O'Rourke's was our stage, and we displayed our personas there nightly. It was a shabby street-corner tavern on a dicey stretch of North Avenue, a block after Chicago's Old Town stopped being a tourist haven. In its early days it was heated by a wood-burning pot-bellied stove, and ice formed on the insides of the windows. One night a kid from the street barged in, whacked a customer in the front booth with a baseball bat, and ran out again. When a roomer who lived upstairs died, his body was discovered when maggots started to drop through the ceiling. A man nobody knew was shot dead one night out in back. From the day it opened on December 30, 1966 until the day I stopped drinking in 1979, I drank there more or less every night when I was in town. So did a lot of people.
Jay Kovar and Jeanette Sullivan behind the bar
Neil Steinberg, a younger columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times, invited me out to lunch one day to complain that he had missed out on all the fun. He had heard that the Front Page era in Chicago had a rebirth in the 1970s, centring around O'Rourke's Pub and the two other nightly stops in the "Bermuda Triangle," Riccardo's and the Old Town Ale House. The triangle got its name, it was said, because newspaper reporters crashed there and were never seen again. Riccardo's, equidistant from the four daily newspapers, was for after work. The Ale House had a late-night license and was for after O'Rourke's. Few lasted through the whole ten hours. People would ride a while and jump off.
The regulars mostly knew one another. There were maybe a hundred members of the "O'Rourke's Crowd," perhaps fifty or sixty of them lasting the whole duration at that address and many following the bar when it moved to Halsted Street, across from the Steppenwolf Theater. It was driven west by rising real estate prices, the victim of the urbanization it represented. Jay Kovar, the manager from day one, the co-owner in later years, received a loan from the actor Brian Dennehy to finance the move. Actors had always been part of the mix, many of them from the nearby Second City. And folk singers from the Earl of Old Town. John Belushi, John Prine, Steve Goodman.
Michela "Mike" Touhy
Steinberg said he'd heard that on a good night you might see Mike Royko, Studs Terkel and Nelson Algren there all at the same time. Yes, you might, but it was not always a good night. Nelson had an unrequited crush on Jeanette Sullivan, the Japanese-American co-owner, and was pleasant enough but didn't come primarily to hang out with the crowd. During a disagreement with Tom Fitzpatrick, the Pulitzer- winning columnist, he and Fitz pelted each other with shot glasses.Royko appeared one night after midnight, being supported by two volunteers, his trench coat a shambles. He was scheduled to appear the following morning on the Phil Donahue Show. I made it a point to watch. To my amazement, he was lucid and didn't seem hung over.
Few of the regulars often seemed hung over, although many must have been on some mornings. Michaela Tuohy, "Mike," accounted for that by the practice of "recovery drinking," which you did until your act was together enough to be taken onstage at O'Rourke's. As a general rule, most of the people in the bar were having a good time. There was a lot of laughter. Groups formed and shifted.
O'Rourke's stars like Jay Robert Nash, the prolific crime writer, commanded an audience. He said he had interviewed John Dillinger at his Arizona retirement home in the early 1970s, and told us about it. "He's an old man now, with a shuffling step, and when you see him through the screen-door, you can tell from the bulge in his bathrobe that he's got a gat in the pocket." Someone would always ask him, "What did he say?" Nash would reply: "He snarled, Who are you? What do you want? I said, You know who I am, Mister Dillinger He staggered back and shouted: Jay Robert Nash?" We didn't believe Nash was serious, but he never, ever, admitted he was not. You heard a lot of stories in O'Rourke's.
Al "The Greek" Oikonimides
Nash was small and compact, a Cagney type. The bar's Sydney Greenstreet was Alcibiades Oikonomides (Al the Greek), a mountainous man standing well over six feet and weighing perhaps 300 pounds, with a forehead so high it was said it required its own zip code. With this forehead he would head-butt friends as a gesture of solidarity, chanting, "To the ten thousand years we will drink together."Years prior to his present position as a professor of antiquities at Loyola University, he said, he had been an aide-de-camp for Haile Selassie in the Ethiopian-Somalian border wars, and had a much-creased photograph of himself in uniform, standing next to a horse, to prove it. He was a member of an ancient Greco-Venetian trading family that still owned a palazzo on the Grand Canal, he told us, and also was partner in a book shop on Shaftesbury Avenue. About Selassie I was not sure, but I met the cousin in the palazzo and stood under a Tiepolo ceiling, and when he took me to the book shop his name was on the door.
What brought Al the Greek night after night to this obscure corner of Chicago? O'Rourke's was not boring, and embraced eccentricity. Ordinary yuppies, those who frequented the bars on Rush Street and in Old Town, did not blend in. For one thing, they were unimpressed by the booths and tables, knocked together from plywood, shellacked, caked by years of smoke and sweat; for years the bar had no more air conditioning than central heating. O'Rourke's was the ultimate singles bar, it was said: You went there with a date, and came home alone.
One night with Tom Wolfe
Cabaret could break out at any moment. Bag-pipers drank free. Everybody knew the words to all of the songs on the juke box, some of which had been on the machine since it was new. When Jerry Lewis would sing "Come Rain or Come Shine," it was not unknown for a customer to climb up on the bar and sing along. The songs of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem played again and again, and customers would sing with them: And always remember the longer you live, the sooner you bloody well die. Press agents would bring visiting movie stars to view the local colour, and they were good sports, Charlton Heston one night autographing Natalie Nudlemann's bra while she was wearing it.Not long after he won the Academy Award, Cliff Robertson flew his private plane down from Milwaukee for an unannounced visit, and found himself in the back of a red Sun-Times delivery truck on his way to the after-hours hangout Oxford's Pub, in company including Al the Greek, a bag piper, and Jake the Dominatrix, who was flogging a new friend with a belt.
Most evenings, of course, it was not like that. When Chicago still had four dailies (the Sun-Times, the Tribune, the Daily News, and Chicago's American, later renamed Chicago Today) it was as competitive as any newspaper town in America, and many of the reporters and photographers knew one another. Trucks would deliver bundles of the early editions for us to pore over. The day's Royko column might be read aloud. Editors were libelled and publishers despised.
Hank Oettinger, the letter to the editor writer (Photo: Bruce Elliott)
Jay Robert Nash told us that gangsters learned how to speak by listening to the dialogue in Ben Hecht's crime movies. Some of us borrowed our personas from Hecht and MacArthur's The Front Page. In a way, I did. I arrived at the Sun-Times from downstate Urbana, a green kid, intimidated by legendary reporters. On the first Friday night I was taken to Riccardo's, I had a couple of beers and was delighted by the wise-guy patter that surrounded me. I tried to talk that way, even though I was a doctoral candidate in English at the University of Chicago before dropping out to go full-time with the Sun- Times.Many of us at O'Rourke's became fake Irishmen, swayed by the Clancy Brothers and the big blown-up photographs of Behan, O'Casey, Shaw and Joyce. I was one-quarter Irish, but submerged the other three-quarters and assured people, "your blood's worth bottling." Fundraisers allegedly from the IRA would visit and we would naively give five bucks to the cause, probably not funding any terrorism because they were con artists preying on boozing Irish wannabes.
Above all we drank. It is not advisable, perhaps not possible, to spend very many evenings in a place like O'Rourke's while drinking Cokes and club soda. Sometimes I attempted to cut back, by adopting drinks whose taste I hated (fernet branca) or those with low alcohol content (white wine and soda). Night after night I found these substitutes relaxed me enough to switch to scotch and soda. For a time I experimented with vodka and tonic. I asked Jay Kovar what he know about vodka as a drink. He told me: "Sooner or later, all the heavy hitters get to vodka."
Charlton Heston in a front booth
I studied Jay as he worked behind the bar, trying to figure out how he did it. A handsome, compact man, fit, looking a little like Jason Patric, he steadily drank half-shots of whiskey and smoked Pall Malls. I never saw him clearly appear to be drunk. Indeed I saw relatively few of the regulars when they were drunk, although that could happen after hours at the Ale House. Some people, like Al the Greek, could drink terrifying mixtures of drinks to little apparent effect. Others were simply reasonable drinkers, but steady.Hank Oettinger, the most-published letter-to-the-editor writer in Chicago, would turn up night after night with his pockets stuffed with letters that either had just been published or were about to be published. These he would read to us. Hank was a retired linotype operator, then in his seventies, a fervent leftist, a regular at every protest march, a confidant of Dick Gregory's. His black hair slicked back over his big German-American head, he always wore a jacket and tie and ordered a beer. One beer. He had been making his rounds, sometimes composing his letters on a bar, since mid-day stops in the Loop. But only sipping beer. Making his way nightly through the mean streets.
Bartender Bobby Shaw, an artist now living in Italy
A few of the regulars, I suspect, had little identity other than the one conferred by O'Rourke's. John the Garbage Man was a regular, displaying his sculptures made from objects discovered in the garbage. He would take discarded silverware and melt it down into jewellery that looked like blobs of melted silverware. These were sold to be worn around the neck.I bought a chess set from him, but it was not a success because the pieces looked interchangeable. These I tried to use only once, while playing in an O'Rourke's chess tournament that sprang up during the Bobby Fischer fever in Iceland. The winner, who played chess for money at the North Avenue beach chess pavilion, was Andre, a stringy hippie, tie-dyed and pony-tailed, who explained he had been the armourer of the Luxembourg Army before fleeing to America as a political refugee.
We regulars knew each other. We dated each other. We slept with each other. We went to Greek Town together, with Al presiding at the head of a long table. We met on Saturday mornings at Oxford's for "recovery drunch," spelled with a d. Tom Butkovich would pull up behind O'Rourke's in his old Volvo station wagon and unload the equipment to barbeque a lamb. His mother, from the far Southwest Side, would bring in covered dishes of macaroni and cheese and potato salad, while his stepdad, a steel worker, would dance with his T-shirt pulled above his belly, singing It must be jelly, 'cause jam don't shake like that. We went to each other's marriages and funerals, and observed holidays together. We took a collection for bail money, or helped the Jim and Mike Tuohy family to move, which they did frequently, Mike once complaining that volunteers had failed to move her kitchen garbage.
Nelson Algren
The 1968 Days of Rage demonstrations passed nearby, and Jimmy Breslin and Norman Mailer came in. We watched the moon landing and the protests after Martin Luther King was killed. We sang, laughed and cried. We rehearsed the same stories over and over. I said we knew each other. We knew who we said we were, who we wanted to appear to be, and who O'Rourke's thought we were, and that was knowing each other well enough.Now Studs Terkel, Mike Royko and Nelson Algren are dead, and so are John Belushi, Steve Goodman, Tom Fitzpatrick, Mike Touhy, Hank Oettinger, Al the Greek and John the Garbageman. Jay Kovar walks his dogs. I'm telling you, Steinberg, you had to be there.
¶This article originally appeared in the online edition of Granta magazine.
¶
Michael Miner talks with David Royko about how "O'Rourke's" was a hated word between his mother and himself.
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All O'Rourke's photographs by Jack Lane.
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Sing along with Mary Hopkin (attend to the lyrics)
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The ghosts of O'Rourke's linger down the street at the Old Town Ale House. Many of them can be seen in the famous mural. (This is a wonderful website)
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O'Rourke's Pub In Memoriam.
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Hank Oettinger in Memoriam.
¶
A comment on Granta's online site
Sun Sep 06 13:57:08 BST 2009
A glimpse. That's all.
The kid brother of a brilliant newspaperman - Denise DeClue - I was granted the glimpse in 1975, at age 19, when Denise and her first husband, Chris the Communist, took me to O'Rourke's on Halsted Street. That's where it was happening.
A big-eyed kid from a little town, in the big city of Chicago for the first time. When people asked Denise where she was from, it was, "Boonville, Missouri, wanna make something of it?" When they asked me and I told them, it was followed by, "When'd you get out?" because, in the rest of Missouri, Boonville was mostly famous for the Training School for Boys. Our dad ran that joint.
Big brown eyes. Lean, with learning looks. Impressionable. So O'Rourke's is where it's happening. This is a city. This is Chicago. Men are Chris the Communist and Don the War Correspondent and that pudgy Ebert guy with the sharp, incisive wit, talking about Governor Moonbeam. Women are Denise the Newspaperman and Mike Tuohy and Pat Colander; women are beautiful and wonderful and tough and dangerous. And they talk to lean youths with learning looks!
We drank. We toasted the small-town boy in the big city, and the brilliant newspaperman, but mostly, that night, April 17, 1975, we toasted the glorious victory of the indigenous people who had overcome the colonial oppressors. It was a glorious night and we were one with each other and with the Old People throughout the world.
Perhaps Ebert is right that "few of the regulars often seemed hung over." But at least one of the tourists was, on the morning after. I learned that hangovers hurt and that sometimes a victorious victory by freedom fighters can be followed by brutal torture and executions - that was the night the Khmer Rouge liberated Phnom Penh - and that what looks glorious through the bottom of a shot glass may lose color when reflected off a cup of coffee.
But some things are as true in the morning sunshine as they are in bar lights: Women are beautiful and wonderful and tough and dangerous. Thanks Denise and Pat and Mike.
--Greg DeClue
¶
Postscript, Nov. 9, 2009: Sad news. Marv Berkman who played the guitar while Bobby Rossi played the accordion and they strolled and sang every night at Riccardo's from the early 1950s until it closed, died November 2 at 85. The era and its celebrants are fading away. The photo below doesn't show Marv and Bobby. It appeared in a Life magazine spread about the restaurant in 1949. But a web search found no pictures showing them, and this photo certainly evokes the spirit of Riccardo's.
¶
¶
http://j.mp/4qYZX4
See, Roger? Din't I tell ya? There are interesting people all over the place. ;)
Bag-pipers drank free.
I can drink and no be drunk and
I can fight and no be slain
I can court with another man's lass and
Still me welcomed to me name.
O'ROURKE'S!
DAMN - and me with my hands covered in paint and not a cigarette left in the pack that I couldn't afford to smoke; chuckle! Mentally reaching now for a perfectly double-poured Kilkenny....
Ahhh, that's better. We need some tunes; crank it up Roger...
Good Night, and Good Luck (Soundtrack) - "One For My Baby"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC7v7Ty0Cfc
Born much too late, or not in the right place, either way; deep, heavy sigh of lament.
Seriously and how do you bear it? One thing to coast off the fumes of another and quite another to have breathed "in" the place. Even at a distance, I can tell it did not suck to be at O'Rourke's.
Oh, the conversations in the corners you must have had and with the best, if not the brightest, tongues clever and wits sharp, a bag of razors. Oh to have been THERE and with my verbosity - I'd have crossed myself for fear then bungee'd into the fray. :)
"If I Should Fall from Grace with God" - The Pogues (serious Irish lads.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrBLqp-s__o
Yawn, it's late. 4:00 am. My hands smell like linseed oil and turpentine; the keyboard will smell come morning. Nothing new that, though; arts' a messy business and not for the faint of heart. I'm happy to see you've posted up that wonderful article from Granta magazine. That's bound to attract someone with stories to tell!
I won't have one to share quite yet, but soon. :)
P.S. before the Irish Heather moved, I brought home one of the Pub glasses, this one from Ireland... a thing of beauty...
http://www.acc.umu.se/~hannes/blosxom/data/beer/kilkenny.jpg
You know the smaller the world gets the less interesting. While the ineternet allows us all to converse with people around the globe that we ordinarily would not meet, it deprives us something. The words in a conversation are just a part of it. In the bar scene you described there were other conversations bleeding into yours, other events causing your thoughts to transistion, and sights, sounds, and smells to add to the flavor. I do praise the internet, and blogs like this one, but it has sanitized our distilled conversations to bare bones. Rather than wandering the Earth seeing and exploring we are slowly being driven back into our own heads never to venture far from them again.
I am glad you and others had O'Rourke's, I myself had a Denny's at midnight most nights in the early 90s. The people I talked to there, and laughed with, I now communicate with via Facebook.
Another reason why the world has gone down hill...no smoking in bars. I surely wish I could have been a part of that but at least I can read your reminiscences. Imagine FOUR newspapers in one city!!! ANd all of them worth reading with reporting that actually was reporting and not just printing press releases....we didn't know how good we had it! And at the same time only 5 or 6 television stations....those were the days!
I'm an alcoholic who never truly drank with others -- my times in bars were always sober ones, and were always strained and hard work. So I don't have any of these memories to sift through, looking back at others and my relationships with them.
There's not much good in staring back to intently at your own life, locked away in an apartment with an uncaring mistress in a 1.75 L bottle.
Although I don't envy you your experience, I envy your memory and sense of delight and wonder.
You really should consider a career in writing, mister ebert . . . .
Ebert: Hey, I'm an alcoholic too!
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/08/my_name_is_roger_and_im_an_alc.html
And today will be somebody else's "Those were the days....". Is everything really constantly degrading, or am I just imagining things?
There's a camaraderie at bars that just can't be replicated anywhere else. If you're not familiar with The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer, you really need to be. This is a clip from the prologue:
http://www.tenderbar.com/Tender%20Bar%20clip.mp3
Roger, you mentioned the regulars would date and sleep together, but most all the characters and anecdotes you talk about in this essay are men. Could you share a tale or two about the fairer sex with us?
Ebert: I am a perfect gentleman.
Roger,
If you haven't already, I suspect you would enjoy a book called The Tender Bar, by a guy who grew up in one.
Thanks for this glimpse into a part of Chicago it's nice to know existed.
I've quit drinking. For now. Physically I don't give the matter a thought other than to feel grateful for the clearheadedness and days that aren't ruined. but I reckon if I continue on like this, I'll miss the Liam Clancy, great story side of things. Those were the days my friend...
I would hope I'd have been done with it if a few maggots from a human corpse had dropped into my drink, but when I was younger I'd have put up with such things to be in the 'cool' spot. Never did me any good, but I did have fun.
I think I still have ringing tinnitus from some of the bands like The GA Satellites, Glenn Phillips, Bruce Hampton, and even some 'groovy' and artsy others I'll bet even Dark remembers--way back the Grease Band, and Allman Brothers. (Bruce BTW, was the 'genius' poet in 'Sling Blade'). Things in the music world can get cooked up in a bar.
Where I was, the places were called Hedgens, Rosie's Cantina, Moes and Joes, The Globe in Athens, The Place on Paces, now in the same area are places the look even older, almost as beat up and 'cool' but built in very recent memory -- the air is more breathable.
But for the younger crowd of up and comers a rustic bar has appeal.
Memorabilia nobody remembers. Talk about memorabilia 'Re-Branded' in bar chains, in fact, all over. Like for the more affluent family couples who'd prefer the place have better grade score from the health department.
Fake stuff for those who hate fake. What a world.
Really great blog, you really feel like you were there. I know I'll read this another two or three times.
In "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls," there's one scene where Kelly MacNamara meets Porter Hall in a small college bar. When a drink is spilled, she asks for a bar rag ("a clean one") from a bartender named O'Rourke.
Was the bartender's name an homage to the watering hole?
Further, was Kelly's name an homage to the Defense Secretary?
Ebert: The bar is named O'Rourke's. The bartender is named McHugh. If you enjoyed this entry, you might like:
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/05/and_say_my_glory_was_i_had_suc.html
As a young Chicagoan in love with writing and journalism - I'd read the collected works of Finley Peter Dunne, Nelson Algren (Who Stole an American), Mike Royko, etc etc, I always dreamed of hanging out at O'Rourke's, Riccardo's, and Billy Goat. I never did. Of course, I went into them, O'Rourke's least of all because it intimidated me. I did frequent it on Halsted when I went to see a show at Steppenwolf, but it clearly wasn't the same. Riccardo's felt a little more comfortable for a shy young woman with literary pretensions. Billy Goat felt best of all because I felt like I didn't have to pretend to be anything - it's a very unpretentious place. I've always felt more comfortable with the pressmen than the pressroom men. I liked the pictures of newspaper folk with the sad "-30-" etched into a brass plate underneath if they had headed to that big newsroom in the sky. But I did have my Royko moment - in a Greek restaurant on Lawrence Avenue. That seemed more than I could ask for and so I left it at that. It doesn't pay to be greedy.
Ebert: The Goat's never changes.
I appreciate your thoughtful essay on Farrah Fawcett's "The Burning Bed" in your current blog entry.
No it doesn't, even after Saturday Night Live gave it a bit of notoriety way back when.
And thank you for the compliment. There was so much to say and not enough room to say it. She deserved more respect than she got.
I had my own O'Rourke's for a few years before my life circumstances changed. I still go there occasionally, but the old timers have all either passed away or moved on. Now I"m one of the old timers.
Don't it always seem to go
that you don't know what you got
'till it's gone?
Ebert: Tear down Paradise, put up a parking lot.
I wish I lived in that era. I wish.
Isn't it a miraculous life, how we have our nuggets of memories, these rich remembrances that nurture us when we need them. They crawl into bed and nuzzle up to us in our anguished dreams to deliver us from our angst. We are who we used to be, whether we remember clearly or not.
I learned to write western novels by riding the buckboard of my boyhood bed and fighting off varmints with my Fanner Fifty six shooter.
The frame freezes and now I am older and out of college and on the road. Find me on the Custer battlefield, alone in a cool September mist, just me and the ghosts of Cheyenne, Sioux, the son of the Morning Star and the Irish born troopers who follwed him to disaster, soldiers all.
Oh blessed past, surround me like the wind in the buffalo grass while I, clutching the possibles bag of my misspent youth, chant a spirit prayer for the all the legends in the dust.
Ebert:
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast and turns the past to pain.
I loved this piece. nothin' like remembering the old days, especially with such fondness. thank you, roger ebert!
I've been waiting for you to write this piece for quite some time now, and you did not disappoint.
Thank you for sharing!
Like Matt, I've read this one three times myself. (And you're very good at mood-setting yourself, Marie Haws.)
It got me thinking of the other famous ratty shops of yore where the eventual known writers gathered, out of which stories still reverberate; the London coffeeshop where Johnson held court with Goldsmith, Garrick, other luminaries and slack-jawed sycophants, secretaried by young Boswell; Kerouac and Cassady and Ginsberg and Burroughs and Corso and Ferlinghetti et al, sometimes at City Lights, sometimes in now forgotten corners; the Algonquin table, about which I was blessed to hear from my ancient friend who was among them...
I used to work on Market Street in San Francisco, near Post and Geary. I'd goof off at a coffeeshop in a galleria around the corner. Although it was one of these annoyingly sterile yuppie places, spend-money-and-scram-thenk-yew, it had such a feeling about it... not ghostly, but as though "an invisible sea, now empty of every fish but me."
Years later I was suprised to read that on that very spot was once a dirty old barroom that on any given night contained Mark Twain, Ambrose Bierce, Brett Harte, Joaquin Miller, Robert Louis Stevenson, various now-forgotten luminaries of the day and their slack-jawed sycophants. Only scraps of their conversations remain here and there.
Flocks of Ibis you all were, drunk as much on the god Thoth as on anything else.
I've never found such a flock for myself. Drunk, stoned or sober, I get impatient with groups of people after about 20 minutes anyhow; it's always gotta be one-on-one for me, and "on beyond Zebra."
But these unique small flocks feed on unique jeweled thoughts and moods, and echoing the peripatetics -- all but a few long forgotten, yet influential -- they spread those jeweled thoughts and moods through their generation and beyond to what degree.
Such a feeling. I only this morning realized why Roger's prose is so comfortable to me -- apart from its own merits. I read Mike Royko a lot when I was a kid. On Sunday my dad would bring home the NY Times, the Sunday local, and, curiously, the Daily News. The latter had the best funnies, maybe that's why he bought it, but I thought of it as the paper for Woikin' Stiffs with wobbly accents and a simple-dimple world of black,white, right, wrong, girlie picture, beer and sossidge.
Except for this fella Royko. Woikin' Stiff his prose was, but dumb-ass he was not. He was sharp and funny and earthy and memorable, like Damon Runyan alive inside in 3-D. I eventually segued into Studs Terkel's books (which are still on the featured counter of the local Barnes & Noble, if owing to a serious lack of worthwhile current reading), and there was that same feel. Sharp and funny and earthy and memorable.
And by George, that's what's at the core of Roger's style too. I s'pose in future classrooms, Rodge, your old gang will have a name, too. "The O'Rourke's Gang" doesn't sound good at all. What's a good name for it?
Ebert: The Slats Grobnick Memorial Society?
Like Roger, I can no longer drink - hell, with one of my medications I can't even have grapefruit! But considering my last name, and that I found out quite by chance that today (September 24) is the 250th anniversary of the founding of the Guinness brewery (celebrations worldwide!), I'm hoping that one of you can hoist a pint o' stout for me.
Slainte!
Gateway to the 250th anniversary site. (You will be asked for proof of age.)
Ebert:
Drink a Guinness
And in a jiffy
You'll piss it right back
In the Liffey.
Off topic!
Just read your review of Jane Campion's "Bright Star" and this caught my eye:
"It's to Campion's credit that she doesn't heat up the story or go for easy emotional payoffs, and we're spared even the pathetic deathbed scene that another director might have felt necessary." - Roger
The deathbed scene has indeed been done to death. And so to read she doesn't kill the corpse yet again, makes me all the more eager to see it now, as I HATE such scenes and can look forward to one not ruining an otherwise extremely promising film. It's a huge pet peeve of mine, the death bed scene. I always want to throw a sick puppy at the screen while shouting, "Here! You forgot this!"
And when it comes to poetic subject matter, I find male directors tend to get lost in their admiration of prose and turn it to treacle on screen. I'm biased, I know, but I really do prefer female directors when a lighter touch is required. When it's necessary to "get out of one's way" and all that. Which appears to be the case with "Bright Star" ergo, hurray!
All poetry is an attempt to put into words that which cannot be said. How to convey it then? And the writing of it? If not by using less to do it. :)
I see you've posted a production still from the movie in your review, showing Fannie Brawne reading in the bluebells - time to sing praises in honor of the brethren...!
Cinematography: Greig Fraser (clapping loudly!)
For that's a painting, Roger. That shot is as beautiful as anything done by the Pre-Raphaelites.
Meanwhile, I read Marilyn Ferdinand's piece on the "Burning Bed" over at her blog (curious to after hearing it praised) and I want to cheer it too; for well done! I saw the TV movie back when it aired and remember thinking and feeling much the same way about it.
I also read her piece about "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" which starred Maggie Smith. “Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she will be mine for life.” I've got the movie on VHS. It's a Private Catholic schoolgirl thing - like having served in the Army, you tend to be drawn to movies about it. :)
Lastly, Marilyn also reviewed "Twilight" and had this to say about Edward the vampire:
"Edward is rich, gorgeous, accomplished, blessed with superhuman gifts and old-world, courtly ideals. He is most definitely what he thinks he is, and stands as a pasteurized pillar of Byronic wish-fulfillment."
Chuckle!
Damn girl, but you can write. And with that, back to my paints...
Marie - Appreciate the praise. Stop by any time. BTW, the review of "Twilight" was by my esteemed blog partner, Rod Heath, from the land down under. He can write, too, damn fine stuff.
Beautifully written, Roger.
To party after party
We arrive too late.
Always greeted by stragglers;
"It was great! It was great!"
*sigh
Roger:
One of many memorable nights in O'Rourke's, circa 1970. Norman Jewison, his wife Dixie, an exec of The Mirisch Company named Goldstone, Beau Bridges and Margot Kidder were in the house. Jewison had just optioned my novel for film. (It was never made, but the option was renewed) You were there to interview Jewison. He was there to film Ben Hecht's "Gaily, Gaily," with Kidder and Bridges, right after he had made "The Landlord," Jewison told me that certain neighborhoods of Milwaukee looked more like turn-of-the century Chicago than Chicago, and so he decided to shoot up there. But word was that Daley the First didn't like Jewison's script and wouldn't give approval to shut down a street to permit shooting. In those days the city required film makers to submit their scripts before the city would cooperate. That night Jay Nash and Kevin Mosley were there. Also Jack Lane, Ed McCahill, Susan Andersen, Oikonimides butting heads with pals and an occasional stranger he befriended. Algren wandered in later. As the evening matured three deep accumulated at the bar. Johnny red and conversation flowed. Arguments and shouting, pushing, shoving and an occasional thrown punch ensued. And over it all, Jay Kovar presided, laconic dispenser of drink and peacemaker.
Ebert: I remember that night.
Daley refuse to cooperate. Jewison ran into another difficulty. The house he thought was ideal to play the famous bordello the Everleigh Club turned out to be Cardinal Cody's official residence.
Just saw Norman at Toronto. Ageless. Always in good spirits.
Once again, a lovely piece of prose.
Is it me or does Al the Greek bear a striking resemblence to James Gandolfini, of "The Sopranos" fame, in that picture?
I can swear that is Tony Soprano!
Ebert: Al was considerably larger. The biggest numismatist I've ever seen.
Tom Dark wrote on September 24, 2009 4:14 PM -
"Like Matt, I've read this one three times myself. (And you're very good at mood-setting yourself, Marie Haws.)"
It was a weary stream of consciousness at 4:00 am - but I'm glad to hear it entertained you. :)
NOTE: The soundtrack to "Good Night, and Good Luck" is well worth buying.
For me, it's all about the quality of conversation to be had at O'Rourke's - such as I imagine the exchanges to have been - which makes the place so appealing to me; even though it's long since gone now. For like you, I don't care about large groups; you can be bored to death in a crowded room, too. Nor is it about the Kilkenny (you can talk over cups of tea & coffee) or the fact it was a famous watering hole (that only serves to attract annoying wannabes) but rather and by all accounts, it was akin to one of those unpretentious local spots where a diversity of souls would magically gather - and fill the room with what made it fun to be therein the first place.
I got a taste of that at the Irish Heather. It was the watering hole for animators and the like. In the same way O'Rourke's attracted writers and women who were beautiful and wonderful and tough and dangerous. :)
I like both men and women when it comes to having conversations. I want to hear about your prized jello cake recipe, as much as I do how your favorite team did against Man Utd. Just tell your story well. :)
I suspect one of the reasons Roger enjoys his blog as much as he does, is because it's helping to ease the pain of losing places like O'Rourke's. You can have some good conversations in here too, spelling mistakes aside. I know he doesn't miss being an alcoholic - but then alcohol was never "why" O'Rourke's was special.
At least I've never heard anyone lament the loss of it; just the place were it was poured, eh? That's what I think is hard. I know I'm still bummed about the Heather.
That said Tom....
"McSorley's Old Ale House - how to pour the perfect Guinness"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSwSmls9ACI
That's also how to pour a Kilkenny. And I love watching the nitrogen bubbles in the glass - I never get bored of seeing how it creates this up-side-down water fall effect, you know? It's really neat to see that.
Ebert: I could drink anywhere in Chicago, or at home. But the evening didn't seem complete until I'd checked in at O'Rourke's. I was afraid I might miss someone. The most dreaded words: "Guess who just left?"
Mr Ebert,
Youth believes that things will last forever. The camaraderie the had would sustain them until old age. And yet institutions are but illusions, and cliques are but snapshots of moments of your life.
That is why storytelling is important. Everything has a beginning, middle and end. There is a part of us that recognize a chunk of our lives as but chapters in a book.
They begin without noticing it, we enjoy it while we are in it but we do not fully recognize what we had, until we find we miss it. But that is what makes them precious. And we tell others of these golden times...because once we pass-then all memory fades into time.
Ebert: All memory.
Well, ho, Marie,
The most memorable line I've ever heard drinking in a bar was from my pal Natcho, a little soused on Mateus. His dad had told him "if you can count five friends by the time you're fifty, consider yourself lucky." That's how things were in Queens.
We were 19. We lost touch after age 22, as college mates do. 28 years later, now living in Tucson, I remembered Natcho was about to turn fifty. It was quite a trick tracking down the right "Shapiro" in New York City, but I did. Count me in as a friend, I said.
