Don't you hate it when you can't place a face?
Watching Law & Order, last Monday, the guru looked so familiar there was no rest until the mystery was solved.
Turns out he's Greg German, Fish, from Ally McBeal.
Our featured philosopher of the month, I. Murdoch, says "the thought is not the words (if any) but the words occuring in a certain way with, as it were, a certain force and color."
Problem is, once we place Fish in the certain way of a repetitive sitcom, he's taken on the color of Fish, forever.
On the other hand, locating something in a repetitive context can allow for useful distance on a painful subject.
Just as we enquired last week if Logan is entitled to the legacy of 60's music, minus its values, is the Spotsyltuckian entitled to teach on slavery, as a tour guide, within the repetitive context of a Southern plantation tour?
Kal-El wasn't one of the 100,000 imprisoned Kandorians, yet, thus far, on New Krypton, he's progessing beyond his undercover surveillance assignment to incorporate value-laden teaching moments. When Aunt Alura yearns nostalgically for a reunion of scientic and artistic guilds, Kal refers to Mandelbrot-Julie sets; how art's aesthetic appeal, tethered to complex structures of nature, manufactures the elegant details upon which to ponder.
Alura and Kal are forming an identification of shared language.
For Spotsy, the traditional Gospel/Spirituals in the Lift Every Voice and Sing hymnal, as sung in the repetitive context of Sunday church, forge a shared language, all the more, once learned the hymns incorporate Underground Railroad code.
Maya says "she who does not know where she has come from cannot possibly guide a path to where she has to go," though Quincy warns "it can bring tremendous peace or open all wounds."
When the question is put to Shirley, she says 'you ought to know better than that - each and every tour group must walk the same tour, for not to do that, is to slight those there to witness, whether or not, the process stirs discomfort in the narrator.'
Up till now, it's a Western legacy which has most influenced Spotsyl thought: per Tolkien (our other prominent thinker of the month), for example, "the Light of Valinor is the light of art undivorced from reason, that sees both scientific (or philosophically) and imaginatively, and says that they are good."
The West is making room in Spotsyltucky for the shared languages of Diaz and Morrison.
Perhaps, ultimately, in the literary universe, the Oxfordian John Ruskin claims (even if we would wish otherwise), "art can not be divorced from social realities."
Can hope be found, as reported in Vanity Fair, that the 'dirty secret of conservative talk radio is listeners average age 67?' The Speaker of the Iowa (Iowa!) House confirms the statistic succintly, when, after a surprising victory there on marriage equality, he says, 'the battle is lost. His children simply do not care about what fuels aging, vanishing, prejudices.'
In the ebulient age of Obama, where fascists continue to obscenely cite abolitionists to justify a fast waning majority dominance, isn't open discussion of slavery, despite the unease of the guide, a good way (in Lloyd Garrisonian/Edward Carpenterian fashion) to promote progressive values, which once displayed, carry the dual possibility of not only honoring the victims of one historical experience of oppression but by planting seeds to do away with all oppressions which still plague our common humanity?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Letter to Logan
There was a moment thirty years ago when "I can tell by your clothes you're from the other side," fell apart.
Sure, Logan, it's cool your uncle is Jim Dandy, and you break bread with Ted Nugent, and all, but how does that, by itself, entitle you to the legacy?
We all should've known better (Mr. Young was right) when Skynard sang "we all did what we could do" for the Guvnor that they weren't talking no Southern abolitionism.
How did a generation's disassociation become so prevalent, it allows for your fellow collegian at the multi-cultural street festival last Saturday to stand behind a "God isn't White" sign and dually confess membership in a Anglican mission church?
"Honey, it's African, but it's still homophobic!"
Tolkein writes, "a small quantity of history depresses us with the sense of the ever-lasting weight of human inquity but as long as we cling to the Good, we can finally prevail."
--and so it is at the next booth -- buying the King/Obama calendar -- agreeing with the proprietoress, "now we're getting somewhere."
Protestors outside Fonda's new play in New York aren't getting anywhere: 'hey, we were right about the Immoral War. We aint apologizing no more. We mourn your dead and our own'.
Even so, Van Dyke Parks is right to question upon the demise of Buffalo Springfield drummer Dewey Martin, "considering the collectivism and socialist ideals that inspired the group, it baffles me that the discrepancy in fortunes of each of them aren't somehow an issue."
