Blind Man's Bluff

I recently read a brief post by a blogger whose writing I very much admire (Dues Ex Malcontent- All Hail the Queen) but this particular effort really threw me.

The post and its resulting commentary unfortunately and painfully reminded me again of the aggressively idiotic, circle-jerking, log rolling, Oprahesqe attitudes we must all be enslaved to and parrot ceaselessly in this current American PC environment should we ever decide to pop our heads up out of our comfortable holes and say something we know to be true, fair, righteous or, perhaps most unforgivably, accurate.
Yes, I've separated Truth from Accuracy because my Truth (while true) may not jibe with your version but accuracy.....
Accuracy cannot be denied, it is empirical and unquestionable except to the deluded, delirious and/or willfully braindead.

Example?

My truth- President Bush is a blissfully ignorant, shamefully fog-headed, dangerously uninformed, criminally incompetent, pathetically provincial and woefully unqualified Leader of the Free World.

Your truth may be slightly different.

What is Accurate?

The Economy is in the shitter and heading for a depression, the War in Iraq/Afghanistan can best be described (very charitably) as a now 7 year and extremely expensive running stalemate, the City of New Orleans has never recovered (and most likely never will) from a F*****g Storm, gasoline is 5$ a gallon, Osama bin Laden and his minions are doing just fine and Bush 2.0 firmly believes that he has faithfully fulfilled his obligations and so we must all of us say goodbye to him, perhaps forever, come November.

See the fine but significant difference between the two? Now let's press on.

Because my message today deals not in politics of the Washington brand but in the Social and Personal varieties and to get straight to the point-

What is with this hideously moronic idea/belief/injunction espoused by so many (and constantly trumpeted by the both Liberals and Conservatives alike but mostly Liberals) that “Everyone” is “Beautiful”, “Everything” is “Art”, and, further, that everyone is qualified and thus has a “Right” to do anything they desire, lest we take it to the Courts and the lawyers, despite any reasonable and right-headed circumstances to the contrary?

Cases in Point-

Fat, ugly and elderly women, indeed all women, must be loudly and publicly declared Sexually Attractive lest we be accused of misogyny then endlessly browbeaten and summarily punished by the actually sexy of that most fair gender. It is now impossible to admit (even to ourselves) that we have specific tastes and preferences and that these preferences trump any societally driven rules laid down by the reigning PC cognoscenti. And by the way, lest we slip up, should you be a Male who possesses a genuine genetic or acquired predilection for the obese (Plus-sized), fugly (appearance challenged) or Older (Mature) woman please don't think for a moment that this mandate gives you free reign to act on your desires..no, no! If you do that then you are a sexist or just another sex-obsessed male seeking to objectify her personhood, deny her humanity and enslave her sexuality.....Freak! Heal Thyself!


All Babies must be described as Beautiful Miracles from God lest you be lashed to a Cross and burned at the stake for being a Baby hating Satanic Worshiper when realistically, I'm almost sorry to say.....OK, I'm not.....very, very few babies (and even fewer Adults) are Beautiful.
The vast majority of slimy newborns look just about the same- Fat blobs of gooey baby flesh that may or may not, most likely not, turn into an attractive adult one day. Yet to be fair, and sensible, lots of us Adults (especially the Males) are downright ugly in appearance and there isn't too much we can do about it. Maybe most of us are somewhere in the Middle (some good days, some bad days, nothing much to write home about) and only an extremely small percentage (I'm going to offer less than 10%) are truly Beautiful.
Now, does that really hurt so much? Really?
Because if it does then open up a newspaper and read the entire World News section paying particular attention to events in the 3rd World. Then reassess your situation. Then deal.



Everything is Art and Everyone an Artist. OK. I'll make this one real simple.
Norman Mailer was a writer. I'm a blogger.
Marlon Brando was an actor. I fake it to make it.
Jimi Hendrix was a musician. I can play 3 Blind Mice on the harmonica.
Diego Rivera was an Artist. I occasionally scribble drawings of Naked Chicks.
Get the Picture?