And it so happened, he told me, that I'd moved to a place across from a synagogue that he remembered well -- he was hitchhiking with an Israeli, who'd cut himself, and needed a rabbi, not a doctor, to fix it for him. Funny thing. Funnier, a couple of years after that, I had a reason to contact that same rabbi myself on behalf of a troubled client.
Not that I don't remember a lot of bar conversations. So and so was proud to confide that her husband had killed a man; this blonde woman was also blonde when she was a princess in Ancient Egypt; when whatever macho president had battered the daylights out of whatever poverty-stricken outhouse of some third world shithole, a companion proudly declaimed "it's Miller time!"; but largely, work, religion, sex, politics, chitter, chitter and chatter, punctuated by the liquor kicking in, gilding some tawdry truth golder than sober.
It took private walks to hear lines like "What's love so much like as the uncertainty of spring days?" -- from a penniless little Dutch Baron whom I'd rescued after his lover had booted him out. Or "I think mankind is doomed to accept final responsibility for himself," from a cynical German poet and housepainter. Or "she will give you five fingers and feign it's her whole hand," a bit of advice that proved quite true. Or whole passages from Keats while shoveling gravel with an Irish schoolteacher.
What memorable lines did you hear, Roger?
The most memorable I've heard to date was at a cafe -- Cafe Lena, in Saratoga Springs, New York, on June 19, 1971. That memorable indeed. Cafe Lena still stands on Phila Street, folk artists still play there, and it's still the hole in the wall through which those best lines came; this one on the second floor above Hattie's Chicken Shack, which also still stands, though Hattie must be long dead. Lena died 20 years ago.
Also passing through that hole in the wall were Bob Dylan, Don Maclean, Loudon Wainwright III, Dave van Ronk, the McGarrigle sisters, U Utah Phillips, Frank Wakefield -- who, drunk, said "Boy, Ah feel a whole lot more like Ah do now than Ah did when I came in here," but he didn't hold a candle to the Man from Xebos.
A totally nondescript fellow, except that he looked like he'd just come from work at an insurance agency, black suit, red tie, round shoes. He wasn't scheduled on the bill. He stepped up on the tiny stage as we were waiting around for the first act of the night. He was obviously very nervous.
"Can I have your attention please? Ladies and gentlemen? Can I have your attention? I'm sorry to interrupt you tonight, but I won't take long, and I know you're eager to get to the entertainment," words to this effect, and compliments to the musicians, "I have to tell you something I've never told anybody before. Not even my wife or my children -- my two beautiful children.
"I... am not from this planet." Pause. Oh good, a comedian.
"I'm from a planet called Xebos, in another solar system. I've been on your planet for 18 years. I didn't get here by rocket ship. We travel through the power of the mind.
"On earth, you have your handshakes, you make your peace signs, your generals salute, and you wave your hands hello and goodbye. On Xebos we also have a greeting." He put his hand to his forehead and pulled it away in a sweeping gesture. "It means all problems can be solved through the mind."
"We're not supposed to reveal ourselves; our trips here are secret. But I'm going to be leaving this planet in six months; you'll never see me again after tonight. In my 18 years here I've been afraid that love is dying on this planet, so I'm going to spend my last six months going wherever I can and trying to sow the seeds of love again."
Maybe not a funnyman after all. From this corny beginning he gave the most beautiful speech about love I've yet to hear, and criticisms of human behavior I wound up taking to heart. "The worst thing we can imagine," he said, for one thing, "is worshipping a dead and bloody man hanging on a cross." Apparently that's what happened to the last Xebotian who came to this planet.
Theatrics or not, the audience was mesmerized. He'd turned the little hole in the wall into an island floating silently through the endless black of space. I looked around -- I knew everyone in the cafe -- and every single one of them was motionless, eyes as though in a trance. They were dead silent when he finally left the stage, hurried down the stairs, and disappeared forever.
I went home and wrote it all down and sent it in a letter to my girlfriend, whom I loved with the blinding rays of a first real love. As it turned out, she'd jilted me for a rather well-to-do older man. But I remembered the speech for years anyhow.
Even so, as years went by, I hoped this old flame had saved that letter. I managed to locate her one year, and learned that the well-to-do man had abused her violently -- so she married again.
At the point I called her, now from southern California to her in Alaska, this second husband had smashed her beloved guitar to pieces the night before, shoved her into the bathtub, turned on the hot water, and tried to scald her to death. So much for in vino veritas. She never did read that speech by the crazy man from Xebos trying to re-sow the seeds of love on this planet.
So I wrote down what I remembered, eventually put it on a blog for safekeeping owing to computer crashes and aging files; but I abandoned that blog a few years ago. It's probably still around.
And I've noticed over the years that where we are not destroying things in pursuit of rigid ideals and lip-service, people do seem a little wiser about love than they did back then. It's nip and tuck, isn't it?
Ebert: Rescued from the spam folder.
Roger:
Years ago, I was a grad student at Duquesne U in Pittsburgh, PA, where I was a teaching assistant by day, and took grad classes at night. On the way home from school, I began to stop at a small town bar on the east side of the city called "Balsamo's" (closed since that time) to have a beer. It became a fun social event, not to mention an excuse to numb out the previous hours. Many in there were fun, filled with drama and wit, it appeared, and it seemed like everyone would show up around the same time in the evening when I was finished with my classes. Several in the bar got a kick out of yelling "Hey Professor!" whenever I walked in, because they understood I was teaching classes during the day.
Then, one rainy evening, I left my umbrella in the bar. The next morning, before my teaching assignments began, I stopped in the bar just after it opened to retreive it.
There they were, the same crowd, and the chime of "Hey Professor!" when I walked in. I was stunned and shocked. "My God! Do these people live here?" I thought.
It came to my realization that, yes, they did, these people were there all the time. From open to close. This was where they lived and this was their life.
I became a little frightened of "Balsamo's" and places like it after that.
I'm glad you and I didn't get stuck there, Roger. :)
I usually drank alone, and there were only two bars I frequented during campus years. One of them was campus beer bar where I had developed my taste more for six years. First, it was just plain beer(about 2-3L), but, in 2009, my beer of choice were Krombacher, Leffe, Hoegaarden, Lowenbrau, and, of course, Guiness. And I drank beer far less than that wild time.
I stopped drinking last month, but I do not lose much. I liked talking with people at the bar, but they were usually strangers. Bartender at campus bar had been a good friend to me, but the contract was over and he has gone now. He liked movies too, and I used to talk about your reviews with him. In his last day at bar, I gave him whole seasons of "The Wire" as parting gift(He also liked American TV dramas a lot). I miss good times at campus bar, but now these moments are past now and I will not get it again.
P.S.
I watched "Fame"(2009) in movie theater yesterday, and I will not remember this lifeless remake. I have to admit that Alan Parker's movie is aged a bit, but that movie still has substantial
energy. I have known the manager of coffee shop one story under multiplex theater for years, and she was as enthusiastic as you to Parker's movie. She will be very disappointed.
Ebert: When I was growing up, America was involved in the Korean War. As a little boy I had a shaky grasp of reality, but Korea seemed far, far away, and inhabited by Foreigners.
Somewhere inside of me, there remains enough of that little boy that I am slightly amazed that a customer and a bartender in Korea might be discussing one of my reviews. There is a global family now. I find it easier reading and identifying with you than with many of the Americans I encounter.
Marilyn Ferdinand wrote on September 24, 2009 5:30 PM -
"Marie - Appreciate the praise. Stop by any time. BTW, the review of "Twilight" was by my esteemed blog partner, Rod Heath, from the land down under. He can write, too, damn fine stuff."
An Australian male actually managed to sit through "Twilight"..?
I'm impressed.
So too, by the fact that if I say "season 5: episode 7 "Fool For Love", writer Douglas Petrie - there's a very good chance you know who Spike is. I've been to your site before. :)
I still remember Roger's comparisons between "Twilight" and "Let the Right One In" - a far better film and the brouhaha over the butchered English subs. Note: I heard it was possible to find a copy with "Festival subs" (correct English translation) and not the dummer version released onto DVD, so I'd grabbed that instead. I love how it ends on the train with Oskar tapping on the box and for striking me as akin to knocking on your own coffin and hearing a friendly reply. It's an ending with many layers to it, as you take that more than one way, eh? :)
I'd have told you that inside your own blog but I'm pretending we're inside O'Rourke's and Roger's listening in. :)
Ebert wrote: I could drink anywhere in Chicago, or at home. But the evening didn't seem complete until I'd checked in at O'Rourke's. I was afraid I might miss someone. The most dreaded words: "Guess who just left?"
Exactly! People make a place special, not alcohol. You could just as easily been meeting up with pals inside some little cafe and arguing about who cheated at Bocce ball over a glass of wine; smile. And if you think people take European Football seriously... cheat at Bocce.
"...because once we pass - then all memory fades into time." - Mike Lukash
Yes and no.
The surface of it fades - all the particulars, but everything underneath it, that leaves a residue. It's intangible, invisible, but you know it's there because you feel it when you walk in the room or down a street. Has that never happened to you..?
Ever step into a quiet pool of sudden melancholy? Say, where children often played and laughed? Never wonder why schools feel like graveyards over the summer? The buildings seemingly in mourning, missing them so.
How about a certain section of the neighbourhood, that's never ever felt quite "right?" Or conversely one that feels so right you go out of your way each time, to cut through that "little park" and feel the trees with your gaze like finger tips across the bark?
Or places far and foreign..?
New York, London, Paris, Venice. Been there, done that, seen the new and the old. And the old feels better, at least to me - it's soaked up memories! Although that said, I still prefer updated plumbing and wiring. Rather, I prefer the emotional "feel" of an old door nob. I prefer wood that's been around 200 years.
Ie: you may die, but your memory gets soaked up by all the stuff around you! The universe is a BIG sponge. Trees, wrought-iron gates, windows, lampposts, mail boxes, elevators, wooden spoons, ceramic mixing bowls.. you'd be amazed at all the stories they can tell you!
You just have to listen. :)
P.S. I know O'Rourke's is now a stir-fry joint called the Top Flat grill, but that doesn't mean I've stopped sniffing around the internet as you never know what you might find, and I just found this...
Old Town Ale House - really BIG color photo!
http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/22510183.jpg
Then I went google map, photos, street level - and saw what became of O'Rourke's; I screen'capped it..
http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/orourkes.jpg
Stupid blue TRUCK! Aaaargh! Even so, you can still sorta see what the outside used to look like. And yup; assuming little hole in the wall.
Perfect!
And then they had to go ruin things. BUT, and consolation prize: Old Town Ale House. :)
Ebert: Yes! Both places! I have a feeling it's only a matter of time until you cave in and fly to Chicago simply to visit the Ale House.
And not to loverlook this painting by Bruce Elliott, co-owner of the Ale House, of Rod Blagojevich being strip-searched:
http://chicagoist.com/attachments/Marcus%20Gilmer/2008_12_20_blagopainting.jpg
And this (second from left, Jay Robert Nash; second from right, Bruce Elliott):
http://www.artslant.com/userimages/14020/old_town_ale_house_004.jpg
And a glimpse of Maureen's Ale House wall mural including many old O'Rourke's legends:
http://thescene.s3.amazonaws.com/pics/bar/1/7254/profile/1198443286274_272.jpg
And this picture, Bruce and Tobin in middle, at (someone else's) wedding:
http://reddotfoto.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/080719_annalisecharles_blog_001.jpg
And this drawing:
http://pjgandassociates.com/OldTownAleHouse2.jpg
What a great piece.
It makes me miss my local haunt from my mid-20s. What a wonderful time that I'd never want to go back to.
(OK, maybe for a night)
Mr. Ebert,
I just watched the excellent doc Chicago 10. I notice your colleague, Mr. Emerson, wrote your site's review, but your brief mention of it here in this blog leaves me wondering -- have you written anything on the subject? Your memories of that time?
One more comment....growing up I always read Royko's column and I always thought Slats Grubnick was a real person.....he was wasn't he?
Ebert: Yes, Virginia...
Once again, thanks for bringing back such great memories, Roger. I started out as an Oxford Pub person but switched to O'Roukes when I moved to within 2 blocks of it in the early 70's, where I was privileged to meet you. Not being a writer I never felt completely comfortable there but always enjoyed the happenings. I remember one time being jarred when Michael Touhy came out of the bathroom and screamed at the top of her lungs "I hate women who pee on the seat!!" To this day, my sentiments exactly.
One of my favorite memories was discussing some book with J. Robert Nash and Mike Royko and when I said I didn't like it Nash lit into me about people who don't write themselves have no right to an opinion on any one else's work. I was taken aback and embarrassed until Royko jumped to my defense and said that was one of the stupidest things he had ever heard and to pay no attention. I'll always be grateful to him for that and was surprised at what a sweet man he was, contrary to his gruff public persona. Oh to be young again!
Ebert: That sounds just like the two of them.
Ebert, you ruthless thing! The reminiscences were bad enough, but to supply Mary Richards as the soundtrack is simply too much. "In our hearts the dreams are still the same." How will I explain these "tears, idle tears" to my co-workers and students?
All I can muster is a Tennysonian whimper:
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather in the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Ebert: I heard that song on the juke box every single night I was in O'Rourke's. Even then I sensed those were the days.
I hope the rest of Bright Star is as beautiful as the shot of Fanny in the bluebells. The clips shown on At The Movies last Sunday looked hazy, colorless and drab, a trope I find in "period films" at least as annoying as the Deathbed Scene.
If I had my own O'Rourke's, it would be the Muddy Charles Pub, on campus when I worked in the library system at MIT twenty years ago. I can't think of anywhere else where I could listen to two students debate what a world with a methane ocean would be like, or hear an explanation of metal fatigue, as relevant to a court case for which he was the expert witness, by a professor named Ken Russell(!) We had our share of regular characters, too; the Two Tonys, both of whom worked just down the road at Polaroid. American Tony came dressed in suit and tie, and was rather quiet, contrasting with British Tony, always in shirtsleeves, who was quite talkative, and became moreso as the evening went on, constantly telling stories, joking and laughing. It was hard to buy a round of the 50 cent draft when they were there; I think I still owe them about 37 rounds apiece.
On the Guinness poem (love it!): yes, I would imagine so.
Ebert: The look of the film is anything but drab.
You actually knew Slats Grobnik, Roger? Wow!
http://www.press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago/730735.html
Ebert: I knew him almost as well as Royko did.
Drinking is fun see? Until it isn't.
I spent about 9 months in Chicago - well Oak Park - with my new Chicago-raised girlfriend - sexual normalcy in Chicago. We had come up from Atlanta, where I was raised. The Bears were still a very good football team. The Falcons were still very bad. "This is going to be GREAT, living in a town with a champion football team!" Well that was the year of the Fog Bowl, which the Bears won because they had better eyes. Next week was the 49ers at Soldier Field - no fog that week - game time temperature - 2 whole degrees. I woke up that morning as if it were Christmas and I were 10 again. "C'mon Sue let's go find a bar in this town in which to watch football with these great fans!" She drove, I used my bar-dar to pick one out on North near Austin. "Great atmosphere hey!" Well, actually the people were rather quiet, but it was early. The game approached. They were still quiet. The game started. A few heads turned to the TV - the 49ers scored. The heads pointed back to the drinks on the bar. "Hey guys! You're giving up! It's one touchdown!" I said out loud (probably risking a beating). Incredulous stares came my way - "where are YOU from kid? You know who you are dealing with? These are the BEARS." They were right, the 49ers drubbed them in the 2-degree Bear weather.
I never went back to that bar. I got the feeling that North Avenue drinking was for the pros.
-drl
Ebert: The Fog Bowl was great TV. The announcers couldn't see the field, and were reduced to describing figures dimly seen on their TV monitors.
"And it looks like that was..no, hang on a minute..."
Christopher Plummer's recently published memoir, In Spite of Myself, has many wonderful recollections of Canadian, U.S., Caribbean and European saloons (among other lively tales). I highly recommend it.
Sorry for double-posting (has the Pope ruled on the ethics of that modern day sin yet?), but I should have added that I enjoyed your tavern memories very much. Reminds me quite a bit of one of our own havens of delight here in Tribeca, NYC, Puffy's Tavern, for many years a hangout for not only artists but, among others, construction workers, mafiosi, con artists, pimps and hookers. Puffy's still survives, but alas is on the market, but has not been the same place since the wealthy and the city discovered the charms of our lovely neighborhood.
In a way I'm luckier than youse guys. My favorite hangout of all time didn't show up until a few years ago. You just can't beat dirty, ratty, artsy, somewhat profane -- and even a couple bullet holes in the front window. The building started out as a Ford dealership in 1911.
Here's a guided tour of Shot in the Dark Cafe, Tucson, hosted by my favorite ratty cafe owner of all time (how I love that girl):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5_bHRlYxXw&feature=related
Ebert: Good gravy! I take it you refer to a ratty cafe, not a ratty owner.
Off-topic a bit, but it's something I've had on my mind:
What would it be like if you were to throw a gala for those of us frquent contributors to this blog?
I know it could never happen in real life. Just bringing people over from India, Korea, Europe, and all, would require PBS-level underwriting. Between transportation, lodging, expenses, etc., what sort of hall could hold us all? And who would willingly put up with the arguments?
I find myself wondering what Marie Haws and Tom Dark and Bill Hays and Randy Masters and Carrisoza and H.W. and all the others whose names I can't call to mind right now - I wonder what they're like in person. What they look like, what they sound like, whether they're as argumentative in the flesh as they are in print.I'm even vain enough to wonder if they wonder about me.
And I wonder what a veteran of O'Rourke's would make of such a gathering of wackos as this would surely be.
As I said, it'll never happen.
But what if?
Ebert: Wackos? My readers?
Wow! What a great piece. My own memorable watering, raking hole was (and I guess still is) The White Horse. Two years in particular when I was between wives allowed me to meet and get to know some true characters, Glen the Ambiguous, the regular we dubbed The Hitcher for his mysterious demeanor and who stood at the counter (there was no 'bar' in the original)every night and then one night walked out and called a few days later to say that he moved to Alaska but wasn't certain how he got there. Many nights spent there with my own newspaper crowd seeing one of my bosses literally swing from the rafters and another one night threatening to kill me if I spoke to his ex-wife again.
See what you did? You brought it all back. Man I'm thirsty. Later.
Ebert: Is that the White Horse in Greenwich Village, where Dylan Thomas died?
As another fan of the music scene in Chicago (my holy tinity of musicians is Goodman, Prine and Michael Smith) in the late 60s and thru the 70's, have you ever considered writing a book ( a la Clay Eals superb biography of Steve Goodman) about the music scene around that time. I gotta believe that there are many of us ( some.... a few?....) who yearn for the music of that era to come alive again.
I actually traded some e-mails with Dave Hoekstra about this a while back .. he asked me to be his agent....
Thanks Roger-
Ed Koehler
Ebert: There's a very good bio of Steve Goodman that touches on many others.
http://www.amazon.com/Steve-Goodman-Facing-Clay-Eals/dp/1550227327/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1253909887&sr=1-1
Ah well, I wasn't going to accomplish anything today anyway...might as well wallow in nostalgia for a few hours.
Among my O'Rourke's memories involving you, Roger, is helping you change a tire in a snowdrift outside the bar at some very early morning hour. I have forgiven you. Anyway, we both had plenty of antifreeze aboard. My most vivid Royko memory is from Riccardo's, where someone introduced me to him--God knows why--while he was drinking with Bill Mauldin, who was unhappy to be bothered by me or anyone else. Royko was raving loudly about some politician, who he said was so inept that "he couldn't make a move without steppin' on his own dick!"--an image I have never forgotten but wish I could. This observation seemed to startle some of Ric's patrons. It wouldn't have raised an eyebrow at O'Rourke's.
Drinking lost its magic for me long ago, but I miss saloons like O'Rourke's. The nearest big city to my (literal) little house on the prairie is Dallas, which has various Yuppie hangouts but nothing resembling places like O'Rourke's, the Ale House, or the joints on Lincoln Avenue. And the original incarnation of The River Shannon Inn, where I was late-shift relief bartender for a couple of years. Once (one time--not twice) someone left a tip for me. I followed him outside to return his change, which I honestly thought he had forgotten. I poked my nose in there on a recent visit to Chicago. Sadly, the Shannon is now fully Yuppified. The rest rooms have been cleaned, which is good, but they should have stopped there.
Thank you Roger, for memorializing O'Rourke's. Some memories of night after night spent there are very hazy, thanks I'm sure to the booze. But Jay Kovar, Hank Oettinger and others like you and your first review partner, Gene Siskel come happily to mind. One time I asked you if the contentiousness over movies you two exhibited on TV was staged and your answer was very clear. I also remember those nights when Paul Carroll and a burly Irish newspaperman ( John McHugh?) would, when in their cups, start to recite, line by line, William Butler Yeat's poem "Easter 1916".
Do you suppose that O'Rouke's was a Chicago dream of an open forum before the time of an internet format?
Ebert: Hi Maryrose! Your husband the celebrated poet! I learned some Yeats by heart just by listening to them (over and over).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Carroll
Your should link your webpage to Wikipedia's entry.
Marie - Believe me, Rod was more interested in watching Twilight than I was. I think Eric on True Blood is supposed to be that series' Spike. But of course, there is only one Spike. And having seen Let the Right One In at the Chicago International Film Festival (the new edition of which opens in a couple of weeks), I got the best version. It was the first film I reviewed for CIFF last year and was pleased to find out that people who had avoided it at other festivals because of the "fanboy" aspect of the devotion to it were encouraged to see it in general release because "Ms. Ferdinand is certainly no fanboy." Indeed.
I realize that I spent a good deal of time talking about what bars I wanted to hang out at and nothing about the one I really did hang out at: Moody's Pub. Not far from my college campus (Loyola U. Lakeshore), my boyfriend tended bar there and the entire bar staff and their associates were the family. We didn't have a lot of regulars - just Richard, the gentlemanly Englishman who fed his prodigious alcohol addiction at the very small end of the Moody's bar, remains in my memory. So, too, a skinny black hooker in hot pants and a white rabbit jacket we let in after hours to warm up. John Moody built the entire place, including second-floor apartment where he still lives, and the beer garden with his own two hands. He used to be in Old Town until the bar burned down. Moody's abides, but on a recent sojourn there, even with Glenn - one of the original bartenders - still behind the bar, there wasn't much left there for me. Same decor - Moody never believed in updating - same dark lighting, but different vibe. Yes indeed, you can't go home again.
Ebert: "Best bar burgers in Chicago?" Better than Jimmy;'s in Hyde Park?
http://www.chibarproject.com/Reviews/Moody%27s/Moody%27s.htm
Well, Mike Doran aka Lowbrow Crank, I like reading your postings too. Wacko is goodo.
As to me in person, I'm usually the one saying "mm hmm?" "uh huh?" "huh!" and "hmmm" periodically glancing toward the exit. I like thoughts better than the racket of the spoken word.
As to a big party, it'll have to wait until I win the lottery and throw one for the only discussion group I've ever belonged to, imperiously hosted by one of the most darling old ladies England has to offer. "We love our Stevie Hobbs," is our slogan. Members are also in US, Oz, Canada, India, Malaysia. There's where you'll find your hard-core argyin'.
I've got it, Roger! THE GROBNIK GROUP. Even better than "The Algonquin Table," eh? Okay, now we've got the title. Who'll be the biographer?
Re Tom Dark's comment: In the seventies, The Green Dolphin in downtown Tucson was my favorite divey hangout. A supremely entertaining assortment of hustlers, artists, writers, and other colorful lushes all together under the watchful eye of the Bonanno family. I even ran into one of Garcia Marquez's English translators there several times.
Mr. Ebert, I believe Dylan Thomas died in the Chelsea Hotel, after consuming vast amounts of Who Shot John at the White Horse.
Ebert: You're right. He had his last drink at the White Horse.
I am not an expert on bar burgers, but Moody's had some good ones. John constantly experimented with fat/lean percentages, and I can attest that all the vegetable ingredients were and are fresh and generous. Alas, I can't speak about Jimmy's; never been there. Now I'm a pescatarian (eat fish), I'll probably never know.
Ebert: Jimmy's are more like thinish greaseburgers. Yum. Grilled onions if you like 'em.
Hi Mike Doran.
I was wondering the same thing that you were wondering. I had a vision of Roger and the readers in a park in Chicago, at a big table.
I actually thought of starting a Facebook page so that the readers' photos could be seen, but I didn't feel great about the idea of moving away from this journal page.
Here's a crazy off-topic idea for a movie your love letter to O'Rourke's seemed to invoke: It's also inspired to a certain degree by William Goldman's assertion that "Chaplin" should have focused strictly on Chaplin's life in poverty in London, his frantic escape to America, then ended just after he put the tramp makeup on and walked on because we all know what happened after that --- and the paternity suits, the scandals --- who cares? Okay, bear with me --- Tarantino said on his most recent Charlie Rose interview he would never do a "biopic" because he just doesn't care for them --- with one exception. He would do one of Elvis, but take it up until the point where Elvis, unemployed at 21 years old, walked into the (whatever) studios in Nashville and decided to blow a week's pay on a demo. BANG! End of movie, cause we all know what happened then. So how's this: a feature length movie in which O'Rourke's is the primary, if only, set. (Or some place like it) But it's told from the perspective of the bartender's son who hangs out behind the bar and skips school all the time, observing the poets, drunks, and vagabonds who frequent this inglorious landmark. At the end of the movie, the kid gets shipped off to reform school, having become too much for his bartender dad to handle. Their parting words: "Goodbye, George". It couldn't happen, you say? It did happen (so maybe not O'Rourkes, but only a thousand or so miles east). And if you haven't guessed who I am talking about, thirty lashes with a wet noodle. I feel free to drop this anecdote, not as a pitch --- since no studio head in a million years would have the balls to do a biopic this pertinent, but simply to make a point that places like O'Rourke's, are about as American as it gets in terms of culture and characters --- warts and all. And who knows what youngster might have ventured in to a place like that and walked out different (for better or for worse).
Ebert: George...naw, it couldn't be!
You have another, wonderful post about your walking tour of London. Think you could come up with a similar tour of Chicago? I'll be visiting again in October, and I'd love to dig deeper into the city.
Good God, how much do I look forward to these blog posts? It seems that they get better & better. Roger you are a born storyteller in addition to a great critic. You couldn't slap the grin off my face as I read this. We had our local watering holes & coffee shops in my younger years, and it amazes me how similar certain experiences are, regardless of the time or people involved. This post glows with the joy, atmosphere & colour of a magnificent '40s film. Once again, thanks for sharing your abundant wit & wisdom.
Ebert: Good gravy! I take it you refer to a ratty cafe, not a ratty owner.
---A consensus never was reached... but she'll always be my little Booboo girl.
Gee Whiz, Mike C., I'd'a moved to Tucson earlier if I'd known that. I showed up in time for Joe Bonanno's funeral and am still not sure how to spell "Pete Licavoli." One of my clients was Bonanno's paperboy, and I tried the spaghetti at supposedly his favorite Italian joint, the Yankee Doodle something or other. It was lousy. There was Jersey Joe's where the eye-tie was better than I'd had in NYC and San Fran both. Joe had a nose that somebody'd apparently laid a lead pipe across at one time and personal letters from John Gotti framed on the wall. Once I brought a Brooklyn Italian pal (a paleontologist) to eat there, introduced them, and should've brought a clicker to count off how many times the word "fukkin'" got used per minute. A very high rate indeed.
Jimmy tells Joe "Tom's de only guy I trust ta watch my [f'n] back."
I say "Jimmy, dat's an honah." Right outta da Sopranos. Joe's impressed. He gives a kid I recommend to him a kitchen job. Over the weeks the kid starts talking like a Bowery Boy. One day Joe tells him "You keep [f'n] workin' your balls off like that and you're gonna go places." But Joe's dumb-bunny-blonde girlfriend hates him, so out he goes. "He just f'n din't get along with everybody, y'know?"
Tucson has more unsuspected characters per square mile than any place I've ever been. Why in the world should a man who runs a flower shop around the corner be best friends with the Comptroller for the Vatican? And what is she doing there, and why a she? And what was a man whose job was to chauffeur top politicians across the border to the most expensive whorehouse in North America doing in my $375/mo apartment? And an Angolan ambassador, for god's sakes? Not making this up. He's in jail now, you can look it up.
And where Carlos Castaneda met Don Juan? Fuggedaboutit.
This is kind of new, and makes me both laugh and feel immensely sad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GN9zpf5cT0M
Ebert, will you write a 50 page "introduction" to the Bible in retort to this unbelievable vandalism of an important book? I wonder if the movie about Darwin is going to include all of the flaws they are pointing out in the man, and not the theory.
I don't know. It just made me angry and I had my fair share of commentary about the subject on your site. I hope you enjoy the sadness of this video.
Ebert: Kirk Cameron faces a formidable problem. Darwin was right. The Theory of Evolution has nothing to do with atheism. It has no opinion on any spiritual subject. It is sad to witness somebody who has brainwashed himself.
Roger, why do you act like OBSERVE & REPORT does not exist? It's an excellent dark "comedy" in the vein of KING OF COMEDY. It's hard for me to believe you wouldn't like the film--and even harder to believe you wouldn't review it... I smell a conspiracy.
I apologize if I've missed your review or thoughts on the film; if so, they are hard to find. And yes, I realize this post has no connection to the above blog (which I have read and enjoyed) and I apologize for that too! I figured enough readers left intelligent comments already.
I just hope OBSERVE & REPORT didn't strike you like BLUE VELVET did--a film you totally didn't get at the time (c'mon now, be honest with yourself!) Or maybe you had a beef with David Lynch personally, because if I remember right, you didn't like THE ELEPHANT MAN either! Please. Lynch is creepy and horrible in person, but he is an excellent filmmaker (excepting DUNE). Why did you not review OBSERVE & REPORT??? It pains me...
OBSERVE & REPORT is pure genius, just like KING OF COMEDY, Araki's SMILEY FACE, RATCATCHER, SCIENCE OF SLEEP, BODY DOUBLE, etc...
Do you not see that OBSERVE & REPORT is like the BODY DOUBLE of this era??? Jody Hill did to Scorcese what De Palma did to Hitchcock. It will live forever in cult circles and midnight showings at the NuArt... PAUL BLART is tedious commercial garbage, by the way (but you know that already).
Jody Hill + time = worship
Thank you for reading this (if you even did). It would probably surprise and sadden you to know I am a popular novelist (and sometimes screenwriter). But I like to smoke pot, and it shows. Rocknroll!!!!! I think you and Stephen King should collaborate--you are two of my favorite writers, regardless of what you're writing about.
Ebert: I don't act like it doesn't exist. Many films exist which I haven't reviewed. A conspiracy? Who against? I was in Boulder that week, going through a film shot-by-shot. I'm running about as fast as I can.
Mike Doran (aka lowbrow crank),
"I find myself wondering what Marie Haws and Tom Dark and Bill Hays and Randy Masters and Carrisoza and H.W. and all the others whose names I can't call to mind right now - I wonder what they're like in person. What they look like, what they sound like, whether they're as argumentative in the flesh as they are in print.I'm even vain enough to wonder if they wonder about me."
I'm socially appalling--painfully shy. I'm kind of like a monk in person who only speaks to say something kind of profound or profound-sounding and at that point the room gets all quiet, which might have to mean using humor to get that across, and in that time, I'm exactly as goofy on print as I am in real life. I'm not argumentative at all and am likely to be the slapee rather than the slapper: read my comments more carefully (my main thing is to not attack anyone or imply I am, but the mindset, the thing that can sometimes not filter out bad information); I'm just interested in information to the point that you won't see anything non-informational in my comments; there is probably only 1 or 2 of my comments that aren't trying to merely inform; there may have been a comment or two indirected towards me criticizingly asking, "Is the sharing of information supposed to be a way of express feeling?" The answer might be yes, in my case, unfortunately which I'm trying to ungray, but this gray gladdens me because it makes me more objective in what I love: information, but not just any information: I love it too much to not settle for information that isn't true love. I like movies because they are like a break from this obsession: I prefer art that is beyond the text. I might be autistic or something because I get anxious in crowds. I wouldn't want to be there in that setting you described.
