tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65050787361561758922024-03-14T13:29:11.758-04:00auto de fey<br>
<b>auto de fé</b> : an act of faith, the ritual of public penance before being burned at the stake as a heretic
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<b>fey</b> : doomed, hostile, "wild or crazy acting" (ascribed to supernatural causes and abilities such as prophecy)sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.comBlogger442125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-4892221720247236492018-03-14T10:03:00.000-04:002018-03-14T10:07:43.040-04:00The plant rooms at the Victorian Conservatory, and a brief note on the 1932 Tarzan. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Perhaps I should wait a few minutes before posting the pictures to which I referred yesterday. The problem won't be the pictures, but could easily be a typing tantrum from me. I have just gotten off the phone with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal-etc. and I'm madder than a hive of hornets in a Warner Bros. or Disney cartoon. The miserable corporate entity with which I was dealing could easily be depicted as a cartoon villain, but that would only serve to humanize it. Then again, depicting it as Simon Legree would only serve to humanize it. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbw58gOXi-TghmSz5f0wx7-c6ljGPjeAB8S8fvg1BJEzjFYznbaPVF4Ttk98oOSMJTkIJr8Z_3Ufe3hkDN8Gdq4kCRVR3bbpgPswf7-msvzwu3l8vGs9053Hn0FKRNhEBMYLHqG1Pc3Yi/s1600/tarzan+the+ape+man+1932+dwarf+natives+pygmies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="1097" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbw58gOXi-TghmSz5f0wx7-c6ljGPjeAB8S8fvg1BJEzjFYznbaPVF4Ttk98oOSMJTkIJr8Z_3Ufe3hkDN8Gdq4kCRVR3bbpgPswf7-msvzwu3l8vGs9053Hn0FKRNhEBMYLHqG1Pc3Yi/s320/tarzan+the+ape+man+1932+dwarf+natives+pygmies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few of the angry dancing dwarfs, pictured while<br />
in the act of menacing the white folks in the pit. <br />
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Last night, a friend came over to watch a movie. After looking at the options available on the DVR, I asked to take a quick look at the Turner Classic Movies on demand section, as titles appearing there are only available for a few days. I had noticed a listing for a Popeye cartoon, with an allotted time of two hours. I wanted to see what the listing comprised - if it was cartoon after cartoon, etc. Imagine our surprise when after the first cartoon, it turned out that the entire 1932 'Tarzan, the Ape Man' was there. Feeling the hand of divine cinema providence, we watched it. It had been quite some time since I'd seen it, and I had forgotten a number of things. Unbelievably, I had forgotten about the tribe of nasty dwarfs. After being captured, the white folks are lassoed into a pit to fight a large ape creature. The dwarfs hurl darts at them for extra fun while performing an odd, gleeful jumping up and down while waving darts menacingly in the air dance. My instinctual reaction is to identify with the white folks in the pit, feeling as though I've been lassoed into it, forced to battle a large creature while deadly darts whizz by - which is how it feels to deal with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal. <br />
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But I digress.<br />
I'll try to write about Tarzan tomorrow.<br />
Today I wanted to post a few pictures of plants in the other rooms of the Smith college horticultural department's 120+ year old conservatory, the rooms not dedicated to the spring bulb show. <br />
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While the bulb show always provides that first overwhelming fragrance of Spring, providing a lift to winter weary spirits (not that I am personally weary of winter), the other 'rooms' of the conservatory provide a green and happy relief from the gray world outside. Sadly, this year what has lately been called the 'cool temperate room' was not its usual self. The waterfall was shut off and under repair, many of the plants had been removed, or relocated, or cut back. Things change from year to year, but the waterfall and pool were missed. Herewith, a few pictures of the offerings from the various environments the rooms emulate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XqlZeVomyVydZbxCEkZtAUAaE_LszgaWIdsnbh_H_HnI0W_AaY9_Z9c5B5CxhZ-pxh2mhyphenhyphene7ZXWYG5UOIqdg3tL53TPS2LnnV44OgUqH-z2I74AY0ixm2b8TxuN5viRQ4An9uFCouMuS/s1600/DSCN9943+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="1600" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XqlZeVomyVydZbxCEkZtAUAaE_LszgaWIdsnbh_H_HnI0W_AaY9_Z9c5B5CxhZ-pxh2mhyphenhyphene7ZXWYG5UOIqdg3tL53TPS2LnnV44OgUqH-z2I74AY0ixm2b8TxuN5viRQ4An9uFCouMuS/s640/DSCN9943+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rnfV-1ZGT2-SQBHD-ZLWZpPFJ_LlgxegQzFx-pZXpw-QZvU1FEa2pPXP3v6CqPVU88daqs00t18n9xszbegdzuKKmDcwqIuySz2R60HlFjI1lQzvawEcltPFpi8eXlBBNM78XApXk2Cp/s1600/DSCN9959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rnfV-1ZGT2-SQBHD-ZLWZpPFJ_LlgxegQzFx-pZXpw-QZvU1FEa2pPXP3v6CqPVU88daqs00t18n9xszbegdzuKKmDcwqIuySz2R60HlFjI1lQzvawEcltPFpi8eXlBBNM78XApXk2Cp/s640/DSCN9959.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UkcR9ENhWBMCA1ubPF9tiN-c4QyUup8R0pTk6UyjeeC95F87eX5ClhZAH1AmngIwzknSvZ-V_K_4lI-RrW9Z-gZpFOjVqJ85WFFALcxd0PfpWyG5OaV2faSicG9ZQXd9WjB1j7Hm0iwO/s1600/DSCN9966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UkcR9ENhWBMCA1ubPF9tiN-c4QyUup8R0pTk6UyjeeC95F87eX5ClhZAH1AmngIwzknSvZ-V_K_4lI-RrW9Z-gZpFOjVqJ85WFFALcxd0PfpWyG5OaV2faSicG9ZQXd9WjB1j7Hm0iwO/s640/DSCN9966.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone, perhaps with a sense of humor, threw one of the daffodil flowers in with the water lilies. </td></tr>
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Sadly, I must get ready for the bus to the grocery store, so this will be it for today. <br />
I hope the various photos are found to be enjoyable. <br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-5961205282407173762018-03-13T11:17:00.001-04:002018-03-14T08:40:04.756-04:00On becoming obsolete, and the spring bulb show...(a mental dance and rumination illustrated with pictures taken yesterday at the annual Spring bulb show held in the 120+ year old conservatory of the Smith College horticultural department.)<br />
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My computer, a desk top, is aging. <br />
It is slowing down; it's innards are constantly examined for viruses, but they are not the problem. <br />
It stays updated, but the updates seem to add stress.<br />
It's use of the fan has increased; it tries to keep cool as it deals with changes.<br />
It seems as though it no longer has the ability to quickly process the ever increasing amount of data required for its ability to quickly complete what should be simple tasks. <br />
Sometimes I wonder if all of this is a metaphor for the person who operates it. <br />
I was going to write, "the person who owns it..." but that raises a few uncomfortable questions about the true nature of our relationship.<br />
Certainly, it runs programs designed to keep it trouble free more than it once did. <br />
It runs them so much, in fact, that I often have problems getting it to let me use it. <br />
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<br />
I've encountered this problem before. <br />
It was solved with the purchase of a newer more powerful computer. <br />
That event was in early May of 2011.<br />
As the purchase was a discounted model from a chain store, I suspect that the computer was introduced the previous year.<br />
Which means that it is old in computer years. <br />
I can't believe I just wrote, "in computer years".<br />
(sigh)<br />
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Sometimes it seems that most of the electronics are breaking down.<br />
The tv works without a hitch, but the cable box often refuses to respond to commands as it busily updates the schedule page, or spies on people, or whatever it is really doing when I only want to see what else is on, or to simply change the channel.<br />
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Some days the internet pauses, takes a few breaths, and acts as though it is about to demand a vacation. It reminds me of the days when someone on the east coast could tell that it was after 5pm on the west coast - even simple internet searches slowed down when so many people got home and turned on their computers. <br />
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Over the last year I've explored streaming audio-visual content from services such as Amazon and Netscape. The hope was that I'd be able to cancel a large portion of my cable-phone-internet package to reduce costs. If there is a holiday, or a storm which keeps a large number of people home, streaming becomes a problem. One never knows where the problem originates, of course. Is it with Comcast, slowing down my service now that they can? Is it due to so much demand that Netscape or Amazon can't handle it? Is it a part of the electronic infrastructure somewhere in between the coast on which I'm located and the coast on which the streaming service originates? The reality is that when there is a problem, there is nothing we can do about it, whether or not we understand why it is happening. Is that a metaphor for life in the current version of America (or the world)?<br />
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These aren't new complaints, of course.<br />
A minor problem can now have major repercussions. <br />
I no longer carry more than a couple of dollars on my person.<br />
If my bank's system, or the internet, or the company that screens for fraudulent purchases for the bank, or the grocery store's system hiccups, or is down, for any reason, I wouldn't be able to purchase groceries (this has happened to me couple of times).<br />
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The modern way of using plastic cards to access the 1's and 0's that represent money has been frustrating for some time. I still haven't forgotten my attempt some years ago to make a purchase in New Hampshire, a state that borders the state where I reside (Vermont), in a town about a half an hour's drive from my apartment. The purchase was around $100.00, and was for the business for which I worked (to be reimbursed). The purchase was denied. Luckily, this was during banking hours, so I called the bank. They quickly determined that the problem was that I seldom bought anything in New Hampshire, and seldom spent that amount of money on a purchase, so it had been denied as suspicious. They would authorize it so the sale would go through. Only it didn't. Another call to the bank revealed that they paid a company to flag what it considered suspicious activity on an account, and that company hadn't yet released my own funds to make the purchase. They would call the company while I waited on hold. I was eventually told everything was okay. Except it wasn't. All told, it took about 45 minutes to an hour just to be able to spend my own money which was in my own account. <br />
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When everything works the way it is intended, the modern electronic digital computer world can be quite an improvement over the old fashioned, low quality, slower analog world in which I grew up. <br />
As long as one can afford it.<br />
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So why do I sometimes wish for a simpler time, a more gregarious time when people connected in person rather than through devices, when movies were screen in theatres and watched with a hundred or more friends of the dark in a shared experience?<br />
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The older folks always seem to complain that life was simpler, more beautiful, better crafted, more enjoyable, more social, more (fill in the blank) when they were young. That is when they weren't complaining about how difficult it was when they were young. <br />
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Now that I am of that older generation, I hear these same contradictory complaints from myself, see them in the things I type out, and revel in the open space, the balance between them, while accepting that there is nothing I can do, and that it doesn't do any good to try to understand. Then I try to understand. <br />