(Query: when Clive Davis signed Dylan/Joplin to Columbia, what side was he on, now we see he's 'evolved' to Idol impressario?)
Of the living Dead, David Cavanagh writes, on how they perform "a theory of geometric musical complexity applied so subtly as to obfuscate the abstract-concrete distinction; and our way of life," to which Rock Scully adds, "most of our history has to do with sociology not music."
(Phish/Metallica crack down on merchandisers/downloaders; the Dead sanction tapers.)
Although Jay Garrick admires Barry Allen (FL-1) as "the man who refused to blur the line between good and evil," we agree more with I. Murdoch, and this is really important, Logan, for purposes of this discussion, that "good art (more than technical virtuoso alone, mind you) may resist bad purposes more successfully."
Such absolutism costs deeply, as even Allen admits, when he "ran into the speed force and joined it, it was like shedding my identity. I completely lost any concept of who I was. My individuality vanished. My connection to Iris, my family, my friends."
I know, Logan, all too well, how hard it is to resist a colorful display of regional authority -- when Prankster chides Supes for his "overblown sense of righteousness," I must confess, seeing the abstraction of the uniform never fails to stirs deep realms of Kentian family values and nationalism--
--which only goes to show, warns Bryan Magee, "there is simply no way in which value judgments can not be structural to the writing."
Despite an encyclopedic knowledge of the relevant arcana, it's surprising you aren't familiar with Waits (although he arrived on the scene in the late 70's, strictly outside classic parameters) of whom Barney Hoskyns writes, he "turned himself into a work of art that blurred the distance between the private and professional selves," which is what we did, Logan, and are, by doing what we do in opposition to the likes of Wallace, racism and war.
Tolkein tells us, it's through myth that a world exists which is "essentially truer than the one we think we see around us everyday."
A truer world, my friend, propelled by, indivisible to, the music which births it.
Sure, Logan, it's cool your uncle is Jim Dandy, and you break bread with Ted Nugent, and all, but how does that, by itself, entitle you to the legacy?
We all should've known better (Mr. Young was right) when Skynard sang "we all did what we could do" for the Guvnor that they weren't talking no Southern abolitionism.
How did a generation's disassociation become so prevalent, it allows for your fellow collegian at the multi-cultural street festival last Saturday to stand behind a "God isn't White" sign and dually confess membership in a Anglican mission church?
"Honey, it's African, but it's still homophobic!"
Tolkein writes, "a small quantity of history depresses us with the sense of the ever-lasting weight of human inquity but as long as we cling to the Good, we can finally prevail."
--and so it is at the next booth -- buying the King/Obama calendar -- agreeing with the proprietoress, "now we're getting somewhere."
Protestors outside Fonda's new play in New York aren't getting anywhere: 'hey, we were right about the Immoral War. We aint apologizing no more. We mourn your dead and our own'.
Even so, Van Dyke Parks is right to question upon the demise of Buffalo Springfield drummer Dewey Martin, "considering the collectivism and socialist ideals that inspired the group, it baffles me that the discrepancy in fortunes of each of them aren't somehow an issue."
(Query: when Clive Davis signed Dylan/Joplin to Columbia, what side was he on, now we see he's 'evolved' to Idol impressario?)
Of the living Dead, David Cavanagh writes, on how they perform "a theory of geometric musical complexity applied so subtly as to obfuscate the abstract-concrete distinction; and our way of life," to which Rock Scully adds, "most of our history has to do with sociology not music."
(Phish/Metallica crack down on merchandisers/downloaders; the Dead sanction tapers.)
Although Jay Garrick admires Barry Allen (FL-1) as "the man who refused to blur the line between good and evil," we agree more with I. Murdoch, and this is really important, Logan, for purposes of this discussion, that "good art (more than technical virtuoso alone, mind you) may resist bad purposes more successfully."
Such absolutism costs deeply, as even Allen admits, when he "ran into the speed force and joined it, it was like shedding my identity. I completely lost any concept of who I was. My individuality vanished. My connection to Iris, my family, my friends."