What ever happened to those great big black and white, weather-beaten photographs of famous Irish writers like Joyce that were on the wall?
Where are they now? They really added to the atmosphere.
John Ozag
Ebert: Joyce, Behan, O'Casey and...Yeats, or Shaw? I think they may have been auctioned.
Roger, A friend, Jim Norris, used to drink at the bar with you when the bartender was Willy Kilkerry. Willy used to write a column of poetry in A LaFarge Newspaper in Wisconsin. Jim passed away in 2000. You may not remember me, but I spent a few evenings with you as well at Romas, drinking Coffee. Hope you're doing well.
Ebert: I remember Jim. Will Kilkeary still thrives. As do you, I'm sure.
Marilyn Ferdinand wrote on September 25, 2009 2:58 PM -
"Marie - Believe me, Rod was more interested in watching Twilight than I was. I think Eric on True Blood is supposed to be that series' Spike. But of course, there is only one Spike..."
"Eric Northman" the blonde Vampire (played by Swedish director/actor Alexander Skarsgård) is their version of Spike, yes. Although with a twist; time will eventually reveal so-called "good Vampire" Bill Compton is not what he seems - and Eric not as bad as he appears. :)
But yes, there's only one Spike.
Meanwhile and at the other end of the bar...
@ Tor Ramsey -
I like your idea for a movie about O'Rourke's. I too, think it's boring to tell what happened after Elvis blew a week's pay on a demo; we know, we know etc. It's far more poignant to leave the viewer at the start of what's already come to pass; less sentimental that way, more bittersweet. Like a film that starts on a plane to America and ends before it lands; who's on it? The Beatles.
Note: I checked - a beer at Moody's is $2.75?! Holy shyte! In Vancouver it's close to $6.00 a pint.
@ Tom Dark and the "Shot in the Dark" Cafe.
I've got you beat, as nothing compares to the "The Marine Club"; the popular hangout of Vancouver's merchant marines. Small and tightly-packed, cluttered with nautical memorabilia, it saw sailors from all over the world.
You had to go up these narrow stairs, see....
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/27/64429160_9b604d3958.jpg
The club was at the top...
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/33/64430317_a633b55aff.jpg
It's since closed. But it was never a favorite haunt and so I didn't mourn it. The Irish Heather however, broke my heart.
Ebert wrote: "Yes! Both places! I have a feeling it's only a matter of time until you cave in and fly to Chicago simply to visit the Ale House."
Oh I would if I could! But yet again I'm chasing rent; this time, for October. It'll be a long time before I travel again, I dare say.
Thank God dreams are free, at least. And what you can't dream, you can download. :)
Marie... BEAT? How can you call that BEAT??? That place was CLEAN. Where's the graffiti? The grease? The really shitty artwork on the walls? The truly ratty old furniture? The knife-carvings on the tabletops and mismatched junk shop chairs? The truly sullen teenage help?
I'll bet those patrons just got... drunk or something, then they'd wash up. At MY cafe a psycho wound up setting a woman on fire. I bet YOUR cafe didn't even have a Claude -- the gay french male model who'd come in one day half-naked wearing a kitty bed for a hat, then a paper bag the next... and lived in somebody's back yard. Or a mentally cracked nuclear guy who'd sit talking to himself and writing secret formulas on old magazines. Or an 85 year old tapdancing lady with a mouth like a Brooklyn sailor... budda BING. I could indeed go on. What a cast of characters.
Yoy, you Canadians... you just don't know "grubby," do you?
Left a little surprise for you on Roger's Indie Security Alert blog... XOX
I awaited the closing scenes of "Disgrace" with a special urgency, because the story had gripped me deeply but left me with no idea how it would end. None -- and I really cared. ...The final shot by the director Steve Jacobs is in its own way perfect. There cannot be a resolution, apart from the acceptance of reality. ~ Roger, on Disgrace
Hi Roger, I agree that Disgrace is one of the year's best. I saw it twice within the last two days. And you were right: I, too, had no idea how the film would end. It was the settling of it that I thought was perfect and in keeping with the tone of the rest of the movie. The characters that inhabit the story seem to have no convictions at all, with the exception of the senior academics, who believe in repercussions. I think it was the tug of war between these two forces, moral pliancy and conscionability, that gave tension to the film. And, I believe that same conflict dwelt inside David Lurie (something of the best and worst of Lord Byron in him, I think). This conflict is universally true, because our sense of what is "better and proper" is constantly being tested. Believe it or not, I go through this almost everyday at work, and I am most often stuck between giving in and staying with what I believe in.
God, I never thought Africa is that beautiful! One tends to think of safaris, stampedes and dusts. I'm trying to bring back memories of Out of Africa to see which of the two films had the better cinematography. ... yes, Out of Africa is still notches up, but that doesn't undermine the cinematographical beauty of Disgrace. You are so lucky to have your African experience, Roger.
In the end, I thought it was proper for the film to show Lucy digging the wet garden earth with her hands. Life goes on. Different place, different rules. I was also glad for David's sake.
Ebert: South Africa is one of the most beautiful lands on earth. As a Rotary Fellow, I traveled to speak to the Rotary Clubs in at least 25 cities and towns, and even up into (then) Southwest Africa. I drove the Garden Route from Cape Town to Durban. I have driven around the Cape, walked over Table Mountain, and taken the Blue Train across endless miles of the karoo. Breathtaking.
Mike Lukash - A wonderful post. All the sadder because it's true.
Reading the replies, I am amused and delighted to see that they ressemble an honest to goodness bar conversation. The best convo's were always the same, everyone could join in as long as they didn't disrupt the flow of the chatter. You could talk about anything to anyone, as long as you spent as much time listening as talking.
My favorite bar story, of all time, has to be Nick Auf Der Maur's (If you don't know him, he was a quite famous Montreal columnist and a colourful fellow to say the least) story about meeting Jack Kerouac in the early 60's. Here's a link to it, I highly recommend everyone read it. It's hysterically funny.
http://www.vehiculepress.com/excerpts/78.html
I don't have many bar stories. The best I can come up with is watching a Japanese director, who shall remain anonymous, trying to write the name of his new film in pee right in the middle of Bishop street while taxis and other cars swerved to avoid him. Watching, I couldn't help but think Thank God the film's title only had four letters, because if it'd been called something like "Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb" he would have been in real trouble. I also debated helping the guy out since he seemed to be running a little dry while crossing his T, but I'd just come back from the bathroom, and besides... I wasn't THAT drunk yet.
Good times. Good memories.
Ebert: A great link.
"I regaled him with a story about how I got arrested at the corner of Stanley and Sherbrooke streets once when I was nude and holding a copy of Ferlinghetti's Coney Island of the Mind in one hand and a glass of gin in the other."
Roger,
How 'bout the night at O'Rourke's that there were seven of you Pulitzer winners elbow to elbow after a Society of Midland Authors soiree? I was opening up for Martin, Bogan & the Armstrongs at the Earl that night, and Studs dragged Hank O., Nelson Algren and Saul Bellow over for second set (beginning at midnight). Mr. B. had been drinking more than usual and gently passed out during my third song, snoring with rhythm as befitted the author of Henderson the Rain King. Studs and Hank never shut up for a minute; I think they were doing a play-by-play of the CIO in the Thirties (I adored both guys). Only Algren stared at me the entire show, never laughing once. I thought to myself, "at least he listened," until I went back towards "the dressing room" and heard him heaving like a hyena in the men's john; he must have been in a near-coma. Lucky for all of us, Carl, Ted and Howard got onstage and tore the joint up (they were bigger heroes of mine than the other four, to be honest).
These memoirs of yours are some very good writing, sir. I sip a Diet Rite in your honor.
Ebert: No sooner do I mention you and MB&A in a comment to a post than you turn up here! I showed both the MB&A documentary and the one about Howard Armstrong's tireless later years at my Ebertfest, and Howard's widow appeared. He was active right into his 90s, and we only missed having him in person by about six months.
I have never forgotten a night at the Earl when I had been over-served and started to call out from the audience during one of your songs. That wasn't like me. Well, it was like me that night. Not forgivable.
Arrived on the scene earlier than your reminiscences here. Landed in Old Town in late 68, hung out a couple of years, then rambled on. Frequented all the aforementioned constabularies, but The Earl of Old Town was kinda my O'Rourke's. Had friends there. Used to try and pace myself for the after hour shenanigans. And the music of course-like you say, you never knew who or what you might miss.
Memory doesn't serve me too well these days, but certain memories stand out. I surely remember one late night that a friend came in all excited, and said Janis Joplin was partying nearby and did I want to go. Too stoned or drunk or both, don't remember exactly, but I declined. Remember young Stevie. Definitely will never forget old Earl, who I know you knew well. I didn't, but sure found him a most memorable character and responsible for so much for so many during that time and I assume even more so later on.
But mostly I miss the camaraderie, the good conversation, the unique zeitgeist of that time and place if you will. Watching both the landing on the moon and the horror of Viet Nam weekly body counts on Cronkite. Remember such gems as these from the end of the nightly news:US casualties-350///NVA-3500. Like some damn mad sporting event. How the tone changed when Walter changed. If only Bobby Kennedy had lived. Mayor Daley. The Convention .Medium Cool. Being a bleacher bum. The devastating Cub Fall collapse-almost 40 years ago to the day now. The bad, blue blotter acid pandemic. Hair. Rita Moreno. The Chicago Seven trial. Who will play Judge Hoffman in the movie? Enough already.
And finally, I bet you've heard this one but thought I'd retell it anyway. Fred Holstein, another of your friends and an Old Town stalwart, was also a big fan of Earl's. I read where Fred recalled Earl was bar tending one night and a drunk asked him his name. Earl told him. A little later the drunk asked "What's your last name? "Town", Earl answered without hesitation.
I also found your tribute recently from a few years back when Fred Holstein died. I thought your closing lines appropriate here and thought it worth sharing with the readers. You cited these lyrics by Ken Hicks, from "All the Good People."
This is a song for all the good travelers
Who passed through my life as they moved along
The ramblers, the thinkers, the just-one-more drinkers
Each took the time to sing me a song.
Ebert: The Earl was a shrine. Martin, Bogan and the Armstrongs on Monday nights. Jim Post, Larry Rand, Bob Gibson, Steve Goodman especially on New Year's Eve, Bonnie Koloc, the Holsteins.
http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/holstein3
Marie - If it is true that Bill is not as sweet as he seems, then it will be following Buffy right down the line. Right now, Sam is the character that interests me the most.
Moody's has always had very reasonable drink prices. John is from the generation where greed was finite and loyalty was coin of the realm. If you ever do come to Chicago (and you can stand the smell of grease, which is, I'm convinced, is helping to hold the place up), Moody's is a must on the pub crawl.
Roger, I too used to have a place like this for some time and quite an old place it was too, although unfortunately lacking in both old world charm and above average company, not that the people were'nt intelligent, they were, just their choices seemed quite run of the mill. In the evening however, it was unbeatable for Dyonisian indulgence and was a fantastic lair of hedonism and youthful debauchery, unfortunately the heart and mind tire of such things sooner than one would expect going in. Édouard used to cheer on Marseille and I, Liverpool and few realised that there are things both bigger and better than football. It's weird that the legal drinking age in the U.S. is 21, in Europe kids start drinking at 18 and as a result there are quite a few on-campus bars, these were great depending on who you were there with. Some days the cognac flowed, on others it was red wine, and quite some absinthe too, but mostly it was scotch..sigh..I miss it all some..but like Brel used to sing..au suivant..au suivant..
Mike Doran (aka Lowbrow Crank): "I wonder what they're like in person..wonder if they wonder about me."
Hi Mike, I think all those you mentioned (and those that you did'nt) are wonderful in person, especially I think Tom and Marie; I have'nt spoken to Randy or, Keith or, Bill enough but, I think Keith and Bill are probably fine people, as is Randy, only, Randy may be a tad misguided. I suspect I might be more difficult in person than I am here, which is perhaps why I choose to spend most of my time alone, that and a few other unavoidable reasons which are'nt so much of my own choosing. Like Tom said above, wacko is goodo indeed. I have often thought what the lives of the people who contribute here are like too. I've even thought of how you could go about making a film about it - Herzog's Encounters At The End Of The World would seem a good fit as the bones of the film. It sounds like an amazing idea to get everyone here together and make some sort of Herzogian docu-film about them, most fascinating. I would probably have to say no to almost everyone because..well, I have my reasons..but Roger and a few other people here, who I instinctively know I could trust with my life, I would dearly love to meet, mostly because of why, how, and what they speak of, I especially like their hows and whats. I have happily read your posts and like your unusual pseudonym Lowbrow Crank, your posts however depict you as neither (we are perhaps kindred spirits in choice of nomenclature) - and this idea of yours has further elevated you in my humble estimation. Perhaps we should get Werner and Fortissimo or, the Weinsteins on the phone, or, email them? It'll never happen..
P.S. I just read your post over at the thread that is truly evolving and how true you are about fear and how it makes our reason unreasonable. One should'nt do away with fear, just be mindful of it.
Tom Dark said: "I like thoughts better than the racket of the spoken word."
Me too Tom, me too. This is one of many reasons why I spend most of my time alone, but sometimes you feel compelled to step in - it's like watching a bus roaring towards a toddler - you've got to push the toddler out of the way and hope that you don't get smashed to pieces. Unless you can be totally zen about it, the racket of the spoken word can drown thoughts out, I think. I try and am going to try harder to restrain myself from getting embroiled in verbal brawls, it leaves me and I suspect most other people reading them, somewhat drained. ..by the way how's Bud Kafka keeping? :) I think I'm going to have to use your idea and designate a "finger-hammerer" to keep my posts pithy and in good humour :)
Marie, I'm reading all your posts as usual and they are as always uplifting. I wish there were many, many more people who were if not exactly like you, fortunate enough to possess spirit that at least equals yours in the world :) I was and am sorry to read about your financial diffculty and hope that it lasts a very short while. Still I guess it makes you feel a special kind of satisfaction to see your artistic achievements having overcome hardship does'nt it? Good luck with it all, I'm sure all our wishes are with you and hope that they if they can't help you earn more money, that they put a smile on your face :)
A toast to Roger's good health and very, very, very, very long life. Best wishes, much joy and merriment to everyone.
Clinking glasses and cheers all around.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Ebert: It's interesting that two of the most articulate writers on this blog speak of being virtual soloists who choose to avoid social interaction.
H.W.! There you are! Have been wondering. Bud Kafka is at this moment out picking up alfalfa hay for our horses. I don't know why he keeps telling me his name is "Jim".
It looks like our party will shape up this way: everyone will sit quietly watching each other, yearning furtively at the exitway.
Even Marie, I'll bet: she also describes herself as primarily a listener. Therefore we must have this party at an undisclosed location, as we may otherwise be deluged by talkers.
My Ancient Pal Merci described Dorothy Parker the same way: reticent, even furtive. Her written thoughts made all the noise.
To paraphrase Col. Jack Ripper: "I do not avoid company, Mandrake, but I do deny them my essence."
Segovia told of a friend of his who said this: "Of what I think, I say about half. Of what I say, you hear about half. Of what you hear, you think about half. Of what you think, you reply about half." Something like this. Ad reductio the essence of soul.
Tarzan say hush.
Not hear jungle.
Not hear tsetse fly.
Not hear reality.
From a cycle of poems I never did write, titled "Tarzan at the Dinner Table."
And for us whose carousing at the waterholes are behind us, Lord Byron:
No more we'll go a-roving
So late into the night;
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.
The night was made for loving,
The day returns too soon,
Yet no more we'll go a-roving
By the light of the moon.
Our good friend Mary Murphy, of the book club, remembers standing on a table there one night and denouncing the quote under the James Joyce photo. Apparently, it's by SOMEBODY St. John Gogarty and was merely repeated by Joyce in "Ulysses."
Ebert: Oliver St. John Gogarty, author of As I Was Going down Sackville Street and many other books.
Wikipedia solves the mystery:
===
Always on the lookout for engaging quotations, Joyce decided to incorporate Gogarty's poem into his work. An early manuscript fragment loosely connected with Stephen Hero places the first two stanzas in the mouth of Doherty, an early prototype of Buck Mulligan.[2] Joyce later abridged and modified the poem for inclusion in the opening chapter of Ulysses, where it is sung by Buck Mulligan, a character largely modeled on Oliver Gogarty.
I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard
My mother's a Jew, my father's a bird.
With Joseph the Joiner I cannot agree
So here's to disciples and Calvary.
If anyone thinks that I amn't divine
He'll get no free drinks when I'm making the wine
But have to drink water and wish it were plain
That I make when the wine becomes water again.
Goodbye, now, goodbye! Write down all that I said
And tell Tom, Dick, and Harry I rose from the dead.
What's bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly
And Olivet's breezy... Goodbye, now, goodbye!
An apparition of Edward the Seventh also recites a line from one of the unused stanzas ("My methods are new and are causing surprise. To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes") during the chapter "Circe."
Asked about his authorship of the poem later in life, Gogarty remarked, "Yes I am guilty; but it shows Joyce's mastery that nobody attributed the verses to me even though he quotes them almost accurately."
=====
The hits keep coming. "What's bred in the bone" is used by Robertson Davies as the title of the second volume in his great Deptford Trilogy.
Perhaps I missed something, but how would ALL of y'all get home?
Ebert: By whatever means necessary.
"I live in that solitude which, painful in youth, is delicious in maturity"
Albert Einstein
Ebert: "His spiritual life has been exaggerated by a chronic attack of mental gallstones." -- Oliver St. John Gogarty
In Amsterdam, there is a hash bar that several writer friends and I frequented whenever a European wild hair sprouted from our traveling hide. Needless to say, cannabis held precedence over alcohol. Once in the nucleus of marijuana nimbus, we would partake in a mixture of philosophical babblings and spurts of story brainstorming and reminiscing (we never slipped into any kind of lassitude when soaring high on each others wings). It was like wine tasting, sometimes beckoning a joint or pipe to the heavens in a toast. There was something spiritual in the levity of this almost ritualistic practice of ours. Yes, we were killing brain cells in the process of this creative and biological translation, but time stood still for us in that open-faced booth as we were a human Pangaea.
One night in the bar, a television was playing Masaki Kobayashi's "The Human Condition." We sat there until morning, blitzed out of our skulls yet completely absorbed, and watched the entire trilogy. None of us had ever experienced it before. Afterwards, we were sunken into a state of upbeat gratitude and eventually climbed out into bittersweet reflection: Some of us had tears in our bloodshot sockets but blamed it on the ganja. Through the haze of herbal clouds, we understood this marked the prologue of an era. That was the last time we took a trip of that nature. It was the closing chapter of my lungs being filled with smoke.
However, I do not regret anything in the past. Someone once wrote me a letter that ended with: "Even if you blow up the world, regret nothing...P.S. Don't blow up the world."
I just finished watching the 9 1/2 film again and it reminded me of that smoldering night in the Netherlands.....My god.....It is one of the greatest (and saddest) films of all time. The ending for me, this time, really took its weighted measure and conveyed exactly why something changed inside us during that chance screening.
SPOILER ALERT:
The main character has a stolen dumpling that could save his life at the end--or at least boost a little more energy to continue on his journey--but through exposure, fatigue, malnourishment, the wear of war on his mind, and the love for his wife, he makes it up in his heart that he will preserve the morsel of food as a gift for said spouse, ultimately killing himself.
Humanity...hell yeah.
No Bright Star this weekend in my Kentucky movie houses. Lexington art house is showing My One and Only though. Won't go near there today, big SEC football game will choke all traffic.
I have high hopes though, maybe next week. Cincinnati Esquire theater may get it first. They often do. Only a ninety mile jaunt. Not like Marie tempted to blow rent money on Chicago trip. I finally paid homage to PPM yesterday and listened to 1700. O'Rourke memory stroll is like Bob Dylan's Dream to me. I've lost touch with almost all of the ones who figured in my own memories of wit and drang.
Love the back and forth on here. Ever and always only one Spike. Marsters appeared on Smallville last season I am told. I saw him on something with dark hair and did a cartoon doubletake. As you would have drawn it, Marie. Just seemed so wrong.
Found my way to Ferdy on Films too. So many paths branch out from Roger's journal. Thank you, Roger.
I broke down and viewed Inglorious Basterds. QT managed to make a film set in WW2 and specifically touching on the Jewish holocaust and I didnt care about one single character. I think that at least takes vision. I actually coughed out a chuckle when the German soldier shoots the theatre owner in the projector room: I was asked to believe that a woman, after witnessing the slaughter of her family, experiencing the humiliation and violence of the occupation, driven to such rage so as to create an inferno that would swallow her along with those she hated, on the crest of her payback, her victory, she, after shooting in cold blood the bozo hounding her, would, upon seeing his image on film(?), would have suddenly stir within a mothering instinct(?) towards said clown, even after she had told him at the door to rejoin the crowd where he would be roasted along with everyone else. Oh, but if she walks over and puts one final bullet in the skull (which I was completely expecting), then we wouldnt get that I suppose dramatic(?) slo-mo of the idiot theatre-owners demise. Wait, wait... I guess its all there in the *subtext*...?
The guy playing Landa was exceptional, and the only person in the whole thing worth taking seriously.
Roger, if you liked that drivel, I fear we are drifting ever further apart....
Oh, but it was interesting that a young family was sitting in a row in front of me (it was a matinee). I judge the daughter to have been around 5 or 6, and she had to be shooshed a couple of times for talking. I think I heard her `ewww` during one of the scalping scenes. Upon leaving I said to them with a smile `Good movie? Yea, I was going to bring my 6 year old but she said she`d already seen it.` *smile* True story.
Ebert: She had?
I didn't care deeply, either. It wasn't that kind of movie.
Ebert: "[Einstein's] spiritual life has been exaggerated by a chronic attack of mental gallstones." -- Oliver St. John Gogarty
Herein, we detect the wisdom of Dr. Gogarty's relative anonymity! In our inquiry into which Science Icon had the mental gallstones, we'd listen for the clarion call of Him Suffering Migraines.
If he meant instead that Einstein's worshippers suffered those legendary stones of folly, I can think of mass headaches among us wider still. Einstein did not invent the A-bomb.
Ebert: He was only unknown in certain circles
Roger, while I realize you have affection for Jay Nash, he does have a well-deserved reputation for using and abusing young writers. Many is the veteran of JRN's publishing projects (Cinebooks/Crimebooks) who could tell less-than-quaint tales of Nash's furious and demeaning tirades and other ill treatment.
Such behavior is not eccentric, as you portray Nash (and yes, the man definitely qualifies as eccentric--though not always in a comical fashion).
Call me a vet of JRN...and a friend of other vets who know.
Ebert: Jeanette Sullivan, who worked for awhile on Nash's Encyclopedia of Crime, told him it wouldn't be complete without an entry on his Encyclopedia of Film.
Roger:
Don't forget that wonderful musical score from O'Rourke's juke box that often accompanied our drinking:
THE BELLS OF HELL
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you and not for me;
For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling
Death has no threats for me.
Oh death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you and not for me.
Ebert: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-UHaCZSBeM
I find myself wondering what Marie Haws and Tom Dark and Bill Hays and Randy Masters and Carrisoza and H.W....
Why am I always the one left standing in the cold?
As far as bars go, I have a limited experience. I'm 21 and all, but I found my place in Cincinnati when I was 18 (coffee shop, but they do serve alcohol). Real eclectic place. Good people. The guy who tends bar is a Rastafarian who reads a book a day and takes months off to go traveling around the world. His girlfriend of 11-years works at JPMorganChase. That's class. Hail Cincinnati!
As far as Michigan bars go, I haven't found one. Most bars around me are either dives or gimmicks. Last time I went to the local dive, I wound up getting lectured by a guy about being an atheist. It wasn't friendly banter, either. Absolutely dreadful conversationalist. "I'm not trying to convert you, but..."
Oy vey.
Reply to: Mike Doran:... find myself wondering what Marie Haws and Tom Dark and Bill Hays and Randy Masters and Carrisoza... in person. What they look like, what they sound like, whether they're as argumentative in the flesh as they are in print.
Hi Mike,
I tone my sarcasm down on this blog. by at least 80%.
I'm MORE argumentative "in the flesh." Much more.
Reply to: There are 10 recognised forms of personality disorder
Borderline personality disorder - is associated with the inability to maintain personal relationships, unstable moods and emotions. People with a borderline personality disorder may appear overly argumentative, sarcastic and be quick to take offence while hating being alone.
Before anyone asks, I don't suffer from any kind of a personality disorder. When a person argues all the time, that might be a clever guess, but I don't.
I like to debate. I'm on the opposite side from William Lane Craig and Josh McDowell, and I usually win. I think the Internet is a fascinating tool. Hit a few keys and you can find an authorative reference on any subject. I spent so many hours in the library, wishing I had that ability, I do tend to go a bit overboard surfing the web when I come across an interesting subject.
I find myself wondering what Paul Arrand Rodgers and Marie Haws and Tom Dark and Bill Hays and Randy Masters and Carrisoza and H.W....
P.A. Rodgers: Why am I always the one left standing in the cold?
Why, whatever do you mean, Paul?
Ebert: And what about S. M. Rana, Robert of Taiwan, Indian Idiot and Ali Arikan of Istanbul?
@Tom Dark -
“Marie... BEAT? How can you call that BEAT??? That place was CLEAN. Where's the graffiti? The grease? The really shi**y artwork on the walls? The truly ratty old furniture? The knife-carvings on the tabletops and mismatched junk shop chairs? The truly sullen teenage help? You, you Canadians... you just don't know "grubby," do you?”
I dunno, this was kinda grubby to me…
The Marine Club:
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/189/506425909_9072ba047e_o.jpg
Re: "The Day I Fought With Jack Kerouac" Nick: A Montreal Life By Nick Auf der Maur
Laugh! Literary lion my buttocks! See, that’s your problem right there; the deference afford to fame! You can still be a jerk, ya know. :)
@ John in Denver –
“But mostly I miss the camaraderie, the good conversation, the unique zeitgeist of that time and place if you will. Watching both the landing on the moon and the horror of Viet Nam weekly body counts on Cronkite...”
I can oddly relate to that, as I was born in the 60’s. Just a little kid when a lot of these fond memories you’re all recounting were taking place, but boy, was I ever also human SPONGE!
Moon landing? Check.
Cronkite and the black body bags on TV? Check.
Viet Nam protesters? Check.
Flower Power? Check.
Pot heads? Check.
Beatles? Check.
Coca-cola in a glass bottle? Check!
Yo-yos’ and slinkies and bazooka gum and comics for 10 cents? Check!
I was plugged in the minute I popped out. Chuckle! And I remember the 60’s because I was straight. I saw it from the outside looking in of course, for being a child; but I was otherwise there too. I just watched it from an alternate vantage spot.
June 25th, 1964 and born on a Thursday.
Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
THURSDAYS CHILD HAS FAR TO GO,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise, and good and gay.
Roger Ebert: born June 18, 1942 – also on a THURS.
Insert “Ebertonian” Twilight Zone music; smile. Proof: http://www.hf.rim.or.jp/~kaji/cal/cal.cgi?1942
Thursdayers are the “truth seekers” and their lives will be a journey. Which puts all that pathological curiosity of mine into context now. I was born this way. The Gods have spoken: she will be a sleuth and the picker-upper of rocks. Oh and Cancerians are noted for being creative types too.
Note: went to CD Baby and had a listen to Holstein. Cool tunes.
@ Marilyn Ferdinand –
“Marie - If it is true that Bill is not as sweet as he seems, then it will be following Buffy right down the line. Right now, Sam is the character that interests me the most”
HBO’s “True Blood” as set in the fictional town of Bon Temps, Louisiana, was inspired of course by the Sookie Stackhouse (Southern Vampire) Series, as they’re known; writer Charlaine Harris. There’s 7 books in all. I confess, I couldn’t finish the first one - “Dead Until Dark” - as her novels are too trashy for me. But to each his own; some people like their vampires with a common touch. Which makes it all the more ironic that I watch the show, I know!
I know you don’t watch it Roger, but indulge me: the opening is just 1:30 sec. As once you see it, you’ll get it why it’s so popular; think 1950’s pulp fiction ala Southern white trash soft-porn and then add Vampires and Religion!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YH5gLSo3n64
However I’m watching the show for “Eric” – former Viking warrior now 1000+ yrs Vampire sheriff and Fangtasia bar owner, as played by Swedish director/actor Alexander Skarsgård. He’s a classic anti-hero protagonist, multi-layered and with a dynamic arch. It’s also hard not to like a guy who apparently believes in myths:
“In the short story, Dracula Night, Eric hosts a party at Fangtasia each February 8th to celebrate the birthday of Dracula with hopes that the "Lord of Darkness" will make a personal appearance. This hope is similar to Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin each Halloween.” – wiki
So you go ahead and prefer Sam, Marilyn. I’ll be over here with Linus! :)
SPOILER for Marilyn: in the books, seems vampire Bill was ordered by Queen Sophie to seduce Sookie and gain her loyalty (ie: Sookie’s telepathic skills make her valuable.) Eric wants Sookie for herself. He forces Bill to reveal the truth, who then gets banished from her life. Eric takes his place, albeit not without complications.
NOTE: Alexander Skarsgård directed an award-winning 2003 Swedish short film called “Att döda ett barn” or “To Kill A child” (based on a story) about a child who goes to borrow sugar from the neighbors and while crossing the road he’s suddenly hit by a speeding car. The movie aims to speak to what it's like to be responsible for a little boy’s death. I mention it because as an actor, Skarsgård tends to give you subtext to read on his face, as opposed to being more obvious. I’ve often wondered if it’s because how he tends to direct? For here’s that winning short, Marilyn (7min) and it reminds me of his approach to playing Eric - he won’t let you see the boy getting hit, just what it meant by showing what was lost…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3pbmWXzCeY
Back at the bar...
“Moody's has always had very reasonable drink prices. John is from the generation where greed was finite and loyalty was coin of the realm. If you ever do come to Chicago (and you can stand the smell of grease, which is, I'm convinced, is helping to hold the place up), Moody's is a must on the pub crawl.” – Marilyn
I did Google image and saw the place; I love the beer garden in back! I love old red bricks. And black wrought iron. And I once worked next door to a fish refinery. I can take some grease. :)
@ Indian Idiot –
“Marie, I'm reading all your posts as usual and they are as always uplifting. I wish there were many, many more people who were if not exactly like you, fortunate enough to possess spirit that at least equals yours in the world :) I was and am sorry to read about your financial difficulty and hope that it lasts a very short while…”
Thanks - and me too! Chasing the rent sucks, but what else is new, eh? Artists and writers and filmmakers and the like; it’s just another day in the life of. And why I don’t beat myself up if I download “Shaun the Sheep” or “Dexter” – the ultimate TV double-bill by the way; smile.
@ Tom Dark –
“Even Marie, I'll bet: she also describes herself as primarily a listener.”
Oh God no! I’m a total chatty boots! I’ve got Venus and Mars in Gemini; love and war. It’s just that where someone might prefer hitting 10 clubs in one night in an effort to impress 300 strangers, I prefer quality of conversation over quantity. It depends what you’ve got in Gemini. Ooo, let’s check out Roger’s chart! Typing info into online thingy…
He’s got Uranus – the “rebel” planet in Gemini! And Mercury too – logic, thought, analytical ability, education. Meanwhile, the Moon is in Leo (subconscious mind) and in Cancer he’s got Jupiter: the grand concepts of justice, morality, philosophy, and over-arching aspirations along with risk and adventure!