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Sometimes I wonder if I'm the computer, simply pushed beyond my capacity by the newer programs, that don't work as well as the older programs. If, in short, I am becoming old fashioned, and obsolete. I also wonder if I care about it in the least. <br />
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For now it is snowing, yesterday I reveled in the promise of Spring at the annual bulb show , and I plan to spend the rest of today reveling in a world passing away, a world that, like myself, is busy becoming obsolete. <br />
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addenda - While uploading the pictures for this post, the internet paused, lost the connection, and the program became stuck trying to upload the last picture. Tomorrow, I'll try to upload pictures from the conservatory rooms that aren't part of the bulb show. If the technology lets me. In the meantime, I'll be left to ponder whether the systems are simply breaking down, or becoming obsolete. I'll try to let pictures of spring flowers distract me. Before they become obsolete too. <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-36399748795082167232018-03-02T13:53:00.000-05:002018-03-02T14:13:41.185-05:00Notes on a popcorn movie, Hollywood Boulevard. Opening lines can be tough. <br />
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They have to hook you in, make you want to continue the journey, and imply that the time spent won't be a waste. That's a lot of value judgment riding on a few words. Then there's a philosophical question regarding what is, or isn't, of "value". Further complicating matters is that the concept of what is of 'value' shifts. A divertissement on a mildly stressful day may have enormous value, but try one's patience at other times. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasDleMs_oTmnvYtao2rtXUYRlG9wLsFxOYSn0HSbpgWJSvdmZ07LJBlJBdATMDx1U-O2hNmmGFCpEg3AOCZi0s4BlMnHWd5IPJfwx7HpcKuPqKMT7VRVTuPnhUxwosF22VKxJdLFL-P-6/s1600/hollywood+boulevard+title.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1158" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasDleMs_oTmnvYtao2rtXUYRlG9wLsFxOYSn0HSbpgWJSvdmZ07LJBlJBdATMDx1U-O2hNmmGFCpEg3AOCZi0s4BlMnHWd5IPJfwx7HpcKuPqKMT7VRVTuPnhUxwosF22VKxJdLFL-P-6/s400/hollywood+boulevard+title.JPG" width="400" /></a>This week's shared motion picture experience was 'Hollywood Boulevard'. It had been my entry in a friend's 'bad movie night' competition. It wasn't the movie chosen to be screened that evening, but it did intrigue my friend enough that he asked to come over to see it. Perhaps my description of its content as relying heavily on 'guns and naked female breasts' had something to do with it. That very description reflects upon my age. When I was a callow youth (as opposed to being a callow adult)(ba-dum-dum), gentlemen didn't use certain words in mixed company. There is a much better description of the movie within the movie itself. The premise is the old standby of 'young girl goes to Hollywood to become a star', but that's just the opening line. Most of the movie is a send up of the low budget bottom of the triple bill drive in passion pit school of filmmaking, made by a company which specialized in low budget bottom of the bill drive in passion pit movies. In one scene, the star of such a movie (Mary Woronov) tries to convince the director (Paul Bartel) to increase the size of her part by changing the script to eliminate the other female characters. Killing them off, she reasons, will further audience sympathy for her character, whose suffering will then illuminate the human condition. The director replies, "This is not a film about the human condition, this is a film about tits and ass!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_zfkUiRl0dMXNvFEyslLDTeqVdAwNp_kzililh6fBuT-SVBMCuPWI8v8O5v-SbAq7wOZ5T1zUSFpOIwGgRxEvYddULR8Et0aE2g_rUjfmXEmInD5LPqe_cJnC2mhQXZe1xNc1P8WWJ-9/s1600/ad+hollywood+boulevard+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="546" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_zfkUiRl0dMXNvFEyslLDTeqVdAwNp_kzililh6fBuT-SVBMCuPWI8v8O5v-SbAq7wOZ5T1zUSFpOIwGgRxEvYddULR8Et0aE2g_rUjfmXEmInD5LPqe_cJnC2mhQXZe1xNc1P8WWJ-9/s320/ad+hollywood+boulevard+%25282%2529.jpg" width="297" /></a>Once upon a time in Hollywood, there was a low budget studio known as American International Pictures (A.I.P.). It was created in 1954 to make inexpensive movies which would be sold as double bills. Enter a new film producer named Roger Corman, who had a picture called "The Fast and the Furious', filmed on a $50,000 budget in 10 days. Distribution rights went to AIP after they promised Corman enough money to make two more movies. 'The Fast and the Furious' became AIP's first release. AIP turned out a series of schlock sci-fi atomic bomb monster movies, teenage hot rod rock and roll movies, beach party movies, and a series based on Edgar Allen Poe stories. It was also a training ground for folks who would later become major industry talent. In 1970, Corman started his own company, New World Pictures. New World continued the AIP style, made schlock, and did it on the cheap. In the process, they provided a training ground for more folks who would become major industry talent (the late Jonathan Demme, Ron Howard, Joe Dante, etc.), and added a pick up distribution arm for films by European directors like Fellini and Bergman. <br />
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'Hollywood Boulevard' was made on a bet. In 1976, producer Jon Davison bet Roger Corman that he could still turn out a movie as cheaply, and in as little time, as anything Corman had done. Corman took the bet, and gave Davison 10 days and $50,000. Twenty years had passed since 'Fast and Furious', and that amount wasn't going to go as far. Davison knew he would need to reuse footage from other New World movies. He'd made the bet in cahoots with the two guys who had been editing New World's trailers: Joe Dante (Gremlins), and Alan Arkush (Rock and Roll High School). It became the first directing job for both. The movie was shot on what used to be known as 'short ends', film left over after a scene was shot. Such pieces were saved and sold to low budget filmmakers. They didn't just purloin footage from other movies by the way, they also made good use of costumes and props from low budget classics like 'Death Race 2000', 'Battle Beyond the Sun', 'Big Bad Mama' (a personal favorite), 'Night Call Nurses', and etc. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AJIpvEWX5vHlVgj6a4vBVRx9U8ikC0jMpi1Ga610faeRJMhZw-TY8O-I0tM_qCmAgPAJGdtr1BkeY9Wvcea0HoauUH5ZCE8KnWKROqyEoboNI9dvT3iBXSqzg-0C-gzv3je2NyRm1Y2Q/s1600/miracle+pictures+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="757" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AJIpvEWX5vHlVgj6a4vBVRx9U8ikC0jMpi1Ga610faeRJMhZw-TY8O-I0tM_qCmAgPAJGdtr1BkeY9Wvcea0HoauUH5ZCE8KnWKROqyEoboNI9dvT3iBXSqzg-0C-gzv3je2NyRm1Y2Q/s400/miracle+pictures+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miracle Pictures. If it's a good picture, it's a Miracle. </td></tr>
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The film opens with a hand drawn logo for 'Miracle Pictures', which turns out to be on the side of a van at a movie shoot. Director Eric von Leppe is busy filming a sky diving scene. He is staring at a plane overhead. His star, Mary McQueen, wanders by while stating, "Things are looking up." The back of the van opens, and a movie producer, whose name is only given as 'PG', steps out, adjusting his zipper. He is followed by a half naked starlet. PG wanders over to the director, complains that the scene being filmed is costing him a fortune and could have been done cheaper if they had used miniatures. He follows that up with one of my favorite movie lines, "Listen, remind me, I wanna pump up some more laughs in that crucifixion scene. More sex." Which prompts von Leppe to ask, "Well, which is it going to be"? PG replies, "More sex. It's cheaper." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFgxSqIN7VRem-zl5grzZapY9wlxL33u-ZMCoRG2UXjHrg9Oi4Zy6nMKn1HEeMak07OOv5sqfSwmSz31XYT0K3QWAotgVEPOWZbBOHA0n6WROTTrr-LUaYnke5sKeYSLgaLUZn5diSlYT/s1600/hollywood+boulevard+jaws+poster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="1158" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFgxSqIN7VRem-zl5grzZapY9wlxL33u-ZMCoRG2UXjHrg9Oi4Zy6nMKn1HEeMak07OOv5sqfSwmSz31XYT0K3QWAotgVEPOWZbBOHA0n6WROTTrr-LUaYnke5sKeYSLgaLUZn5diSlYT/s400/hollywood+boulevard+jaws+poster.JPG" width="400" /></a>The director, played by low-budget director Paul Bartel ('Death Race 2000', 'Eating Raoul', 'Scenes From the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills', and the wonderful but rarely seen 'Secret Cinema') just happens to have the name of Boris Karloff's character from a 1963 Corman cheapie, 'The Terror'. That movie, by the way, was filmed on sets left over from a previous AIP production. During the credits sequence, the name of Jeffrey Kramer, the actor playing Miracle Pictures' writer, is seen as our heroine walks past a poster advertising the movie, 'Jaws'. Mr. Kramer's first movie role was as a deputy in that picture. He plays Patrick Hobby, which is the name of a hack writer in a series of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories. The script for 'Hollywood Boulevard', by the way, is credited to 'Patrick Hobby'. The actual author of the script was Dan Opatoshu, a member of the writer's guild who could not be credited for his work on a non-union movie. He was given credit as 'Assistant to Mr. Hobby'. It's that kind of movie. <br />
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The bad jokes, the funny jokes, and the 'in jokes' fly fast and furious. There are cameos tucked in here and there; at one party, Forrest J. Ackerman could be spotted off to one side. Mr. Ackerman was the editor of 'Famous Monsters of Filmland', a magazine to which many of my generation, including myself, were devoted. I have heard that in one particular scene, in which a familiar looking creature is seen reading the script for 'Atomic War Brides' before throwing it into a toilet, future director Jonathan Demme played 'Godzina'. By the way, in an interview segment, Bartel's director discusses his upcoming project, 'Atomic War Brides' and notes, “What we’re trying to do here is combine the legend of Romeo and Juliet with high speed car action and a sincere plea for international atomic controls in our time.”<br />
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In the film there a production assistant named 'Scotty', a blond guy with an easy smile. The part was played by Jonathan Kaplan, who had already directed a few exploitation titles for Corman, and who would soon get serious attention with one of my favorite independent titles of that era, 'Over the Edge'. He would go on to direct 'Heart Like a Wheel', and 'The Accused'. Just as a by the by, one of the jobs in the movie he seems to enjoy is turning a firehouse on a bevy of starlets in a wet t-shirt contest. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0Oa57OZ50NLXRmIrFv3FlxpuSbWNw9vtaqqM2pDT9opZbhOCdP0GKANPvU4ljGHcy0SgfBYKSVOBfmGltgkfu01wT4zS5o5jGdicETmeAOei3ycWeYmH1ZFAzHPEWV2QZxp5g5vkLKEx/s1600/paul+bartel+as+the+director+and+jonathan+kaplan+dir+over+the+edge+as+scotty+Hollywood+Boulevard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="639" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0Oa57OZ50NLXRmIrFv3FlxpuSbWNw9vtaqqM2pDT9opZbhOCdP0GKANPvU4ljGHcy0SgfBYKSVOBfmGltgkfu01wT4zS5o5jGdicETmeAOei3ycWeYmH1ZFAzHPEWV2QZxp5g5vkLKEx/s640/paul+bartel+as+the+director+and+jonathan+kaplan+dir+over+the+edge+as+scotty+Hollywood+Boulevard.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul Bartel as Director Eric von Leppe, and Jonathan Kaplan as Scotty.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">There's also a musical performance from Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen, performing a somewhat indecent song. Playing the saxophone is Weird Al Yankovic. The group disbanded after filming their scene. