how far into Italian cheeks Italian tongues penetrated when Puccinni was wrighting this jabber. I see that I was wrong to assume stupidity or lack of seriousness on their part: keep the stupid story hanging around through WW I? Why knows this history? speak up.
Oh, and check out the video of Aretha mastering the tenor vehicle.
Wow. I’m gonna give it another listen right now.
Oh: the prince comes up with a few stipulations of his own. Turandot will learn his name by dawn or she wil die! Gee, and I was just beginning to approve asian dictatorships for population control: especially royal population.
2018 08 21 I’ve tried to check on the p[lot of this opera. Understand, I have low vision, deteriorating weekly if not daily. I don’t trust new information I take in ortry to take in; I’m much more secure in my meories from a half century ago, decades, years ago. Pucinni’s ploy resembles a zillion familiar stories: Shakespeare romances: Pericles, Winters Tale. But I’m most reminded of Chaucer: his astonishing Knight’s Tale. That’s a must-know tangle. Two knights are imprisoined in a toward. They hear the voice of a woman walking in the garden. One falls instantly in love on hearing her; theother falls instantly in love on seeing her. They’re best friends, ordinarily they’d give each other their life, and welcome. But her they get all tanhgled like lawyers.They agree to fight for her: winner gets the girl. The tough guy prays to Mars to win the contest. The guy first in love with her prays to Venus to get the girl. Meantime the girl doesn’t want to have anything to do with these clowns. She prays to Diana, the virgin goddes, her bow-weilding hunting goddess, that everyone with drop dead and let her go on but over the hunting, alone.
That tangle pissed me off when I first learned of it: a common reaction. But as the century rollwed on and we got a big bite out of another, I love this story more and more. I rell it from memory, forgive me if I got details wrong: I swear, that’s the basic sory.
Mars tells his guy he’ll win. Venuis tells her guy he’ll get the girl. Diana tells her girl she’ll do her best.
All the god twist each others’ arms, calling in favors: all heaven is involved in the conflic. Mars declares that heaven owes him. Venus uses her charms full-tilt. Diana tests the water. Zeus tells Mars I hear you. Ditto Venus. Poor Diana is given short shrift: no one sticks up for virginity: women may rule but they’ll never be equal: Diana is told to suck it up. So what can possibly happen? The gods are stymied. Aj” sp cjaps trumps order. Saturn sends an earthquke: the hero’s horse is knocked sideways. Mars’ honbor is saved; Diana never had a chance; Venus and Darwin get the genearation abreeding.
but But the grandfather ofths gods sends an earth quake. Moment of truth arrives. The hero wins the tournament. Typos can happen to even skilled typists, but they shouldn’t happen to theblind. Figure what I’m probably saying no matter what the text appears to say.
Get the point: infertility will lose no matter who promised what to whom. So Turandot is gonna get shafted. But by dawn she seems to be read to fall in love with hger prince: she wans’t ripe yesterday but she is repe today.
2018 08 17 I’ve been falling crazy in love with YouTube these past couple of months; but the past several days I’ve been living a YouTube nightmare of misinformation. We humans depend on institutions for information; institutions depend on misinformation in their power mnonopolies. It’s complex of course: let me make one example clear:
Ijust heard a smug narrator say that the Anglican Church is “Protestant”, “no doubt about it”! But there’s plenty of doubt about it: it’s merely false. King Henry VIII separated his church from the Roman Catholic Church; he did not separate his church from the Catholic Church. Henry hanged Roman Catholics — for treason. Henry argued that his Bishop (antchbishop) of Canterbury had authority descended from Peter: thus, his Church of England was the Catholic Church, the true Christian church. Henry burned Protestants — as heretics. He was NOT Protestant.
2018 08 15 I drafted a word or two on golf, on Tiger climbing back up, one how humans delude themselves about their competence on thing after thing … but of course it all evaporated in a tsunami or hardware induced typos. I’ll try to recreate some of it, reducing the volume to nearly none:
I remember first hitting golf balls, 1980: North Truro MA, Lido Beach LI NY … I never deluded myself that I could hit homer with Dimag or the Mick; but I regularly deluded myself that I could hit a golf gall not that far behind Nichols, Watson, Couples … I bet I’m not alone.
I love Jye Eyre. I’ve loved Jane Eyre since the 1950s when I first read it. I’ve loved Jane Eyre since the 1960s when I second read i. I’ve loved Jane Eyre each of the successive times I’ve watched this or that film version of it: each having its virtues. I particularly love the one I’m watching currently: Zepherelli. Charlotte Gainsbourg! I do not however lover Jane Eyre infinitly. Charlotte Brontë astonishes us as we watch Jane fall in love with Mr. Rochester. It’s amazing how she crafts Rochester giving away hints as to his own feelings for Jane. He’s also clear that he’s heterosexual, that’s he’s no viurgin, that he’s playingg his games for his own benefit. She tricks us time and again as to the nature and source of the weirdness around Rpcjester’s mansion. Who are these Jamaicans? Why is there a pyromaniac running around loose? By this iteration I’m fed up with the mysteries in the attic. Rochester wasted little time fucking the show girls; shy doesn’t he just get a good mouthful of pussy from this little governess, and worry about formalities later? Well, they’re Victorians, you see.
But then I love it again. There’s no not loving it.
Bo Derek’s Black Braids
2018 08 2018
thanx the Dereks
10 appeared in 1979. I’d loved Dudley Moore since Bedazzled.
Now, help me remember: we all remember 10, we all loved Dudley Moore: and accepted John Guilgud as a substitue for Peterr Cook! but when did we all acknowledge that Bo’s shell-tipped
brids had till then been strictly pickaninny-style? She didn’t get it from Venus: Venus launched the ghetto style a decade later: no?
Free Offensive Speech
2018 07 30 Our president can tweet anything he wants, baseball pitchers follow suit. People are fired from seven figure jobs, in companies they founded, as we manage their diction for correctness. Once upon a time, in the early Sixties, I read a lot of George Bernard Shaw. He was funny, he made me laugh. And he said bold things about important things: one point on censorship — Shaw was much censored — I’ll repeat here:
First noting: Shaw believed in a strong state, he was a Fabian Socialist (Boo! Moron!);
I am an anarchist: I don’t believe that any state is legitimate.
Shaw beliueved in censorship: he just believed that the matter should be clear. The author, when he first sits down to write, should be able to know what’s legal and what’s illegal. I may be constrained from mounting a play in which the cblond blows the horse on stage: butit must be clear to one and all that I can hint it.
If we have something that can be disrespected as N’s, then we must be able to use the N-words: freely, and without fear of being jailed after we’ve invested the farm in staging the play.
If the sitting president is free to tell lies, issue him a license. I, the President, am free to abuse the internet with lies, you can’t constitutionally stop me!
2018 10 08 My macular degeneration renders my vision lower daily. I can’t maintain these blogs the way I had. But I don’t know what good I ever did anyway. Once I thought that writing was for communication, that comminication was for survival, that the articulate had an advantage; now I believe that writing’s only purpose is to act as witness against us.
Continues as reverse chronology: Monthly Archive
Such archives date backwards: counter chronological: today, yesterday, the day before … (Continues in several archive choices.)