Here’s the really interesting bit: “the contradictory essence of Geminis is to be both the life of the party, and the wall flower in the corner -- and those roles can switch by the minute. In social settings Geminis are frequently unpredictable although always articulate and nimble.”
Not that I believe in any of this stuff of course. It’s, um, just fun to play with. Cough.
Ebert: [Dr. Gogarty] was only unknown in certain circles.
---Namely mine. Thanks for the tip. In return one day I shall send you the entire 7-book collection of poetry by one Michael P. Finerty. It IS very good, but I'd have to find an old Xerox machine first. He doesn't even hang out at a coffeeshop, just tramps around the neighborhood looking like an owl in thought and is in bed by 6 p.m.
Well... Marie... that Marine club facade isn't all that un-grubby, but it still looks like a brand-new Walgreen's Drugstore in comparison. Where's the bullet holes? I didn't see any bullet holes.
I've decided that since there's such a thing as reincarnation, I can have any birthday I want. I'll pick the one on June 24, right next to yours.
And hey. We still get Coke in glass bottles down here. It's from Mexico, and it's made with cane sugar instead of that evil ADM corn syrup. It tastes just like "the real thing."
Say, I've got a tape somewhere of Jack Kerouac and Neal and Carolyn Cassady fooling around with a new tape recorder they got in 1950-something, messing with it at Neal & Carolyn's house in Los Gatos.
Carolyn gave it to me a few years ago.
I never expected Neal, aka Dean Moriarty et al, to sound like an articulate New England college instructor. Not a trace of what you'd expect a guy who grew up in Denver flophouses and stole cars to sound like. He sounded more intelligent than Jack, but they were stoned.
Carolyn said Neal could keep 11 separate trains of thought in mind at once. I suppose she counted one day.
Jack whapped a tabletop with a couple of pencils while improvising a jazz tune on the spot. That guy had real musical talent, not a sour note anywhere in his riffs, an admirable sense of structure.
Carolyn never wanted to believe what Neal was up to. At age 81 she was still finding Neal's letters detailing his womanizing to Jack. "Sigh," she wrote. Read her OFF THE ROAD sometime. I took the job after canceling my Thanksgiving dinner engagements to stay home and finish it; in contrast, I never did finish ON THE ROAD. Kerouac did have a brilliant grasp of prose, but one can get a bit weary of a stoned droner. Or a droning stoner. If you suspect these Beats were a bunch of jerks, you suspect right.
Ebert: A good way to experience On the Road is with Matt Dillon's audiobook reading.
Roger, thanks for the memories.
Jay hired me to work at O'Rourke's after being (unfairly) let go from The Four Farthings in Janurary of 1969. I worked with Lazar, and O'Dell, and Ron, and, well, you know the crew. I served you on a number of occasions and usually kept my mouth shut so I could just listen. I met my wife there, Marilyn Pettit, whose roomy Karen Yops may have been a friend of yours. Those were heady times spent at what I knew was an important nexus for so many cultural threads. My memories of stoking that potbelly stove with coal, getting a greasy bag of BBO pork sandwiches from across the street in exchange for a shot or two, Willy driving up to Port Austin, Michigan, for our wedding where he taught all the attendees how to do the jig, and, most of all, late night drinks with Jay. The times I spent with him are still cherished. If you see him, please say hello.
Marilyn and I currently live in Traverse City, Michigan, where I tend bar part time and serve Mike Moore from time to time. If you ever make it up to our Traverse City Film Festival, please say hello.
In fact my e-mail is attached to this note, please drop a note as I have a request regarding my son Max, who is a writer currently living in NYC.
The very best to you and yours.
Tony Berry
Ebert: I loved those greasy, dripping sandwiches, wrapped up in butcher paper.
Not that I believe in any of this stuff of course. It’s, um, just fun to play with. Cough. ~ Marie
Marie, care for a glass of our very own Bubble Milk Tea? They can adjust the sweetness to your taste, and, you can order it warm if you have a cough. (^_^)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/peach-life/6988655/
~ ♠ ~ ♣ ~ ♦ ~ ♥ ~ ♠ ~ ♣ ~ ♦ ~ ♥ ~ ♠ ~ ♣ ~ ♦ ~ ♥ ~ ♠ ~ ♣ ~ ♦ ~ ♥ ~
Btw, Roger, I'm not a bar-going guy, but I do sometimes sit in tea houses and have myself a glass of the above milk tea with tapioca pearls; usually alone, with a newspaper, a magazine, or a book. I hear that the North American version of this beverage can't even compare to ours. This is to be expected, I guess, since the drink originated from here. However, I fear that this may have given it a bad reputation (no offence). If ever you sweet-toothed peeps are in Taiwan, try to look for this drink in legit stores, such as Coco and 50 Lan, that serve the specialty. As already mentioned, you can have the sweetness adjusted, have the ice taken out for a fuller glass, have the tapioca pearls taken out, or order it warm / hot.
Ebert: I would like it. I know I would like it. I see you right now, sitting in a tea house, reading Dickens or Wainwright.
Speaking of memorabilia people could remember, that might be seen on a barroom wall; I saw the most wonderful poster of Marilyn Monroe for sale at a 'Blockbuster' for only 9.99. Large too, about an 24 by 36 poster in b&w, framed -- it was a fluke; since, all the others of various stars were really cheesy.
Marie, I think you'd have even liked it.
I don't guess you have that movie video chain store in Canada, and here it's on the wane, owing to Net Fliks etc. but that one picture was worth dozens of pre-viewed movies for sale a $14.00. Anyway it made me think of your admiration of her.
I rented 'Julia' 2008; whoa, Tilda Swinton! True to Ebert's word, Swinton does a great butt hatted feral female.
She deserves an oscar for that role, as much as the stigma of being thought of as the character she played, as for the accolades the performance justifies.
(Scott on "Inglorious Basterds"): Roger, if you liked that drivel, I fear we are drifting ever further apart...
Ebert: I loved those greasy, dripping sandwiches, wrapped up in butcher paper.
---There. A little c&p saved me a lot of defending. As noted elsewhere, Scott was raised on Prussian Military Music and so can not appreciate the jazz-prose of Armond White. I hope that thread didn't lower White's consciousness too much, because I noticed a distinct lack of jazz in his panning of "Inglorious Basterds."
---Last night I watched "Mad Max" for the first time, while eating a greasy, dripping sandwich of peanut butter, tomato and mayonnaise wrapped up in a paper towel. Would have added a hot slithering slice of Philly Steak if I happened to have any. I relished both, tho' the one can play havoc with my computer mouse.
---Nearly forgot, Marie: I too was born on a Thursday! Since I get to make up my own job rules, I take Thursdays off. Also, according to 19th C. Bishop What's-his-name the world was created on a Thursday -- adjusting for the sidereal calendar, that is.
Ebert: A good way to experience On the Road is with Matt Dillon's audiobook reading.
---Is Matt stoned?
Greetings Roger and fellow readers!
Reading this terrific piece evoked a funny story from my past. I wasn't a regular at bars in my youth but could be described as an accidential interloper.
In Kentville, situated in Nova Scotia's beautiful Annapolis Valley, there was this place called The Big Apple (later reincarnated under other names). All of nineteen years old and in need of a meal over the noon hour, I went in and sat down. After having ditifully ordered fish and chips, I was amazed to see strobe lights and music blare out before a very good looking young blonde woman took a stage (which was previously unaccounted for).
To my astonishment, she proceeded to dance and undress, etc. Needless to say, lunch was relegated to a secondary consideration (ha, ha). Despite the fact that I had lived in the town the majority of my life I didn't know it was a strip bar until I innocently sauntered on in. By the way, the dancer was very expert in the use of sunscreen!
Chris Alders
Nova Scotia, Canada
Ebert: Yeah, you need a lot of that in Nova Scotia.
By Tom Dark on September 27, 2009 10:53 AM
---... Scott was raised on Prussian Military Music and so can not appreciate the jazz-prose of Armond White. I hope that thread didn't lower White's consciousness too much, because I noticed a distinct lack of jazz in his panning of "Inglorious Basterds."
Tom Dark and Scott are on the same wavelength, albeit moving in opposite directions, as I found White's pan to be on the mark and, more astonishing, I dont recall the wince-inducing pain I normally experience with his ... "prose"(?).
Re IB, this took QT 8 years to write? Why? Why would anyone commit 8 years of their life to producing that? I can see it if one is trying to do the paradoxical: rewrite Pulp Fiction while trying to appear not to be rewriting Pulp Fiction, as though Pulp Fiction needs/deserves to be rewritten. That would create mounds of paper I would think. White got it right. Pretentious, smug, predictable, pointless. And again, why? Why did this have to be made?
Uhhh.... Jay Robert Nash interviewing Dillinger in the 70's in Arizona?
Dillinger died in Chicago in 1934, I think.
Ebert: Uh, not according to Nash.
I thought Scott's observations of IB was accurate; Tarantino often throws his lazy cobbling of credulity in your face, with too much fake blood, violence and a phony stereo type of feminine mercy -- like that disgusting sandwich Dark eats. It's all so very predictable.
That which depends on style and 'subtext', is annoying ... with a short shelf life, before it stinks just like some of the self indulgent writing here.
Sort of like that area of painting where we have to put up with the painter's rants -- personally, the less I see of the guy the better. I hate Spielburg when I see him, for example, his blather about the innocence of children.
Not to say there wern't some fun moments, as in a SNL skit; the way some of you guys talk, you'd think this groovy IB was Shakespeare, when it's really just the rudest of a pay back butcher film.
Lighten up with this heavy handed fare -- a little bit of taste and culture is called for, or more precisely some consideration for the audience even if it is just as depraved as the writer.
RDS & Scott, what, do you guys also not like cartoons? Please tell me Bill Hays enjoyed "Inglourious Basterds" -- and don't argue, Bill, there wasn't a single solitary god in the whole film. Tarantino good, social consciousness bad.
I know muh main Armond enjoyed it too; he's just obliged to delineate the devil's work for concerned squares. You just don't understand the Poetic Ethics of Jazz. Batons ready? EINE zwei drei VIER, root-tootle tootle tootle, root tootle tootle tootle.
Plus, I read Jay Nash's research about John Dillinger and am plenty willing to admit its probability, especially considering it's Tucson. I myself was the last person to interview Coach Rollin T. Gridley when everybody believed he was just the name of a football field. He was 94 and was suspicious that I was trying to sell him something. Now he is gone and I have nobody to back up my claim for me.
Gridley coached Red "Custer" Mann to the State Finals in 1928 for Tucson High, see. Red's 1937 U of A Team, the Blue Brigade, still holds the record for defense yardage -- 12 yards. Lord those boys were tough. Hoss Neilson didn't want people to know he went on to big success selling ladies' lingerie. King Kong Nolan went into the forestry service. His brother Dan founded the Sons of the Pioneers.
If you don't dig, you'll never know. You may believe falsely. So my hat's off to Jay Nash.
As always, an excellent piece of writing. Given this essay, I'm surprised you did not review Bob Gosse's "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell" which could be viewed somewhat as an homage to the camraderie among drinking buddies discussed in your essay.
Ebert: Tear down Paradise, put up a parking lot.
That would be `pave` paradise... (I know, its annoying).
The following exchange was overheard:
Scott (thats me):
[A] film set in WW2 and specifically touching on the Jewish holocaust and I didnt care about one single character.
Ebert: It wasn't that kind of movie.
What a wonderful, and ironic!, exchange. Please read again in case you missed it. :) Oh! Allow me to re-ask a question that I think remains pertinent following this exchange: Why! did this movie need to be made? Just because people need to be entertained? If there are any serious minded folk here with the answer please enlighten.
Tom Dark.. look -- Im not saying that we should NOT make light of and exploit the profound failures of the human spirit that haunt the yet unborn of the earth for generations and mock and molest the suffering of every soul that DARE look into that spectres imbicile ignorant and human face with its witless stench of evil BUT! (big but here) for gods sake, in doing so please bring some wit and originality along too, perhaps a modicum of insight, please make it so that you do not appear to be trying to hide the fact that you are attempting to recreate the success you had so many years ago by playing the same note youve been recycling over and over and over again. (Rob Schneider with a bowie knife, anyone?)
QT`s next `feature presentation` will revolve around the campy shenanigans of a serial killer, as he terrorizes and hacks his way through the lives and limbs of friends, families, and just plain strangers! I mean cmon, its a perfect vehicle! The actor with the lead role will be quite famous and popular - the philistines will claim: oh! that so and so played such a villain! I like him as an actor and thus was repulsed yet oddly charmed at the same time! how brilliant! how (and start speaking pigeon French).
Though... wait! (imagine someone talking with their hands) oh! can you imagine...! Tarantino revisioning the genocide of 1995 Rwanda!! Oh (squeal!) Theres this crazy general ok? Who carries with him a giant machete that is as tall as he is (he is only 4 foot 10!). Catch phrase catch phrase... ok, work on that later. Now I need subtext! Hmmmm, lezzee, what sort of subtext could possibly exist in a society about to descend into murderous butchery and evil.. lezzee, has to be edgy... oh wait, what about, as a child, he was recruited/kidnapped into the child army (good, good) only... THATS IT!!! Only he wasnt a child! but because of his height is a homeless drunk that is mistaken for a child by the army `recruiters` and this is how he rises to the top command and develops a ridiculous napoleon complex! AND THE GENOCIDE WASNT BECAUSE OF THE HATRED MANUFACTURED BY THE COLONIALISTS BUT ITS JUST THIS INSANE GENERALS ATTEMPT TO `ELIMINATE` EVERYONE TALLER (or potentially taller coz alot of kids got snuffed too) THAN HE IS!! Oh god, thisll work! Excuse me? Did you say `why`? `Why` must this work? waddya mean! This is gold!
etc etc
Am Brunnen vor dem Tore
Da steht ein Lindenbaum
Ich träumt in seinem Schatten
So manchen süßen Traum
Ich schnitt in seine Rinde
so manches liebes Wort
Es zog in Freud und Leide
Zu ihm mich immer fort
http://ingeb.org/Lieder/AmBrunne.html
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste;
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
#30
@ Tom Dark -
Okay, maybe a lack of bullet holes does make "The Marine Club" less grubby. But not everyone lives in the land of the free where weapons are so easily purchased. :)
"Nearly forgot, Marie: I too was born on a Thursday!" - Tom Dark
Really?! Me, you, Roger - anybody else? If not, that's okay; I'm sure it's not a sign from God of genuine greatness or anything.
"Kerouac did have a brilliant grasp of prose, but one can get a bit weary of a stoned droner. Or a droning stoner. If you suspect these Beats were a bunch of jerks, you suspect right." - Tom Dark
Sometimes the appeal of thing lies in the idea of it, more so than in the reality. It's partly why I'm not impressed by fame or celebrity or any of that stuff. Like Hunter S. Thompson - there's the work you did, which can be forever admired, and then there's the person and all their flaws, eh?
KathyB wrote on September 26, 2009 4:12 PM -
“Love the back and forth on here. Ever and always only one Spike. Marsters appeared on Smallville last season I am told. I saw him on something with dark hair and did a cartoon doubletake. As you would have drawn it, Marie. Just seemed so wrong.”
Yeah, the back n’forth – it’s like we’re chatting in a pub; smile.
And that officially makes THREE Spike fans who’ve now posted in this thread. That we still remember William the Bloody, speaks volumes, eh?
Spike mocking Angel and his nancy-boy hair gel – chuckle!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aNpwTAadGs
But wait - it gets trippier!
The Smallville Studios are located in Burnaby, BC. Now ask me where I live? Yup! The Skytrain is an elevated transit system and it goes right past the studio’s back lot; if you look out a window you can see all their sets. One year, I saw the famous Fortress of Solitude – pieces of it, leaning next to a tool shed. And while I never bumped into James Marsters, he was around - mostly for season 5 and parts of season 6. He played “Brainiac” aka Milton Fine.
In reality, his hair is dark and because the bleach really stung, I gather he hated having to die it. So I don’t blame him for sticking to dark now. Although it took a while to get used it, as he played "blond" Spike for seven years, eh? Note: Roger’s totally fascinated by Buffy and Spike and Vampires and so I try to talk about that stuff as much as I can in here. :)
In truth, it's not really about Vampires though. It's what they did with them that made it so great - monsters as metaphors. Classic stuff!
@ RDS - "That which depends on style and 'subtext', is annoying ... with a short shelf life, before it stinks just like some of the self indulgent writing here."
Oh, I dunno, your posts aren't THAT bad. :)
Note: couldn't resist, as I quite enjoyed Inglorious Basterds. But to each his own, as even that is a subjective call, I know. All is opinion in the end, eh?
Like adoring "Harold and Maude". :)
Ebert: You made me go look it up. I was born on a Thursday.
Roger, on being a soloist, I sing a song sung by many before, such as Pope -
..Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
My renditions are all tone deaf. Your praise is euphonious, I am undeserving, still, in the words of Joyce - thanks awfully muchly.
Tom, it's good to finally catch up with the threads and you and Marie. I hope "Jim" is'nt prone to "hay fever", if he is, tell him he's got his personalities mixed up and it's actually Bud who has allergies..
Tom: "It looks like our party will shape up this way: everyone will sit quietly watching each other, yearning furtively at the exitway."
Like the apes in the cave in 2001? This should cause Kafka excitations :)
Tom: "To paraphrase Col. Jack Ripper: "I do not avoid company, Mandrake, but I do deny them my essence."
LOL.. not "..our precious bodily fluids.." oh no! :)
This century is much impoverished without Kubrick. Segovia you mention, who himself said - "You know what I think? If I am tired now, I don't mind, because I have eternity to rest." You should write more of "Tarzan at the dinner table" if for nothing else, amusement - I quite liked it. It is always a treat to read Byron and where "..no more a roving" ends, perhaps this by Shelley can pick up? -
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
Marie, I was born 6 hours into a Tuesday, probably explains me being ugly, ungracious, querulous and infantile..half smiling.. We get Shaun The Sheep on Indian Nickelodeon, Aardman animations rock, I don't watch that much TV though and Dexter I have never watched, although your many references to it have piqued my curiosity.
Paul Arrand Rodgers, sometimes standing outside looking in, is the best way of being in, without really being in, if you catch my drift. Anyhow, do come in, we don't want you catching pneumonia now :)
Scott, you question Tom's use of "prose" to describe White's writing; I really wish more people would pick up a dictionary once in a while, sigh..this is meant to encourage, not discourage Scott, please don't take umbrage to it -
prose - *n. 1. written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure: a short story in prose (as adj.) a prose passage. figurative: plain or dull writing, discourse, or expression: medical and scientific prose.
2. another term for sequence
*v. 1. (intrans.) talk tediously: prosing on about female beauty.
2. (trans.) dated compose or convert into prose.
The New Oxford American Dictionary
RDS: "That which depends on style and 'subtext', is annoying ... with a short shelf life, before it stinks just like some of the self indulgent writing here.
Tell me RDS, is it possible to make something without style or subtext? Are you then annoyed by all art, including your own? The latter is I think quite possible.. How can you be an artist and not be self-indulgent, further still, tell me how you can be a human being and not be self-indulgent? Sometimes you do say the funniest things..unintentionally too, it seems :)
ever the self-indulgent,
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
I've got a little bit to unload myself on the subject -- hope it's not too self indulgent; at least with this subject of bars; after all, I don't know a thing about Chicago night spots, nor much at all of the famous literary folks who frequented an ORoark's.
My father was a bar fly, he was a painter and writer, and a faithful regular at Jimmy Orrs, a bar in Atlanta.
(BTW, the literary bar in Atlanta was Manual Maloufs at Little Five Points.)
Dad wrote a few books, he sketched, and mostly talked, while ensconced in plush black Naugahyde chairs, he put together a million dollar deal in that bar too; and, he drank himself to death.
His friends didn't have any such aspirations with the arts; one was a Hoover salesman; another, an ex-boxer, realtor, that could have been Buddy Hackett's twin; an apartment builder responsible for perhaps thousands of those crappy units one sees along the Chattahoochee, and some guy they called 'captain' who wore a sailor hat, and, he had a peg leg -- lost it and about half his face sliding a Harley under a truck.
They were early day drunks from about 1:00 to 4:00; then they would start again in other bars; after the news, a few prime time TV shows, and dinner, with a different set of friends.
They actually talked about drinking ... and, the dignity of 'booze-hounds' -- they'd reprimand waitresses who'd take away a drink to soon.
On occasion things got a little iffy in the dignity department, for instance, when a guy asked my dad what he was gonna name it -- referring to his huge gut. They ridiculed a millionaire friend of their's who'd boasted he'd built a doll house, all by himself, for his daughter -- 'didn't he have something better he could do being rich?', or sometimes one of them would get too drunk.
I'd join them after school and listen to the banter, flirts with waitresses, or watch with puzzlement various grand schemes sketched on cocktail napkins; and, every other day someone had a new off color or racist joke, I also got ear load of advice and how to be a man. I sipped on my Shirley Temple.
Indian Idiot:
'... is it possible to make something without style or subtext? Are you then annoyed by all art, including your own? The latter is I think quite possible
Of course, the latter is possible, in fact, I even try to get these posts right, and, I have been annoyed by some of them -- just as you should be with some of yours.
And, I wasn't saying that subtext or style shouldn't exist in art, but when they become distractions or laid upon me in and of themselves, particularly because some person has nothing better to do ... or even less to say, it's wrong esthetically.
Like in Willem De Kooning's later work. The American artist who's famously quipped when criticized for inserting representational subject matter back into Abstract Expressionism, "I've got to hang my paint on something". In his later work he didn't 'hang' his paint on a damn thing … but it was excusable since he had Alzheimer's. But, I'm not going to join 'sycophantic' curators of museums who show the spaghetti nonsense and praise it .
II wrote (or rather referenced):
Scott, you question Tom's use of "prose" to describe White's writing; I really wish more people would pick up a dictionary once in a while, sigh..this is meant to encourage, not discourage Scott, please don't take umbrage to it -
prose - *n. 1. written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure: a short story in prose (as adj.) a prose passage. figurative: plain or dull writing, discourse, or expression: medical and scientific prose.
2. another term for sequence
*v. 1. (intrans.) talk tediously: prosing on about female beauty.
2. (trans.) dated compose or convert into prose.
The New Oxford American Dictionary
II, how could I take umbrage? I dont even know what umbrage means! (rimshot)
I actually take issue and disagree with this interpretation as all writing contains within metrical affect and, at least to some degree, (however informal) structure, though it may not be formatted in stanzas or couplets etc. Writing flows and twists and pulls up short etc. Digression? Also, what is meant by ordinary form? You mean to suggest that people actually talk like White writes? Ha! If that were true the person so afflicted would likely take up writing so as to make himself intelligible, no? An observation: I do not see the word *jazzy* in the defn above. Nor do I recall Tom Dark using the word `prose`. It just popped into my head and I used it. I admit that White sometimes does sound tedious, but going with your hypothesis that I was responding to Tom Dark`s usage of the word, Tom seems to be suggesting White writes intensionally to create an affect (again, jazzy etc). Staying with that, one might suggest that the affect is attempted with no small labour judging by the effect, and is thus perhaps adorned writing (according to Tom) which would then (again, it is by degree) move away from simple, unadorned, `everyday` language (or just plain not very good writing).
And if Tom Dark wishes to toot his horn at me thats ok coz he put me in touch with Jon Read, and if Roger wishes to justify a story set within the greatest slaughterhouse of the known world by virtue that it was not meant to inspire feeling for the characters though they are given to wear the very horrors inflicted upon those that suffered simply for our (entertainment?) then thats (sorda) ok coz he put me in touch with Tom Dark (for instance).
Mr. Ebert,
Nice piece, including the local celebs. Interesting fact about local celebs, is they all seem willing to smile and nod when you see them.
Siskel, Royko, Cary, Terkel. Haven't run into you yet.
One of my prized possessions is a signed copy of the Book, "The Chicago Exhibition", by Dianne Schmidt and Michelle Fitzsimmons. One of the photos is of Michela in O'Rourkes. Michela is only semi-clothed, the exhibition part.
Thanks for the blog.
Bron
All is opinion in the end.
Its been my observation that certain "philosophizing" (read: post-modern posturing) loves to hide behind the notion that everything is relative. That way ya dont have to think too deeply and certainly dont have to experience conflicting thoughts and opinions. Coz its all just, you know, (yawn) "opinion". I feel sorry in a sense for the person that fosters "merely" an opinion. Yep, po-mo has carried the notion of individuality to its most oppressive and misleading conclusion -- that we are atomized.
Me however thinks there is value in discussion. That some opinions (the Buddha and the Christ and Hitler were pretty opinionated too) are better than others and are actually essential to be heard.
Marie! Ah! Come in, siddown! (wiping the dried ketchup off the seat). No, no, not there, that's where the bullet holes are. Sit facing the window in case they drive by again.
I got an earful about those Beatnik boys, I'll tellya. I advised Carolyn vehemently again and again, tell THAT story. People need to know. They don't need to not know.
I wound up concluding a few major things. The majorest: like Ferlinghetti told her, but she ignored him too, albeit remembering his thought, Kerouac's books gained popularity because they reflected the condition of the American soul (to a good extent they still do). Her consorts were souls divided, as is America's, between ideals made unnecessarily unreachable by religious preachings, and our entrenchment in our skins, much of which we consider debased as a result of those religious ideals. (That division also made evolutionary theory popular.)
Kerouac couldn't have told such a story except he had lived it and reported his doings flatly. The little gang of four -- he, Neal, Ginsberg and Carolyn -- were equally obsessed with spiritual and carnal fascinations... obsessed, not perspicacious. Carolyn kept them glued together, sort of a home base with a healthy educated middle class running through her veins -- yet also somehow glitched by a schizophrenia between love and "right" living. I got the full scoop. The old trollop kept wanting to sanitize her manuscript, tho'.
Woops -- DUCK! (BANG! Whizzzz!) Sorry, this is a rough neighborhood. Want another espresso? Arbuckle's ain't too bad, eh? It's the brand Wyatt Earp drank.
In due time Carolyn told me that Walter Salles had taken on the job of scripting ON THE ROAD. Production's been going on for at least 9 years now. The release date has been put off every year, according to IMDb. Latest release date, 2011. I wouldn't have any idea how to make a movie out of it either. But for gawd's sake, don't beatify them.
Well, Scott, here is me: I found Schindler's List disappointing and IB 4-star fun, except those scalpings coulda been meaner. The former strove for a realism that failed for me; the latter, no need for realism. A retro-fantasy. I know for a fact there are numbers who still daydream of Germany winning that war and wiping out every Jew.
And I know a few facts from a few who were there raiding Poland and trapped in Stalingrad, as well as a few with tattoos on their forearms from the camps, in addition to decades of hobby-reading Nazi history. Most notable is that the people on both sides are still too stunned to talk about it. Excuse the phrase, but I thought Spielberg's actors were too soapy on all sides.
There's RDS, cantankerous government spy. Yes, one who glories in telling about severed heads, hands and feet well would find fake blood and mere staged scalpings offensive. How can one enjoy atrocities that don't actually occur? Be sure to look up "Joseph Kony" on YouTube. Now there's a right-livin' Christian for ya. Plus some footage you'll find gut-satisfying.
And here is my favorite indulging writer H.W., born miserably on a Tuesday, so unlike us luxuriant Thursdians. Well, I tried to come out on a Tuesday, my favorite day. But you know what slowpokes mothers can be.
Yes, even a beheading requires style and subtext, H.W. Otherwise it is as inadvertent as stepping on an ant, and of concern only to its immediate resident microbia. I do admit to wishing this variety of inadvertence on certain politicians while they are speaking, however.
Oh, I finally decided that "Tarzan at the Dinner Table" was much better as a legend in my mind than an innocent target for jealous critics to misfire upon. That, or laziness.
Mister Ebert -- we shared the following exchange in this very comment section:
{{{ There's not much good in staring back to intently at your own life, locked away in an apartment with an uncaring mistress in a 1.75 L bottle.
Although I don't envy you your experience, I envy your memory and sense of delight and wonder.
You really should consider a career in writing, mister ebert . . . .
Ebert: Hey, I'm an alcoholic too!
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/08/my_name_is_roger_and_im_an_alc.html }}}
When I made my comment, I was aware of your blog post on the subject (and I am one of your supporters in your decision vis a vis The Tradition). Indeed, I assumed long before your blog post that you were One of Us -- your writing on the subject showed all of the insight that I've come to expect to somebody "doing the work." I should have made that known.
My envy of your sense of wonder and delight was most especially because you're an alcoholic. You lived -- argued,laughed and drank -- in a time and place that was noteworthy. In an atmosphere that I can taste and feel and touch and smell -- thanks to your writing. Your time and . . . serenity . . . about your alcoholism allow you to share that with me, unencumbered (in writing) by the costs it may have exacted. That's worth my special thanks.
I guess I was also lamenting that my isolation kicked in without any of the accompanying joie de vivre that a lot of alcoholics were able to enjoy before things got . . . bad.
Anyway, thanks a lot. As we always tell you, this is one helluva blog!
Ebert: You know as I know it wasn't all peaches and cream. Hangovers. Remorse.Guilt. Lost relationships. On my knees to the porcelain god. Not worth it just because the window sometimes opens on some hours of fun. Memory is a selective thing. We have a way of sparing ourselves. Even in terms of my illness, I remember things like jolly nurses better than pain.
Well, Tom Dark, you have suggested a false point of contention with Schindlers LIst thus no need to apologize to me: I thought it was crap too. Oh not technically. Speilberg couldnt make film on his teeth without turning it into an event to behold. Philosophically. The attempt to create a narrative, a beginning middle end complete with moralizing and obscure prologue; the obscenity that the subject of THE most popular and mainstream-lauded film on the holocaust is a (wait for it, are you sitting?) German. industrialist. SAVING. jews; the farce that our hero (yes he did exist and do as said apparently) is presented in a vacuum, where the bad guys and good guys are easily identifiable by oh the common props - rough language, uniform, facial expressions - and absolutely no attempt to contextualize the story within the broader history -- everything else going on is strictly backdrop for our hero to undergo his so inspiring transformation to the reformed and broken and contrite Nazi German Industrialist. Speilberg's audience was so morose and obtuse (apparently) that he actually used a technique to literally draw attention to the item of tragedy (the red dress). Otherwise, I guess you wouldve missed it...?
Project: tell tale of human courage in the face of unimaginable evil and despair. Tell story of jewish couple, loving, fighting struggling in a war-time marriage, and their path through the process of enslavement to oh i dunno a German nazi industrialist, through to the ending in a death camp; follow the horror of the brutal and (even more horrible) banal degradation of the human spirit as experienced in our intimacy with this couples journey; be with them as they have stripped away every last vestage of humanity and dignity and yet, yet! have miraculously maintained, however faint, however degraded and brutalized, the smallest attempt, however mocked, to communicate warmth and tenderness to each other, which only a moronic hack as Speilberg would or could signify with a 'red dress'(!) but would be signified by a very common gesture, the offering of a blanket, the hand brushing hair away from a imaciated and brutalized face, the singing of a song through decayed and broken teeth etc into the broken eardrum of the Other even on the way to being machine gunned or gassed in a chamber (NOTE: do not call special attention to this gesture ie do not paint it in red.. it occurs naturally, unnoticed, so that the audience could potentially miss it, the way it would happen); and for edifying prologue you do not have people hand in hand coming over the hilltop but you have, instead of carving things into clownish nazis, you have ex-nazis taking breakfast with their families before heading off to the offices, the factories, the public offices of post-war Germany. And, in case you are thinking of The Passion of the christ theme where gore is the point, instead, by tying this to something that is not only relevant in that it occurred but what the societal repercussions are having those responsible and complicit in such monstrosity forming the 'new' world. Of course, what i have described is essentially the heart of Graveyard of the Fireflies. If you havent, watch it, youll see what I mean.