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps my favorite moment takes place at a drive-in theatre where our heroine has gone with her agent, and her script writing boyfriend, to see their finished movie, "The Machete Maidens of Mora Tau". </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOKaaPNyJ733uR85yhPDfqx7_DRIVQZLr1JuQogNq9aaV6jsiM5XF7PF30p5N0rGN-Ac_v6fA1BhwSDTvVAzsEXzNN3zGODp1a87BZup3h-J1RoH_tKDqs-z_OjdXh7guqEW8ZIiJNBuI/s1600/drive+in+neon+hollywood+boulevard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="639" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOKaaPNyJ733uR85yhPDfqx7_DRIVQZLr1JuQogNq9aaV6jsiM5XF7PF30p5N0rGN-Ac_v6fA1BhwSDTvVAzsEXzNN3zGODp1a87BZup3h-J1RoH_tKDqs-z_OjdXh7guqEW8ZIiJNBuI/s640/drive+in+neon+hollywood+boulevard.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The agent, played by Dick Miller, is named Walter Paisley, which was the name of Mr. Miller's character in Corman's 1958 beatnik artist opus, 'Bucket of Blood'. As the trio waits for their movie's debut, a scene from 'The Terror' plays onscreen. In it, a young Dick Miller talks with Boris Karloff. Seeing Dick Miller 1976, watching Dick Miller 1963, is worth the price of the DVD in my book. If you can get one - it's out of print. There was a very limited edition BluRay made form the master negative. Copies can occasionally be found on eBay. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQnsxqVe9ZBFB2Q9XUDuNSGV2H1kT8mBiWdRacxEIDLMRC5MVOCRDYyv6OIoicJUFKKf-0teMuEDjG2jhCY8z3QFSp5XTpC5YYwZAOp3JNJJtJVUIY4cG4u9tJg1NBrLWO78pArowcCAy/s1600/dick+miller+hollywood+boulevard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="638" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQnsxqVe9ZBFB2Q9XUDuNSGV2H1kT8mBiWdRacxEIDLMRC5MVOCRDYyv6OIoicJUFKKf-0teMuEDjG2jhCY8z3QFSp5XTpC5YYwZAOp3JNJJtJVUIY4cG4u9tJg1NBrLWO78pArowcCAy/s640/dick+miller+hollywood+boulevard.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">(Blogger is acting up - above is Dick Miller as the agent Walter Paisley. Below is our heroine from Hollywood Boulevard, Candice Rialson as up and coming starlet Candy Wednesday.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECnodnJubwLWAFREkvWwljyTeZ10k9lQ2twhJ5RxaQ2wSqh5-jrvFS7f-16IZnpwdGeOrT4WO6LRDRSN-NENkPUNY1xen3Ib-FGV_UU9KMm2jUenH5z_gycV2aP7LI6Qj2igkCaj38ThD/s1600/hollywood+boulevard+1976+a+girl+and+her+machine+gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="997" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECnodnJubwLWAFREkvWwljyTeZ10k9lQ2twhJ5RxaQ2wSqh5-jrvFS7f-16IZnpwdGeOrT4WO6LRDRSN-NENkPUNY1xen3Ib-FGV_UU9KMm2jUenH5z_gycV2aP7LI6Qj2igkCaj38ThD/s640/hollywood+boulevard+1976+a+girl+and+her+machine+gun.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">There are too many jokes, and too many connections to mention here. As a movie, the film is the equivalent of popcorn. Not terribly nutritious, but a hell of a lot of fun.</span> <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-10028167291474128172018-02-21T16:43:00.000-05:002018-03-01T07:43:13.046-05:00Notes regarding Heroes and movies. There are several things I should be doing, so of course I'm going to ignore them and work on a blog post instead. The venomous expression of politics, with its accompanying slithering about, have made Facebook and Twitter a fly over zone for now. You know, I've never been fond of that 'fly over' expression, as it seems to me to be a bit of rhetoric that seeks to be divisive; it has a pejorative built in. I will note that the non 'fly over' portions of the country are those portions of the East and West coasts that are home to those awful liberal 'elites' (i.e. "blue" on a political map). They are almost magical areas where sanity still seems to prevail these days. Those areas fare better in everything from quality of life studies to education, health care, happiness, financial stability, and generate a sizeable portion of the country's income. Which explains why the Trump administration's budget and tax plans seem to target those very areas. I don't want to leave that statement unsupported, but I shall for now. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAIW7yxIEkEuenHjrUwVH9dxH8eY7P4fpavBudctA9elEEjefKjbjlryoeyvnHFxdg_9k9DdNjVjcsdBDt6KZor-m6a_-mWkebD6G_JfwVbOY6Xa-8fTMpJC-zWiUjY_C53PKk9ROku5i/s1600/black+sheep+sheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1600" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAIW7yxIEkEuenHjrUwVH9dxH8eY7P4fpavBudctA9elEEjefKjbjlryoeyvnHFxdg_9k9DdNjVjcsdBDt6KZor-m6a_-mWkebD6G_JfwVbOY6Xa-8fTMpJC-zWiUjY_C53PKk9ROku5i/s640/black+sheep+sheep.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From 'Black Sheep' (2006) </td></tr>
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There are plenty of other statements I'd like to make without posting voluminous notes to support my comments. I could, for instance, point out that two of our governments' agencies which heavily influence the daily life and future of our country are the Office of Management and Budget, and the Environmental Protection Agency. The two men in charge of those agencies were both politically active in their respective states. If one were to take an honest look at the financial health of those states, the status of education in those states, the tax burden, etc. ad infinitum, one of the first things one might notice, if one can look behind the curtain of tourist and relocation PR, is that both states are financially distressed to the point of being referred to economically as "sinkholes". Their people are largely poor. Their educational systems are in disaster mode. These states are the bottom of our country's barrel. These men are regarded by the current administration, and their enablers, as heroes. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HfJZr6yVU1MNR3woqXbIxjvuh8RVQA088Fr4VI00KEro3EpPZaDNj1Y8-LqUnMSH_MrMpc3oRb5qM1QyF31_ZbUjAwd9fferWrzxXu6Rq54VLpHOlnLulmp5quB2y_QtaCOJpJC36Rl8/s1600/wonder+woman+sword+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HfJZr6yVU1MNR3woqXbIxjvuh8RVQA088Fr4VI00KEro3EpPZaDNj1Y8-LqUnMSH_MrMpc3oRb5qM1QyF31_ZbUjAwd9fferWrzxXu6Rq54VLpHOlnLulmp5quB2y_QtaCOJpJC36Rl8/s400/wonder+woman+sword+out.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman. More than a gal with a sword. </td></tr>
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A recent discussion with a friend raised the issue of the Hero, and the Hero's place, in our entertainment culture. I had finally caught up with the 'Wonder Woman' movie, which was widely praised and a huge financial success. While it was delightful to have the super hero figure be a woman, there was little else to differentiate it from any other superhero movie, and I pointed out in discussion that the movie simply substituted a female lead for a male. Kind of like the change of sex for the role of Hildy between the stage play and movie of 'The Front Page' to the remake version known as 'His Girl Friday'. The hero role being female was simply a change, it didn't inform or impact the story. 'Wonder Woman' had the same tired tropes as any other superhero movie. I should point out that I'm just making observations; no judgement on the product is intended. It is product, and that statement isn't intended as a judgement either. I found it to be an enjoyable and entertaining movie. I'm not trying to impose my thoughts or vision on it. You know, I hate this. I hate having to qualify every statement; in this case to make it clear that I have no problem with female superheroes, lead roles, or action figures. I'd like to see more of them, and I'm delighted that young girls (or older girls, or women of any age) can have female fantasy figures which might inspire their dreams and persons. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOz8MhZnmLYr3dlylz9OPmMtlyUddv7PiXYj4YcWDRby7xeV4FkKErl3PayV9WYmzrAsUu6pq5BZoEph7j9VI48jaWhB5rFP5h98CXE3W94BOPOOx495g63_yCCPOfO4Az-J4HsT5chNBx/s1600/wonder+woman+penis+sword.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="1004" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOz8MhZnmLYr3dlylz9OPmMtlyUddv7PiXYj4YcWDRby7xeV4FkKErl3PayV9WYmzrAsUu6pq5BZoEph7j9VI48jaWhB5rFP5h98CXE3W94BOPOOx495g63_yCCPOfO4Az-J4HsT5chNBx/s400/wonder+woman+penis+sword.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gal Gadot as Wonder woman, her sword placed as if it were... <br />
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The discussion veered to the first 'Star Wars' movie, which I rushed to see on opening day after reading a review which linked that movie's themes to Joseph Campbell's books, 'The Hero With a Thousand Faces', and 'Myths to Live By'. Such themes reflected some of my interests, and both books had been influences on my thinking. Thoughts of a hero's quest have been rambling around my brain due to the movies I've watched these last three nights.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbWlkkPNO96hEdw3VigDI_PO9WCtPj1IKvXzfHOx6-zKJaZ9tyVBwz2_lChLq90LI0ZzA90AZ3Q8Ow4RhwYq-KQpR5nnXlMz35r3cl3udKEgx7iLPDYAHUeoNjypLKS6CJgbzFY3RQ5H_/s1600/black+sheep+movie+poster+new+zeland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbWlkkPNO96hEdw3VigDI_PO9WCtPj1IKvXzfHOx6-zKJaZ9tyVBwz2_lChLq90LI0ZzA90AZ3Q8Ow4RhwYq-KQpR5nnXlMz35r3cl3udKEgx7iLPDYAHUeoNjypLKS6CJgbzFY3RQ5H_/s400/black+sheep+movie+poster+new+zeland.jpg" width="285" /></a>Sunday afternoon was spent at a younger friend's home attending his monthly 'movie night'. The idea is that there is a stated theme; each person attending should (if so moved) bring a DVD of a movie reflecting that theme, and give a very quick pitch on its behalf. Those in attendance write on slips of paper the name of the movie which most appeals to them. The slips are put into a hat, from which one slip is selected, providing the selection to be viewed. The theme this time was 'really bad movies'. The winner was 'Black Sheep', a New Zealand indy effort in which a flock of sheep become ravenous flesh eating killers of humans. It's got blood, guts, a middling implied criticism of money making science, a zombie or two, and makes particularly good use of sheep flatulence. Science, in this case, was a substitute for magical forces. The male hero is a younger brother with a phobia about sheep, who has returned to the family ranch to sell his interest to his evil and deluded older brother. The boy, in his journey, must confront and overcome his phobia, confront and overcome his brother, and become action oriented enough to overcome his nelly attributes to fight off the marauding sheep for the survival of the main characters and all of mankind. The girl hero arrives to expose animal abuses at the ranch. Her journey moves her from babbling about new age mysticism to becoming an action figure fighting the sheep, helping the younger brother to survive, saving mankind, and, of course falling in love with the younger brother. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpN8_qOHqtskymhErsInCc25r4YJx4SGgNBbPd7rvjZMG_R8-vh8c73rod7KcVhalLOBzhUiF6dUieIkYMrYl34zleG_zgVBRv8k_gV5IzVv0FTMwMzRuk2nJeiDS02aq7ijOvz2O2zgq/s1600/Black+Sheep+movie+Experience+and+Henry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="804" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpN8_qOHqtskymhErsInCc25r4YJx4SGgNBbPd7rvjZMG_R8-vh8c73rod7KcVhalLOBzhUiF6dUieIkYMrYl34zleG_zgVBRv8k_gV5IzVv0FTMwMzRuk2nJeiDS02aq7ijOvz2O2zgq/s640/Black+Sheep+movie+Experience+and+Henry.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Experience (Danielle Mason) and Henry (Nathan Meister) in the midst of a long day fighting sheep. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUarcIgj-ZbRv-0qLA-WVQ9uAKp3JUCZAJtazCLGfMwFqDyAi-6xDx8BkV1_TyyoqsE_8kX1wFr3-LhBbEBx7KIE7_yjTivf49ZoMHwfVFFPZ2uZ5yXR31jNAsqSkkMHeQIL9g0CcTeJp/s1600/black+sheep+new+zealand+movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="500" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUarcIgj-ZbRv-0qLA-WVQ9uAKp3JUCZAJtazCLGfMwFqDyAi-6xDx8BkV1_TyyoqsE_8kX1wFr3-LhBbEBx7KIE7_yjTivf49ZoMHwfVFFPZ2uZ5yXR31jNAsqSkkMHeQIL9g0CcTeJp/s640/black+sheep+new+zealand+movie.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sheep(le) are out to get you , you know. Be warned. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGsOZbTESlszWQ9dZ9caxRzgjLZtAJ0vYAE0uyQIdBbPHV8x7FUnZ6ZENObmGqxPnX9F2VZmv1XXXdE76q-VC6ISWjBUOjS7nI70rQsH7GyGdcwqmDgFnJMTsXsQ_M17bdpFGmhTUdYPT/s1600/john+wayne+stagecoach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGsOZbTESlszWQ9dZ9caxRzgjLZtAJ0vYAE0uyQIdBbPHV8x7FUnZ6ZENObmGqxPnX9F2VZmv1XXXdE76q-VC6ISWjBUOjS7nI70rQsH7GyGdcwqmDgFnJMTsXsQ_M17bdpFGmhTUdYPT/s400/john+wayne+stagecoach.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Wayne as Ringo. </td></tr>