I know, Logan, all too well, how hard it is to resist a colorful display of regional authority -- when Prankster chides Supes for his "overblown sense of righteousness," I must confess, seeing the abstraction of the uniform never fails to stirs deep realms of Kentian family values and nationalism--
--which only goes to show, warns Bryan Magee, "there is simply no way in which value judgments can not be structural to the writing."
Despite an encyclopedic knowledge of the relevant arcana, it's surprising you aren't familiar with Waits (although he arrived on the scene in the late 70's, strictly outside classic parameters) of whom Barney Hoskyns writes, he "turned himself into a work of art that blurred the distance between the private and professional selves," which is what we did, Logan, and are, by doing what we do in opposition to the likes of Wallace, racism and war.
Tolkein tells us, it's through myth that a world exists which is "essentially truer than the one we think we see around us everyday."
A truer world, my friend, propelled by, indivisible to, the music which births it.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Becalmed
Luthor isn't wrong about everything.
When Supes appoints Mon-el, guardian, alongside a second official Guardian (subtle much?), while he flies off undercover to New Krypton, Jimmy, elegantly, eloquently, on humanity's behalf, postulates Luthor's premise: "maybe it's time I manned up."
Mon-el further fosters Jimmy's co-dependence furnishing a signal watch attuned to a new frequency.
On the other hand, Luthor would cheer -- letters of protest to the editor long abandoned -- now that the citizenry are manning up, arming in a frenzy, fearing a 'perfect storm,' of 1) economic collapse; 2) civil unrest (racism); 3) gun law restrictions --
--investing a landscape lit by ignoble fear custom made by/for them.
Defenders, once hailed, are now Prosecutors (fortunately Sam Waterson is no E.G Marshall and will never be).
Per Wordsworth:
Ah me, that all
the terrors, all the early miseries,
regrets, vexations, lassitudes, that all
the thought and feelings which have been
infused
Into my mind, should ever have made up
the calm existence that is mine when I
am worthy of myself.
Ah, yes, a worthy calm existence (perfect stanza's) as formulated in:
a library;
a book;
a page;
a panel--
--are sorely missing in the new County library resembling a chain bookstore.
The absence of aisles, repetitive tall stacks, square gardens, obliterates the solitudinous shadow required to examine life.
Bolano asks, then, 'is calm the opposite of madness,' and answers, absolutely not.
Yet when Bolano loses the thread of even a flimsy McGuffin, i.e., the search for an obscure writer, he is abandoned, just as he dismisses ethics, duty, honesty, curiosity, love, bravery and art, all in the same breath.
I. Murdoch contends, "a deep motive for making art of any sort is the desire to defeat the formlessness of the world and cheer oneself up by constructing forms out of what might otherwise seem a mass of senseless rubble."
Embracing spiritual warfare, for example, constructs forms of heroic drama, yet its cheerless, aggressive, nature, menances far too arrogantly to achieve the synthesis of a Trinitarian Justice League that will inevitably be subsumed by an ordered Anglo-American landscape.
Something like the Psalms, meant to be sung ascending the measured steps of Solomon's Temple, balances an untamed grace panelled in manageable red-letter captions.
When Supes appoints Mon-el, guardian, alongside a second official Guardian (subtle much?), while he flies off undercover to New Krypton, Jimmy, elegantly, eloquently, on humanity's behalf, postulates Luthor's premise: "maybe it's time I manned up."
Mon-el further fosters Jimmy's co-dependence furnishing a signal watch attuned to a new frequency.
On the other hand, Luthor would cheer -- letters of protest to the editor long abandoned -- now that the citizenry are manning up, arming in a frenzy, fearing a 'perfect storm,' of 1) economic collapse; 2) civil unrest (racism); 3) gun law restrictions --
--investing a landscape lit by ignoble fear custom made by/for them.
Defenders, once hailed, are now Prosecutors (fortunately Sam Waterson is no E.G Marshall and will never be).
Per Wordsworth:
Ah me, that all
the terrors, all the early miseries,
regrets, vexations, lassitudes, that all
the thought and feelings which have been
infused
Into my mind, should ever have made up
the calm existence that is mine when I
am worthy of myself.
Ah, yes, a worthy calm existence (perfect stanza's) as formulated in:
a library;
a book;
a page;
a panel--
--are sorely missing in the new County library resembling a chain bookstore.