On the other hand, why shouldnt this story be told? This man is a hero, responsible for the saving of lives and even future generations! It is a testimony that even in the darkest times the human spirit may triumph, and isnt that after all a more uplifting and positive message to derive from such a tragic event? Well, I suppose. Certainly the movie-going public voted for that interpretation with their feet. But doesnt something within you go 'hmmph....' when the most popular depiction of German action during the holocaust has starring at the centre a... hero? I will give QT props for the theme of carving into the flesh of each would be very discretely ex-Nazi their beloved and pilfered swastika. For that represents a very real and relevant subtext that has continued for generations (yes, plural, the wealth and prestige of now dead first generation nazis has of course went to and favoured their descendants).
Tom Dark, the above rant was not directed at you. However, you mentioned that many have not spoken of what occurred. Well, most are now dead. However, apparently many Jews did speak after being freed from the death camps. They committed suicide, a significant number did. The German (ex?) Nazis also spoke, just not about you know.
Tarantino again...
I will say that the stand-off in the basement with the people with playing cards stuck to their heads about to slaughter each other caught something... the rationalization required to drink and laugh and share intimacy with strangers who are identified as friend, yet instantly be ready to destroy them when identified as enemy. The indoctrination required to perform that. And I wonder is that how it is? You wonder about the Christmas day mingling that occurred between the two sides in the fields of France of ww1. Why they didnt all just at that point all walk away (and why we instinctively know ourselves they couldnt walk away though we were not there) tells us I think something worth knowing about human nature.
Hello Roger,
Thank you so much for your story on O'Rourkes. As you might know I came along a little later, but to me those were some of the best times.
It is so funny to listen to Fred's CD live at the Earl of Old Town and hear the phone in the backround and Jimmy Johnson hitting the bell to let a server know the best burger in town was ready.
That is when I close my eyes and see the following places we all had fabulous times at.
Sterch's
Oxford's Pub
Wise Fools
Katz' and Jammers
Ratso's
Orphan'
Somebody Elese's Troubles
Holstein's
Earl of Old Town
The sneak joint
Best regards,
Alan Holstein
Ebert: Oh, yeah. How much great music I heard at Holstein's. And many a fine carrot I had at Sterch's.
Tom Dark, another path to follow relating to Kerouac. I proposed it as a research topic but alas, lost interest in the course and eventually dropped. Hart Crane's The Bridge is imitated purposefully by typing happy Jack in On the Road. I never pursued it but believe in my heart of hearts it is true.
It all begins with the bridge you see.
Hi Roger, kindly look into your Spam folder for an entry I did last night on the Garden Route. The comment body virtually had no composition except for about six or seven links which lead to pictures of the karoo, Cape Town and some maps. I actually spent a part of last night browsing through Flickr and enjoying the pictures there of the above-mentioned coastal drive. Thank you.
Ebert: No luck. There was something about Durban to Cape Town, but not from you. Spam filters generally suspect lots of URLs...
You know as I know it wasn't all peaches and cream. Remorse. Guilt. Lost relationships. On my knees to the porcelain god. Not worth it just because the window sometimes opens on some hours of fun.
I have had those same problems, and I'm no alcoholic. The human life!
Verdict? Let's all be alcoholics anyway. I'll ask them to put more brandy into my milk tea. Cheers. (Tee hee)
I look at it this way, KathyB: every young artist begins by imitating a Master as he's able. Ginsberg and Kerouac both have Hart Crane as a sort of underpainting to their own psychological brush-strokes. If you've ever read any of Neal's writing (THE FIRST THIRD is the only published work I know of) you'll see a malapropish version of Proust, whom he more than admired. Kerouac more than admired James Joyce, but lacked the natural inner vision.
I think the Beats were literary puppies relative to the genre their puppyhoods would spawn; in the same way, Rock'n'Roll spawned a new mode of music that'll last a couple hundred years, just as the last spate of orchestrated music did.
Scott, so long as you're here, get thee a copy of THE FIRST THIRD and you can damn Neal's work as "prose" in quotes but, the possibility will have been opened that more than one writer beyond Armond White and Dr. Seuss has ever taken deliberate liberties with the written word. Neal's writing had more vitality than Jack's or the boy-predator's. He hoped to provide for his family that way but the proceeds are still a long time comin'.
Now then, young man. I, a two-fisted, scrapping figure fearless and cozy in any biker bar, sniffled when E.T. resurrected. Yes I knew it was a little frog-Jesus from outer space. I still sniffled. I will not press Roger for the candid truth, but I know that he sniffled too.
Pluckest thou not too arduously at the cat-hairs on the sweater of a man who loves cats. I dare conjecture that Stephen Spielberg also loves baseball where I do not, yet this doesn't make me hate baseball. Besides, I heard recently that the man who wrote Schindler's List (nee "Ark") handed Spielberg one of my friend's novels to read.
What to do, Scott? He'll ruin it with stuff blowing up all over the place! Heads chopped in half! Bullets flying from helicopters!
I lived near Elmira, New York, for a few years, where Mark Twain, "a good scheme that couldn't be made to work," escaped the usual poverty of a soul-successful writer by marrying rich. Here was the Tom Sawyer Motel, the Huck Finn furniture store, the Becky Thatcher Yarn shop, a Mark Twain Summer Theater and more. Maybe Samuel would have appreciated an Injun Joe Crack House too.
I don't know whether there's a Hart Crane Roller Coaster ride in Garretsville, Ohio, or a rotted-meat factory tour in Winesburg, or even a big plastic Thurber dog outside some root beer stand in Columbus. We can only hope that just a mustard seed of the original intended spirit survives among the commercialized hooplah.
PS glad you like Jon Read. If you're one of the 1 in 10,000 he hoped to reach, I'll expect a beer from him on entering that Unknown Artists' Camp in the Sky. I see the bastard put those commas back in that I deleted, and added some other hasty things. I'm bitching at him posthumously.
Oh -- H.W.: at your popular request, I just remembered the title poem for "Tarzan at the Dinner Table":
Meat loaf.
Tarzan like meat loaf.
Meat loaf good.
Ebert wrote: You made me go look it up. I was born on a Thursday.
I would never lie to you unless you paid me to. Smile.
Ebert wrote: "...Spam filters generally suspect lots of URLs..."
REALLY?! Gee, that must be frustrating for people. :)
@ Tom Dark -
"Marie! Ah! Come in, siddown! (wiping the dried ketchup off the seat). No, no, not there, that's where the bullet holes are. Sit facing the window in case they drive by again."
Don't mind if I do! Reaching for my 5th Kilkenny...
Here's the thing Tom, would you want to be married to any of them? Would you want that job? That's my measuring stick. Oh sure, everything's cool from the outside looking in when it comes to a celebrated social rebel, but the truth lies in all those moments we never see, eh? As I've yet to hear a WOMAN say: "oh I loved how often he staggered through the door like a listing galleon, three sheets to the wind, full of wine and himself.."
Never ever confuse the art with the artist. Even the greatest art ever made was still made a mere mortal. I love my brethren, just not blindly so. :)
@ Indian Idiot -
"Marie, I was born 6 hours into a Tuesday, probably explains me being ugly, ungracious, querulous and infantile..half smiling.. We get Shaun The Sheep on Indian Nickelodeon, Aardman animations rock, I don't watch that much TV though and Dexter I have never watched, although your many references to it have piqued my curiosity."
I'm sure Tuesdays are a sign of greatness too. :)
And YOU get the Shaun the Sheep?! Lucky basterd! As for Dexter... dude, you are so missing out on the one THE best series ever made for television. It's a black comedy about a serial killer with writing so sharp, it could cut through bone. Boasting one of the most famous sequences to ever open a series, each episode of "Dexter" begins with breakfast - shot as though Dexter Morgan, blood splatter expert for the Miami Police, were committing a murder...smile. I swear, I've never seen anything that could match its gleeful subtext...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ej8-Rqo-VT4
@ Scott -
"Its been my observation that certain "philosophizing" (read: post-modern posturing) loves to hide behind the notion that everything is relative. That way ya don't have to think too deeply and certainly don't have to experience conflicting thoughts and opinions. Coz its all just, you know, (yawn) "opinion". I feel sorry in a sense for the person that fosters "merely" an opinion. Yep, po-mo has carried the notion of individuality to its most oppressive and misleading conclusion -- that we are atomized.
Me however thinks there is value in discussion. That some opinions (the Buddha and the Christ and Hitler were pretty opinionated too) are better than others and are actually essential to be heard."
I'm really super drunk now and about to head of to bed, but before I crash... when I said "all is opinion in the end" I was thinking in terms of movies. For at the end of the day if you like something, isn't that valid? So too, if you don't? So if RDS didn't enjoy "Inglorious Basterds" and others did, there's no wrong or right from where I'm standing. As it's a subjective call based on personal tastes and preferences.
I just think it's presumptuous to pronounce a thing as "so" simply because one can argue a case in support of it; but again, in terms of movies. All you can really own is a passionate opinion. As how could you prove it right? It's all so subjective.
I've never actually compared my favorites against Roger's - but I'm sure he's got stuff on his list that I wouldn't rate as highly on mine. And vice verse. And because of what you bring to the viewing process - yourself. It doesn't mean you can't chat and compare notes, of course! Indeed, that's where the fun lies! :)
"Harold and Maude" is of course, my favorite example, but what about a film called "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir"..? I LOVE that movie! What if he thinks it's boring? Gasp! (I checked, but I didn't see a review for it.)
I'm still gonna like the guy if he think he sucks, but I won't like it less if he does. :)
Crashing now... Zzzzz...
think the Beats were literary puppies relative to the genre their puppyhoods would spawn; in the same way, Rock'n'Roll spawned a new mode of music that'll last a couple hundred years, just as the last spate of orchestrated music did.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
'Spate' of orchestrated music?
Makes me think of that movie 'Funny Games' where in the opening scene Naomi Watts is listening to certain classics and then the movie camera leaves the confines of the comfy car and the cultured choices of the gentle rich WHITE family.
It starts in with the raucous and rude blare of some Punk Rock, or whatever the hell the violent music might be called today, popular among the spoiled and jaded; and, the film proceeds with what it defines as 'reality' as the car drives pell mell into hell.
That spate hasn't ended, BTW; 'Classical' music is still being made and the best talents are still drawn to it. The canons of art in Egypt lasted thousands of years, even the Greek and Roman styles lasted longer than that 'spate'. Chinese painting is still being done -- not much 'new' there but who the hell cares if it looks good in the restaurant? Eh?
Ebert hated the movie ‘Funny Games’ for a number of good reasons; but to me it did drive home the terminal nature of our illusions; individually and collectively, particularly those comforts of art and culture. Golf clubs and sailboats can be seen in a menacing different light too.
Some things could happen and very much end rock and roll. Yes, end Rock 'n' Roll tomorrow ... even sooner; for ever and ever. For example, the Taliban wouldn't have any use for it.
That possibility wouldn't bother me in the least; and, don't get me wrong. I love a lot of Rock'n'Roll stuff too, but it is a product of illusions and lies ... that some suburban 'honky' can feel the pain of a half starved black in a roach infested blazing shack on the delta.
Dark, you're going to give the 'spate' of rock and roll another 200 years? -- Perhaps if Obama uses those FEMA trailers for up and coming musicians on the Delta.
Creative, parity of James Brown, Lennon and Elvis with that work of Mozart, Bach, and Beethoven?
'Not in a million years.
I think Rock is already on the wane.
And, let's keep that cool Juke box too, though; even if its guts are digital, the old records and turntable can be simulated easily enough. Memorabilia nobody will remember.
LOL @ Scott: " I don't even know what umbrage means! (rimshot)"
On prose: you might want to have a look at that definition of prose again - because you're taking issue with the dictionary, not with me - slam-dunk :) You ask - "You mean to suggest that people actually talk like White writes? Ha! If that were true the person so afflicted would likely take up writing so as to make himself intelligible, no?" Alright: 1. Depends on the people talking and 2. No, not necessarily. Tom has referred to Armond White's writing as "jazz prose" on several occasions. I have'nt yet expressed any opinion on White, not having read anything by him. I think the reference to White's writing as "jazz prose" refers to the improvisational method behind jazz and the unusual music it produces - to some people jazz is "..noise, just insolent noise.." to others, it is the music of sylphs and remember, not every artist/writer has it within them to produce consistently the same quality of work and sometimes for various reasons they intentionally produce bad work, all points I have previously made to you.
You say: "Its been my observation that certain "philosophizing" (read: post-modern posturing) loves to hide behind the notion that everything is relative."
That's cute, using the point I made to you on another thread back against me, however, let me jog your memory, this is what I said to you previously -
"..the almost inescapable post-modernist curse. In many regards we are better off for it, it can however also be quite obstructive."
&
"Relativism is one of the strongest fortifications that academia has built up for itself and to a large extent I can see why and agree with it."
The post-modernist school of thought is quite dry and analytical and it tends to tangle people up a lot, but to say that it atomises individuality is probably less correct than saying that it makes analysis less fun, even that could be argued against, for how do you define fun? Fun's relative too :) To suggest that post-modernism tells you that "..it's all opinion.." is to an extent laughable. Just because such rigorous analysis does not always end in ultimate resolutions, does not mean that it is lacking in value, quite the contrary, it is just a lot more difficult and a little soul-destroying; note - "a little soul destroying" is not equal to "individuality atomising"; note also: what you just said, is an opinion on post-modernism, ergo, where dost thou individuality goest? Like it or not, individuality is prone to contextualisation and relativisation just like anything else, to view this pejoratively has more to do with personal preferences and prejudices and less with philosoph-y/ising.
RDS, great points, thank you - more importantly perhaps, would you have stopped giving me the cold shoulder, had I not made a "mistake"? :) Like it or not, that "spaghetti nonsense" is art, it might not be great, or even good art, art nonetheless it remains. I personally found Rothko to be quite the artist, more so than many of his contemporaries, you either like someone like him, or you don't. I happened to be at a Rothko exhibition a while back and quite liked many of his paintings. I don't know if what you charge De Kooning with can be justified, because often artists are not able to effectively verbalise their notions of art, example - David Lynch; also, a lot of good artists have suffered from mental disorders, would you deny Van Gogh his fame, just because he wrote in excess of 700/800 however many letters, which his sister-in-law made it her life's work to share with the world..?..the value judgements on Van Gogh are based far more on his disease than on his painting and there's no way in hell he was better than Gauguin, maybe, just maybe, equal to him, only, a lot more conflicted and quite the manic depressive; besides, the whole Abstract Expressionist movement was less result and far more process orientated, consequently some of these images are striking, others are not - it is meta-art in the extreme, it is not a prerequisite for art to be aesthetically pleasing, deal with it; as is the case with every flourishing society you Americans "super-sized" Abstract Expressionism and although I would like to keep to myself how much value I accord these as opposed to more traditional forms, I can't help but have the occasional giggle at the sheer outrageousness of some of your artists and how easily they get away with it, because Americans in particular are seriously afflicted with "oh no, we can't have another Van Gogh kill himself syndrome" and consequently there's quite a lot of half-decent art which morphs into quite mediocre pop-art.
Whoever tries to overcome subject-object relationships and takes a more immersive approach is going to get crucified, because people are..well..people..cynical and given to inertia as far as art is concerned until someone volunteers themself to be nailed to said cross, that people are going to initially worship him and later slam him is sort of a given. There's this person who's recently opened an art gallery who visited me a few months ago, who did'nt even know what the word kitsch meant, now that's art for you .. .. If you wish to see great art of the post-modernist milieu, here's a "found" object for you - watch the documentary "God grew tired of us" because perhaps unintentionally it becomes something far bigger than that which it set out to do. It is as big if not bigger than "El Tres de Mayo" or "Guernica" Why are'nt films viewed in the same way as paintings were? "El Tres de Mayo" is a document of real events, without Goya there may not be any Picasso and "Guernica" was an abstraction of real events too, there are endless examples like this .. .. Film is viewed suspiciously because it depicts "reality" which is a gross over-simplification of the medium and also, because copies of it can be mass produced which takes away from the "it's a unique collectible that's going to be worth millions someday" factor; not that many people have thought that long or that hard about film as an artistic medium, least of all, those using it primarily for it's utility. There are numerous other examples of art which has'nt thus labelled itself and therefore almost entirely escapes everyone in one guise or another. I would start a conversation with you on how the cup is one of the most beautiful inventions of mankind, but I am usually otherwise engaged in shadow-watching, because shadows are as old as the universe itself..so maybe in another life, we shall accord cups their due place in the history of art. Thanks for speaking about your father, he sounds fascinating, would you care to share some of his work with us?
LOL @ By Tom Dark on September 28, 2009 9:26 PM; now that's some jazz prose for you and how true, how true indeed. That RDS..I hope he learns to if not outgrow, at least become aware of how his prejudices/dislikes leak into everything that he says, not that that's a bad thing - there's some more subtext right there for you RDS ;)
Tom said: "I tried to come out on a Tuesday, my favorite day."
LOL, thanks Tom. I wrote half smiling, because those statements are only half-true, perhaps even less than that vis a vis ugliness, me indulging in a bit of the usual self-deprecation, although I'm hardly an ideal model of the physical form :) Much thanks for more "Tarzan at the Dinner Table" it was a delight to read, obviously not to be compared with Tarzan's love of meat loaf. Encore..Encore!! :)
Random thought: Tarantino has a serious foot fetish and Spielberg has a quite outrageous alien fetish and while the many foot references of Tarantino in his films can be to a degree justified (albeit with a wince, depending upon your openness towards the recognition of weird sexual proclivities), I found inserting aliens in both A.I. and Indiana Jones to be kind of formulaic/gimmicky. Deus ex machina on the part of Spielberg bit much methinks.
Marie, I was only half serious about Tuesdays. Shaun The Sheep's on at completely random times, like sometimes I turn the telly on and it'll be on at around 02:00/03:00 a.m., when no normal human child could possibly be awake, but owls like me often are. That clip of Dexter..very stylised, I'll definitely have to check the series out when me internet is cured. Showtime seems quite original, I love Weeds, how about Nancy Botwin as an empowered woman eh? Much enlightening is Showtime, now even women can be mafiosos, or should that be mafiosas? LOL :)
one of the most beautiful objects ever made is in my hand and it's empty..sob
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. RDS you comparing James Brown, Elvis and Lennon, with Mozart, Bach and Beethoven is like Scott, comparing Tarantino to Herzog, kind of redundant - for one, there was very little use of vocals with the older forms and that too in a limited vocal range and music served a very different purpose and audience. Yet again, you're being very funny, again unintentionally, you should either get that checked out or, start selling it, I'm certain there's quite a big market for your kind of humour :)
Ebert: "One of the most beautiful objects ever made is in my hand and it's empty." How can we help you fill it?
My memories of O'Rourke's are limited to one night on Halsted after catching As I Lay Dying at Steppenwolf, being served by a cutie named Sarah, and swapping drinks and stories with Bob Breuler from the play. The Goat? Toward the end of my long tenure in Chicago, I succumbed to the Goat's charms and was frequently compared to Hank Oettinger by Rick Kogan: derisively or not, I remain uncertain.
Marie, I appreciated the irony of suggesting that one may have *merely* an opinion about *merely* a movie on the blog of someone whos career and reputation would seem to suggest otherwise. Hope the head isnt too bad in the morning. Couple of weeks ago at a house party we had I started with beer, then a few glasses of red wine, then a couple of glass of white, some more beer, then a full sake flask of hot sake, then another of cold sake, then some more beer, but I think it was the rum at the end that did me in. I slept very soundly, I think.
But what I meant to chime in with was concerning the recent review of Moore`s capitalism: very true re so-called experts in mainstream economics knowing absolutely nothing. I could elaborate but let me say this:
Moore is wrong suggesting that capitalists do this simply for greed; capitalism is power. To explain:
capitalists are not investing to simply gain more and more etc. They invest to beat the benchmark, the average rate of return. For example, if you invest $5 in option X, and the benchmark for that commodity turns out to be $10, then you, as an dominant capitalist investor, did not gain $5, you lost $5, because the average roi was $10 so, though you do actually have $5 more in your account, not only did you lose potential earnings, but your competitors gained. Capitalism is all about what you have relative to your competitors, not simply having more for its own sake.
This becomes significant at the level of dominant capital because out-competing your competitors say as a corporation means that, each victory etc puts you closer to the top of the food chain, the oligarchy that dominates market share of whatever sector or industry. Then you get to do what every capitalist covets: you set prices. And because you are at the top of the chain you set prices to your advantage (and to the general agreed advantage preferred by all within the oligarchy, there are no mavericks up there) which likely will not be to the advantage of those below. That is power.
What is one surefire way to get to the top of the chain - mergers and acquisitions. If one is consistently underperforming against the benchmark then you are more likely to be bought out by those outcompeting you. Remember where I said it wasnt good to merely make money, you have to outperform competitors? If you succeed you use your capital leverage to increase market share by simply inhaling (buying up) competitors. You spit out the bones of course - redundancy in workforce (this is likely what Moore is referring to re lost jobs); greater leverage against labour pool within the sector since there are less jobs; sell off or lease out redundancy in plant, production, assets... The best part is you do not create more greenfield development which is costly and requires longer term investment, thus adding risk and delayed returns. Expanding market share via m&e provides instant expansion and instant reduction in relative overhead = bonuses for the execs that orchstrate (ie when Nike bought out Adidas(?) the adidas president received a $750M bonus).
Marie, I... DUCK (Bam bam! Whizz whizz!) No ma'am I don't confuse the art with the artist, nor the mother with her children, nor the babes with the woods. When we are married I will not confuse you with your work either (I'm just saying that because HW could use an exemplary flirtation. Yours Eternally, Spock).
While it must necessarily seem so to the creator as well as to the audience, his art does not just appear magically in front of him. Otherwise, EVERYBODY has to go to the bathroom, etc. Even so, Chuck Berry shouldn't mind a little study in that area, considering he likes studying others that way.
RDS, don't they teach anything about music history in that dank Pentagon basement? You sound like your entire musical education comes from impatient plastic-pushing on your gov't vehicle radio, driving from one undisclosed location to the next.
Have you noticed a wee difference between what Alan Freed termed "Rock'n'Roll" (tho' the term had already been around in black clubs for years) and, say... oh, let's pick Frank Zappa. Next, how about the wee similarities?
Same for the difference between Mozart and Charles Ives.
"Classic" means a genre modeled in a very definite basic form, variegated and proven by its appeal for some generations before it deserves the term. Aaron Copeland is not a classical composer, nor are latter day imitations of that structure and style worthy of the term for that reason alone; it must be earned.
You like Muddy Waters? BB King? Stevie Ray Vaughn? Know how old those licks are? Ethiopians were playing them 3000 years ago and they still are -- on a one-stringed instrument... and pound for pound, far better than the hatted imitators on the Gibson E-35 -- I've been to a LOT of blues clubs.
Yes, a "spate." They just don't play the really crappy 18th-19th C orchestral music on PBS radio so you can see what a spate it was. No different in any generation. Hell is full of amateur musicians.
Hi, Roger, Tom, Marie, Indian I., RDS, Scott,
I've had a total of about eight beers in my whole life. (Trying to conserve every precious brain cell.) That may have been a very serious mistake. Having read the witty and erudite comments made thus far on this page, I realize I'm in over my head in this conversation. So, I'll just hang out with my hands in my pockets and pretend I know half of what you're talking about.
Scott wrote on September 29, 2009 6:15 PM -
"Marie, I appreciated the irony of suggesting that one may have *merely* an opinion about *merely* a movie on the blog of someone whose career and reputation would seem to suggest otherwise. Hope the head isn't too bad in the morning. Couple of weeks ago at a house party we had I started with beer, then a few glasses of red wine, then a couple of glass of white, some more beer, then a full sake flask of hot sake, then another of cold sake, then some more beer, but I think it was the rum at the end that did me in. I slept very soundly, I think."
If I eat something (which I did) and then before I go to bed, drink a big glass of cold milk and take 2 extra-strength Tylenol, I won't get a hang-over. I felt fine in the morning! That's why I drink Kilkenny and not Guinness. I also pick my poison and stick with it for the night! :)
That aside...
When it comes to movies, I think it's possible for two people to disagree and for both to right. For it's an opinion, not a religion. That's what I trying to get at.
I'm very fond of Roger and respect him enormously, but I won't surrender autonomy of thought to a critic or anyone else - I am my own sovereign state and that will never change. I will always weigh and measure a thing for myself; as I'm not so lazy or incapable as to want another to do it for me.
You mention irony, and speak of Roger's "career and reputation" as if to hold myself with a measure of regard, is to somehow diminish what I think of his reviews. Or the opinions expressed in here by others.
I love nothing blindly, not even God! And by extension that would naturally include everything and everyone else. Except for chocolate. :)
And I don't think so little of Roger as to imagine he requires the praise of a groveling sycophant or yes man. What a poverty of wit he'd have today, if the only thing that had been around to sharpen it, were such dull rocks. You only have to read his memory of favorite haunts like O'Rourkes, to realize he honed his skill as a writer because he wasn't surrounded by people who agreed with him all the time.
You can't argue with my father, he won't allow it. He grants no space for another point of view. He knows what he knows, and you can't tell him otherwise. He doesn't know how to "agree to disagree" as a result. He never learned how to afford another the basic human RIGHT to their own opinion.
I strive in earnest not to do the same.
You don't have to agree, of course. But I don't know any other way to get along with people, than to afford them their likes and dislikes and grant to them what I take for myself. Note: this does not preclude teasing, poking, or the launching of water balloons. :)
Rather, I believe that first and foremost, we speak for ourselves. After that, we can be the voice of a consensus. And for managing to articulate not only how we feel as an individual, but for taping into the stream and channeling a greater truth at the same time.
P.S. I envy how well Roger writes. Not how often his opinion is deemed right. When I think of this blog and his reviews, I don't think of bragging points or scoring them. I think of this:
"I know with a certainty approaching dread..." - Roger: Terminator 4.
Imo, that's what made his career and reputation! Being able to do that with words! I think when something is written well, it can transcend all opinion for being a joy to read. I think that's what makes him the best critic I've ever known. That I don't have to agree with him all the time to adore him. :)
Re: CanInDeed
I don't think it's a matter of how much you've had to drink so much as it's having something to say in the first place. I've never had an intelligent conversation while blasted, and while alcohol is, to an extent, the great social lubricant, I've met better people over coffee. You almost never want somebody on their fourth or fifth beer, sixth in hand, to saunter up to your table with a "I think I know you," or a "So-and-so's told me so much about you." I was knee deep in a discussion about my atheism in the face of this guy's belief that, were it not for Noah, we'd all be dead, before he even told me his name. And I'd only gone into the bar for a hamburger.
But then again, I suppose it depends on the bar.
To point out that something is *merely* an opinion seems to attempt to defuse something rather than engage. If such is the attitude why bother, since there of those of us who in no way feel threatened by opinion, and in fact may value an opinion of another to hone and spruce our thoughts and outlooks. To say someone *merely* has an opinion is to say one merely has thoughts, merely has curiosity, merely has energy. In areas that demand some degree of research and analysis then yes, to advance without such armer is in fact to present an opinion, not a thesis and one is rightly opened to ridicule. But in other areas one may still develop an opinion that is valid, even important. I mean, if one is going to play the game, then why not break a sweat and get muddy. But if one is not willing to break a sweat and get muddy, dont pee-pee around with the ball and then instruct others that its only a game.
Pomo, II, -- no one cares about pm. rightly so, for it poses no threat to anyone or anything, least of all the state, least of all power. in fact state acts solely as benefactor to fund the influx of special interest groups and lobbyists that pm spawns. for a pm society is that of specical itnerest groups. modernity causes a major threat to power. pm is content to reside alongside everyone else in the hopes of getting along, and getting a grant. who could care about the post-modern ontological ramifications of a fruitfly landing on a dead dogs tongue in late 12th century venice during the equinox of salsasabadian thought as it pertains to homer though it may be an accredited course in some pathetic obscure backwater university that is oddly attended by a large percentage of 45+ year old undergrads who also attend yoga, spend $5 for a carrot because someone waved the word `organic` at it, and whos spirituality is informed by the condensed publications of the dhali lama, white witchcraft, the book of the dead and dr phil? much less, how could this in any way affect power? or be dynamic enough to be of service to anything other than its own perpetual motion?
Now, within there one will find a valid opinion adorned, I admit, with hubris dreck. But, the opinion is quite valid, and unrefutable.
And no, Foucault was not pm.
(...no, but you were thinking it)
You music people just don't understand guys like me.
And, conversely, music is mostly just noise to me, and I don't even have a radio in my car; but, I can play the bongos, or, did many years ago.
I bet I could play a one stringed instrument too; and, I'm not bad on an air guitar either; mercifully and completely without reference to anything at all... Just tried it ... nothin
I understand what it is like to be part of a group playing though. Not sure if it was any good then, or even what it was; but I do understand being one of the band.
Captain Beefheart, Don Van Vliet, walked up to me in the lobby of a theater in Novato, CA in 1981 and accused me of being a 'Pentagon operative', even then -- and I hadn't even said anything. And, he was wrong too; too weird for Zappa even.
That show opened with 'Timmy' I recall; and, 'Timmy' had replaced their drummer with the recorded sound track (the show must go on!) of the drummer's previous inept jam sessions. They'd fired him a week earlier ... the crowd just didn't understand; 'DRUMMERS aren't necessary!' And, Beefheart had a hell of time calming the bottle throwing mob when they finally took the stage.
Beefheart was quite a character. He informed all the groupies in the audience he loved his wife, 'and no back stage stuff!'
I didn't see his wife. They lived in some trailer in the San Fernando Valley; but, I couldn't see any 'hot' girls in the audience at all, none; but, he put on a good show I guess.
'Hong KOng Kong' is all I remember of the music -- but, I did a number of sketches of their performance, and I recall what they wore and the various odd 'body English' movements to their arty, plucky work.
All those licks on one stringed instruments 2000 years ago? Why not 30,000 BC, and everybody could claim some direct ancestry to Rock& Roll.
I wonder how Mozart might have handled a real Steinway grand piano instead of the tinny harpsichord?
I had meant to put your 'Orchestrated' in quotes instead of ' classical' music but, you'd have still assumed as you did. Two hundred year 'spate' against the same for Rock & Roll ... At the rate we're going arthropoda may be governing the planet by then.
Yes, good art comes from an individual's hard efforts; inspiration, usually without too much regard of where it comes from. "He filched it from a well carved bone..."
I find it absurd though that Piccasso can be accused of 'cultural' theft; but, he certainly has been accused of ripping off African art in today's climate of who really did 'it' first -- 'and it wasn't a WHITE guy!
As Kipling says:
"So, I sing the tale of our lives to a sheltered people's mirth,
But ye are wise and ye know what the jest is worth..." Could be a lot of dough involved.
And yes, II, I realize I have spelt armor with an e and that this makes me look like a complete and utter moron and now can expect you and Tom Dark to start clucking and pulling out dictionaries and saying stuff like well at least White spells it with an o and other pithy remarks as well and then Marie will jump in before anyone gets hurt and point out that these are all just merely opinions and maybe everyone should take a time out before someone gets dizzy and throws up lunch or gets sweaty and catches a chill and here I made some baloney and mustard sandwiches for everyone and here is some pink lemonade and roger dont pick at it if you want to heal and around now I am wondering hmm why am i writing this and no seriously why am i writing this with emphasis on the why am and now i think i will stop and start doing some work so yes II I already know so you just watch it coz Marie said its only an opinion but really this is kind of weird though perhaps the fact that I am conscious of this being weird is even more weird and now i am laughing a little too loud to myself and blushing and i dont know why exactly but it seems to be something that i cant stop this writing i mean but oh well back to work.