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Monday night, a friend unexpectedly had free time and came over to watch one of the movies I wanted to see and delete from my digital video recorder. We settled on the 1939 'Stagecoach'. In it, the male hero escapes from jail in order to extract revenge on three bad guy brothers who killed his family and whose false testimony put him in prison in the first place. His journey includes fighting to save the stagecoach from Indian attack even though a sheriff has him in shackles. The girl hero is less action oriented, instead proving herself as a caring, nurturing goddess despite being thrown out of town by the uplifter ladies league for being of questionable moral character in her choice of employment. The movie took great pains not to use the word prostitute, and greater pains to not state that another female character was pregnant. The hero, named Ringo, was played by a youngish John Wayne. The good-bad girl was Clare Trevor, who had top billing. The rest of the cast was character actor heaven. It's the kind of movie which keeps things moving in an attempt to distract the viewer from questioning some sizeable holes in the story. I could, and should, go on at length about the movie, but that will have to be its own post in that great someday in the sky. I'll just note this about one iconic shot - Ringo is first seen, standing by the side of the road, his shotgun male appendage held akimbo. As he walked towards the stagecoach, I noticed was that he didn't fill out his jeans all that well. Simply put, John Wayne had a saggy female pear shaped ass. Otherwise, he was the slightly nelly butch straight shooter who treated the good-bad girl with the respect that no one else could muster, save perhaps for the drunken doctor who was really Scarlett O'Hara's father. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYn2mhN4Uj7J6zPNZB8dxhw3BWk43a2xw60fDITjVa12SGkLeC5Ir8NHtEIpT6Gbogq67lYN60EX8uvEi1z5JLbxjLW0XyKEboOZ7NxST8Ya1idPH72NuAjTB0tLUGHWIdWAbjTEouHQgJ/s1600/Thief+of+Bagdad+lobby+card+1940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1280" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYn2mhN4Uj7J6zPNZB8dxhw3BWk43a2xw60fDITjVa12SGkLeC5Ir8NHtEIpT6Gbogq67lYN60EX8uvEi1z5JLbxjLW0XyKEboOZ7NxST8Ya1idPH72NuAjTB0tLUGHWIdWAbjTEouHQgJ/s400/Thief+of+Bagdad+lobby+card+1940.jpg" width="400" /></a>Last night, another friend came over on the spur of the moment. We watched the 1940 'Thief of Bagdad'. (Note to the Turner Classic Movies channel: the print quality was shameful.) Sabu, then 16, played the titular hero. He spends a portion of the movie as a dog, due to a spell by an evil wizard. He also helps a wronged Prince regain his throne, helps the Prince save the woman the Prince loves, copes with an ill tempered genie, fights off a giant spider without falling into an aqueous pit inhabited by octopi, visits magical places, and triumphs over other similar adversities while fulfilling prophecy. For his part, the Prince is cut from the same sort of slightly nelly English male cloth as an Ashley Wilkes or Sebastian Flyte. He must overcome magical blindness, find his Princess, and defeat the usurper of his throne, the very magician whose anti-education, pro-punishment, rule by fear, power mad greedy attitudes starves the population, and provides the evil which engulfs several kingdoms. In this, the oldest of the movies being noted, the hero journey for the Princess involves staying out of the clutches of the evil wizard, and falling instantly in love with the Prince who speaks in poetic phrases. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxilZQ4haITWWtNadKWQ1shUJzU155LiZy_SzTfhj6RZFr_H1huOQGpQCitwXhRnziXE7BDYURjX1MB3EWxYQ_S_lNsbuZ6Wua7IHJWAOF4gtbVtIdEzwcBP3z3MfYdMOU53iXZm2owLKO/s1600/Poster+for+THE+THIEF+OF+BAGDAD+%25281940%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="960" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxilZQ4haITWWtNadKWQ1shUJzU155LiZy_SzTfhj6RZFr_H1huOQGpQCitwXhRnziXE7BDYURjX1MB3EWxYQ_S_lNsbuZ6Wua7IHJWAOF4gtbVtIdEzwcBP3z3MfYdMOU53iXZm2owLKO/s640/Poster+for+THE+THIEF+OF+BAGDAD+%25281940%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Two of the movies involved Princesses (Thief of Bagdad, and Wonder Woman whose journey includes learning that she is the daughter of Zeus and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. She is out to kill Ares, the God of War. In classical Greek mythology, Hippolyta was Ares daughter. The movie's comic book mythology avoids the potential complications of that one. In Stagecoach, One might make a case for the woman traveling to meet her husband being a Princess stand-in. She was a Southern Lady, which figures slightly in the Grand Hotel on wagon wheels plot. The girl in Black Sheep starts as a satirical take on new age hippie throwbacks and could thus be said to be a Princess stand in, but was otherwise just a modern gal who proves to have some gumption. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy95mxT2eMhUUOYK6OkCEKWtKC8o9gHKZG5uWMaBiDEJCxQiYv_KF_mPgYdar9LcHLaDz4zpTUwB9QJRSrOLFdCR-wdk19tEhNKcmeGLlCgw_GTAldEyRhwfHSUSraJK16Wr6d3LgMGQzj/s1600/black+sheep+expierience+with+gun.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="1087" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy95mxT2eMhUUOYK6OkCEKWtKC8o9gHKZG5uWMaBiDEJCxQiYv_KF_mPgYdar9LcHLaDz4zpTUwB9QJRSrOLFdCR-wdk19tEhNKcmeGLlCgw_GTAldEyRhwfHSUSraJK16Wr6d3LgMGQzj/s640/black+sheep+expierience+with+gun.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Sheep (2006) Experience got a gun. </td></tr>
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In a sense, three of the movies had magical realms; Black Sheep's was the New Zealand farm in the countryside which left me wondering when the hobbits were going to appear; Wonder Woman's realm was an island protected by Zeus' magic cloud cover, and Thief was set in ancient Iraq's mythical period. If there was a magical place in Stagecoach, it was Ringo's ranch in Mexico where he and the good-bad girl could live in blessed happy ever afterness if only they could reach it. It was only mentioned, never seen, and not integral to the story. <br />
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In all four stories, the heroes overcome obstacles, and fight for their happiness, as well as the common good. All of them must deal with the sacrifice of friends or relatives along their journeys' paths. In all but Stagecoach, the heroes save the world. <br />
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Of these four movies, the only one which didn't involve magical forces was Stagecoach. Well, unless you count too many bullets, or killing all of your enemies in an impossible situation (the main event occurs off screen). This American myth has a wronged hero, willing to suffer the penalty of 'doing what a man's gotta do'. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRB7aYecofdXFZzp8pKRChI1T7PWyBDKM4-03LY3j8Y1REfJ2OO3qywYbm27vjlj_rT5bGaUxx9QN0iArrJQtee4DLfYbMm-pc1hrQfif1biNY6LTN__82vZ8B9PlGcB6cAEDg26R76Ef/s1600/stagecoach+cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="896" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRB7aYecofdXFZzp8pKRChI1T7PWyBDKM4-03LY3j8Y1REfJ2OO3qywYbm27vjlj_rT5bGaUxx9QN0iArrJQtee4DLfYbMm-pc1hrQfif1biNY6LTN__82vZ8B9PlGcB6cAEDg26R76Ef/s640/stagecoach+cast.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Stagecoach about to depart a rest stop, even though they know Geronimo is out and about. <br />
John Carradine (far left), Andy Devine (holding the reins), George Bancroft (riding shotgun), Chris Pin-Martin as the innkeeper, Louise Platt as the woman traveling to meet her husband, Donald Meek as the milquetoast liquor salesman, Clare Trevor as the good-bad girl, John Wayne as the Ringo Kid, Berton Churchill as the thieving bank manager. <br />
Thomas Mitchell, who won an Academy Award for his drunken doctor, is not in the picture. </td></tr>
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Now, let's go back for a moment to those two erstwhile heroes of the right, the men in charge of the nation's budget, and the nation's environment. They present themselves as John Wayne he-men out to conquer a world gone mad due to the ideals of those annoying liberals who want to feed the hungry, house the homeless, educate the masses, and provide health care in a reasonable manner. Needless to say, these men do not fit the hero myth. Their 'common good' is what is good for the power brokers who pay them, those who steal people's money, food, kingdoms, and who unleash unholy forces in the name of profit. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWf9ZOwAgZplRl-88-ULn0VqNbYZd4h55SZEZwLtVCyHRUFunkDIePYBKdgjQGrt6bZOOd9v4wo10AI3Wmr277cD5KflKv3_sYqzj65Muc0kTj1ZhILOUoQ_HBozU5oYiZB2Kad1dJhPv/s1600/thief+of+bagdad+conrad+viedt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWf9ZOwAgZplRl-88-ULn0VqNbYZd4h55SZEZwLtVCyHRUFunkDIePYBKdgjQGrt6bZOOd9v4wo10AI3Wmr277cD5KflKv3_sYqzj65Muc0kTj1ZhILOUoQ_HBozU5oYiZB2Kad1dJhPv/s400/thief+of+bagdad+conrad+viedt.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conrad Veidt, the evil wizard of Thief of Bagdad, plots how to cover up his orange hair.<br />
No wait, that's not right... Mr. Veidt played Nazi Major Strasser in Casablanca, and <br />
the murderous somnambulist in the silent German expressionist classic 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.'</td></tr>
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What we need these days are honest nelly heroes, their butch helpers, angry women, and pissed off teenagers to work together to rid ourselves of the usurpers of power, who prefer their people uneducated, sent off to endless wars, fighting each other at home for scraps of food, so they can't unite to fight the evil taking over the kingdoms. But that would be the old school hero journey, and involve magical help. Even the American West loner hero living by a moral code seems decidedly old fashioned now. Folks are counting on the investigation being held by Mr. Mueller as magical help. In so many ways, it's the same old tropes. sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-14385589465662281782018-02-16T10:45:00.000-05:002018-02-16T19:22:18.045-05:00A proposal to protect our schoolchildren from gun toting maniacs.It is difficult to even begin saying something, or anything. "Rampant killings" sounds harsh, or isn't harsh enough, or could possibly be trounced upon for insensitivity at this difficult time. The struggle to use words that won't prove incendiary when noun meets adjective has become stupefying. After yet another <strike>massacre by white racist hate mongers</strike> incident of the type which has so recently occurred in a Florida high school, it becomes imperative to avoid all of the currently popular social media platforms; they become <strike>deadly</strike> cesspools of unhinged 'call and response' political insanity. <br />
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One of the first posts I saw after this incident occurred was a 'meme' which condemned liberals who wouldn't let the families involved <strike>suffer</strike> mourn in peace, insisting instead on using what happened to promote their anti-gun agenda. I should point out that at that moment, I hadn't seen a single post calling for gun control. The issue was raised by the person condemning it. <br />
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This reminds me of a number of posts from <strike>alt-right wing</strike> conservative folks I know. A recent photo of an American flag flying proudly in the breeze was accompanied by text which noted something on the order of "Liberals say this triggers Muslims". I think there was more, but I don't remember if one was supposed to 'share' or 'like' to show support for the flag, country, Christian God, or for possibly murdering the liberals. What struck me is that I live in what is regarded as the most 'liberal' state in the union, but I've never heard anyone, not one single person, make such a suggestion. It's a phony argument that does little more than sow dissention through the use of trite soundbite phrases coupled with what are supposed to be soul stirring images (i.e. propaganda). One might be forgiven for assuming that the flag in the photo was billowing due to all the hot air expounded in its direction. Hot air seems to be all our country's Congress and politicians can muster these days, aside form giving enormous tax breaks to the wealthy and to the corporations. Oh, sure, there is some righteous indignation being spread about, some of it from the lefteous. (Sorry about that one.) <br />