Every Citizen is entitled to do Everything and Anything his twisted little heart desires with Logic and Common Sense banished forever from our privileged lives lest it infringe on our more insanely goofy aspirations that Hollywood Movies have taught us are not only true, but also our inevitable and glorious destiny.
And so we have Blind Hunters in Texas (YES, BLIND! Not vision-impaired or sightless or any other softheaded bullshit...the Motherfuckers are walking around with loaded shotguns and they can't see their hands in front of their faces), Legally Blind Drivers in 34 of our United States (please tell me you're surprised), rampant Celebutards with legions of parasitic paparazzi who track their every meaningless movement, the WNBA and, of course and inevitably, no standards anywhere, plummeting grades everywhere but never fear because we've successfully abolished any losers in Youth athletic contests and all children must now receive the required “Achievement” awards instead.
And then we get G. W. Bush in the White House. For 8 years.
I Believe I Can Fly!


The mirror in front of us is not an apparition to be avoided at all costs, it is not a tax to be beaten, bested, broken or bought.
It's a test.
It's a Truth.
It's the most real of Laws and the Grim Reaper is gonna slap the cuffs on all of us sooner rather than later.

But, if we're living right, we can make that old bastard sweat.

'Cuz it's Monday.....That's Why!

And if Lemmy can't get your Motorhead started then...

Jack.....YOU DEAD!



Love the rhyme scheme-

"That's the way I like it,

I DON'T WANTA LIVE FOREVER!"

Could not have possibly said it better myself.

Just a Thought...

Anyone hear about the US "Hostages" released in Columbia last week? Yea...me neither.
I found what little details there were sketchy at best and I definately found the comprehensive and almost complete lack of news coverage very, very...........shall we say............curious?

Here we have one of those ''Made-for-TV-Feel-Good-All-The Way-USA'' stories that news outlets, especially Fox, love to snap up and then run with interminably until you' re forced to regurgitate the sloppy mess because it's been rammed down your throat every hour for 2 weeks running.


AMERICAN HOSTAGES FREED IN DARING RAID!


It practically ''screams ''All-American Patriotism yet somehow nary a peep was to be heard.


I smell rat.


These American hostages were captured in 2003 when they were "on an anti-drug mission" in Columbia. It has been mentioned in the Chicago Sun Times (although no other newspaper that I can find so they're either way ahead of everyone else or badly misinformed) that the hostages were "working" for US Army South.


US Army South?


We've got a corporate division attached to the United States Army suddenly? Stationed where? Doing what? To Whom?


Gentle Readers it appears that, YES, indeed there is a branch of the US Army called US Army South and its HQ is currently in Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Originally formed in 1904 to protect the Panama Canal and American interests (read Big Business) there the Division now is tasked with......well.....I don't know and I was unable to find their most recent Mission Statement anywhere. The closest I can figure is that they are there to protect us from dangerous Neighbors and rogue Nations South of the Border, well, south of Mexico anyway. No... No, they're not the Border Patrol, that's a different Team. They're more like.....um....sort of a private Government Army funded by your taxes and mandated with............ah..............who knows but the point is that they're obviously ANTI-DRUGS and have no time to be bothered with that pesky situation in the Middle East, that's a different Company. USS has got much more '' important'' work to do!


So..........Allow me to quickly review.


We've got 3 guys (sometimes described as'' Military Contracters''...sorry, but no news outlet has described them as soldiers or businessmen or diplomats or as anything clearly understood or identifiable) flying around the jungle in US Airplanes who are somehow captured by the Communist FARC Revolutionaries/Terrorists while on an "Anti-Drug Mission", held hostage for 5 years (longer than any other American anywhere), almost miraculously saved and returned to their Homeland and then...wait for it....No One has anything to say about anything nor wishes to speak to anyone in any detail concerning any circumstances?


No background, no press conference, no interviews, no features, no follow-ups???


I'm no conspiricy theorist (really, I'm not- Boothe shot Lincoln, there are no aliens in Area 51, the Saudi Terrorists knocked the Towers down and yes...Oswald was the Lone Gunman!) but this one is 2+ 2 = 5.


So let me straighten out the Math.


Us Army South = CIA


3 "Military Contracters" = CIA operatives/drug/gun runners


Anti-drug Mission = Drug Mission


Freed in Daring Raid = Ransomed, brokered or traded up before the shit finally hit the fan.


Ingrid Betencourt = Bonus irrelevant French Broad


And, last but certainly not least,

No significant News Coverage = Lap Dog News Agencies asleep at the wheel while licking the Dick that feeds them.


There. So much easier to calculate, isn't it?