Marie, the person that ducks out of making a reasonable (or at least interesting) argument, and rationalizes it on basis that it is merely an opinion and not religion, is on the flip side of the same coin of the person who take a dogmatic approach to a discussion - both seek to dominate rather than engage.
No you will not define for yourself what you think, neither are you your own soverign state for the very reason that you cannot define your borders. you cannot define where you begin nor end. everything you have has been given to you, your opinions everything. nor can you tell where you end.. you cannot claim to know the exact effect your life and actions and nonactions etc will have on the fabric of time and space.
you are not the *individual* you think you are. to be truly an individual one must be completely and purely insane. this was known by aristotle, proving knowledge is not teleological.
no II, one cannot be even relatively individual. Individuality, like freedom, is a concept, not a place. it is moved towards, not obtained. one cannot be free, one moves towards freedom, guided by its concept. thus with individuality. think on this my son.
Well, Agent RDS-X15-g849990-0300000000000000b000-000000100000-4Z (your full name; I looked it up), Cap'n Beefheart has always had psychic senses. He can tell when the phone's about to ring and so on. Nice fella, too. He did the same tour route I used to, back east. You meant "The Sheriff of Hong Kong."
Don was being generic, as am I. You just don't feel like CIA, though.
It so happens I played with Beefheart's boys in... '82? But you've read that in some other posting. I was surprised to find out that Beefheart's famous drumbo-naive-Africa-like beat was actually how Robert Williams played, not something he was taught. Also a bit surprised to find out the boys weren't all that good. Beefheart's music is still idolized by a very small but worldwide gang, still learning from it. I got an MP3 from a 19 year old Londoner the other day, trying to teach himself to compose the way B. does.
All you air guitarists are the same, too. Looka them yo-yoes, dat's the way t'do it, y'make yer livin' on the Em Tee Vee. That ain't woikin', dat's the way t'do it, money fer nuthin' and yer chicks fer free.
No way you could even begin to play that 1-stringer, the C(h)roata. It's a box with a snatch of horsehair stretched from one end to the other, bowed with another piece of horsehair. Very Fred Flintstone, but you've got to have fingers that can snatch a fly by one wing mid-flight to get a squeak out of it. I know that because I produced and arranged an album of C(h)roata music for an Ethiopian. George Benson would admire his playing.
Now let's get real, RDS. I got your kinda music, right here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7_YNTQmtGg&feature=related
Don't be ashamed to admit it! It's good music!
CanInDeed, don't be afraid to take your hands out of your pockets and put your foot in your mouth. Who is this, anyway?
@ Scott -
I think you like to fight and go looking to, and for it feeding something hungry and at work in your pathology. Whereas I prefer to play. Reason being? I've had my fill of arguments courtesy of a belligerent father.
An informed opinion is more valuable than one based on ignorance, and in that respect, Roger's opinions as a film critic contain more than most by virtue of what's gone into them. And when you add it to the fact he writes so damn well, there's a great deal there to admire!
And yet... he doesn't like Harold and Maude.
Should I like it less now? Concede I never should have liked it in the first place? That it was wrong of me too? And if so, why? Because I wasn't given permission to like it? Because I can't trust my own senses about a thing - for clearly they lie and misrepresent themselves for reflecting my thoughts and not another's?
The first rule of being an authentic person, Scott, is not to allow another to dictate or define the terms by which you may live or breathe and for actively courting their good opinion of you and why you'd then bend to it; to thine own self be true. Much better to be liked for oneself, I think, than to pretend to be what you're not at the cost of being a phony or ingenuous.
And so I strive to achieve a strength of character I would respect were I to find it in another. Oh, and hey, already there: ROGER EBERT. He does his own thinking for himself, too. :)
Were I to indulge myself and give you the argument you're apparently looking for Scott, I'd quickly turn into a thing I despise. For I know every trick, ever spot and where to stick the knife; so too how to twist it. I know how to leave another bleeding internally on the floor.
Lessons my father taught me.
And so thank-you for the invitation to lower myself to it, but I'm afraid I must decline. I'm not afraid to argue, it's just that I need my own reasons; not one handed to me by another. So stop sending me draft cards - I'm not going to your stupid war.
And that's how to draw a border around the sovereign state that is "I". :)
P.S. I thought you were great in this movie as the Black Knight!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKhEw7nD9C4
Roger said: "How can we help you fill it?"
I was and am overhwelmed by your offer of help Roger. I doubt that you can help me, however, since you have asked, I cannot refuse to divulge - I cannot do it here, so kindly await an email from me. You're a very good person, the best among us.
Many thanks.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Here we go! It's called a C(h)oata --that one stringed Flintstone fly swatter. Bet the guys who play that thing can pull the wings off flies too, tormented as they must be by them.
I had a feeling that was a set up. I'll check out it's wondrous sound on my Encarta 'music around the world for children' section.
You misread ... I said I do not do much music, air or otherwise, but I sure won't waste my time anymore with the unpleasant sounds and visuals you serve up:
That was profoundly bad, subtext bad, Dark. Did you have a hand in that production? Or was it a committee of you and Kafka? The guy actually looked like Tarantino; and, on a rudimentary level just 'feels' like him brain damaged.
there's no way in hell he was better than Gauguin, maybe, just maybe, equal to him, only, a lot more conflicted and quite the manic depressive; besides, the whole Abstract Expressionist movement was less result and far more process orientated, consequently some of these images are striking, others are not - it is meta-art in the extreme, it is not a prerequisite for art to be aesthetically pleasing, deal with it; as is the case with every flourishing society you Americans "super-sized" Abstract Expressionism and although I would like to keep to myself how much value I accord these as opposed to more traditional forms, I can't help but have the occasional giggle at the sheer outrageousness of some of your artists and how easily they get away with it, because Americans in particular are seriously afflicted with "oh no, we can't have another Van Gogh kill himself syndrome" and consequently there's quite a lot of half-decent art which morphs into quite mediocre pop-art.
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I do love Van Gogh.
From a Modernist perspective the Absrtract expressionists, and even Photo-Realists artists were in line with the 'Realism' of Impressionism.
But it has all fallen apart in a cancerous political, cultural collision of species.
Ugly things are running rampant to predate our artistic sensitivities; not unlike the displeasure to fishermen, as snake heads jump into bass boats, and the lion fish loiter for divers in the Bahamas. New comers that must be dealt with; so too, one's sense of reality itself is at risk from 'morphing' esthetic monstrosities. Rothko is picturesque and pretty in this new world.
But, it little changed from the old days that featured fat Botero’s or Sugary Kincade’s. They leave reality altogether, and they are the tip of an ice berg of crap that includes Dekoonings unconscious reflexes, Dali’s work shop of reanimation, etc. On the other hand we are assured art is still kosher if the experts serve it up.
'Practiced Incompetence' has been my term for the prevailing ‘Realism’. I may adjust that to 'Fly Wing Snatchers' of the 21 century owing to the time honored 'authenticity' and the Fred Flintstone minimalism of the 'c(h)roata'.
I'm reminded with the above picture of Tom Wolf at ORoark's; of his 'The Painted Word' and how correct he was in his critique of the system of 'fine art painting', and the mechanics of it with critics and galleries. Perhaps it's really a Madoff scam.
And, Tom Wolf didn't even touch upon the educational /indoctrinational push it all gets from public schools, colleges and universities cranking out the 'experts'.
I don't think Tansey's take of the 'Surrender at Breda' can be said to be true any longer if it ever really was. It's not even in New York any longer.
God, I think Dark and Kafka have got hold of it...
Re yet another Ebert review of Capitalism A love story --
Odd - Moore makes the jump (and Ebert follows alongside) from the ballot box to socialism. Why are those who think capitalism is the siamese twin of democracy? That to lose the former is to lose the latter? And, does the latter even exist? But, my point was - in the (apparently) long forgotten past in the decades from ww2 to the late 1970s there was something practiced in the Western world called social-democracy.
2 observations on the capitalist mindset --
1. one, Brando observed that THe Godfather was less about the organized crime and all about the corporate mindset, encapsulated in `Its nothing personal, just business`.
2. in the recent Gomorrah, in the scene near the end where the young protege quits his position and in the ensuing discussion complains that a job is saved here by killing a family there - the negotiator says, in effect: thats how it goes.. i didnt invent it, and we clean up messes made by others. This is a very astute observation that were it mined would definitely reveal much about how society works, how wealth is created and maintained.. again, not so much from the perspective of organized crime per se. I also hear alot of relativism in this defense: its all just business baby and the cost of doing business is just sometimes quite high.
On a completely unrelated note, I think it would be interesting if Ebert were to do what no other critic has done (that I am aware of) - and that is revisit those films he reviewed once and see how his concept of the film has changed or evolved, and then write this in a review format or even a recurring blog theme. I think one major drawback to writing from hip as it were that critics must engage to make deadlines and keep relevant is that it brings a somewhat superficial perspective that effectively treats a Transformers flick with the same measure of reflection as something more substantial. I find that when I revisit some movies (and novels, books) I find different things, sometimes the differences amaze me. It would interesting to get such deeper perspective than simply ones first impression. It would present a film as a living thing, organic, rather than a one dimensional thing stapled in time.
Marie,
I hear a lot of emotion in your argument, and, within the context of your experiences with your father, that emotion is perhaps understandable. Yet, I cannot locate in my posts where `discussion` is `dictating` which is how you use it in your most recent post. More to the point, I cannot locate where I have used that equation in anything I have posted on the topic.
I can locate where I posted explicitely that to seek to defuse a discussion on the basis it is *merely* a discussion is the same as destroying a discussion by seeking to dominate. Now, based on your history one might understand why you would approach from such a perspective. However, you should bear in mind that others do not share your perspective on the value of discussion nor opinions.
In my posts I repeatedly used the word `engage` as a description of what `reasonable arguments` (another quote) sought to do. I sought to engage a comment you made concerning opinion. As it turns out it wasnt just a way of talking (I knew it wasnt, that is why I engaged it - no one `just says` something) and as it turns out there is a history there. And I assume, that had your father used such an approach you would not have the attitude you have now in our discussion. (which leads into the point i made concerning individuality, but...)
Myself, I came from a similar environment such as you describe. Only I got from both barrels - father and mother, and, since my siblings were of course influenced by their environment, and were quite older than myself, I tended to get it from them also. Thus, I grew up in a world where I learned that my opinion (for therein lies thoughts, feelings, perspectives, argument, eventually self) did not count for much, if anything. I had to learn to take ownership of emotions. I also educated myself and went to great, painful lengths to overcome the hesitancy of expressing opinion, no matter how thoughtful and insightful.
Yet, sometimes I find myself, within the passion of making what is for me a fascinating point of insight, taking a tone that perhaps could be interpreted as dominating. Yet, it is usually in good humour and I will never halt a discussion by suppressing a differing opinion, even when I am in such passion. Yet, apparently, according to your feedback, I have triggered in you a revulsion, a threat, even degradation. Such was not my intention in spirit, nor if one revisits the text, in word.
Why I should have guessed your delicacy I cannot say. (You will, for instance, note the tone I have even undertaken with my friend II, and he with me.) Yet, because I did not I am pathological.
I just took a class on Chicago lit this summer...we read Algren, Royko, Hecht, etc. You should be on that syllabus. Loved this entry.
Ebert: And I hope Bellow, Farrell, Dreiser...
Roger:
More writers for the Chicago Lit class: Richard Wright, Richard Stern, Petrakis, Gwen Brooks, Jack Conroy. And an almost Chicago writer from nearby Oak Park, Hemingway.
I haven't been in a bar for quite some time and perhaps was never in one like this. But I enjoyed reading about it immensely. Also, thanks for "Those Were the Days". When it came out it felt like a song that might make me sad some day, and now it does, but it's kind of a joyful sad.
Kids, kids, kids. Fighting IS play. "Real" fighting, such as attacking a neighboring country, is a bloody psychosis. When the marriage goes sour and it's all screeching and no listening, psychosis. Never, ever fight when your feelings have made you helpless to do otherwise. It's just crazy. Back off. And don't let RDS tell you differently. That's just his job.
RDS!!!!!! Did you check the little box that said "music hater" and that's how you got the job? Unknown Hinson is WONDERFUL. I've been humming "Venus Bound" all morning. I wish I'd heard of him sooner. YouTube "Unknown Hinson," everybody. The live videos are terrible quality, tho' it shows this guy knows how to play a geetar like nobody's business. There are a few album cuts, high quality C&W. Next, RDS, YouTube for Junior Brown. Especially "Highway Patrol" and "My Wife Thinks You're Dead."
So. After a lifetime of rassling with dogs and many brothers, winding up the best boxer in high school (one-handed, folks!), and learning to apply all that to writing, a year or so ago I tentatively started learning to rassle with horses. There's a broken window in the kitchen in testimony to my first experiences.
That was Harley, who shoved me into it. He hadn't meant to do that, and he showed every sign of being sorry for it, just as I was sorry when I made a little brother cry, hitting too hard (an older brother, not being sorry enough, wound up getting a 2X4 across his legs, although I thought better of knocking him unconscious just in time).
A few weeks ago Harley deliberately stomped on my bare foot. A big musclebound Quarterhorse got a little ticked off and stomped on my bare right foot. He STOMPED on it with his rear left hoof. He made every gesture and motion of a stomp.
Nothing happened! My foot was just fine! It wasn't a fluke. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to surprise the hell out of me. I certainly could feel the full weight of his leg, and certainly knew I wasn't Robocop. It's just that the animal knows how to play.
One is warned never to walk around behind a horse, never do this, never do that, and especially, never, ever let a horse bite you. I'd long known all these rules. This was my first time with horses, apart from the occasional ride back when I was a kid.
For his first greeting, I tentatively offered Harley a handful of grass, and he bit me. But... he didn't seem angry or frightened, he just bit me. Didn't hurt.
This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Not long afterwards, Harley often had my whole forearm between his choppers, munching on it playfully. Then chawing on my head. My legs. Feet. Finally came the day he got to do what he'd been trying to from the start -- chew on my fingers. Those critters could nip them all right off if they wanted. When playing with each other, they'll take out chunks of horsehide that in a human would require skin grafts, no way could they be stitched up.
But at play with a human, they're like puppies -- huge, wise pups who learn just how far they can go, and never will go any further. Amazing dexterity. So nowadays I've got 6 of them chawing on me for fun, like dogs do. They'll leap and tower and race, too, all an incredibly beautiful sight.
It's been a revelation. Everything I've ever been told about, warned about, with horses, has been nonsense. I'm sure I've heard about more broken bones and dead people than anyone here.
It's not that I doubt the truth of each of those stories. It's that I doubt the wisdom of the experts so hospitalized.
I don't expect to start raising grizzly bears next (tho' recently someone sent me a power-point of a man who had; here's this monster licking the cap off his head and so on). But I think humans have got each other exactly as wrong as we have animal behavior. Thus we confuse our own helplessly psychotic episodes with the idea of playfully intended fighting. We think animals are the same way. We convince ourselves that all nature is that way. We repress ourselves and where we haven't wiped them out, we treat them as foodstuffs -- and proudly declaim that this behavior of ours is "natural."
One of the saddest movies I've seen in the past 10 years was "Grizzly Man." Poor Tim felt he was Tim of the Grizzlies. There was a scene where a couple of Grizzlies were playing around. Tim narrated it like someone convinced, as officialdom dictates, that these two animals were fighting for "survival of the fittest" and "dominance." How Tim loved the one and hated the other, like a fan caught up in a pro wrestling match.
Sad poppycock. But corporate offices are jammed with humans who are convinced they're doing that same thing, and it's likely Tim fled to the wilds to escape that kind of life.
I think a lot of people are quietly desperate to do that -- more now than in Thoreau's time -- but maybe they wouldn't be so desperate if they didn't think they had to fight in their heads to just plain communicate with somebody else. Say Amen.
Thanks Rog,
After Second City we would all go to the Ale House BUT if Paul Sills was in town then it was O'Rourkes. I met you only once there as it was the year you decided to give your liver a rest, As for the cast of characters I only got a short glimpse, being on the short end of 21, there were onlyy a few places that would let me in. Even at 20 1/2 I looked 12.
I do remember our talk as it was about movies and our mutual admiration for Warner Brothers of the 30 and 40's, it was nice to know that my movie hero Cagney was on your list too....As for the infamous photograph of Lenny Bruce...where is it? I hope that it is still around. I do not even think about going to the Halsted location as it is in the midst of uber yuppy town....just would not be the same.
Thanks for bringing back what it means to be from Chicago....
@ Scott -
You wrote this:
"To point out that something is *merely* an opinion seems to attempt to defuse something rather than engage."
And I didn't agree with that. Still don't.
I think to acknowledge the right of an individual to own their opinion is simply good manners, dude! It's how to avoid being missunderstood in terms of ones intentions. As now the other guy knows where you're coming from.
I had just TEASED someone! I didn't want RDS to think I was this smug basterd amusing myself at his expense! As how rude! People have feelings. And I honestly do believe everyone's got a right to their slice of whatever - I mean, I'm not God, I don't know everything.
But I'm also opinionated. And so I said what I said for those reasons. I didn't want to come across as some self-righteous know-it-all. Or be guilty of qualities that when I encounter them in others, makes me think to myself:
"Jeeesh, somebody pull that dude of their a*s - 'cause I think they're stuck."
And then you come along and not only failed to see that's what I'm doing, you take issue with it! With EMPATHY! And why? Because apparently I stopped an argument you were hoping to see and partake of! And now you can't get your fix.
OH MY GOD! Banging my head against the keyboard!!!!!!!!
http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/keyboardrage4ov.gif
"No you will not define for yourself what you think, neither are you your own sovereign state for the very reason that you cannot define your borders. you cannot define where you begin nor end. everything you have has been given to you, your opinions everything. nor can you tell where you end.. you cannot claim to know the exact effect your life and actions and non-actions etc will have on the fabric of time and space.
you are not the *individual* you think you are. to be truly an individual one must be completely and purely insane. this was known by Aristotle, proving knowledge is not teleological." - Scott
According to you while assuming and proclaiming a GREAT deal.
I think you're so eager to have the sort of exhanges which interest you personally, that you go after them without thinking how it might sound to be on the receiving end of it. Not everyone is actively looking to be engaged in the way you specifically go about it.
And because I was trying to be nice, that penny failed to drop.
If you wanted to talk about Inglorious Basterds with RDS, what's stopping you? If you want to engage others in the sort of discussions you'd prefer - what's stopping you? I'm not.
I responded to your posts because I thought: "if I just explain what I'm about and stuff" then he'll see for himself it's best to move on; as I'm obviously marching to the beat of my own drum and enjoy other things and so whatever.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go be nice in another thread. :)
Were I to indulge myself and give you the argument you're apparently looking for Scott, I'd quickly turn into a thing I despise. For I know every trick, ever spot and where to stick the knife; so too how to twist it. I know how to leave another bleeding internally on the floor.
I think Im in love.
Marie,
Marie, Marie... we are drifting ever so further apart.
LOL @ Marie - "According to you while assuming and proclaiming a GREAT deal."
Right on Marie!
Also, I just looked at your link at - http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/keyboardrage4ov.gif
& how familiar those images are. I've just read some other posts from some people on a new thread and am both disappointed and less willing to engage. Hope everyone learns in time, I know I am learning. Also great Halloween house, reminded me of some very elaborate and fun Halloween parties I've been to. Good stuff.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Thanks Roger
I spent many days and nights in O'Rourkes while I was working at The Second City. I am living in Los Angeles now and would like to get a copy some of the photos that appear in your article. Thanks for keeping the memories alive. Last Call.
Ebert: Hi Mike. I remember you well. Click on a photo to enlarge, then drag it to your desktop. The top one of Jay and Jeanette is very high-res.
Marie,
I would never think anything of the kind of you.
And, your observations, pro or con are highly valued -- in addition to your keen sense of humor.
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Dark says: "Real" fighting, such as attacking a neighboring country, is a bloody psychosis.
Dark,
As a 'secret operative' I'll say this about invasion; and, I assume you specifically refer to Iraq:
The invasion of Iraq might have been almost bloodless, even less violent than a bad hurricane as in Panama; (even almost all the most devoted liberals agreed at the time too; -- WMD, or not), had Islam not become the major ball tossed up in contention. Who knew -- certainly not the LIBERALS -- the capacity for belief in that pathetic system? Everybody almost, figured they'd buy the new 'democracy' and love us.
Furthermore, it was a just, or lawful, incursion, since Saddam had broken agreements and fired upon our fly overs -- not to mention a failed plot to murder Bush Sr. any good son would have done the same.
And, like Noriaga the bum, Saddam, had to go and damn the torpedos.
All those who dared support Saddam or OBL should expect punishment, as any thinking creature might expect horrors should they dash out blindly into a 6 lane freeway of fast traffic -- they should expect pain.
The Iraqi pain is a product of their low state of consciousness from Islam -- a mentality that depends on Dark Age thought, cults of Mohammed, and Chauvinism that permits the likes of Saddam -- let alone endless Allah authorized violence toward those unlike themselves.
Yet, through it all they've been given the utmost opportunity to move into a more humane existence.
Sadly the effort from us has been dissipated owing to hand wringing equivocations from those who haven't the courage of their own convictions for fairness. They'd let the enemy torment millions in perpetuity -- children, women, gays, polythiests, apostates or just mere dissenters.
All speculations of plots and betrayal or deliberate corruption aside, each one of our murdered soldiers deserve that consideration for their effort to gift human rights.
Theeeeeeeeeeere goes ol' RDS S A D F again... whappin' on his imaginary muslims, provocateuring us civvies. Or is that "OFUs"? Funny thing I just edited the intro to a book by a Muslim scholar this a.m. It's JIHAD, RDS! Ai-eeeeeeeeeee! Scmitar the infidels! Ee-i-eee-i-oooooooo!
You know very well I wasn't referring to the rape of Iraq specifically, clever boy. Any war is a psychotic outburst, one individual at a time, from armchair generals like you to young men and women splattered all over the place, or dying one burning molecule at a dime from "depleted" uranium. They come with the territory. Even the American Revolution of 1776, which my great great or so Grandaddy and his brother, both John Bulls who wouldn't take crap from anybody, fought in. You know all about psychotic episodes first hand, soldier. I don't recommend 'em, but your bosses do.
Let's see. In 1958 young Saddam Hussein is hired by the CIA to get in there and shake down the sheiks and consolidate the oil fields. His eventual boss is one George Herbert Walker Bush. It's the start of a lucrative friendship, can't help it if Pennzoil is a Bush family concession. Eventually Bush or crony sells Saddam an s-load of surplus Sarin, I think it still was, just sitting in the store in Colorado not making anybody a cent. That'll teach them Kurds to quit eyeing those oilfields.
Who arranged the deal for Saddam Hussein to own the people mover at O'Hare airport, do you know? I called. They confirmed. And since he was officially listed as a terrorist by the State Department, why didn't they snatch it away from him even after the rape started?
BushCo is notorious for welshing on deals and punishing them as complain of it. Somewhere in there this must've happened. Or maybe Saddam was threatening to spill the beans about being the go-between for the Iran-Contra missile deal, which Georgie the first arranged with his old buddy.
Eventually, rich Kuwaiti stooges start slant-drilling into Iraqi territory, with permission I'm sure. This would drive any self-respecting US-propped dictator psycho. Ms. "Jockey Shorts" Albright is instructed to make Saddam think it's okay to go in there and put a stop to it.
Then BushCo hires a PR firm to concoct the story about Iraqi soldiers raiding a premature baby ward, yanking up these oh-so-strategic plastic cribs and air hoses and scattering the little poopers all over the floor. A budding actress, daughter of the Kuwaiti ambassador, gives a wonderfully tearful performance before Congress -- some of whom probably fall for it, but more likely, the applause is more wizened and cynical than that. They wanted the same suckers you're paid to suck on to fall for it so the festivities could proceed with flags a-flyin' and yellow ribbons a-tyin'. We're shocked, sir! Shocked, we say! Saddam is Hitler incarnate! We are just! Kill them all!
The non-psychotic group of "kooks" taking to the streets in protest of all this phony patriotic hooting are not reported. So I call friends. 750,000 protestors block rte. 280 all down the SF Bay area. Looks like the same in LA, 750,000. My New York friend says it's about a million people. Washington D.C. estimated at 750,000 too. Not one word out of Tom "Blokaw's" lisping mouth about it, or any other big network news show.
A cock and bull story invented by a frenchman about Saddam sodomizing even his kids gets rave reviews. A much more evil man than Dubya the Elder, witnessed by a 14-year-old girl sex slave at an Omaha kid-sex-favor party, according to Omaha Sheriff report. Dubya senior preferred boys.
Steve Krofft interviews a witnessing dummy, shot from behind, pretending to refer to his notepad and ask it questions and it giving pre-recorded answers, claiming it saw Saddam's sodomizing, if inanimate. I stopped watching 60 Minutes at that point. Alan Stang was correct. They're a bunch of phonies.
Meanwhile the beleaguered Iraqi ambassador (of a country that charges 15 cents a gallon for gas) goes on McNeil Lehrer and says "Wot are you doing, Amereeca? You are defending men who have 80 wives!"
Raping Iraq deemed a fine idea for many fine reasons. Sure, the oil -- prices there got jacked up from 15 cents a gallon to the same as ours. Plus, the threat that Saddam was going to use Euros instead of US dollars -- you'd know that the US paper dollar is kept afloat by the fact it is the paper of trade, in bales, for worldwide oil currency, yes?
Incidentally, watch for Chavez to suddenly start sodomizing his own children and tearing up preemie wards for tasty babies to eat raw. Chavez too has decided to go to bales of paper Euros instead of Washingtons and Lincolns. Well, Wilsons more likely. The one with lots of zeros.
But the main fine idea, grabbing Iraq and cutting its trade with Red China, the biggest plum of all. Henceforth the Iraqi Military will make its purchases from BushCo, like it USED to. Saddam had brazenly begun buying all its gear from China. That's the only honest thing I saw on the news -- and it wasn't mentioned. Obvious chinese equipment. So all has turned out well. Minus a bit of psychosis, unprecedented suicide rates among the troops, indiscriminate mass murders, tortures, you know, little things dear to your craven fascinations.
But Zbigniew and friends still ain't happy. They want China surrounded like they've wanted for decades, ever so patient. Thus, your friend bin Laden, who has been to the Bush ranch in Texas plenty often, magically appears in an entirely undisclosable cave in Afghanistan, supposedly dragging a great big kidney dialysis machine behind him. Woops, we need missile bases in Afghanistan now, don't we? Them taliban awfully cagey, they need missiles right where they count the most -- the Chinese border, huh?
Funny how bin Laden and those nasty Talibans are threatening the freedom and democracy of Pakistan too, eh? They're all hiding out RIGHT at the Chinese border, funny thing. Funny thing Obama gave the green light to continue the bombings, which had been going on furtively anyhow. That Zbigniew, what a clown. And probably a red herring for conspiracy fans.
There's much more, as you know, but I'm speaking of coals to a welsh miner while he drills.
So. Were you in on the publishing of the hudreds of thousands of copies of the Koran, full of illustrations of tanks, guns, missiles, the nasty violent parts stressed and the peaceable parts redacted, which was printed by the University of Omaha on taxpayer dollars and distributed free to all those Taliban kiddies back in the 1980s?
Is that the version you keep quoting from?
A regulation suit and tie, nor jeans'n't-shirt, does not a civilized American make, nor does it hide psychotic tendencies to those unimpressed with anybody's threads. Your blubbering about our dead kids is fake and your patriotism is phonier than a $3.69 dollar bill.
Now you go listen to Unknown Hinson until you see the light.
All this from a guy who is trying to feed himself to a horse -- good thing for you they're more peaceful herbivores than their hippopotamus cousins who'd kill you just for the heck of it. But horses have been known to snatch an ear off -- better tell Kafka to watch out. That'd be a sight. I’d get out of Kafka’s way should the horse snatch one of his ears.
It's pretty clear from your statements you just don't know how to read the Koran; all ' the peaceful parts , redacted '... right.
I wouldn't depend on your erudite Islamic scholar friends either -- they'd have you pegged as a potential trouble maker right off, so, they would only give you the info befitting the kuffir; which is, all the 'peaceful' parts without an explanation of why they are effectively ‘redacted’ under ABROGATION by good Muslims.
As for 'wars and rumors of wars' sure the Chinese, Russians , Japanese, even Arco may be real problems down the road, but none are currently murdering our troops as the ‘Nation of Islam’ -- that is ‘Nation’ as defined by Obama --not Farrakhan; and selling videos to children of the exploits.
RDS, doesn't that manual show you how to win an argument? Or even put up a decent fight? That's why countries who hire mercenaries always lose.
My muslim scholar, by the way, is an expatriate American who got his research from the extensive library of a CIA guy who lives on the same Island. Hope that makes you feel better.
Addendum, as I thought of it after my last post, sorrowing for the poor quality of the personnel Captain Beefheart has to identify intuitively. Here is our favorite spy, warning me that a hippopotamus will eat me.
One night around age 15 I was standing around with a group of kids at an after-school event. Some mother had brought her 3 year old son, who was regarding us with awe. He was fascinated with us great big guys, but afraid. He thought and thought. Finally he came up with something to say:
"Skeletons will get you guys!"
We laughed, but the toddler ran away, not sure we would try to get him for revealing such a bald truth.
It's charming and funny in a 3 year old, but I'm not so sure the fact that a hippopotamus could eat me or the repetitious fantasy that a muslim could murder me is all that charming coming from the greying head of a middle-aged man.
Toddlers have an excuse for being out of touch with the sophisticated realities of grownups, RDS. Government-issue personalities, who take no responsibility for themselves as they can claim the excuse of a false and misguided patriotism, do not have the sound excuse they may tell themselves they do. Nothing dictates your reality but your own head, and yours is on shaky ground indeed.
Following your postings, I see that your tactic is to half-heartedly indulge some discussion, but you always return to this seemingly obsessed theme of "muslims are going to get you guys."
You are always looking for any opportunity you can find to talk torture, murder, etc. -- this is probably a personal fascination, as I've pointed out, but it dovetails with the constant repeated government-issue message: hate all muslims and their religion. It doesn't matter what Obama says about it to the public any more than it did for Bush. He assigned Bill Bennett to spread anti-muslim fear for him. Bill had been "Drug Czar" up 'til then.
You're no Koran reader. Let's test, since you're arrogant enough to sling stupid presumptions: tell me about the Women of Medina, at the well.
Otherwise there wasn't a word you could rebut in my above posting, was there? I know that by stating this, you may try to defend yourself by lying. You've lied among these threads before.
Now what is the truth? Is the Pentagon internet-infiltration program trying to fire citizens up against Islamics because plans to rape Iran are going through? I know they've been sending military and even strafing missions across the Iranian border for a good while now.
Tell your pals (if you have any) that if so, what will happen is a general strike in the U.S., the biggest ever. It's been simmering for years. The Christian fundamentalists may prove to be a bigger trouble than any billion Islamics.