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This morning, this image was posted and 'shared' with me:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9fWupEBO5ZCeXmEGbZW2IMEXGYYruJxkFho7r33zDhgkOy2jEXNkVBlS9PmwWXcIyynS1kNQXmRWnQhMcYZoxcO-fgNZ2DGXRHSW5ValM-kYv1QeIbBSzCsXiPUfpBRe_PpydqBzqHP4/s1600/god+in+schools+tshirt+guns+killing+children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="518" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9fWupEBO5ZCeXmEGbZW2IMEXGYYruJxkFho7r33zDhgkOy2jEXNkVBlS9PmwWXcIyynS1kNQXmRWnQhMcYZoxcO-fgNZ2DGXRHSW5ValM-kYv1QeIbBSzCsXiPUfpBRe_PpydqBzqHP4/s640/god+in+schools+tshirt+guns+killing+children.jpg" width="524" /></a></td></tr>
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I wrote a couple of lines of commentary about the message on the above t-shirt. As soon as I finished, Blogger closed either of its own accord, or possible outside interference by a deity. I have decided not to tempt fate, becoming a wishy-washy adult who fails to respond to inanity, just in case. <br />
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The simple fact of the matter is this: the Republicans sold out long ago to moneyed interests who give them millions. The Democrats, many of whom have also enjoyed the same largesse, sputter, putter, mutter, and do nothing substantial. </div>
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It remains to us, and to survivors, to do something. The Republicans show every sign of being terrorized by the thought of angry women targeting them. If anyone has any doubts that the protests of the last year haven't been effective, just look at how the White House crew couldn't get out of the line of fire fast enough when it was revealed that they had a wife-beater amongst their midst. Oopsie, it was more than one. I hope women take up this issue. I do not wish to add to their burden, it's just a thought based on the observation that they seem to be the only ones getting any action out of this administration. Outside of the rich, and the corporations, I mean. <br />
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Therefore, I am moved to suggest a new approach, based on the line of reasoning previously espoused by some of our finer Republican elected officials. There is a simple, and direct way to solve the problem of adults, or for that matter, kids, taking guns into a school and going on a rampage of destruction. <br />
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Arm the kids. And make schools 'open carry'. If every kid in the classroom, hallway, gym, music room, lunchroom, or bathroom was armed, there would be far less incentive to shoot at them; they would be able to shoot back and defend themselves as God intended. No one is going to push their way into a kindergarten with evil intent when there is a roomful of armed preschoolers on hand. Students will no longer feel comfortable bullying one another, not when their intended target is aiming a glock semiautomatic at their little heads. <br />
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Oh, sure, there may be a few problems for teachers when homework assignments are given out, or discipline is required, but so what if we lose a few? It's not like our government wants those kids to get a decent education. If that happened the kids might realize that the folks who should be working to protect them are little more than lying thieving bastards who have set the kids up for a lifetime of menial jobs and starvation wages, lightened now and again by the receipt of a box of canned vegetables to prove that government cares. <br />
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I would further suggest that the both the White House and Congress allow open carry of firearms. Then, when the kids go to visit on 'learn about your government day', they might do themselves some good. <br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-64890514219087583612018-02-02T12:08:00.000-05:002018-02-02T12:37:24.344-05:00"Time goes by so slowly..."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been awhile. The first thing I thought of to write was to quote a line from the mid 1950's song 'Unchained Melody'; "Time goes by, so slowly, and time can do so much...." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjpZ7EyTxWhLuFJEIAWCWKMWD0h9e2gfOEjb6uc16rbPsvEiHD0n0WWNDFMgZB4N8ALFQCJcogVN6jR3P9DGDJCEGzbTlTPlqHpwfJiaRGFikM0rAg0RjLVq12AfiD-9rVy1-O3v32O_e/s1600/Unchained+Melody+1955+sheet+music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="274" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjpZ7EyTxWhLuFJEIAWCWKMWD0h9e2gfOEjb6uc16rbPsvEiHD0n0WWNDFMgZB4N8ALFQCJcogVN6jR3P9DGDJCEGzbTlTPlqHpwfJiaRGFikM0rAg0RjLVq12AfiD-9rVy1-O3v32O_e/s200/Unchained+Melody+1955+sheet+music.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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The song was composed by Alex North, who composed scores for Hollywood movies. In this case, the movie was 'Unchained'. The lyrics were by Hy Zaret, who refused the movie producer's request to put the film title in the lyrics, which is how that title came about. 'Unchained' is a little known (and little seen) 1955 film about a man in an experimental 'prison without walls' who struggles with a decision to escape and reunite with his family, or to finish out his sentence. Among the cast is Todd Duncan, the baritone who was hand picked by George Gershwin to perform the role of Porgy in 'Porgy and Bess'. Mr. Duncan was the first to record the song, by the way. In once scene, filmed at the experimental prison in Chino, California, Dexter Gordon can be seen playing his saxophone. He was incarcerated there at the time, for possession of heroin. His playing was dubbed by Georgie Auld. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjelBVckgUmoQOvAV7_9lFcTer4VxgfE4HRV_uPhBv_QHpF_Avzd8k9HSCk3mUecLWeeRo3LiiojF1P8cV8LYKfRQGMpx8I3PMZPHTjulIEp49JGHG9CEXFTtWZPSOW5snEm6iJb5TWRmfG/s1600/DSCN9122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjelBVckgUmoQOvAV7_9lFcTer4VxgfE4HRV_uPhBv_QHpF_Avzd8k9HSCk3mUecLWeeRo3LiiojF1P8cV8LYKfRQGMpx8I3PMZPHTjulIEp49JGHG9CEXFTtWZPSOW5snEm6iJb5TWRmfG/s320/DSCN9122.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shoreline by our campsite at Little Tupper Lake.<br />
It really is a lovely spot.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGMjmeUVP9MmRhSSdYUfJiUGwwBrOSHV3KSiC87zTzXz1mWgdaYJcVicHimJF3AQM1FxSdQ_Z2Jz-qCQHSQS3zYExyNKKPMSggcuLEIRlx0At5jTB5K04sjsHeGIzJBImxQ2bAlUInZUr/s1600/DSCN9047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGMjmeUVP9MmRhSSdYUfJiUGwwBrOSHV3KSiC87zTzXz1mWgdaYJcVicHimJF3AQM1FxSdQ_Z2Jz-qCQHSQS3zYExyNKKPMSggcuLEIRlx0At5jTB5K04sjsHeGIzJBImxQ2bAlUInZUr/s320/DSCN9047.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were a number of loons about, including 13 of them <br />
together. That's not a common occurrence, by the way. </td></tr>
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I'd been thinking often about getting back to this blog, without doing so. Today, as I was looking something up, this page opened of its own accord. Perhaps I hit a shortcut button, I don't know. It seemed like a good suggestion, so here I am. Since the last entry here, I've managed to keep myself busy, as usual. This year, it took forever to put the garden to bed, as the season extended into November. (I made a ton of pesto which I froze and am happily consuming.) I went off on another adventure camping/canoeing trip to a wilderness area of the Adirondacks (a bit stressful this year, as the old friend with whom I go camping spent the entire week being most disagreeable). And I started up my radio show again after almost a year and a half's sabbatical, etcetera. Christmas was a bit of a bust; the largest dinner I think I ever made was cancelled when friends declined to travel due to snow. Extreme cold a few days later ended up freezing the pipes, which translated into losing heat and hot water. The loss of essential services was not an auspicious start to the new year. What was possibly my personal all time best Christmas tree, and decorating job, was destroyed, destroyed again, and yet again while being moved for the accessing of heating pipes. I could go on with a litany of slights and challenges from the universe, but I've little desire to do so, and I doubt that anyone cares - including myself. <br />
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Here's a few of my garden photos, all taken in mid to late October. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh6Ef7OvyRLASN7PvGue3i8kK2L6cc6Hr0LIG2VGADGDmf2IwzsSlYjB6ASX8QgI8iXWQxro4C3iHYCrEIysLZwxeDsxQqVC_vSm4EVNXlPNbD9OT2pnuXTdCZGIyd-LlBwzQ0wQvNssr/s1600/DSCN9356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh6Ef7OvyRLASN7PvGue3i8kK2L6cc6Hr0LIG2VGADGDmf2IwzsSlYjB6ASX8QgI8iXWQxro4C3iHYCrEIysLZwxeDsxQqVC_vSm4EVNXlPNbD9OT2pnuXTdCZGIyd-LlBwzQ0wQvNssr/s640/DSCN9356.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was about to go on about the state of the world, my country, my friends, movies in general, watching a Fred Astaire movie last night, the projected Stephen Spielberg remake of 'West Side Story', spinning this or that fantastical tale along the way (all too true, however), tying it all in with concepts of time, and life as an open air prison; but I've just noticed the hour, and I've already spent too long choosing which photos to post and getting this far. I probably won't be able to get back here for a couple of days, but I do intend to do so. There's so much to note as we sink into the abyss.<br />
sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-27435646016552459962017-09-06T15:11:00.000-04:002017-09-07T21:46:16.289-04:00Falling by the waysideMarch? I haven't posted since March? Jeepers (mentally adds, singing, 'creepers, where'd ya get those peepers...'). Makes me wonder just what the hell I've been up to all this time. I'd write a bit of it out if I could remember any of it. Actually, I do, but much of it isn't that interesting, and a large part of the rest would be stressful ranting and raving about the political situation in my country. There have been a number of wonderful movies I've watched, or watched again. And there has been the garden, of course. As for the movies I've screened, there have been so many it would be a minor miracle if I could still name them all. The idea was to write them down here, making notes about each, but that project fell by the wayside. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAqjJZbqJ-XWjEd_PmtO6vJGeXxdlMmaKvpNNDgiUrnoDlLqWfqFExTlCUopuc7j7hbYkgT5dkK4hOg9eiC-9SW67cQYHBRda1PY9baZWqo4Tpkb487s87u77YaacPEYh3cDrM1VceUPE/s1600/Tyndale+Bible+Gospel_of_John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAqjJZbqJ-XWjEd_PmtO6vJGeXxdlMmaKvpNNDgiUrnoDlLqWfqFExTlCUopuc7j7hbYkgT5dkK4hOg9eiC-9SW67cQYHBRda1PY9baZWqo4Tpkb487s87u77YaacPEYh3cDrM1VceUPE/s640/Tyndale+Bible+Gospel_of_John.jpg" width="393" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A page from the Tyndale Bible.</td></tr>
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Now there's a phrase I haven't used for awhile, "fell by the wayside". While it's meaning is readily apparent, the origin of the phrase may not be. It goes back to a 1526 translation of the Bible by William Tyndale. It was the first bible in English to be translated from Greek and Hebrew sources, and the first to hit the printing press. There had been an earlier version (the Wycliffe Bible) in Middle English in the late 1300's, but due to its use in a pre-Reformation movement, it was banned in 1409. By the late 1400's, owning one could bring the death penalty. But that's another story. The Tyndale translation, by the way, became a principal source for the King James version of the early 1600's. The "fell by the wayside" reference is from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 8, verses 5 thru 8. It occurs just after a mention of unclean spirits being cast out of Mary Magdalene and two other women, and concerns a farmer who went out to sow his seed. The sower was a bit sloppy, and some seed 'fell by the wayside'. In fact, a lot of it seemed to fall by the wayside. Only that seed which fell upon the 'good ground' was productive. Just after the teaching of this parable, the Teacher walked upon the waters, a pretty nifty act. <br />