Hang on a sec.........someone's pounding on my door.


Gotta Go!

28 Days Later

Nearly one month after No. 1 Roger Federer, the Crown Prince of Tennis, absorbed a brutal beatdown from the upstart No.2 Rafael Nadal on the red clay of the French Open, the pair went at it again yesterday on the sparse green grass of the All-England Club to decide this year's Wimbledon Champion.

It was worth the wait.

Mother Nature herself seemed incapable, or perhaps unwilling, of doing little more than delaying the inevitibility of this Classic Showdown. And nothing could more clearly describe the differences between the two Athletes as when they took the court for the first time after the 1st of 3 rain delays.
Federer- Graceful, serene, elegant in his throwback cardigan as he reviewed his Kingdom yet conversely retaining the solidity of a Lunchbucket Joe just here to do his job, albeit do it better than anyone on the Planet.
Nadal- Bouncing, sprinting, strutting, stalking, a perpetual motion Man with all the manic energy and raging gusto of a tough kid who just can't wait to climb in the ring and punch it out.
Federer- The cool, powerful and precise Righty.
Nadal- The explosive, tricky and tough Lefty.
Federer- The older Veteran Champion.
Nadal- The younger hungry Challenger to the Crown.

The 1st game was out of the Champions playbook as he dominated with his serve and his powerful forehand, allowing Nadal only one single burp of a point, and cruised effortlessly to take the game.
But on this day the Kid had eaten his wheaties and it was all downhill for Roger in that initial set. Nadal continually displayed solid unshakeable service to match his fantastic all-around game and terrific timing as he mauled Federer time and again, stealing a crucial 3rd game service break from the Champ before eventually putting his foot to the floor and decisively taking the 1st set, 6-4.
If the crowd was somewhat suprised, and definately delighted, at the 1st set results the suprise ended for them in the 2nd as Nadal turned up the heat and hounded Federer all over the court.

By then it was Roger's turn to be suprised.

Tennis Heads (and I'm not one of them) can certainly say what they want but the Champ at times looked frustrated and stymied by Nadal's ferocious game and steely will. Nadal continually beat back service break points while never failing to capitalize on his enemies service lapses. In addition, Federer frequently, and at the worst moments, displayed a heretofore unknown penchant for the unforced error even as Nadal's game grew more confident and steady as the match wore on, handily snatching the 2nd set from the jaws of defeat (he was down 1-4 before he stormed back), to the outright joy of the crowd this time around, 6-4 (again) with Regal Roger quite suddenly down 2 sets to none and his back pressed firmly against the wall by the ravenous Spanish Wolf Nadal.

Let me just add my admiration for both players at this point.

Because this was one of those very rare Head-to-Head Matchups in Professional Sports where no other Player could've or would've given the other guy such spectatcular fits, one of those cases of the Gentleman facing you being the Only Man Alive who could stretch the other to such Superhuman limits. This was Ali/Frazier, McEnroe/Borg, Jabbar/Walton and both Men were more than equal to the challenge and more than ready to duel to the End.

Nadal pumped up the pressure in the 3rd but both combatants brilliantly and gallantly held service until 5-4 (Federer) and then the rain.....
and the waiting......

It was 2am by this time (over in J-land) and this Kid had a date with the Sandman so......

This morning I woke to the news of an incredible 4 hour plus 5th set Nadal victory in the twilight of Center Court.
How Federer got it that far I can't imagine but, after witnessing more than half the battle, I can easily believe.

So tonite I'm hunting replays and getting set to treat myself to the Greatest Wimbledon Finish since Borg/McEnroe way back in 1980. I was around for that one and stayed glued to the tube for every glorious moment of their fabulous 5th set tiebreaker and trust me, it was worth every second of it.

The Great News?

This one is too!

All Praise the Gods of Tennis...Our Prayers have finally been answered!

HAPPY 4TH of JULY WEEKEND!

And in keeping with that solemn occasion, I humbly offer this feel good little number from some clean-cut All-American Boys, deliciously mashed for your BBQing pleasure with a couple of the more light-hearted holiday Movies from the last 3 decades or so.

Here's "Search and Destroy".

Enjoy.



Tilt 'em back for the Good Ole U S of A!

American Brilliance- Taxi Driver (1976)

“You talkin’ to me...........you talkin’ to me?”