RDS, seeing as I know a little bit more upon this than you, I feel it incumbent upon myself to inform you, such that you can at least try to have a panoramic view of the world. The trouble with people like you and Scott and Bill Hays and Randy and many others, is not that your heart is not in the right place, you all have hearts of gold, but your minds are rusting away basking in the glories of the renaissance, the enlightenment and the industrial age. "America the great" has been so drummed into your head that you are entirely unwilling to acknowledge the quite extraordinary accomplishments of other cultures, so take a seat, listen, think as I have said to you before and think at great length before you start to spout off, as it is extremely unbecoming, especially of someone who claims to be an artist, because you're giving the rest of us artists and art (and rational people in general), a bad name, because we usually tend to be a very open minded lot, one which sees both good and bad and attempts to simultaneously project lucid interpretations of both, so here goes -
When Islam first came around in the seventh century, Christianity was in a state of intellectual stagnation the only parallel of which can be found in the institution which then enforced it, therefore Islam was to Europe a breath of fresh air. I don't think that I am wrong in assuming that you are a descendant of Europeans, well, Europe was in decline at the time Arabs made vast inroads into the continent and ruled over a significant part of it for over 700 years and the legacy they left behind is unquestionable and one that has greatly influenced Europe and the world in many beneficial ways ever since; the next time you key in your pin number at the cash machine try and remember that the numeral system you are using was invented by Hindus and was imported into Europe by Arab invaders, if you did not have this you could have no "Statue of Liberty" or, "Golden Gate Bridge" or the "Empire State Building" or many of the other spectacular inventions of America and the west, the arabs pioneered architecture, before the west had any great/specific conception of it, because, you see without numbers and mathematics the very notion of logic as the west now understands it could not exist, think of that next time you are making a "logical exposition" on the demerits of Islam or as you say "nation of Islam".
The greatest mathematicians existed first in the east and the work done by those great eastern thinkers was what Europeans built upon and not unsurpisingly some of the greatest scientists, mathematicians etc. of the modern era, identified with the middle eastern culture i.e. Jewish. Jews found shelter under Islam when Christianity was persecuting them as traitors, this is reflected in the arabesque art in Andalusian synagogues. The earliest texts on surgery are traced back to India circa. 3300 BC, however what really brought surgery to the fore in Europe was the Andalusian muslim physician and scientist of Córdoba, Abu al-Qasim Khalaf ibn al-Abbas Al-Zahrawi, often known as the "Father of Surgery", so should you, or someone else close to you, ever need to be cut open to save your life, have a think about that. There is a spectacular mosque in Córdoba which was reduced to a lamentable pastiche through, you guessed it, catholic intolerance. It was Arabs who introduced the concept of fine dining to Europe, so the next time you have a five course meal thank muslims for it, also, the next time you have, or see someone having a glass of sherry again thank the muslims, who invented sherry and used to consume copious amounts of it and other alcohols, in fact the word alcohol is derived from the arabic al-kuhl, think of that next time you have a pint of beer, also, when you see that glass of sherry, or that pint of beer, or have that five course meal remember that It was Ziryab, also a muslim who first introduced Europe to fine dining and glassware - one of the earliest uses of obsidian is documented as being in mesopotamia.
If you yourself do, or know anyone who wears corrective lenses, there too you have a muslim to thank - Abbas Ibn Firnas, also of Córdoba who invented colourless glass, without colourless glass there would be no Venetian glassworks, without which there would be no spyglass for Galileo to invent and without that there would be no Hubble telescope. A quote from Stephen Hawking - "Galileo, perhaps more than any other single person, was responsible for the birth of modern science." Galileo who spent a big part of his life under house arrest, on the orders of Pope Urban VII. Did you know how "realism" reached the pinnacle it did? It was because of an instrument known as the "camera obscura" which was used to project the image of the subject in question onto the canvas for the artist to trace around. Shall I leave you to guess what the principle component of the "camera obscura" was? I think not, you are not to be trusted I think with your solitary guesswork, which one can assume forms most of your "thinking", yet, so the answer is, once again - colourless glass, which created a new art of describing the world. Guess who built the first "camera obscura"? I'm just teasing you..you could'nt possibly know, it was a muslim scientist named - Abu Ali Al-Hasan Ibn al-Haitham, born in Basra, Iraq, who was also known as "Alhazen". Among other things, Ibn al-Haitham has been called the founder of experimental psychology and his "Book of Optics" has been ranked with Sir Isaac Newton's "Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica" as one of the most influential books in the history of physics, for revolutionising optics and visual perception. If you look up "Alhazen" on Wikipedia, you will see that these were'nt his only accomplishments, he forumlated many groundbreaking concepts several hundred years before anyone in the west even began to think of them, he was the person who essentially introduced "scientific method" to humanity. Are you beginning to catch my drift? So that people do not call you an ignorant ingrate for calling muslims the names that you do, next time before you choose to do so, why don't you study the many rich and diverse muslim cultures before you open your mouth? A line from "Ten Things I hate About You" springs to mind - "..remove head from sphincter, then speak.."
The meeting points, often violent, of Islam and Christianity have resulted in some of the most spectacular art the world has ever seen, as reflected in the words of a christian nun from Saxony who described Córdoba as "the brilliant ornament of the world". There would be no Alhambra in Granada without muslims either, which contains some of the greatest Islamic art ever made, which a succession of tyrannical Catholic rulers could not bring themselves to destroy but for the majesty of the artistry contained therein. Córdoba was one of the most prominent cultural hubs of the first millenium of the common era, who was the ruler of this city of wonders? Caliph Abd-ar-Rahman, a muslim. It was Spanish hunger for a completely Catholic nation and the ten year long bloody war for it, which resulted in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, through which Granada was reclaimed by the Spaniards and it was also Ferdinand and Isabella who expelled all Jews from Spain and revoked the rights of muslims and subsequently all muslims were expelled from Spain regardless of conversion to Catholicism and history was re-written to fit Catholic triumphalism. There would be no Taj Mahal without muslims either, the artistic contributions of Islam to humanity are such and so many, that many could speak of them their entire lives and yet not be done with it, let alone their contributions to anatomy, astronomy, engineering, mathematics, medicine, opthalmology, philosophy and physics. The contribution of Islam to humanity is as unparalleled as is that of Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Atheism and all the other 'isms there are, so before you tell us which 'ism you fall under, try and find out if you're sufficiently informed of one or two other major ones and just stop spewing nonsense, will you? Like I said, you're giving sensible people a bad name.
Before the first renaissance in Italy, there was a Spanish renaissance in Andalusia, which happened well over a millenium ago. It was muslims who were the most educated people of the era, were it not for them, all but a few of the ancient Christian scriptures would have been lost to antiquity, like the desolation of the spirit that appears to have afflicted you and many like you; they not only preserved but translated the Greco-Christian codexes, which are now priceless treasures in museums in the west. Toothpaste and deodorant, also muslim inventions, think about that twice a day. As opposed to contemporary readings, the Qu'ran encouraged education and their alphabet itself is something of an art form; in Córdoba one library held over 4,00,000 texts, which was at the time ten times the number of the texts held in all the libraries of the rest of Europe combined. Great achievements were made by the muslims of Córdoba in literature, philosopy, science, medicine and mathematics, without Andalusia virtually all of Greek philosophy would also be lost to antiquity, because Islamic scholars of the mediterranean world edited, translated and debated for hundreds of years what the classical Greek scholars had already established. You may speak of "enlightenment" but in fact the very idea that knowledge and spirituality is associated with light, was muslim doctrine long before it was taken up by European Catholics. The subsequent overthrowing of the muslim rulers of Spain by Catholics, marginalised them into outcasts such as Jews and gypsies, out of which originated flamenco music, the word flamenco itself comes from the hispano-arabic fellahmengu which means fugitive peasant. The guitar, preceded by the sitar and the tanbur was also imported into Europe by muslims from Turkey, Persia and further afield, therefore without muslims, you could say goodbye to rock n' roll and consequently your careless impassioned protestations against them, which was enabled largely by rock n' roll, the music of the dispossessed, just like flamenco was.
Few nations in the world RDS, have endured the blows of Islam, as India a polytheistic nation has done and fewer communities still have suffered the pain that muslims inflicted upon them, than Sikhs the community which bore me and yet you will find very few Sikhs and very few Hindus, religious or otherwise, who will blame Islam. Islam is not at fault, human beings are at fault and as a human being, you are at fault of thoughtlessly devaluing the very diverse and rich lives and cultures of over 2 billion people, whose ancestors have contributed so much more to humanity, than the cheapness of your insults and many like you can belittle, however they prevent you from seeing the great good which they did. Americans know nothing of the suffering India has suffered at the hands of muslims and probably and hopefully never will and yet we cherish our population of over 200 million muslims, because we recognise that regardless of colour of skin, or timbre of prayer, or measure of thought, everyone, is first and foremost a human being and it is up to us to try and help untangle each other out of the tumult of our respective metaphysical modes of being. Learn humanity first and then you might understand religion, politics and the art of existence. The charges of persecution you level at muslims, are those your own culture was and to an extent still is guilty of, albeit to a lesser degree. The lessons of history are easily forgotten - remember the witch trials? How about persecution of homosexuals in the army or, not allowing them the same rights as married couples? In many western nations it was an accepted and often espoused custom for underage girls to be married off to lecherous perverts. To this day many apostates and dissenters are second class citizens in America, if you want evidence of this mosey on up to "the anger of the festering fringe" thread and read through how many comments are telling Roger to stick to writing reviews, while themselves spouting off all manner of nonsensical hyperbolisms - hypocrisy bit much?
When you make statements such as "..low state of consciousness from Islam." it really is you who appears to have the lower state of consciousness. Why? Because you have access to all the knowledge I have outlined and more, while a lot of muslims presently do not and instead of going off and educating yourself, you're making ignorant and inflammatory comments which seek to alienate and isolate people who we should all be embracing and trying to convince, reasonably, that it is to their benefit, if as they have done in their past, that they embrace the rest of the world and rational ways of thinking and abandon their extreme ideology and once again, the extremists are a tiny number of the entire population of muslims which exceeds 2 billion. How many times do you need to be told before you can understand something very fundamental regarding the logic of your statements? There have been some truly horrific people in the western canon, does the east write off the west? No, because it would be an imbecilic knee-jerk response, to an extremely complex problem, worthy of none other than a self-lobotomised halfwit.
When you say the things that you do, in the manner in which you do, it is representation without consultation i.e. you are not consulting your betters, because you have been told that you are perfect just the way you are. This is not what life is like, life is a process of continual improvement, can you not see how ridiculous you sound? You are infected with the same disease that you are accusing the muslims of, that of being insular, you are writing off entire cultures, entire ways of being, without really knowing much about them, while blatantly implying that yours is the greatest. Again, hypocrite bit much? Please don't feel obliged to contribute to a discussion your thoughtless and arbitrary perspectives, it is often better to listen to others than to petulantly keep putting others down in the hope that it will elevate your own standing, because what it ultimately does is reveal your own ignorance. We recognise that there are some extremist muslims which would have south Asia converted into an Islamic caliphate and we as non-Islamic citizens of said area denounce both the actions and ideologies that emerge as a consequence, but we do not take away from muslims their many, many accomplishments and many like me, not only do not believe in Islam, but also do not believe in any sort of god Islamic or otherwise, but we would not deny them their god, because there are few things more heartless than taking away someone's worship. Many of your statements are patently false, as a result of many of your uneducated perspectives which are at best fanciful, that consequently render your arguments as almost entirely vacuous.
No one in their right mind has supported or would do Saddam Hussein or, Osama Bin Laden, but I could still refute your entire argument for the invasion of Iraq, but that would mean discussing politics, but since the rancorous argument I have recently had with Randy, in which I have had to concede ground based on nothing else but speaking in the neo-conservative dialect and that too on irrefutable points, I have lost the appetite for that. Go read a few documents of the founding of the United Nations and the Geneva Convention and other international laws and subsequent amendments to them either/or drafted and influenced heavily by the U.S. and this might become slightly clearer to you. I'll only say this - you should go and ask for a refund from whatever school, college, or other social settings where you learned this narrow minded view of the world and seek to further and better educate yourself, not only about the world but also on how to conduct yourself in it.
RDS, speak such that those listening deem themselves unworthy of addressing you and if this is beyond your reach, listen, quietly, until it is. You need to look with more than eyes to see truth and even with your eyes you need to learn discernment, which is an art in and of itself.
Bill Hays if you're reading this, you mentioned on another thread that only America should have nuclear weapons, I'm not sure about America having them or not, what I do know is that I don't want them in India. I would much rather die innocently at the hands of others, so that they can see upon my death the crime that they have committed and teach their future generations not to commit it again. This was a lesson Ashoka the great, the greatest emperor the world has ever seen taught us. Ashoka the great was the emperor who ruled over much of India before the anglo-saxon cultures were even born, who said the following after his greatest conquest at Kalinga -
"What have I done? If this is a victory, what's a defeat then? Is this a victory or a defeat? Is this justice or injustice? Is it gallantry or a rout? Is it valour to kill innocent children and women? Do I do it to widen the empire and for prosperity or to destroy the other's kingdom and splendour? One has lost her husband, someone else a father, someone a child, someone an unborn infant.... What's this debris of the corpses? Are these marks of victory or defeat? Are these vultures, crows, eagles the messengers of death or evil?"
Ashoka the great, converted to Buddhism and his official rule decreed non-violence and kindness to all including animals, he was an atheist emperor, who did not claim divine right over his empire, he earned it and what's more he spread Buddhism to many more countries around the world. This is our history, this is the path many Indians would choose and this journey which began with an emperor born many hundred years before Christ, came full circle when an unassuming Indian lawyer, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, with the same principle of non-violence brought the greatest empire the world has ever known to it's knees and forced them without violence to leave India to shape her own destiny. So Bill, India does have nuclear weapons technology, but I don't want it and many, many other Indians don't want it, because our greatest weapons are our greatest teachers who taught us to live a principled life and those of us who observe those teachings have no need for nuclear technology, we win people over with the clarity of our minds and the depth of our hearts. We have seen and lived through every sort of hardship and continue to do so and if ever we are wiped out through our own fault, it will not be because our principles were at fault, it will be because we stopped living principled lives.
I will close with a quote from Swami Vivekananda, a spiritual Hindu leader and a great man -
"Education is the manifestation of perfection present already in man."
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. You've mentioned the assassination of Theo Van Gogh several times RDS and it hurts me more than you could imagine when I hear of such inhuman barbarism, but he was trying foremost to show to muslims how their culture had been oppressive and cruel to women, so when you hijack his murder to make cheap points about your uninformed dislike of all muslims, you are doing a disservice to the memory of a man who died trying to enlighten backwards ideologies and interpretations of Islam, through his art. I did'nt even mention the Ottoman muslims, or the Persian muslims many of whom have contributed vastly to humanity and many others still.
P.P.S. I wonder who would know more of the above, a Harvard law graduate or a "Hockey mom" who likes to go "hunteeeen" and who can see Russia from her house .. ..
Indian Idiot says:
'so when you hijack his murder to make cheap points about your uninformed dislike of all muslims, you are doing a disservice to the memory of a man who died trying to enlighten backwards ideologies and interpretations of Islam, through his art.'
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Some consider the killer, Rap Brown, to have done a public service in Atlanta as a Muslim -- to have whacked crack dealers and booze peddlers in the 'hood', or that Farrakhan's devotees did 'good' to reputedly smash a liquor store's inventory of booze that degraded the good morals of black citizens; and, I can see how killing a artist like Van Gogh might seem a public service in some Islamic circles toward ukeeping the morality of women
Further, the hit out upon Salmon Rushdie to many Muslims could be seen as a necessary means to uphold the honor of Mohammed and veracity of the Koran, particularly when employed by the very highest levels of power in Iran.
That's rich Indian Idiot; to suggest with the same characterizations as if I to the killers for Islam; knife welding fanatics -- that I 'hijack [ Theo Van Gogh's] murder'!
Your objection that I make a point with Van Gogh's butchery by Muslim fanatics as an illustration that Islam, as a religion, has no partition within it's texts that incite the directives for such crimes, is more than absurd. Whether such crimes of violence are to women, gays, US soldiers or Jet airplanes full of Americans, let alone Jews; JIHAD is a general term for it even Muslims understand.
To claim I refer to 'all' muslims is incorrect, and a malicious lie in the extreme.
You've seen too many of my posts on this subject to be innocently ignorant of my meaning. Your objective is to inflame readers.
What is being said is those Muslims who might be 'moderate' have no protection from the influences, intimidation and coercions from those who do not share their peaceful proclivities.
Speak to that if you can.
It is such crimes as Van Gogh's murder, and worse threats too, that certainly justify observations and protest, that Islam, unedited as it is from its devotees to this very day after 9/11, that Islam is so obviously the problem.
Nobody would argue that to say Catholicism had a serious problem with pedophile priests -- and finally the Pope did do something to make priests accountable; but, I haven't seen any such efforts from clerics or mullahs that has any real force, to transform the meaning and directives that incite the proclivities of many devotees in Islam toward unspeakable crimes.
The Koran remains unchanged and it's directives are still interpreted by most clerics, mullahs, and devotees just as the texts were prior to 9/11 -- and that interpretation includes jihad against those not Muslim as essentially a duty of all Muslims.
And, sure, a good many Muslims, interpret 'jihad' as any number of things; such as a personal effort to help one's neighbor etc.; but, just as with the Catholic problem of pedophiles, the system has to be dealt with, since; as it stands, violence from Muslims is running amuck from those Muslims who choose to understand it as intended from Mohammed.
Alright RDS, one last time on this, because otherwise I rapidly begin to lose the will to speak with you -
You say: "To claim I refer to 'all' muslims is incorrect, and a malicious lie in the extreme."
You don't state otherwise either, the burden of duty is upon you to consistently make sure that you are not branding an entire peoples with your dislike of reprehensible factions within them. What if I referred to all Americans with the derision I reserve for the "festering fringe"? T'would be unfair, would'nt it? Even them I usually address in very measured tones, because I loathe myself when I lose self-control. I have had this same discussion with you before in our previous falling out and your characterisations of multitudes into the "nation of Islam" prove otherwise. This is what Obama meant when he said America will never go to war with Islam. It was implied that extremists would be fought and defeated everywhere, but true moderates would get their due place in the world society i.e. just as the extremists are shamed, the moderates and overall decent people would be at the very least awarded recognition.
To say that my comment to you is a statement to "inflame" readers is an oxymoron and that you don't realise it, is indicative of why you are still making the argument that you are. How can you not see that Islam is not the problem? Wherever muslims live in secular countries, they're usually fine and usually wherever they live under a monarch or, without rule of law agreed upon by consensus, there are abuses of rights and all sorts of nasty stuff going on. That's the main problem, the political systems need overhauling, the religion is almost the same as most of the other ones, if the political system is fixed, the religion will be fine, for examples of such see our previous argument where I made the same point to you. I am not claiming to be innocently ignorant of your meaning, but you make statements without context for your perspective so a first time reader of your comments is liable to think - this guy hates muslims and maybe there are many more here who do. Trust me, I'm more on your side of the argument than you think and I agree with you on many things, but dude, seriously, rein yourself in a tad, "pretty please, with a f****n' cherry on top"
Yes, unless you state every time that your dislike of muslims is limited to the fanatics/extremists/loonies, every time you bring up Theo Van Gogh and make statements like "..low state of consciousness from Islam.." they can and perhaps will be interpreted as inflammatory overall anti-muslim rhetoric. So if you lump "good muslims" in with the "bad muslims" by targetting with your comments specifically the bad, with no frame of reference for the good, which is more often the case with you than not, you are doing the memory of Theo Van Gogh a disservice and as Tom has suggested at "the festering fringe" we just might decide to brand you a "lumper" :)
You said: "What is being said is those Muslims who might be 'moderate' have no protection from the influences, intimidation and coercions from those who do not share their peaceful proclivities. Speak to that if you can."
Did you not read my previous comment? There, I can and have spoken to that.
You said: "It is such crimes as Van Gogh's murder, and worse threats too, that certainly justify observations and protest, that Islam, unedited as it is from its devotees to this very day after 9/11, that Islam is so obviously the problem."
Look dude, muslims are killing far more of themselves than they ever have any of you, this is the biggest problem. Islam is not the problem, just like Christianity was not to blame for racists who used it as subterfuge to denigrate the coloured peoples of the world and to "civilise" them. The problem was bigotry and everyone has to guard against that, not just religious people of any creed.
You said: "..but, I haven't seen any such efforts from clerics or mullahs that has any real force, to transform the meaning and directives that incite the proclivities of many devotees in Islam toward unspeakable crimes."
Have you ever read a history book? Do you know how slow these things are? Did you forget the many and very black periods in Christian history? It took a very, very long time to change and there are many in the muslim world who have recognised that reforming the religious establishment is critical - reinterpreting the Qu'ran is underway at universities in Turkey; muslim clerics in India have unanimaously issued a fatwa against terrorism. This change has happened in Dubai, it is a pretty tolerant place, a community the majority of which is made up of expatriates and the natives are pretty accomodating. Turkey, is pretty alright for the most part too. It is happening, you can't expect everything to change overnight because you recognise a fault, else gays would not remain banned from the U.S. army, see? You cannot justly accuse the peoples of any stripe of wrongdoing RDS, unless you also consistently account for the meritorious. My main point is that if you spend less time fighting the lunatics and more time empowering the sensible, sense is bound to prevail, no?
Enough politics, what's you favourite Van Gogh painting?
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. Rushdie's first name is spelt "Salman" not "Salmon" one's the name of a fish and another's the name of a man..big, big difference :) Also, if you were half as good a writer as Rushdie and observed the strictures that he places on both his writing and speaking, we would'nt be having this conversation..
Thank you so much for the article on O'Rourke's. I lived in Chi for a few years in the early '70's, and hung out there drinking Guinness, smoking cigars, and wondering why women didn't want to talk to me. At that time, I believe, Willy owned the bar. What a great place. I was in town several years ago for business, and took some friends there only to find it closed! Your article brought back many memories. I still have dreams of that time (based on reality) where I'm walking all over the Upper North side the next day, trying to remember where I parked the car.
HW, praise. Beautiful.
I've been of a conviction for quite some time that America needs Indian writers -- for just the reasons your style, knowledge, comprehension and respect for the value of written words show here. "White Tiger" is nothing in comparison to what else is in the wings.
Just beautiful. In the rough, mind you, but beautiful the same.
RDS has written nothing to defuse my suspicion. On the contrary. In addition, his isn't the writing of an artist of any kind. The more he writes, the plainer it is that his sole message of intent is "Islam is evil. Be afraid." Skeletons will get him, too.
I'm not going to get far into this either, but it so happens I've dealt with NoI, the "Black Muslims" founded in the U.S. in the 1930s. I was on the phone with Dr. Gregory Mohammed the day he had to fly up to Chicago to tend Farrakhan's son, who'd been shot. He's Farrakhan's longtime friend and personal doctor. Dr. Mohammed told me a dream he'd had. He was wary of me, and rather dogmatic, but it takes a certain amount of self-trust to tell somebody a dream.
So far as I've learned, the Nation of Islam as an organization is as corrupt around the edges as any cult, and devoted Muslims tell me that as it's a racist organization, it's not considered as any part of the body of Islam altogether. This doesn't mean they're ostracized. What corruption matches likely creates that kind of congress among them, and what matching good intent will do the same.
The intent of the American Nation of Islam was to return self-respect to the Black American. To the extent I've met such men, and in comparison with American blacks I've met or known all my life, I see it working to an appreciable degree, so long as one must have a religion. American Protestant Christianity in particular is traditionally largely racist. I'm a little weary at the moment to provide various illustrations from experience all over this country. Here is a joke I read years ago about idealistic young liberals: "Yeah! He's right! All negroes should be equal!"
One would need to understand the culture into which the American black is born, to understand why the NoI has gained what prominence it has. Their sins are far more fascinating to those with inferiority complexes than their worthy accomplishments.
A sense of inferiority is sina qua non for an obsession against some other race or group. I believe this is so on a mass scale as well as an individual -- which is the prerequisite for any mass event, naturally.
I have a longtime friend who is such a person. I've known him since July 1973. He is a nearly brilliant musician, and multi talented in many other ways --
--to illustrate. I bought my first computer years ago. It froze up the day after I bought it. We had two friends, not far away, who came over to help fix it. One of them wrote the certification exams for computer programmers and repairmen, the other, among his accomplishments, designing and building the air traffic control computer system for the Frankfort International airport.
Carol and Woody sat in my studio taking notes and hollering at one another every day, an hour or so a day, for two weeks. My new little IBM PC wouldn't budge. They never did figure it out.
This friend, Pete, had JUST started taking computer classes. I called him and mentioned the problem. He said do this and that. I did, and the computer was up and running in five minutes. Later he built me one, state of the art, which still works fine 15 years later.
Pete never held a job for more than a year or so until he was 52 -- then, the job lasted 3 whole years for him. His music career went the same way, even though he has perfect pitch, is a wonderful drummer, a great sense of humor, a natural sense of composition and a good ability on various other instruments.
Would you like to guess how Pete, with such a potential, has managed to hole himself up for the rest of his life in a little apartment surrounded with musical recording toys, recording songs that people find rather anti-social and boring? And still going bitterly from one one little assignment to the next?
IT'S THE JEWS, HW! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. THEY'VE BEEN KEEPING HIM DOWN ALL HIS LIFE! THEY HATE HIM. HE HAS NOTHING AGAINST JEEEEEWS, BUT THEY HATE HIM. THEY USE HIM FOR A LITTLE WHILE AND THEN THROW HIM AWAY JUST WHEN THEY KNOW IT'LL HURT THE MOST!!!!!!!!!
I've spent thirty years trying to crack a little seam in this nut, hopefully to pour in a little healthy perspective. Chapter and verse, year after year, going over incident after incident. The best I've managed to do by now is that he will nowadays rant also about "nepotists," so as not to seem too keen on Jews alone. IT'S THE JEWS AND THE NEPOTISTS.
He's simply afraid of himself and maintains a sense of inferiority. It has not been one of my favorite sagas to follow.
Believe me, it was a relief awhile to hear him blow up and blame me for his nonexistent music career. I only lately heard that 30 years ago, I was hogging up all the songs and dominating the band. At least I'm not a Jew.
I haven't seen Pete in over a year, but I assume any day now, he'll be a 56 year old rock star, playing all by himself. Just as soon as he records a song with his toys that people can listen to for more than 60 seconds and not find it... weirdly anti-social, oddly angry and repellent (I showed his stuff to some kids)... mostly, boring, as listening to or reading someone caught in an obsession tends to be.
You'll find this feeling of inferiority and fear behind the eyes of anyone who constantly compels himself to lecture others humorlessly about some "evil," whether it be religion, sex, politics, race, name it.
Dark says:
You'll find this feeling of inferiority and fear behind the eyes of anyone who constantly compels himself to lecture others humorlessly about some "evil," whether it be religion, sex, politics, race, name it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And, who is doing the lecturing; 'in the rough' though you both be?
You even brought up the subject , Dark.
I stand by what I've said. Neither of you have taken anything away from my observations, nor shown anything to be incorrect or inappropriate; you've both as expected merely resorted to to attacking the writer out of sheer pomposity. You clowns think you own this blog.
Hey! For another board, foot where's Hugh?
Oh jeeesh!
I leave for a while so Scott can enjoy fighting in peace, only to come back and find you guys are talking about Islam yet again?!
RDS is never going to change his mind. His views on Islam are akin to Himalayan blackberry stains on white cotton.
Not. Coming. Out.
And yes I've tried TIDE!
Hey, that reminds me! Anyone here ever seen "The Tide Pure Essentials" commercial featuring a little boy and his blue blankie?! They use the Linus and Lucy song from the Peanuts and everything? I love that commercial!
I used to have a tricycle, too. And a bucket. Just like his. Memories; sigh.
Anyhoo, where was I..? Oh yeah, Islam.
"Did you know how "realism" reached the pinnacle it did? It was because of an instrument known as the "camera obscura" which was used to project the image of the subject in question onto the canvas for the artist to trace around." - Indian Idiot (H.W.)
I did! I did! (hand goes up like a rocket!)
But first, allow me to applaud one of the best posts I've ever read inside the blog. That was awesome! And because it's totally informed, not just an opinion, one I can also respect. Which I do. It was brilliant.
Okay so... camera obscura...
I hate Art Historians and Academics. They focus too often on how a thing was made. The more they think they know about the process, the more points on which they can pontification - and all because in truth, they wish they could make art themselves and can't! And why the very notion that someone like Vermeer or Canaletto used a camera obscura - gasp! - was immediately rejected.
To be a great artist you must be more than human, and suffer for your art! Pain is the measuring stick of greatness!
Oh phuck off and DIE already!
It's called pumping it out, dude, paying the rent; eating. It's called working for a living! TRY it! If there's an easier way to do something, you do it! Jerks.
Chuckle; I'm reacting in part to this: CBS 60 Minutes ran a great segment on this very subject back in 2003 - partial transcript:
"Was It Done With Mirrors? New Theory On How Old Masterpieces Were Created"
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/16/60minutes/main536814.shtml
"Needless to say, David Hockney and his book about this, called "Secret Knowledge," have rocked the art world, where most art historians say it's bunk.
“All these art historians, not one of them ever took the trouble to look through a camera obscura to see what it was like,” says Hockney.
They don't like the idea that, as Hockney suggests, the Old Masters traced their creations. There is an implication of cheating in that."
CHEATING?! I'm using a camera obscura right now on a painting; I borrowed it from my girl friend! Cheating my ass! (Making grumbling noises.)
Artists know the truth about Art. What goes into the making of it and how things get done. There's centuries of knowledge moreover, that gets passed down and with it all the best sneaky in-jokes, too.
If you really want to know about art - walk through a museum or gallery with an artist. Not an Art Historian. He's got a reputation and paycheck to protect. Here's some clips from the BBC documentary about Hockney's book, if anyone's interested:
http://www.koopfilms.com/hockney/intro.html
Meanwhile...
It's impossible to be an artist and not know about Islam, because those Eastern dudes were always doing cool stuff! Like textiles. Damascus silks - ever see those in a painting? With all this beautiful ornate gold thread work and embroidery around the collar and sleeves?
The crusades introduced these robes to Europeans - and painters took note. By the 13th century you could see the effect on religious art; the virgin Mary is frequently shows wearing an indigo blue Muslim tiraz robe...
http://www.lib-art.com/imgpainting/2/2/10922-madonna-and-child-giotto-di-bondone.jpg
But that's not just fancy embroidery. It's actually stylized Islamic inscriptions from the Koran! It's Islamic calligraphy! Look at the edges of the robe! And yes I'm LAUGHING...
http://www.artlex.com/ArtLex/b/images/byzant_cambrai.madon.lg.jpg
And you can find that everywhere. There are paintings of the Madonna and Child where even her gold halo contains bits of the Koran. And because no one in Europe knew what they were looking at, it went right over their heads.
Oh, the IRONY. :)
Here's these hardcore uber-religious types, just back from the Crusades were they were killing Muslims and stuff, and they bring back fancy fabrics as souvenirs - covered with the Koran - and it ends up in some of their most sacred religious art.
Chuckle!!!
See? That's the sort of subversive crap I just love. I love the idea that the Roman Catholic Church has some of this stuff hanging on their walls. :)
Adhān - Yusuf Islam Cat Stevens (sing it with me, RDS!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lObMusX0c8Y
Allahu Akbar
Ash-had anna lah ilaha illallah
Ash-hadu anna Muħammadar rasulullah
Hayya 'ala-salah
Hayya 'ala 'l-falah
Al-salatu khayru min an-nawm
Allāhu akbar
La ilaha illallah
Now wasn't that FUN! I enjoyed myself, if no one else did.
I'm still peeved at those Art Historians, though; basterds.
Indian:
Alright RDS, one last time on this, because otherwise I rapidly begin to lose the will to speak with you -
________________________________________________________________
RDS:
We’re to assume you have the 'truth' (I’m not going to hold my breath for obvious reasons).
And, such a threat isn't really an argument.
________________________________________________
Indian:
You say: "To claim I refer to 'all' muslims is incorrect, and a malicious lie in the extreme."
You don't state otherwise either,
____________________________________________________________
RDS:
LOL. Otherwise to WHAT?
______________________________________
Indian:
the burden of duty is upon you to consistently make sure that you are not branding an entire peoples with your dislike of reprehensible factions within them.