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Now that I've wandered off onto this tangent, I'm no longer sure of where the heck I was headed. Was it to post a few pics from the garden? Or the chance to write mildly amusing commentary on making my own tomato paste, or the adventures of putting up copious amounts of fresh homemade pesto against the depravations of winter? (I used up the very last of last year's pesto a few days before starting this year's batches.) Or were the seeds a reference to all the movies I've watched lately? Or haven't watched?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucLToMyN7JG-B-sai5mjScUTECw3V81L7QsbeVsZkQ5wrumrhyphenhyphenDBLQ0rAWpQWkp9-BjeppSrsU8za4LYJ2xW32mtDCqvSxl3wRuarPyRg6tOzywShPutJii7MroV5I-49-qAOnhOUyB5r/s1600/DSCN4649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucLToMyN7JG-B-sai5mjScUTECw3V81L7QsbeVsZkQ5wrumrhyphenhyphenDBLQ0rAWpQWkp9-BjeppSrsU8za4LYJ2xW32mtDCqvSxl3wRuarPyRg6tOzywShPutJii7MroV5I-49-qAOnhOUyB5r/s640/DSCN4649.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A part of the larger garden at Solar Hill (which I help maintain) where my garden is located. <br />
At the top of the photo is a bit of the playground for the Neighborhood Schoolhouse</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhKVR4fR6Ryvhb4Th76cYIR9HHUcDCT-xYymLBpvjFqgGkA8141cogOtouQ_r84ZSZ5vRU-15towjSgEj64Ns2EaP-DiL2iq9rjkKdsiHq94sPle1wVhQFIWO3BMj4H_6X2rUY3LcWt6l/s1600/DSCN5155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhKVR4fR6Ryvhb4Th76cYIR9HHUcDCT-xYymLBpvjFqgGkA8141cogOtouQ_r84ZSZ5vRU-15towjSgEj64Ns2EaP-DiL2iq9rjkKdsiHq94sPle1wVhQFIWO3BMj4H_6X2rUY3LcWt6l/s640/DSCN5155.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More of the Solar Hill garden. Just off to the left are a large number of peonies, one of which can be seen here. <br />
The Japanese dogwood was kind of spectacular this year; it demanded a photo. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTFgF5Uj24vxxbkSgnL6snBVqcecA5cyAUrC3BVJHH22X7WajP8BKEgGz9sYDj21-LoZz2gVhjLWbzzQSbYwO_4CeUkhtbPuV4AhWtivHCp8Y57InZSZDzP9u3M2n50POh0hzJEHFguej/s1600/DSCN5067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTFgF5Uj24vxxbkSgnL6snBVqcecA5cyAUrC3BVJHH22X7WajP8BKEgGz9sYDj21-LoZz2gVhjLWbzzQSbYwO_4CeUkhtbPuV4AhWtivHCp8Y57InZSZDzP9u3M2n50POh0hzJEHFguej/s640/DSCN5067.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A portion of my garden this past June. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypZRMtojYvpxGetbyIyRM_5W1Ae2jrN8Ay-iLruhya7SF8O3Tj6BPLxp8MuhOma4yjmzCuszGAjjzo1F-tB0W0GpUGTszaD2xGQ-3u4Pi2R0xiYPLh_2JOwUKRxQKfdMmaB1m8pbPxoXY/s1600/DSCN4663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypZRMtojYvpxGetbyIyRM_5W1Ae2jrN8Ay-iLruhya7SF8O3Tj6BPLxp8MuhOma4yjmzCuszGAjjzo1F-tB0W0GpUGTszaD2xGQ-3u4Pi2R0xiYPLh_2JOwUKRxQKfdMmaB1m8pbPxoXY/s640/DSCN4663.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another part of my garden in mid to late Spring. <br />
There's lots more, including other seasons. I'm considering starting a garden blog. </td></tr>
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That last bit in the text above (the 'haven't watched' part) refers to an attempt to screen the RKO 'Hitler's Children' for one of my younger friends. While he's knowledgeable about independent movies from the late 1980's or so up to today, he's somewhat less aware of earlier movies. At any rate, my younger friend is going to be a first time daddy soon. He made his announcement via a Facebook post whose only content was a sound file that mystified a number of folks. It was the sound of the baby's heartbeat in the womb. Now, he's never seen any of the Nancy Drew movies, and thus has no associations what-so-ever for Bonita Granville, or, for that matter, with cowboy star Tim Holt, both of whom have the lead roles in the movie. So one night not long after the incidents in Charlottesville with tiki torch bearing American Nazis, white supremacists, and the follow up ravings of Donald Trump in the role of President of the United States, we settled in to watch this bit of lurid potboiler propaganda history.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_STGJZ73CzyugQd2volN-P2RWlFQfqjC61EhmSq0T9_KDQJX59KslPJ1k49f_9jc_FKo9zKpXzkNX9GvIlNrZN_X4pUbdQMaT3Jhr685hczmpM-MnA5WvOPfD0JMGFx1QV8F9edXN0Gl/s1600/hitler%2527s+children+rally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="709" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_STGJZ73CzyugQd2volN-P2RWlFQfqjC61EhmSq0T9_KDQJX59KslPJ1k49f_9jc_FKo9zKpXzkNX9GvIlNrZN_X4pUbdQMaT3Jhr685hczmpM-MnA5WvOPfD0JMGFx1QV8F9edXN0Gl/s640/hitler%2527s+children+rally.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The film starts out with a Nazi rally (above), and proceeds, via flashback narration, to a 1933 confrontation between American students in Germany, and a group of teenage male Nazis in training. A fight breaks out, during which wholesome Nazi Tim Holt holds onto the American's baseball bat, refusing to give it back. Plucky Bonita Granville looks him in the eye and suddenly exclaims, "Heil Hitler". When Holt's arm rises in automatic salute, she punches him in the stomach. When the German headmaster refuses to stop his charges from fighting, the American teacher (Kent Smith, giving a performance only slightly more lively than a cigar store Indian) simply yells out, "Achtung!", which causes the German boys to fall into line. If only it were that easy in real life. We then see a little bit of the school room education of the day:</div>
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Just after Tim Holt's praise for Hitler in the clip above, my young friend asked me to stop the movie. Under the current political climate, and being an expectant father, it was too much. His heart had started racing, and he was beginning to have a bit of a panic attack. We were only about 10 minutes into the film. Thinking back on it, it was probably a good thing we changed the picture. I'd have freaked out if I was an expectant parent, too. And I'm not just thinking of the scene in which a young mother to be hopes her birth is painful as a tribute to the Führer. This picture gets far more lurid and serious. <br />
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Of course, the reverberations of movies like 'Hitler's Children' into our own time should give us pause. We currently have an administration in power which excuses the outrages of the far right, pretending there were good people amongst them, condemning those on the left for their part in the violence (even though every report I saw or read stated that the 'antifa' crowd only resorted to violence when the Nazi types began charging at women, children, the clergy, and people with brown skin). Pictures that came out of the event were startling.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFpOodDEPI3HdwUlSULvZrDxwpDEYw_k9vJYJXeuNi5nFs7cu2vtxEYpj0Madd31RhZk3FTzSeDJh3IkISSeSdYavpcV82uxMKNp6vxUJI5DmhGh90WpMhvFAUQchqHV00MWGcSm4ZWZA/s1600/charlottesville+VA+torchlight+march+8-11-17+racist+white+supremicist+nazis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="583" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFpOodDEPI3HdwUlSULvZrDxwpDEYw_k9vJYJXeuNi5nFs7cu2vtxEYpj0Madd31RhZk3FTzSeDJh3IkISSeSdYavpcV82uxMKNp6vxUJI5DmhGh90WpMhvFAUQchqHV00MWGcSm4ZWZA/s640/charlottesville+VA+torchlight+march+8-11-17+racist+white+supremicist+nazis.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it live, or is it Memorex?</td></tr>
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Today I turned 67 years old. My parents divorced when I was quite little; my mother was gone by the time I was 6 months old. My father, my brother, and I lived with my Aunt and Uncle in what had been my Grandfather's house. My Uncle had fought in WWII. When television came in, I wasn't allowed to have it on much after 5pm, when my Uncle got home. The noise and cacophony of tv shows with children's laughter, and especially sudden loud sounds, unnerved him and he would fly into rages. I won't dwell on it, or on what would now be easily recognizable as PTSD, except to say that I often felt terrorized as a child. The experiences I had in those years would come back to affect me later in life. As it turns out, I was diagnosed as having PTSD too. The stresses and coping mechanisms from those days got me through my first years on my own in the late 1960's, the Vietnam war protests, getting beat up because I had long hair, being beaten up and/or threatened for being perceived as gay, being shot in the head (not as serious as it sounds, except for the psyche - it was delivered via a pellet rifle after I was seen returning a European kiss on the cheek to a male friend returning to Germany. Still, the bullet lodged in my skull and they thought I might have some damage.) During my years managing bookstores in NYC, my assistant was from Pakistan. When the Ayatollah Khomeini returned to Iran, my assistant became agitated and predicted the rise of ultra conservative Islam. He was in New York studying to become an architect so he could build decent homes for the poor of his country. He told me flat out that with the rise of conservative Islam, he was concerned about returning home; he might be killed for becoming educated, and going to the United States. The best cashier I had was a gorgeous black woman from the Caribbean, with a lilt in her voice which would make most people smile. My warehouse manager, who was the guy I trained to run the science fiction section, was from Cuba. You get the idea; I had a lot of friends and co-workers who, if they were around today, might face deportation. The sad fact of the matter is that my country is rounding people up. Some have been deported, some are being held. Many on trumped up charges, or minor traffic style violations. Now a movement is on to deport those who were brought here as children, who grew up here, and became part of the fabric of life here. Legal protections for transgender folk are being removed. Repealing the right of marriage for gay folks won't be far behind. The Trump Department of Justice has already insisted that gay folks are not entitled to job protections under federal anti-discrimination laws. Confrontations in the culture wars continue, and will, until decent normal everyday people start to riot. And what then? Well, perhaps that's why the Trump administration has 1.2 Billion dollars in the Federal budget for 'detainee beds'. I have been accused of having a decidedly liberal paranoia about this, but I could spend several hours writing out the reasons for such suspicions, and pointing out the similarities between the US today and Europe in the early 1930's. You're free to laugh at me if you want, I won't mind. But I will remind you that Nazis are on the march. In America. They may be carrying mass market torches, but that doesn't change the fact that they are there, marching, provoking, waiting. Their own leaders will tell you that an army is being built. We have a President who threatened violence from his supporters if he wasn't elected. His supporters threaten violence if he is removed from office. Go ahead and laugh some more. But remember the following image when the 'arrests' start. It was painted on a fence in California a few days after the Charlottesville events. And you'd better hope to hell everyone in your family is straight, and white. A lot of the seeds being sown aren't for flowers. <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-2754270190410426592017-03-31T11:32:00.000-04:002017-03-31T11:32:40.168-04:00The snow this timeAnother snow is falling. <br />
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I have things to do, but I don't feel like doing them. <br />
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Watching the snow is peaceful, even with the roar of traffic going by; the sounds, not of quiet, but of tires on wet asphalt, punctuated by the whirrs of small motors, and the occasional groans of trucks.<br />
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I haven't been able to write much, and what I have been able to get out has been in orgasmic spurts on Facebook, commentary meant to attract the reader to news stories that seem important.<br />
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There are too many stories.<br />
There is too much to try to understand.<br />