The absence of aisles, repetitive tall stacks, square gardens, obliterates the solitudinous shadow required to examine life.
Bolano asks, then, 'is calm the opposite of madness,' and answers, absolutely not.
Yet when Bolano loses the thread of even a flimsy McGuffin, i.e., the search for an obscure writer, he is abandoned, just as he dismisses ethics, duty, honesty, curiosity, love, bravery and art, all in the same breath.
I. Murdoch contends, "a deep motive for making art of any sort is the desire to defeat the formlessness of the world and cheer oneself up by constructing forms out of what might otherwise seem a mass of senseless rubble."
Embracing spiritual warfare, for example, constructs forms of heroic drama, yet its cheerless, aggressive, nature, menances far too arrogantly to achieve the synthesis of a Trinitarian Justice League that will inevitably be subsumed by an ordered Anglo-American landscape.
Something like the Psalms, meant to be sung ascending the measured steps of Solomon's Temple, balances an untamed grace panelled in manageable red-letter captions.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Best Chart Ever
It's not the courage of teenagers which makes the most impression; it is the language of attorney's:
"The only reason the School Board wants the club banned is because the name, Gay-Straight Alliance, violates the Board's abstinence-only policy."
Confessing to dying newspapermen about writing angry letters sparked discussion in the face of multi-media mosaics at the 50th Winter Park Sidewalk Art Festival.
Bolano's concurrent fleas are "chinculaes, applying to a certain class of traveler, adventurers of the mind, those who can't keep still mentally, or "a person who doesn't pretend to reconcile the irreconcilable."
Spangler's decision-making model prefers individualists who are "concerned with rights and duties implying a duty not to harm or help."
Bolano affirms: "neither believed in a hybrid form of socialism - public happiness - they believed in the possibility of self-realization."
For a situationalist drawing universalist conclusions; a Summer docent on a Georgian plantation is drawn, hopeless, to slave narratives.
Lying at the bottom of the in-box for years is "A One-Day Course by Edward Tufte, Presenting Data and Information," depicting a map by Charles Joseph Minard portraying losses by Napoleon's army in the Russian campaign of 1812 incorporating six variables: size of the army, location on a two-dimensional surface, direction of the army's movement, and temperature on various dates during the retreat."
Mysterious reappearences of such honesty assure the story at least stays neutral.
"The only reason the School Board wants the club banned is because the name, Gay-Straight Alliance, violates the Board's abstinence-only policy."
Confessing to dying newspapermen about writing angry letters sparked discussion in the face of multi-media mosaics at the 50th Winter Park Sidewalk Art Festival.
Bolano's concurrent fleas are "chinculaes, applying to a certain class of traveler, adventurers of the mind, those who can't keep still mentally, or "a person who doesn't pretend to reconcile the irreconcilable."
Spangler's decision-making model prefers individualists who are "concerned with rights and duties implying a duty not to harm or help."
Bolano affirms: "neither believed in a hybrid form of socialism - public happiness - they believed in the possibility of self-realization."
For a situationalist drawing universalist conclusions; a Summer docent on a Georgian plantation is drawn, hopeless, to slave narratives.
Lying at the bottom of the in-box for years is "A One-Day Course by Edward Tufte, Presenting Data and Information," depicting a map by Charles Joseph Minard portraying losses by Napoleon's army in the Russian campaign of 1812 incorporating six variables: size of the army, location on a two-dimensional surface, direction of the army's movement, and temperature on various dates during the retreat."
Mysterious reappearences of such honesty assure the story at least stays neutral.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Inherent
The transformation of twelve ordinary people into marathon runners on NOVA this week implies inherent heroism.
Skiing, which takes advantage of harsh weather, otherwise disadvantageous to so many others, implies inherent selfishness.
A Marine in the local rag states, "for me, the physical excitement isn't the attraction - it's the opportunity to make a difference."
How much can a willingness to commit institutional acts of violence also contain the inherent opportunity to make a difference?
In most Friend Bob-exchanges something is left off the table lest this participant become a persistent bore. Our last dance omits that even if it's not intended, the existence of an Anglican break-away implies homophobia, just as the existence of a continuing church, implies the opposite, even if none, or only one, of its members desires full inclusion for g,l,b,t persons.