________________________________________
RDS:
I was clear in my remarks. You look to your own ‘duty’ which BTW could use a lot of work.
_____________________________________
Indian:
What if I referred to all Americans with the derision I reserve for the "festering fringe"? T'would be unfair, would'nt it? Even them I usually address in very measured tones, because I loathe myself when I lose self-control.
______________________________________
RDS: And I’m to assume this is measured control?
If the shoe fits as they say -- corruption is found anywhere, but some systems are better than others and afford people more cause for optimism.
______________________________________
Indian:
I have had this same discussion with you before in our previous falling out and your characterisations of multitudes into the "nation of Islam" prove otherwise.
________________________________________
RDS:
What are you talking about?
-_______________________________________
Indian:
This is what Obama meant when he said America will never go to war with Islam. It was implied that extremists would be fought and defeated everywhere, but true moderates would get their due place in the world society i.e. just as the extremists are shamed, the moderates and overall decent people would be at the very least awarded recognition.
___________________________________
RDS:
You can have your interpretation. My observations suggested a very naive and dangerous concession to the motivations of Islamics ... to an already inflated presumption from followers that Islam is due another empire.
_______________________________________________
Indian:
To say that my comment to you is a statement to "inflame" readers is an oxymoron and that you don't realise it, is indicative of why you are still making the argument that you are. How can you not see that Islam is not the problem?
______________________________________________
RDS:
Not at all; what other intention could you have with such insinuation to a writer’s character?
You haven’t yet begun to speak to my points yet with any seriousness. You focus entirely upon speculations of who I might be; you don’t know me.
__________________________________________
Indian:
Wherever muslims live in secular countries, they're usually fine
[ crime rates are much higher in most European countries in Islamic neighborhoods as I understand it, particularly with sex crimes such as rape.]
and usually wherever they live under a monarch or, without rule of law agreed upon by consensus, there are abuses of rights and all sorts of nasty stuff going on. That's the main problem, the political systems need overhauling, the religion is almost the same as most of the other ones, if the political system is fixed, the religion will be fine, for examples of such see our previous argument where I made the same point to you.
______________________________________________
RDS:
You’ve got it backwards.
They’ve had an opportunity in what was an already marginally secular state in Iraq -- to have a ‘fixed‘ political system and they have chosen sharia and Islam over good government and fairness.
Devotees in Iraq glue the anus’s of homosexuals, intimidate women into burkas and threaten those who seek an education, murder Americans and in general, devotees grovel at the depths of human depravity owing to the dominant Islamic system.
All Islamic states have major problems in all areas owing to Islam, and without huge stores of oil or another source of aid Islamic countries have poverty and rampant corruption.
_____________________________________________________
Indian:
I am not claiming to be innocently ignorant of your meaning, but you make statements without context for your perspective so a first time reader of your comments is liable to think - this guy hates muslims and maybe there are many more here who do. Trust me, I'm more on your side of the argument than you think and I agree with you on many things, but dude, seriously, rein yourself in a tad, "pretty please, with a f****n' cherry on top"
_________________________________________________
RDS:
Get real -- this is not the university. Nor am I behooved to foot-note and catalogue all my statements on this blog for others.
And, it’s also clear you were indeed aware of my meaning with this admission.
_______________________________________________
Indian:
Yes, unless you state every time that your dislike of muslims is limited to the fanatics/extremists/loonies, every time you bring up Theo Van Gogh and make statements like "..low state of consciousness from Islam.." they can and perhaps will be interpreted as inflammatory overall anti-muslim rhetoric. So if you lump "good muslims" in with the "bad muslims" by targetting with your comments specifically the bad, with no frame of reference for the good, which is more often the case with you than not, you are doing the memory of Theo Van Gogh a disservice and as Tom has suggested at "the festering fringe" we just might decide to brand you a "lumper" :)
______________________________________________
RDS:
I make no apologies for being anti-Fascist; which essentially what is at issue here.
Many millions of perfectly ‘nice’ Nazi’s and KKK lived in the USA during WWII but nobody said then -- or even now, we had to respect their opinions.
But you two are all over me about not hurting the feelings of those who are devotees in a system of little difference in practice from the worst Hitler had to offer.
______________________________________________________
Indian:
You said: "What is being said is those Muslims who might be 'moderate' have no protection from the influences, intimidation and coercions from those who do not share their peaceful proclivities. Speak to that if you can."
Did you not read my previous comment? There, I can and have spoken to that.
________________________________________________
RDS:
Elaborate...
________________________________________________
Indian:
You said: "It is such crimes as Van Gogh's murder, and worse threats too, that certainly justify observations and protest, that Islam, unedited as it is from its devotees to this very day after 9/11, that Islam is so obviously the problem."
, this is the biggest problem. Islam is not the problem, just like Christianity was not to blame for racists who used it as subterfuge to denigrate the coloured peoples of the world and to "civilise" them. The problem was bigotry and everyone has to guard against that, not just religious people of any creed.
___________________________________________
RDS:
‘Look dude, muslims are killing far more of themselves than they ever have any of you...’
That tells most people that Islam is one messed up system, since so many of the crimes against humanity in these societies is based upon specific Koranic texts or hadiths; but,[look dude] you get all fussy and indignant; then digress into other topics and problems in the world.
____________________________________________
Indian:
You said: "..but, I haven't seen any such efforts from clerics or mullahs that has any real force, to transform the meaning and directives that incite the proclivities of many devotees in Islam toward unspeakable crimes."
Have you ever read a history book? Do you know how slow these things are? Did you forget the many and very black periods in Christian history?
_____________________________________________
RDS:
Stick to the subject . Old pre-Industrial Western history isn’t relavent to today’s Dark Age Muslim fanatics aims and practices.
_____________________________________________
Indian:
It took a very, very long time to change and there are many in the muslim world who have recognised that reforming the religious establishment is critical - reinterpreting the Qu'ran is underway at universities in Turkey; muslim clerics in India have unanimaously issued a fatwa against terrorism. This change has happened in Dubai, it is a pretty tolerant place, a community the majority of which is made up of expatriates and the natives are pretty accomodating. Turkey, is pretty alright for the most part too.
_______________________________________
RDS:
Last I heard Turkey was regressing into Islamic extremism just as most other states under dominant Muslim populations wallow in Islam’s Dark Age proclivities. Sharia Law and bigotry to those not Muslim as in Darfur ...hell anywhere.
For every Fatwas for anti-terrorism two FATWAS are made to kill anyone who might offend Islam.
____________________________________________________
Indian:
It is happening, you can't expect everything to change overnight because you recognise a fault, else gays would not remain banned from the U.S. army, see? You cannot justly accuse the peoples of any stripe of wrongdoing RDS, unless you also consistently account for the meritorious.
___________________________________________________
RDS:
I can see that we as a nation have huge armies in both Iraq and Afghanistan; and even Obama is keeping them there -- I’m not making this stuff up; stuff that happens everyday in the news that reveal Islamic failings.
________________________________________________
Indian:
My main point is that if you spend less time fighting the lunatics and more time empowering the sensible, sense is bound to prevail, no?
___________________________________________________
RDS:
That’s what I said.
RDS, if you can find the right rock, I believe your homesickness might be cured and you might be reunited with your true kith.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Yes Marie, there is a wearisome government plant infesting this blog.
RDS isn't getting tired of lying. I just scanned and saw this "last I heard" Turkey's going blah blah blah.
Well, look, liar: I keep touch with a banker friend in Istanbul. No such thing is going on over there. You are indeed, nothing but a liar. If I had a way to boot you, I certainly would; your only use is for someone to investigate. It could make a story for better than just tinfoil hat news sites.
It took the NY Times a long time to get to the story of "Carnivore" and "Echelon," 2 of a probable number of internet programs that have been secretly monitoring private e-mails, violating a Constitutional right to privacy, and intentionally intimidating journalists. The story had been running through the tinfoil hat sites for years already.
Government agencies planting irresponsible psychos like this is no rumor. I may as well admit one of my brothers was doing it for the DHS, spreading happy happy posts for Bush. We found him. He's since quit.
Folks, your reasoned arguments are simply leaving this e-worm the opportunity to continue to do his "job," plant suggestions that muslims all need killed. I say he's planted to try to rile people up because war is indeed still slated against Iran. It's called "psy-ops," or "Psychological Operations."
The news about Iran even in the MSM is extremely distorted -- even Ahmadinejad's supposed quote about "wiping Israel off the map" is a total and deliberate distortion.
Iran has never started a war in modern history. Its total military budget, $6 billion a year, is what the U.S. has been spending pounding the crap out of rocks and farmers in Afghanistan every two months. The Iranian military budget is smaller than Sweden's, Greece's, and Singapore's.
You'll see RDS is pulling the same trick on the "festering fringe" site. Pop in and spew rehearsed paranoid crap about muslims. This odious poster has no intention of arguing or accepting facts. It's not his job. It's to spread deliberately designed horse crap and paranoia about "muslims." It's like having a tapeworm in the block. I wish he'd be gotten rid of. It's all he plans to do.
Indian:
My main point is that if you spend less time fighting the lunatics and more time empowering the sensible, sense is bound to prevail, no?
[ that's also a good principle in Darwinian evolution's Natural Selection ]
---------------
Indian,
Are you a man or a woman?
Your crawl under a rock remark is understandable if you are a woman, but rather insufficient if you are a guy.
Not to be chauvinistic but I am 'spin' conscious...
RDS
__________________________
Marie,
I assume you mean to say since we have some crucial things of value,from Islamic countries as the camera obscura; that this affirms Islam as a whole is of value.
That to me does not hold water, since I myself have thought of devices and inventions that were I to have gotten patents, or at least sold the ideas, I would at least have bragging rights to a few a 19.99 items sold on TV.
I saw that Hockney book some years ago -- I like his work better.
Tom said: "HW, praise."
Thank you awfully muchly sir. I don't think I am deserving, which is why I did'nt quote entirely what you said, but I'll humbly accept your praise as that worthy of a tyronic neophyte. I feel mighty embarrassed now. Yes, yes and yes, I'm on board with what you say here and most other things usually too, I can't agree with things I don't understand, which off and on can happen when I read something you wrote, although well I understand it why you do :) Keep at it with Pete, if he's gotten to ".. .. and the nepotists" there's hope yet, eh? :)
Marie said: "That was awesome!"
Imagines self doing jubilant cartwheels (I'm still more embarrassed than anything else really). Thanks awfully muchly also Marie and sorry I did'nt quote your praise in it's entirety either, as I felt foolish doing it. I have a deep fascination with Spain, having been in a relationship with a Spaniard for over two years. I find it trying to say the least, to bear witness to unwarranted fulminations against entire races, especially when they take the form of unsavoury caterwauling.
Marie said: "I hate Art Historians and Academics."
I am not at all surprised you knew about the camera obscura Marie, you know a great deal that I don't and would eventually like to get around to learning. I would'nt go so far as saying I hate academics, but I am wary of them, because too often academia is the precursor to shamelessly sedentary philosophies and while this is to an extent necessarily required of academics, because some of the most vital functions any pedagogy can serve is to provide stable methods and platforms of education, the trouble arises when they become inflexible and yes, sometimes there is need for radical perspectival pedagogic shifts, almost paradigmatically. I'm less conflicted about art historians, I'll give you an example - an English teacher teaches you nouns, verbs, conjugation etc. and then you're free to go off and read and do with the language what you will, but there are people like Anthony Burgess, who know a great deal, in fact so much that it would make you shrink back with humility, but they make you despair with their lacklustre writing. So, I think it depends more on what you want to do and how you want to do it, with that which you learn as opposed to just learning lots, which is not I think, harmful + a lot of what present day art historians have to say is I think to be taken with a pinch of salt, especially some prominent American ones, because a lot of them don't have any direct inherited precedent for artistic evaluation like most Europeans do, this on rare occasions has proven to be very rewarding, but mostly results in mediocrity. Shame.
Marie said: "To be a great artist you must be more than human, and suffer for your art!
Funny you should say that. See Rog? Maybe I'm not completely mental after all, even though you did'nt say I was, it seems sort of implied in a way.. :)
You know what I think of the problem people have with Hockney? It would make them completely reevalaute their whole way of looking at things i.e. they would need to remove the camera obscura of analysis that their predecessors had placed upon them and admitting that you could be wrong about something, is probably one of the most difficult things you can ask someone to do, especially if this person believes their entire "life's work" is based upon "being right", cf. tall bald art critic (historian really and an ungraciously bad one at that too) from "Who The F*** Is Jackson Pollock?", it proves quite beautifully your point about protecting reputation and remuneration.
You're right, people in the East quite consistently did a lot of amazing stuff, from Japan to Jerusalem, but staying on muslims have you seen the "Hamzanama"? It is quite spectacular and Indian too! Five of the seven wonders of the ancient world, existed in countries now occupied by muslims, two destroyed by earthquakes, one damaged by an earthquake and later torn down by Europeans, another plundered and set alight by Europeans, long before muslims even came into the picture and the only wonder of the ancient world that still stands to this day, just so happens to be in Egypt, a country of muslims! Funny that.. Muslims used to and many still do, see Christians as an earlier line of Abraham, or Ibrahim as they call it. Jesus is a prophet to them and a holy man, just like John the Baptist is holy to Christians, that's why you see the reverent references in old muslim art to them. This whole tension between Judaism, Christianity and Islam..I just don't get it, you know? On the Indian sub-continent and beyond, peoples of many stripes quite consistently fought territorial wars, but that's all they were, wars over land, not over competing religions..that's kind of stupid, especially to me whose modes of thinking rely most often upon disbelief in such matters.
I watched a documentary on Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam, a few years back when I was baked but good and he comes across as a very nice person indeed..now, if most religious people and atheists and everyone else could moderate themselves as he does, the world would be a much nicer place..but then again, weakened we might fall off the evolutionary wagon..the whole mess in a way makes sense, only we label those phenomena chaotic which we can't aptly describe, justify and/or protect against and it's mostly to do with being maladjusted to the planet and therefore being afraid of everything, society is largely to blame if it does'nt teach you that the world you live in although mighty nice, exists in a bigger world which is no bed of roses.
I wish I could have a smoke now..
xOxO
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. India - nation of contrasts - did you know Marie, that in the state of Himachal Pradesh in India, a woman can marry five men and that's what traditionally women in certain communities do? Crazy right?
Ebert: I didn't know that. Sounds like a Mira Nair six-hour epic, "Himachal Pradesh Wedding."
RDS: "Your crawl under a rock remark is understandable if you are a woman, but rather insufficient if you are a guy. Not to be chauvinistic but I am 'spin' conscious..."
It is so cute when you're trying to be clever :) but, this is what I said - "RDS, if you can find the right rock, I believe your homesickness might be cured and you might be reunited with your true kith."
I could have been referring to the rock of Gibraltar, or Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, or the Rolling "Stones" or the many, many other rocks I have'nt the time or inclination to list here. Wags finger - you are far too presumptuous and this is what lets you down. Yes, home shopping would seem like an ideal fit for you, why don't you try it? Why waste your time here among us poor charlatans? Why waste so precious an intellect?
Spin conscious? You? Really?
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
I find it trying to say the least, to bear witness to unwarranted fulminations against entire races, especially when they take the form of unsavoury caterwauling.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Indian Idiot,
Yes, blather on in sycophantic profusion to your supporters.
And, who might that be, with regard to 'fulminations against entire races'?
Islam is no race; and, that's a fact; even Muslims like to admonish those so ignorant -- when it suits them; in my book Islam's not even a religion; nothing but a cult of Mohammed, and an entitlement scam for chauvinists; even if it is covering the planet like some kind of slime mold. Islam certainly is as mindless; the evidence is, after all, in what the devotees do. 'Fulminations indeed!
The last fatwa I was aware of involved the bounty murder for a Danish cartoonist. Something Marie should contemplate as she pictures those who would offend women.
So, find your 'unsavoury caterwauling' in a sunless place where your 'kith' holds tight -- doesn't come from me.
Its pretty clear where you are at.
RDS
Ebert: Why so angry at this nice man? Can you dial down?
Indian:
'...I watched a documentary on Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam, a few years back when I was baked but good and he comes across as a very nice person indeed..now, if most religious people and atheists and everyone else could moderate themselves as he does...'
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Cat Stevens was justly denied entry into the USA for espousing 'the hijacked' belief found in Islamic texts, that those as myself who offend the prophet Mohammed should be killed.
Tom Dark whines: 'Boo hoo hoo!':
'This odious poster has no intention of arguing or accepting facts.'
This and other remark are slanderous lies. They make you, in fact, in violation of the terms of service. 'And this tirade coming from this 'liberal' is 'SMARTER and KINDER'?
Yes, I will talk of things that I consider news worthy or current events -- and , I do have a viewpoint.
Certainly, devoted Muslims would forbid any such discussion that I present; and with severe criminal penalties too ... if not 'justifiable' riots and arson but as an American with some rights of free speech not expunged yet by the SCOTUS, I'll make the best of them.
I ask anyone with objectivity to view the above and present a point for point evaluation of the issues and how Tom Dark engages them? It seems to me he doesn't.
Ebert: The Supreme Court is expunging free speech? Do any of the justices agree with you on that?
Dark makes this idiotic statement:
'Iran has never started a war in modern history.'
_____________________________________________
Are you kidding?
Iran's support, and aiding abetting the assault and incarceration of innocent American diplomates -- the travesty on our embassy was nothing short of a declaration of war; and, yet we allowed that to pass without just compensation to the victims of their Islamic revolution.
Only a spineless president, Carter, would let such an outrage pass.
Iran has effectively declared war on Israel already.
That 'peccadillo' doesn't even begin to deal with Iran's support funding for murderers.
Iran is also essentially declared war on the USA by way of murdering many of our troops with shaped explosives in Iraq.
The British too have a good case to clean their clocks.
It is pretty clear that Iran is an enemy.
Dark, you hatch unsupportable lies, trump up half truths or rumors simply because you hate the USA like an old hippie -- you must have done too much LSD as well.
'RDS:
Last I heard Turkey was regressing into Islamic extremism just as most other states under dominant Muslim populations wallow in Islam’s Dark Age proclivities. Sharia Law and bigotry to those not Muslim as in Darfur ...hell anywhere.
For every Fatwas for anti-terrorism two FATWAS are made to kill anyone who might offend Islam.
__________
Dark says:
'I keep touch with a banker friend in Istanbul. No such thing is going on over there. You are indeed, nothing but a liar.'
____________________________________________________
May be the army can assure your banker friend it has things well under control with it's ruthless tactics.
Nevertheless, I assume the pro-Islamic party still holds the titular office of control, and perhaps is merely encouraging the fanatics. I stand corrected.
Ebert: The Supreme Court is expunging free speech? Do any of the justices agree with you on that?
_________________________________________________________
Evidently one cannot use certain 'profane' language --does it mean 'French' as well?... Anyway police knocked on my door for it's use -- in telling a neighbor to remove garbage from my property - and, the policeman threatened me with arrest.
... but yesterday there was a case before SCOTUS regarding a case where video of dog fighting was being coinsidered that may well give law enforcement wide latitude in what is or isn't 'free speech'. The guy was sentenced to three years for the video ... seems this topic worthy, as movies too may be affected.
Don't think it had been decided, then but most certainly 'free speech' is taking a hit in Europe over sensitivities from religious groups as in France and England.
@ Indian Idiot (H.W.) -
"I am not at all surprised you knew about the camera obscura Marie, you know a great deal that I don't and would eventually like to get around to learning. I wouldn't go so far as saying I hate academics, but I am wary of them, because too often academia is the precursor to shamelessly sedentary philosophies..."
Ooops! I used too much shorthand! I'd actually meant to say "I hate Art Historians and Academics when they're jerks."
With me, it's always about a person's behavior - that's what I take issue with. Otherwise, just being an Art Historian or an Academic isn't any different that being a police officer; it's not the badge, it's what you do while wearing it, eh?
Ooo, "slang" of the day!
Eng. noun: a toff is a derogatory term for someone with an aristocratic background, particularly someone who exudes an air of superiority. "Toff" is thought to come from the word tuft, which was a gold tassel worn by titled undergraduates at Oxford University or Cambridge University. - wiki
@ RDS - "Cat Stevens was justly denied entry into the USA for espousing 'the hijacked' belief found in Islamic texts, that those as myself who offend the prophet Mohammad should be killed."
BOLLOCKS!
That's absolute rubbish! He did nothing of the sort!
I love Harold and Maude - a film that introduced me to the music of Cat Stevens and led to being informed about his music career and subsequent conversion to Islam. There's a great deal I don't know, and I'm the first to own my ignorance of a thing - but this isn't one of them.
During an address to students at London's Kingston University in 1989, he was asked about the fatwa. Newspapers quickly interpreted his response as supporting it - but he quickly released a statement clarifying that he'd merely been explaining that the fatawa was considered the legal punishment for blasphemy. In a BBC interview, he displayed a newspaper clipping from that time period, which quotes from his statement. So it's not like he never tried to clear it up. He did!
In 1989 on a British television program, it happened again. He made a joke about the Fatwa thing and the comment was taken out of context because of how they'd edited the show. Ever since, he has strongly denied ever calling for the death of Rushdie or supporting the fatwa. And in 2006, two years after being banned from entering the United States while on a flight to Washington DC, after asking that his name be removed from the no fly list, it was. Note: the name on that list was "Youssef Islam". His name is Yusuf Islam. They were so freakin' paranoid back then, they were jumping at shadows and looking for any excuse to do it. Jeeesh.
After Cat Stevens converted to Islam, he consistently sought to make the world a better place - not a worse one. He's received numerous philanthropic & humanitarian awards because of it; for his relief work helping children and victims of war, and his dedication to promoting peace.
I don't expect you to change your mind. So on this topic we'll have to agree to disagree.
However...
You have crossed the line! That's right, ya crossed THE LINE. You've been an ignorant git and there's only thing left to do...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50PskyP3x0g
"SPLAT!"
Do not make me reach for a rock, dude. Step away from the musician and spew that crap no more. Don't make me reach for a cartoon and nail it to an exterior wall.
Yup. RDS is here just to repeat the "muslims are evil" meme to try to prep people for a rape of Iran. No sooner had I posted that when came the report that the Pentagon's "quietly" received the budget for some bunker busters, for the eventuality of a rather prejudicial exportation to Iran. They're about the destructive capacity of the early A-bomb.
Just keep a watch. He's been doing it methodically since I came to this blog months ago. He won't quit, he'll find every opportunity to wheedle in "how evil muslims are."
It may take too long to realize who is the lying idiot here, but pay attention when it comes.
8 years ago the NY Daily News free speech forum had to shut down because of the infestation of gov't e-worms. Methodical propaganda isn't "free speech."
I still have friends from that interesting bout. The e-worms aren't too difficult to isolate and dispose of once people catch on to their tactics.
RDS, I hate to say this but your grasp of Turkey makes Oliver Stone and Alan Parker look like Lord Kinross.
Ali,
Robert Spencer posts this on Jihad watch today, and while I doubt anyone here will be any kinder to him than me. He does support my observations that have been, without foundation, declared 'lies'; and, upon his site he does maintain substantial scholarly research for his assertions regarding the dangers of Islam; and, he even has a fully reviewed copy of the Koran:
'Israel: Hmmm, maybe these arms sales to Turkey aren't such a good idea
Wise move, in light of this. Why should rapidly Islamizing Turkey still be treated as a secular, pro-Western nation, when it is increasingly behaving like just the opposite? "Israel rethinks arms sales to Turkey," by Herb Keinon and Yaakov Katz in the Jerusalem Post, October 12 (thanks to Dan):
While Israel kept a low official profile Sunday on Turkey's cancellation of a joint military exercise, defense officials said advanced weapons sales to Turkey would now be reviewed, and a leading academic expert on Israeli-Turkish relations suggested ending support for Turkey on the Armenian genocide issue in Washington if the deterioration in ties continues.
According to defense officials, several Turkish requests are currently under consideration by the Defense Ministry's Foreign Defense Assistance and Defense Export Organization (SIBAT). These will now need to be reviewed due to the change in the diplomatic ties between Jerusalem and Ankara. "This is a country that appears to be distancing itself from the West and there could be repercussions," one official said, adding that in the 1970s, Israel sold Iran military equipment up until the Islamic Revolution.
There should be repercussions.
Posted by Robert on October 12'
Dark warns:
'...Just keep a watch. He's been doing it methodically since I came to this blog months ago. He won't quit, he'll find every opportunity to wheedle in "how evil muslims are."...'
I don't know about 'evil' but any body that has a 'guide book' for life, politics and spirituality that within said book, contains directives from God to kill me for a rather long list of things I do , I am or I believe-- including these posts, I just can't let it go. And, I might add whole countries as SA, Iran and others adhere to this book the Koran as their source for law.
Those who profess 'Unapologetic belief in the Koran', as some here have declared, I take issue with their patchwork thinking and find their 'friendly invitations to lunch un-reassuring; and given the rejection of pictures, music and most forms of pleasure un-Islamic from Mohammed, I find their presence upon this 'LIberal' site oxymoronic.
RDS
I'll regale you with a story whilst I sit here with my tall Guinness beer ... and you all, I can only imagine, with your 'CRANBERRY" juices -- those, anyway who have not yet 'Departed'... who sit with accusing frowns.
I do consider my self a whistle blower of sorts though Dark is wrong about my associations.
Yes, I was an informant at a very young age, at five.
A 'rat' from some perspectives, though I do not lose sleep over it, since I've been called many things. (what on earth is a 'GIT' Marie?)
At five, my older brother and I found ourselves in a neighborhood of other children next to a golf course.
Chip, a fat, red headed boy, 4 years older, who had befriended my brother of 7, chased me with a golf club, a driver, on the dog legged 2nd hole when I first met him. He chased me down into the creek that cut across the fairway.
It was winter, the ice was thin and I fell through. The spectacle of me cracking through the ice into the cold icy water and muddy creek bed added much to those boy's amusement.
The golf course was our playground but it did have traps and other hazards: the guard.
This vigilant guard had a golf cart with a little single piston motor that putt putted noisily; and, one could hear it coming, put puttering from beyond the crest of the hilltops of the fairways; we would all run to our respective abodes as he approached, yelling on a megaphone at us to stop and surrender for arrest ... after we had toilet paper rolled big bulls eyes upon a green or made sand trap murals of Bullwinkle or Kilroy.
One day, however, the guard, a uniformed badge sporting Barney Fife of a man, got sneaky and drove his cart around the perimeter of the golf course upon the streets.
That same day I had lingered behind Chip and my brother -- since I was aware poison Ivy was the plant they had just trooped through to get upon the fairway; I knew this because I had been warned by Mrs. Danials, the home owner of that golf course entry point. She informed me the previous day that a poison Ivy rash was even worse than the chicken pox I'd just recovered from.
Poison Ivy was found almost the entire circumference, and was the Country Club's cheap means to discourage trespassing from children as ourselves; but, Chip and my brother didn't know about it :).
Just as I turned to return to my Zorro episode, (or was it Roy Rogers?), the guard was right there and he grabbed me. I thought I was doomed.
He said I was standing on golf course property; and, I told him it was beyond the poison Ivy ; 'nope', he said and told me I was under arrest.
I considered my options, and after a few seconds I then pointed to the crest of the fairway and said, 'they are ON the golf course!' -- referring to the carrot top head and magically moving 2nd hole pole flag one could see just beyond.
The guard took off after them and I went back home to my TV show.
Later that week they accused me of 'squealing' on them as they moaned and whined. Mother applied calamine lotion; both all covered in poison Ivy.
I never did any such thing!
Video: Cat Stevens Wishes for Salman Rushdie's Death by Fire
Sat, Jun 23, 2007 at 2:43:13 pm PDT
[to be found in the LGF archives]
'...Here’s a rare video of former pop star turned Islamist Cat Stevens (aka Yusuf Islam, aka Yusuf) on British TV in 1989 discussing Salman Rushdie; when asked if he’d go to a demonstration to burn an effigy of Rushdie, Yusuf Islam replies, “I would have hoped that it would be the real thing.”...'
It's no longer available directly on Youtube since Yusuf Islam is suing for copyright infringement;
You can jump aboard his 'Love Train' if you wish Marie, but he's also known to have very pointed chauvinistic attitudes.
http://www.youtube.com/index?ytsession=0L0mkFGWwA76XSPs2F2VU7865ATFAY22NYrRPzElm3uX2x9f_zIPV-IyV2CWIyR1IrB-kGOTnRcRcCUG5wB4Xrw_ffES2ULRqJkHtvx7EkHTfYUkap4ijB6hcElqfwbWx3QDK4aATZ67nIL0ypTh7r00Os92QdAkHjXtLOgfw-huYKlwyb6sEdtbVi-T6EsmUWR263ygydnUw8Kers9vNnRdXt2c9TRUK5R1BRCkTGxUbuTOF2uRa_mlrzJLR31NiRms_EmCLEQLZL0H14xrGpwD9uI7s0uO
I had to go looking for that clip about Cat Stevens (that link doesn't actually take you to it) but I have managed to see it now!
And you're right. He does say those things. But that was 1989. Here's what he said afterward:
"I never called for the death of Salman Rushdie; nor backed the Fatwa issued by the Ayatollah Khomeini--and still don’t. The book itself destroyed the harmony between peoples and created an unnecessary international crisis."
"When asked about my opinion regarding blasphemy, I could not tell a lie and confirmed that--like both the Torah and the Gospel--the Qur’an considers it, without repentance, as a capital offense. The Bible is full of similar harsh laws if you’re looking for them. However, the application of such Biblical and Qur’anic injunctions is not to be outside of due process of law, in a place or land where such law is accepted and applied by the society as a whole." - Cat Stevens
So what is he guilty of?
Imo, being foolish and naive. Thinking that in order to be a good Muslim you had to interpret the Qur'an literally. Which I see as akin to being a conservative-minded Christian in the United States quoting the bible.
I don't think he has a murderous heart. I don't think it's filled with hate. Instead, I think he went looking for something he needed...
"While vacationing in Marrakech, Morocco, Stevens was intrigued by the sound of the Aḏhān, the Islamic ritual call to prayer, which was explained to him as "music for God". Stevens said, "I thought, music for God? I’d never heard that before – I’d heard of music for money, music for fame, music for personal power, but music for God!"
In 1976 Stevens nearly drowned off the coast of Malibu, California and claims to have shouted: “Oh God! If you save me I will work for you.” He says that right afterward a wave appeared and carried him back to shore. This brush with mortality intensified his long-held quest for spiritual truth. He had looked into "Buddhism, Zen, I Ching, Numerology, tarot cards and Astrology". Stevens' brother David Gordon brought him a copy of the Qur'an as a birthday gift from a trip to Jerusalem. Stevens took to it right away, and began to find peace with himself and began his transition to Islam." - Wiki
Wanting to renounce the trappings of fame and fortune, making music for money - that whole lifestyle; that's where he was coming from at the time he converted. He wasn't looking for excuses to hate people.
There's a person in there you can work with. And why I'm not willing to throw the baby out with the bath water - for it solves nothing.
I can see now why have reacted to him the way they've done, though. And he did invite it for failing to think before speaking; true. But it makes me feel sorry for him as I think he's in a better place NOW - and people aren't willing to embrace that growth.
I tend to cherry pick what I like from all religions and toss out the crap I don't. I personally think that's the best way to go about it. But others don't share that, I know, and so I have to share the planet with them, as best I can.
One thing's for sure: I'll never be the cause nor start of any wars. :)
Thank you for your kind words for Marv Berkman.
If I'm not mistaken he IS in the LIFE picture, just not holding a guitar. The smiling distinguished looking fella wearing the wire- rimmed spectacles, center rear, in front of the door sure looks like Marv.
He'd had a few more birthdays when I met him, but I can't say he was "older". I'm proud to say he considered me a friend as well as a neighbor.