There is too much to think about, <br />
there is just too much.<br />
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One night last week, I watched 'Gojira', the 1954 Japanese movie that was altered for release in the United States, where it became known as 'Godzilla'. I dare say everyone knows the outline of the story: a few years after the atomic bomb, a monster arises from the seas, a monster that shows little use for logic, a monster bent on destruction. <br />
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Such plots call for a scientist who will quell the beast. In 'Gojira', that role was filled by Takashi Shimura, known to film buffs worldwide for his roles in the films of Akira Kurosawa. In his role as the scientist fighting Godzilla, every time the camera zoomed in for a close-up of his concerned face, all I could see was his face at the end of Kurosawa's 'Ikiru', in which he plays a bureaucrat struggling to find the meaning of life, his life, as he dies of cancer. <br />
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The picture I want to use as illustration shows the actor, in the snow, on a child's swing. It has a stock photo company's watermark on it. A lot of photos which used to be considered to be in the public domain are now claimed as the property of such companies. They want to be paid for their use, and the amount they want to be paid, even for a blog almost no one will read, is not cheap. I know the progression of this takeover for a fact, as for several years I have done occasional searches for particular photos, and watched as this has happened. In this case, a 65 year old photo from a Japanese movie is claimed to be under the ownership of a stock photo company. Much of the world seems to be becoming divvied up by owners who were not creators. <br />
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The snow outside of my window isn't sticking to the road yet, but is already piling up on the earth which had just started to suffer the appearance of crocus and the earliest signs of Spring. <br />
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About two weeks ago, I woke repeatedly throughout the night, which is not at all an unusual occurrence. That evening was different, however, in that every time I woke, I was in the same dream. I only remember the part at the end, from my stirring in the early morning. That's a metaphor, I suppose. In the dream, people were being rounded up. Color was draining out and everything was becoming, well, not black and white, but gray. Gradations of gray. Gray upon gray. People were being rounded up and sent off to somewhere. Younger men were being sent to the army, that much was known. Other people were being sent someplace unknown, to be unknown. I managed to sneak away from the roundup, and made my way down a long corridor which seemed an endless void. There were doors everywhere, lined up neatly, evenly, like some Levittown style apartment house. As I came close to my door, the corridor was flooded with people, people rounding up people, people trying to escape, there was a crush of people. I managed to open the door to my place, and snuck in, hopefully unobserved in the chaos. It was my space without a doubt. Except that my stuff had been largely removed. The furniture that was left had been covered by sheets and tarps, resembling one of those old closed up apartments opened years later with layer upon layer of dust covering everything. That was when I woke up. <br />
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The snow covers the world like layers of dust.<br />
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I feel stupid. I may have misread the situation, and the intentions of the Trump coterie. I just read several of the comments made by Nikki Haley, the new United States Ambassador to the United Nations. The situation in my country grows more surreal by the day, by the hour. I'd long assumed that the takeover by the reactionary right was an attempt to gut the government, to remove any help given to the working class, to move as much money and resources as possible to the rich, the oligarchs, the robber barons of our time. This seemed like the natural, and predictable, outcome of years of de-regulation, of lies and distortions by media representing the far right. A fight that had used the religious culture wars had paid off, but the cost was Donald Trump and the destruction of the Republican Party. I think I was wrong. I should have kept focus on the religious right. They don't just want to end abortion, or end gay rights (and gays). They don't just want their version of Sharia law, a world in which the husband will rule the home, with an obedient wife to wait on him (if she knows what's good for her - by now a working life in an often corporate culture should have taught women that they are expendable, their roles replaceable).<br />
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As I look at the proposed cuts to -this year's - budget, the toll in human misery can easily blind one to the toll on science, on the arts, on international aid, basically everything. I thought these people were simply ignorant of the interdependencies of the world, and had no understanding of the outcome of their actions. <br />
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But it's what they want. They are depending on it. Many of this crowd are fundamentalist Christians. The Bible is their word, their God, infallible, and Trump is His servant. They are not here to destroy the world so the United States can take over, so the moneyed class can acquire more than they already have. They are here to destroy the world. Period. They seek nothing less than to force Armageddon; they aren't looking for the end times - they consider that we are already in the end times. They are looking to hasten the end. <br />
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Mr. Trump isn't the intransigence and chicanery of the Republican Party come back to haunt them. He is their monster, rising out of the sea of their despair, come to destroy. <br />
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And me? I'm just another observer, a loser at life, swinging back and forth in the snow. <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-10981418813946401122017-03-12T13:52:00.000-04:002017-03-12T13:52:52.072-04:00Time. Again. This morning I'm a little hung up on the concept of time. Again. Which means that we've monkeyed around once more with its perceived linear construct for the purpose of Daylight Savings. These days, it's about the only 'savings' most people have. I waited until this morning to set my clocks ahead. For a brief moment, I considered setting them so far ahead that I'd have to deal with the Morlocks rather than the Trump reality show. <br />
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For those who have forgotten, or for the uninitiated, the Morlocks are creatures who inhabit a utopian/dystopian future in the H. G. Wells novel, 'The Time Machine' and its various subsequent radio, film, and television adaptations. In its future epoch, long after nuclear wars have devastated our planet, humans have evolved into two distinct branches. The Eloi live on the planet's surface enjoying -without work- a strife free existence of idle play, lush vegetation, and meals of fruit provided for them. Their only task is reproduction. 'Eloi' is the Hebrew plural for 'lesser gods' in the Old Testament. Think idle rich. The workers of this future have lived in the dark underground for so many eons that they can no longer tolerate light. They are the Morlocks, who tend the machines, and collect and provide fruit as food for the Eloi. Central to the story is a giant sphinx. This is more of a Greek sphinx that an Egyptian one. In Greek legend, the Sphinx asks a riddle. Those who can not answer it are killed and eaten. And therein lies the relationship between the Eloi and the Morlocks, who are, as you might guess, meat eaters.<br />
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I have the 1960 George Pal film adaptation in my DVR. I saw it at the movies back when it was released, and I've never forgotten it. In the part of the pretty blonde girl in distress (there was always a pretty blonde girl in distress back then) was Yvette Mimieux, who would be emblazoned into my consciousness in 1964 as the epileptic surfer girl love interest for tv's Dr. Kildare, as personified by the sigh-worthy Richard Chamberlain. The first episode of the two parter was called "Tyger, Tyger", a reference to a poem. I searched it out, and that is how I began reading William Blake at the age of 13. Surfer girl had grand-mal seizures, which was my introduction to such crises and attendant terminology. Also in the movie, in the part of 'best friend', was Alan Young. Mr. Young was quite well known to me, as he had been appearing on tv since 1958 as Wilbur Post. My father's name was Wilbur, so of course I was amused by this coincidence of nomenclature, and a fan of the show. The show was 'Mr. Ed', whose hero was a talking horse. Considering the movies and tv shows I watched as a kid, (which included action heroes like Superman and Zorro, do-gooders who wore capes and extremely tight pants) no wonder I was/am so fucking weird. (Sorry for the language there. I had considered the euphemistic 'fugging', which Norman Mailer utilized in 'The Naked and the Dead'. That tome was written in an era in which such words could not be seen in print without risking some quality time in prison. When Mailer was introduced to Tallulah Bankhead, she immediately remarked, "Oh, Yes. The young man who can't spell." As I often engage in battle with various spell-check and auto-correct programs, I am loathe to be the old guy who can't spell. At least my time at the computer isn't in the basement where I won't have to deal with a biologically acquired aversion to bright light while indulging in carnivorous pursuits. No, I'd be the Time Machine's narrator, trying to help the poor thoughtless Eloi survive. In my version of the story, the Morlocks are led by Steve Bannon. <br />
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I first recorded The Time Machine when it was last on Turner Classic Movies a couple of years ago, and deleted it after watching. That was before I got the video projector. When it was shown again last month as part of their Academy Award films run-out, I recorded it again. (It won for Special Effects.)<br />
It should be noted that the lengthy set of steps going to the dome under which the Eloi eat and sleep were originally built for the 1944 MGM version of Kismet, which detailed fun with Muslims in old Bagdad. They were used every now and again, most memorably (for me) as the steps to a library on the Twilight Zone. By the way, in the Time Machine novel, neither the narrator, nor the machine's inventor, are named. In the 1960 movie, the hero is referred to as 'George'. Which was the G in H. G. Wells. Furthermore, when George sits in his machine in the movie, we see an engraved plate on the console which states, 'Manufactured by H George Wells'. In need of space on the DVR, I thought I'd delete the movie, but as I had only watched the Victorian era part of it via the projector, I decided to catch the rest of it first, which I did a few days ago. Seeing the various future sets, and noticing how cheap some of them were, there was no way I could erase it yet. It was just too much fun.<br />
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As it happens, there is a fairly recent entertainment trend of the last couple of years with which I've been intending to catch up. I first noticed it with a Fox tv series in which Ichabod Crane wakes up to fight the Headless Horseman, as well as various minions of darkness, in present day Tarrytown, NY. There are now three or four shows whose heroes travel around in time to solve whatever existential crisis is featured that week. I find it interesting that as vampires returned to being a bit passé, as zombies began wearing thinner than their ragged clothing, and as superheroes became too numerous and oversaturated, the problems we face are now solved through time travel. I should point out that one of the new tv shows, based on a 1979 movie, has a plot in which H.G. Wells uses his time machine to visit the present to track down a time traveling Jack the Ripper. I suppose in my mental casting for the ripper, who is out to destroy whatever he can, the part will be played by Stephen Bannon. Or maybe Stephen Miller. </div>