Shopsin says, "you don't do the right thing because you're a great person, you do the right thing because you don't have any f'ing choice," though Roberto Bolano warns, "virtue, once recognized in a flash, has no shine and makes its home in a dark cave amid cave dwellers, some dangerous indeed."
Along these lines, Bolano raises, "the stamp of ultraconcrete literature, a nonspeculative literature free of ideas, assertions, denials, doubts, free of any intent to serve as a guide, neither pro nor con, just an eye seeking out the tangible elements, not judging them but simply displaying them coldly, archeology of the facsimile, and, by the same token, of the photocopier."
To write any other than a Book of Lists is to affirm Bolano.
When Amer Ghada (Bold & the Brave 22) asks Toba Khedon what transformed him into this creature - this Purge - he responds, "I took philosophy to its ultimate end. To separate the spirit from the selfish desires of the flesh."
In his review of The Future of Liberalism, Thane Rosenbaum contends, Alan Wolfe contends, a "true liberal is pragmatic, sober, skeptical and emotionally detached," while, "both the political right and far left, in contrast, are romantic at heart rushing into military adventures and domestic crusades."
--underscoring a conversation between the Spotsyltuckian and a Yankee, yesterday, as to why the South scored initial victories but could not sustain in the long run.
Wolfe ascribes the Civil War "as an example of these different temperaments: the liberal North was frugal, business-like, impersonal, rational, while the conservative South was impetuous, chivalric, glory-seeking, evangelical, romantic."
It must never be forgotten the rise of the Nazi's was assured by Stalin's actions to suppress moderate German Social Democrats whom he considered the true enemy.
In 1797, George Washington wrote to Rufus King, "having taken my seat in the shade of my vine and fig tree, I shall endeavor to view things in the calm lights of mild philosophy," remembering at this same time, Washington incorporated a radical emancipation of his slaves into his will.
Do we agree with Toba Khedon that the creation of a beautiful life requires the purge of all disruptive elements?
No, redemption arrives instead, inherent, in small waves: the 92-year old self-described 'old boot' who advised the Golden Rule as she awaited in her wheel chair, helpless, past any physical capability to achieve it beyond her transcendence; a 100-year old local farmer riding his tractor one more Spring planting season; the Colonial Beach Drifters achieving state finals attributing their success to the team manager with cerebral palsy.
An editor scoffed the Spotsyltuckian pieces resemble lists of quotes.
Take these pieces, then, or leave them, since it isn't possible to write or create anything which does not carry inflated inherent ego and implied consequences though lists may come as close as possible.
Skiing, which takes advantage of harsh weather, otherwise disadvantageous to so many others, implies inherent selfishness.
A Marine in the local rag states, "for me, the physical excitement isn't the attraction - it's the opportunity to make a difference."
How much can a willingness to commit institutional acts of violence also contain the inherent opportunity to make a difference?
In most Friend Bob-exchanges something is left off the table lest this participant become a persistent bore. Our last dance omits that even if it's not intended, the existence of an Anglican break-away implies homophobia, just as the existence of a continuing church, implies the opposite, even if none, or only one, of its members desires full inclusion for g,l,b,t persons.
Shopsin says, "you don't do the right thing because you're a great person, you do the right thing because you don't have any f'ing choice," though Roberto Bolano warns, "virtue, once recognized in a flash, has no shine and makes its home in a dark cave amid cave dwellers, some dangerous indeed."
Along these lines, Bolano raises, "the stamp of ultraconcrete literature, a nonspeculative literature free of ideas, assertions, denials, doubts, free of any intent to serve as a guide, neither pro nor con, just an eye seeking out the tangible elements, not judging them but simply displaying them coldly, archeology of the facsimile, and, by the same token, of the photocopier."
To write any other than a Book of Lists is to affirm Bolano.
When Amer Ghada (Bold & the Brave 22) asks Toba Khedon what transformed him into this creature - this Purge - he responds, "I took philosophy to its ultimate end. To separate the spirit from the selfish desires of the flesh."
In his review of The Future of Liberalism, Thane Rosenbaum contends, Alan Wolfe contends, a "true liberal is pragmatic, sober, skeptical and emotionally detached," while, "both the political right and far left, in contrast, are romantic at heart rushing into military adventures and domestic crusades."