Of course by now these words are burned into our national consciousness and cinematic lexicon along with “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” and “Go ahead...Make my day” but the portrait Scorsese painted of a lonely cabbie trapped in ’76 New York was considerably more user-UNfriendly. Violent, dirty, depraved and desperate his adults only streets teemed with roving gangs, aggressive hookers, abusive pimps, drug addicts, drunks, madmen and those not yet so as we witnessed this degenerate world through the eyes (quite literally) of our hero and everyman, Travis Bickle.

The film, indeed, opens on a tight shot of Travis compulsively scanning his wild, wicked and dangerous landscape. He is seeking employment and during the course of his job interview we learn almost all of what anyone needs to know about him. He is a loner, he has trouble sleeping, he is willing to take grave risks, he is painfully class conscious.

The last may go unnoticed but it is central to any understanding of Travis’ character. During his brief interview we can recognize all the components of the dysfunctional outsider- He’s somewhat smug and superior while simultaneously nervous and uneasy, he’s arrogant yet compliant as the situation demands, he desperately needs help but hates himself for having to ask.
And then he is questioned about his education and for the first time unconsciously displays his painful social isolation.

“Some.......you know......here and there.”

He squirms as he reels in self-disgust. This isolation and self-hatred will become the driving forces of Travis’ urban daydreams/nightmares.

Scorsese’s camera work is simple, elegant and electric throughout and backed by the lushly romantic and foreboding Bernard Hermann score (the film could not be the same without it) shows us a vibrant tableau of his beloved NYC scanned through the lens of Travis’ mind as he trawls the streets in search of money, love, purpose and his everlasting soul. Alone in his room Travis writes letters to what must be parents and idly journals to himself and it is this running monologue, heard as a voice-over, that faithfully tracks the agonizing collapse of Travis’ character and eventually his mind as tumbles down his moral rabbit hole into a world more suitable to his fantasies and own self-image.

The inevitability of Travis’ journey is one of the films strongest points. Given the nature of his environment, the limits of his potential and the coiled trigger of his low tolerance there is little confusion for the viewer as regards the angry storms that swirl in Travis’ mind. He is surrounded by chaos, drowning in solitude, and struggles mightily to find meaning inside it all before finally succumbing and creating his own brand of order. This is truly a tale any stressed out urban dweller can identify with and easily understand.

It’s worth noting that Travis’ 1st contact with a women is in a porno theater and is a complete and humiliating disaster. We immediately begin to grasp his confusion and empathize with his inept advances into his frightening world, he is a loser, an outcast and has very little clue. He drinks, takes pills and subsists on coffee and a horrible diet of junk food.

Yet there is hope.

During his travels through the city he discovers the lovely Betsy, as played by a radiant Cybil Shepard in a deft bit of perfect casting, a bursting-with-Life All-American Blonde Goddess. He instantly conceives of her as his “Angel”, his Madonna, his salvation, the perfect vision of beauty and purity of which he seeks and just as instantly begins to track her every move. Betsy works in the campaign office of Senator Charles Palatine who is running for President and likely to win.
Almost miraculously Travis manages to ingratiate himself with Betsy and score a coffee date, she is intrigued by his directness, sincerity and honesty if somewhat wary of his intensity and out-of-sync methods. The time goes reasonably well and Travis asks her to the movies, she agrees. The plot is shifting in a direction we cannot imagine. Travis’ wishes seem to have a chance to come true, if only temporarily, and then the Big Date arrives. Betsy looks smashing, Travis has a thoughtful gift for her, all is going well until he decides on the movie.
Again demonstrating his complete lack of personal skill, he takes her to a sleazy porn theater. She is very unsure about it all but they press on, Travis assures her,

“No...No....I heard that a lot of couples go here.”

They grab their seats, surrounded by the all-male raincoat crowd, and Betsy is immediately repulsed and offended, she bolts and Travis chases after, there is a scene as Betsy rushes to grab a cab and escape from her now sordid misadventure. He has made an irrevocable error but of course is too emotionally stunted to properly comprehend his folly. Betsy is gone. His Sacred Madonna has abandoned him alone in the streets, clutching his now returned gift in confusion and sorrow.

His life, like many a lonely man before him, has taken a grim turn.