--underscoring a conversation between the Spotsyltuckian and a Yankee, yesterday, as to why the South scored initial victories but could not sustain in the long run.
Wolfe ascribes the Civil War "as an example of these different temperaments: the liberal North was frugal, business-like, impersonal, rational, while the conservative South was impetuous, chivalric, glory-seeking, evangelical, romantic."
It must never be forgotten the rise of the Nazi's was assured by Stalin's actions to suppress moderate German Social Democrats whom he considered the true enemy.
In 1797, George Washington wrote to Rufus King, "having taken my seat in the shade of my vine and fig tree, I shall endeavor to view things in the calm lights of mild philosophy," remembering at this same time, Washington incorporated a radical emancipation of his slaves into his will.
Do we agree with Toba Khedon that the creation of a beautiful life requires the purge of all disruptive elements?
No, redemption arrives instead, inherent, in small waves: the 92-year old self-described 'old boot' who advised the Golden Rule as she awaited in her wheel chair, helpless, past any physical capability to achieve it beyond her transcendence; a 100-year old local farmer riding his tractor one more Spring planting season; the Colonial Beach Drifters achieving state finals attributing their success to the team manager with cerebral palsy.
An editor scoffed the Spotsyltuckian pieces resemble lists of quotes.
Take these pieces, then, or leave them, since it isn't possible to write or create anything which does not carry inflated inherent ego and implied consequences though lists may come as close as possible.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
She Does Her Crying in Private: Part II
People keep asking what's up post-retirement.
Uncomfortable confessing to volunteerism, the standard reply is, 'working at a hospital.'
--doubling as a PTSD reaction to serving chronics in the way our Lenten guru D-Day says she was once accused of being "eaten up with pride and self-love."
You own your guests via an insider's knowledge of their tragedies.
Larger ramifications are politcal, tempered, at best, per D-Day, who "can look back on the early religious fervor which underlay my radicalism and finally saved me."
Yet another refuge is cirmudgeonism,
--or career enhancement for David Cameron, who upon his son's death, the NY Times reports, found "those insights lent a powerful humanity," to a politician, "who is Eton and Oxford educated and his wife the daughter of a viscount."
--or redemption for Big Brother racist Jade Goody, per the AP, once "the actual posterchild for British boorishness," now determined, "to spend her dying days in the spotlight; her frankness largely winning the media over."
After it becomes known BL fathered a disabled child, and DH lost one, their lunatic rants, or eccentricities, soften.
Can we attribute, then, Jerry Lewis' Jean Hersholt Humanitarian award speech, to a defensive curmudgeonism, or is he just a plain and simple a-hole?
It's possible to land, undefined, larger than yourself, dispensible.
Joseph Ellis maintains George Washington's "Mt. Vernon correspondence allowed him to retain a zone of personal control amidst an increasingly, discordant political world that seemed to defy control altogether -- the last sliver of his private personality never made the trip."
--never making the trip: this, the second lesson of Lent.
Uncomfortable confessing to volunteerism, the standard reply is, 'working at a hospital.'
--doubling as a PTSD reaction to serving chronics in the way our Lenten guru D-Day says she was once accused of being "eaten up with pride and self-love."
You own your guests via an insider's knowledge of their tragedies.
Larger ramifications are politcal, tempered, at best, per D-Day, who "can look back on the early religious fervor which underlay my radicalism and finally saved me."
Yet another refuge is cirmudgeonism,
--or career enhancement for David Cameron, who upon his son's death, the NY Times reports, found "those insights lent a powerful humanity," to a politician, "who is Eton and Oxford educated and his wife the daughter of a viscount."
--or redemption for Big Brother racist Jade Goody, per the AP, once "the actual posterchild for British boorishness," now determined, "to spend her dying days in the spotlight; her frankness largely winning the media over."
After it becomes known BL fathered a disabled child, and DH lost one, their lunatic rants, or eccentricities, soften.
Can we attribute, then, Jerry Lewis' Jean Hersholt Humanitarian award speech, to a defensive curmudgeonism, or is he just a plain and simple a-hole?
It's possible to land, undefined, larger than yourself, dispensible.
Joseph Ellis maintains George Washington's "Mt. Vernon correspondence allowed him to retain a zone of personal control amidst an increasingly, discordant political world that seemed to defy control altogether -- the last sliver of his private personality never made the trip."
--never making the trip: this, the second lesson of Lent.
Friday, February 27, 2009
She Does Her Crying in Private
In an endless winter, MLB broadcasts non-stop A-Rod.
Brian Wilson sings paeans to Spring.
Since the entire starting five of our local squad are felons, basketball loses any off-season baseball attraction it might have yielded in the void, yet, in Lenten redemption, the Times features a portrait of unselfishness: Shane Battier, who excels in statistical non-records such as blocking the line of sight of a Kobe so his effectiveness diminishes just so much the Rockets win.
Instead of comparing baseball to football, ala Carlin, the Times contrasts the ease of selfishness in basketball, where there isn't an opportunity for everyone to bat.
(Except, perhaps, for a little-known Jamesian consideration, of how many games Manny costs a team by not hustling in the outfield.)
No one statisticalizes who recovers blocked shots rather than who flicks them refundably into the 5th row.
"I know it's been hard for you," says Lana in SG 38, "since Zor-el was killed, and you're focusing all your efforts on pulling your mother out of her slump, but Kara, it's okay to be selfish sometimes."
Is it?
During Lent?
The President reverses predecessor's bans on photographing coffins.
Sec-Def, the hold-over, says he welcomes an opportunity to re-think the issue.
In his review of The Republic of Suffering, Thomas Lacquer reminds it was only in the aftermath of the Civil War that the dead first demand our allegience from beyond the grave, and establish they, and they alone, own the experience.
After fourteen decades, with no end to this winter in sight, the matter continues unresolved, as evidenced by existent pain viewing a dinner at the Bunkers where Archie invites a Gold Star father for Thanksgiving dinner and Mike invites a draft dodger -
- not unlike Andersen's story of the Red Shoes who dance as if they had PTSD after the feet of the vain heroine are amputated.
The local rag reports on five couples living within a mile of each other in the Lake Anna countryside who've been married more than 50 years.
Ernest, cab driver for young women of the segregated Mary Washington campus - the endurer of racist taunts - responds by ensuring his daughters graduate from the same integrated collge.
When asked how he managed, Ernest says, "God did it."
This, the lesson, of Lent.
Brian Wilson sings paeans to Spring.
Since the entire starting five of our local squad are felons, basketball loses any off-season baseball attraction it might have yielded in the void, yet, in Lenten redemption, the Times features a portrait of unselfishness: Shane Battier, who excels in statistical non-records such as blocking the line of sight of a Kobe so his effectiveness diminishes just so much the Rockets win.
Instead of comparing baseball to football, ala Carlin, the Times contrasts the ease of selfishness in basketball, where there isn't an opportunity for everyone to bat.
(Except, perhaps, for a little-known Jamesian consideration, of how many games Manny costs a team by not hustling in the outfield.)
No one statisticalizes who recovers blocked shots rather than who flicks them refundably into the 5th row.
"I know it's been hard for you," says Lana in SG 38, "since Zor-el was killed, and you're focusing all your efforts on pulling your mother out of her slump, but Kara, it's okay to be selfish sometimes."
Is it?
During Lent?
The President reverses predecessor's bans on photographing coffins.
Sec-Def, the hold-over, says he welcomes an opportunity to re-think the issue.
In his review of The Republic of Suffering, Thomas Lacquer reminds it was only in the aftermath of the Civil War that the dead first demand our allegience from beyond the grave, and establish they, and they alone, own the experience.
After fourteen decades, with no end to this winter in sight, the matter continues unresolved, as evidenced by existent pain viewing a dinner at the Bunkers where Archie invites a Gold Star father for Thanksgiving dinner and Mike invites a draft dodger -
- not unlike Andersen's story of the Red Shoes who dance as if they had PTSD after the feet of the vain heroine are amputated.
The local rag reports on five couples living within a mile of each other in the Lake Anna countryside who've been married more than 50 years.
Ernest, cab driver for young women of the segregated Mary Washington campus - the endurer of racist taunts - responds by ensuring his daughters graduate from the same integrated collge.
When asked how he managed, Ernest says, "God did it."
This, the lesson, of Lent.
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