He begins stalking Betsy in a misguided attempt to win her over that is doomed from its start. Eventually he shows up at her workplace, the Palatine Campaign HQ, and his pent-up anger and frustration erupts for the first time causing some minor ugliness and a call to the police before Travis escapes through the crowded sidewalks, more bitter and alone than ever before.

Due to the nature of any great Big City (especially NYC) and the quirks of his profession Travis has numerous, disconnected encounters that nevertheless seem, to him, to be guiding him in some important direction.

Senator Palintine himself, dashing, handsome, intelligent, articulate and wildly popular (everything Travis is not) hops in his cab and engages him in a brief conversation before Travis once again reveals his inability to correctly gauge the moment or at least rein in his anti-social tendencies before his handlers rush the Senator safely away.

A very young hooker leaps into the back seat in a panic and before he can drive away her pimp viciously rips her out of the cab,
“Be cool, Bitch!”,
throws a crumpled $20 at Travis and advises him to,
“Forget about this.”

A deranged cuckold husband (played absolutely brilliantly by Scorsese himself) orders Travis to park at a curb and observe a certain apartment then proceeds to treat Travis to a bone chilling monologue on his plans to murder his whore wife.

Travis’ eyes hyperactively take it all in.

He accidently runs into (almost literally) the young hooker again and this time tracks her down. He purchases her “services” from her pimp, Sport/Matthew (be cool, Bitch), and they repair to the room. But Travis doesn’t want what he’s paid for and what she is so very willing to give him, instead he wants to talk, he wants answers, he wants to save her.
They agree to meet the next day for breakfast. Iris (street name, Easy) is also moved and somewhat curious about this straightforward, serious, sincere, man.

At breakfast she asks if he is a narc. He replies that he is indeed and later allows that he is,

“...doing some special work for the Government right now.”

We begin to understand the choices of this painfully insignificant figure in his uncaring and mystifying world. A lowly hack sarcastically referred to by one of his fellow cabbies as “Killer”, the whipping boy of Female indifference and the silent, non-entity whose job is to transport those more important than himself to their nightly destinies however sordid those destinies may be. Travis roams the streets, searching, searching, searching for the meaning in his existence.

“And then one day there is a turning point.”

Travis is forming his own design in his head and starting to see the connections, beginning to grasp his purpose, moving toward his own destiny needing only the agent for change and that agent is his purchase of handguns.
An arsenal.

The shift in his universe is manifest and absolutely total. Before the purchase of his weapons he was nothing, now he holds the power to change the World within his hands.

And change it he does.

The 60 minute drop down to the end of Scorsese’ epic ride will have your heart in your throat all the way to the final explosive collision of Travis’ worlds and his retribution against his hated enemies, real and imagined- The Father Figure who has symbolically stolen his woman and the “scum” who degrade his existence and insult his sense of righteousness. A finale that is still shattering to this day.

Movie violence has come a long way since ’76 (and many might say a wrong way) and given the Mack Truck-going downhill-out-of-control-with-no-brakes that is screenwriter Paul Schraders’ script it is all the more incredible that Scorsese manages to pack so much tension, paranoia, uncertainty, fear and horror into the last third of his film.

Great scenes- Sport’s initial sales spiel to Travis-
“Man.. this girl.....you can cum in her face, fuck her in her mouth, fuck her in her ass....man this chick get you so hot she’ll make your dick EXPLODE!”

Travis’ gun purchase- Steven Prince as the very best salesman ever captured on film, ever!
“Now the magnum...they use that for killing elephants in Africa.”

The Bodega scene- “Hey...” BOOM!
“You get him?”

And too many more.

It is impossible to imagine this film being made today.
Indeed, it was difficult to believe it was made back then, and released into theaters Nationwide but it was and we were grateful for and properly stunned by its timely arrival. A small story written and filmed large about one man’s urban isolation, social disintegration, violent tendencies, descent into madness and eventually, in a final twist, his provident redemption.

And it’s got Albert Brooks....so there’s that too.

It’s safe to say that Scorsese broke the modern mold of cinematic Urban tales with this one and changed the direction of modern filmmaking.

A final note on the final shot.
I’ve heard numerous different theories as to its meaning and I won’t argue any of them but I prefer to take it very literally.

The World has absolutely changed, but some Men remain the same.

Thank you Sir!

George Carlin (1937- 2008)

For this one and so much more.....