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-56772521065947402542017-03-02T14:03:00.000-05:002017-03-03T07:10:57.422-05:00Dreams rememberedFor the last few days those moments just before waking have provided a continuation of the same dream. I don't remember most of it; Dreams often fade quickly. I can recall that just before waking, in an era in which people with education were suspect, a roundup of intellectuals and dissidents had begun. <br />
I was trying to save people, including myself. <br />
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Every morning has seen an intention to write in this space. I have started many posts, and left them abandoned. I am certain of the cause; it starts, much as it always does, with reading the news. It just happened again as I began sipping my coffee on a beautiful late Spring morning during the last official month of winter. The news makes me wonder about the use of winter as a metaphor. <br />
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For many years, I have kept a file in the "pictures" section of my computer labelled "Dreams Remembered". It consists entirely of old, often fading, photographs of men together, or women together. They are part of a history intentionally buried. When such images were found, often I would guess after the owner of the photo passed, they were destroyed by concerned family members. A good number of them escaped attention even though the pictures seemed to show affection between the subjects. After all, people note, men and women were freer to show affection to each other in days gone by. Such photos depict good friends, or family members. Yet now, in a more liberal time, many such photos seem to imply other relationships were depicted. They may be mementoes of a more innocent time, but they are also stories lost, or destroyed. For those who can see what is there, they are dreams remembered. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKKC6ry5V2tZ1fdmf-UfwOQO1EreCkZQipl7_QRwAk9MrStiS5C1PYSPo0ADC_BDcFdys7HMlw3nDrDIafENMA_7zZNYRb-iEhHDx5v9mgTAyCwrb8xHAdZKmGOFcbFAHLjvuFyFC9Rl1/s1600/SHORPY_00189u1Two+Civil+War+soldiers+in+Union+uniforms+in+front+of+painted+backdrop+showing+military+camp+scene+Quarter-plate+tintype%252C+hand+colored+Library+of+Congress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKKC6ry5V2tZ1fdmf-UfwOQO1EreCkZQipl7_QRwAk9MrStiS5C1PYSPo0ADC_BDcFdys7HMlw3nDrDIafENMA_7zZNYRb-iEhHDx5v9mgTAyCwrb8xHAdZKmGOFcbFAHLjvuFyFC9Rl1/s400/SHORPY_00189u1Two+Civil+War+soldiers+in+Union+uniforms+in+front+of+painted+backdrop+showing+military+camp+scene+Quarter-plate+tintype%252C+hand+colored+Library+of+Congress.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two civil war soldiers in a hand tinted photo from the Library of Congress, posted to the <a href="http://www.shorpy.com/" target="_blank">Shorpy</a> site. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybzt4UX4-nFhOBKUmRHV729p9shGo4v96T3j9pwUAFFwgNeXahySXPoE35-II5ZBdoXEK1AKWiCfV6XkkcHOWjY41EzwzUHAB3AbdOoIdAhU6LcQ20x-oUqvr_2N46Q9z7FCP9Ay-daGf/s1600/dearfriends149-105_500px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybzt4UX4-nFhOBKUmRHV729p9shGo4v96T3j9pwUAFFwgNeXahySXPoE35-II5ZBdoXEK1AKWiCfV6XkkcHOWjY41EzwzUHAB3AbdOoIdAhU6LcQ20x-oUqvr_2N46Q9z7FCP9Ay-daGf/s640/dearfriends149-105_500px.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr>
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Lest anyone assume that over interpretation is involved, here's a relatively sedate photo in which closeness </div>
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is portrayed, but there is no physical contact. Poet Walt Whitman is on the left, Pete Doyle on the right. <br />
Pete Doyle, it should be noted, was Whitman's lover. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSIDkcEcE4TqMslJk47c4E_hQolZtHR7PG3tZU8dH48H-a61pFbQ8U-nLjWT2qSqTbIOQdbPS4YM5UNdQGEyzu7cgSVN4ObmcQOuK9OdIPbeuH6gucwpml5stDNfVGGHiNE1Chft8j42P/s1600/dearfriends65top-034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSIDkcEcE4TqMslJk47c4E_hQolZtHR7PG3tZU8dH48H-a61pFbQ8U-nLjWT2qSqTbIOQdbPS4YM5UNdQGEyzu7cgSVN4ObmcQOuK9OdIPbeuH6gucwpml5stDNfVGGHiNE1Chft8j42P/s640/dearfriends65top-034.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Having one's picture taken in those days was expensive. There was only one copy per photograph. </div>
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Were these two friends sharing an expense, a memento of a friendship, or something more?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzOAJBuWrv04AsHOw4Zi3gElTmILCQW-R0VkLopmuVS7dRVaUpqVBy8CV3S6fJDZaXcoa2-ah4ybqjHpDOZQRKgICaJj4KxfyEGoY3SB_BQJS2vGwi1de-kPvgorH-OmGet3fVYKxtsGv/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzOAJBuWrv04AsHOw4Zi3gElTmILCQW-R0VkLopmuVS7dRVaUpqVBy8CV3S6fJDZaXcoa2-ah4ybqjHpDOZQRKgICaJj4KxfyEGoY3SB_BQJS2vGwi1de-kPvgorH-OmGet3fVYKxtsGv/s640/024.JPG" width="446" /></a></div>
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As the process of photography changed and the cost was reduced, </div>
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some photographs began to suggest a little more about the nature of a relationship. </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">These dreams come to mind due to a four night drama program which has been unfolding on the Disney owned ABC broadcast television network. "When We Rise" is a slightly fictionalized story of three people whose lives intersected in San Francisco, and the parts they played in the gay liberation movement. The first part was shown on Monday, just a few days after the newly installed U.S. Attorney General rescinded and abandoned the previous administration's policy that allowed transgender teens to use the bathroom of the sex with which they identify. The new Attorney General had promised, just a few days before, that despite his past record in the segregated South, he would uphold civil rights of all Americans. He was passed on a party line vote, "conservative" and reactionary Republicans outnumbering the Democrats. The mini-series episode that night portrayed a time, in the first years after the Stonewall riots, when gay men and women were considered mentally ill, were routinely denied the rights of Americans, were routinely dismissed from their jobs, thrown out of their homes, denied housing, and just as routinely beat up and/or killed by thugs and police alike. I remember all of it, and was not ready for the pain it brought back. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3up7EEnWZR9kpxWzYgRUVDs5UWIkdoEpBOMSOBsUz7_bN7mk5jvIHfWEXRKVTW90NXABwX3hYo-PF0SfUf3zDeL3zs9b_URTIvXXjd8bF98Cx4VAI9CVH7SBNDnsTd5Eeuz83zHTv1B9/s1600/how+homosexuality+endgangers+children+clipping+ad+coronet+magazine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3up7EEnWZR9kpxWzYgRUVDs5UWIkdoEpBOMSOBsUz7_bN7mk5jvIHfWEXRKVTW90NXABwX3hYo-PF0SfUf3zDeL3zs9b_URTIvXXjd8bF98Cx4VAI9CVH7SBNDnsTd5Eeuz83zHTv1B9/s640/how+homosexuality+endgangers+children+clipping+ad+coronet+magazine.jpg" width="372" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNf5ve7khZJ0-G8WR_idR7nI0G_53AArIn1fMhSP0K84a7spWMX8VHw5MPQv0kaeDyKF1NAHJIYTfFPBRjWlhz-75A5-2w4yCyiijnO4G_H_K-GgVRFrCjsEGFRE1lJ1l3O_mw3ohyuyA/s1600/anita+bryant+crusade+do+away+with+homosexuals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNf5ve7khZJ0-G8WR_idR7nI0G_53AArIn1fMhSP0K84a7spWMX8VHw5MPQv0kaeDyKF1NAHJIYTfFPBRjWlhz-75A5-2w4yCyiijnO4G_H_K-GgVRFrCjsEGFRE1lJ1l3O_mw3ohyuyA/s320/anita+bryant+crusade+do+away+with+homosexuals.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Anita Bryant, pictured above, was a singer and orange juice pitchwoman who campaigned to rescind a Florida law </div>
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which banned discrimination of the basis of sexual orientation. She famously said that she would prefer </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkZCIGIg_HgyO0eYjt9AhdIOxwxVxLDf7zyVcnTR2xOLgh431Qcnvik7kOlxkjOLiwNU91sUUVx6XlmDZ2PuKLT_EJreor3xLSYPBJRx99fCMIaLldQ-Cg4eDYTkm09RpOkunOGXuAboy/s1600/anita+bryuant+cure+homosexual+in+10+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkZCIGIg_HgyO0eYjt9AhdIOxwxVxLDf7zyVcnTR2xOLgh431Qcnvik7kOlxkjOLiwNU91sUUVx6XlmDZ2PuKLT_EJreor3xLSYPBJRx99fCMIaLldQ-Cg4eDYTkm09RpOkunOGXuAboy/s1600/anita+bryuant+cure+homosexual+in+10+days.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The second night of the mini-series was postponed due to the new President of the United States giving an address to the entire assembled Congress. The speech was remarkable for dropping Mr. Trump's confrontational style, acting like an adult instead of a raving lunatic. The immediate response from the press, which Mr. Trump had constantly belittled, castigated, accused of making up stories (i.e. the unfavorable ones), and declared the enemy of the American People, was overly kind, remarking that he suddenly seemed presidential. They didn't really discuss his misrepresentations, distortions, outright lies, and attempts to cover up what may or may not be the truth.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5K_zHTM6KSEkn6MeGM-qIu4gy9fJHg02pd6c39PuD9KjzI19-G0QyAobEv90Zczao6OVBdFMquEU-yXuto0eC6IGr1v8oHbyf9V2X_gTX1AkJtHGWqhnkbx8LHrnApht8Yrdc9hgWq50l/s1600/ba-women_gladys__0500539914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5K_zHTM6KSEkn6MeGM-qIu4gy9fJHg02pd6c39PuD9KjzI19-G0QyAobEv90Zczao6OVBdFMquEU-yXuto0eC6IGr1v8oHbyf9V2X_gTX1AkJtHGWqhnkbx8LHrnApht8Yrdc9hgWq50l/s640/ba-women_gladys__0500539914.jpg" width="382" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTPEPTMsJAsrNmjDwMpKMuUleL3am68RSSJnYbSi9hgvwgqRmHjntEH_RJLF4UvForjlAcrFYDGlO-jWWn-AR2NNQSuhJjlq8PofiKAl8OqmHU1XgLG8R1LYw-v5sJCS9mB0OgNV8iVGP/s1600/holding-hands-vintage-gay-482.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTPEPTMsJAsrNmjDwMpKMuUleL3am68RSSJnYbSi9hgvwgqRmHjntEH_RJLF4UvForjlAcrFYDGlO-jWWn-AR2NNQSuhJjlq8PofiKAl8OqmHU1XgLG8R1LYw-v5sJCS9mB0OgNV8iVGP/s640/holding-hands-vintage-gay-482.png" width="466" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3gz39sMDlDMp_JjdCtvln-eKAtGNw7qGODa9ZnyeMz5WsvcuP0zIkE-8d0mWV_60Pg_VSzFor4HI7nIbto6N9RSmhoMX5xDt1yPu0VPcYnR1BD_0Ffwgi7z6BgaqfA7A0jes_OTXQqx_/s1600/7cdb619b0ee6e87aaff58ac07ac927be.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3gz39sMDlDMp_JjdCtvln-eKAtGNw7qGODa9ZnyeMz5WsvcuP0zIkE-8d0mWV_60Pg_VSzFor4HI7nIbto6N9RSmhoMX5xDt1yPu0VPcYnR1BD_0Ffwgi7z6BgaqfA7A0jes_OTXQqx_/s640/7cdb619b0ee6e87aaff58ac07ac927be.jpg" width="472" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Last night's episode of 'When We Rise' focused on relationships being built by the story's participants, the elation of the election of a gay man (Harvey Milk) to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, his assassination 11 months later, and the rise of what was being called a 'gay disease'.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHlNilYKsCmVgqim_Wx_k2JYDPA5BeUXY2cVYvtXUMIh33PwDJuO1rTD_TAWlqcXzLT6CyzRi5pgYkEO_IH8vzuVj89pcVDy0wjKHyO17r8D5-xEn6sGvBUGbraCjEGuFZOWKFDn1UtIe/s1600/NYtimes+Times+adis+first+mention.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHlNilYKsCmVgqim_Wx_k2JYDPA5BeUXY2cVYvtXUMIh33PwDJuO1rTD_TAWlqcXzLT6CyzRi5pgYkEO_IH8vzuVj89pcVDy0wjKHyO17r8D5-xEn6sGvBUGbraCjEGuFZOWKFDn1UtIe/s640/NYtimes+Times+adis+first+mention.jpg" width="370" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The episode ended with one of the principals holding a protest in which people in San Francisco began posting the names of friends and lovers lost to this new disease onto the side of city hall. </span><span style="font-size: small;">I've been crying a lot. The memories of the death of dear friends, the men with whom I was forming my family, have been overpowering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim4oMzz7GHP7nhHqKtuPNPdef7zqwrKxdySxUC9DzhZ__3A0yi5Hpv1qW303cdETj0myEK-G6kcW7yd4zofiKyblAnt449Tx5xWDhJOBbjjS4ORprHfmXhFsmE9PkChLEPVEdTZjoMrXh/s1600/1942+kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim4oMzz7GHP7nhHqKtuPNPdef7zqwrKxdySxUC9DzhZ__3A0yi5Hpv1qW303cdETj0myEK-G6kcW7yd4zofiKyblAnt449Tx5xWDhJOBbjjS4ORprHfmXhFsmE9PkChLEPVEdTZjoMrXh/s400/1942+kiss.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinitE0h6VOimKZQ9lF8piA_xv9lZaez5avfzol7nYzVaXj_raXwPchqV2_ShG27Ka7GIIlUN5r03j6tLHyNTf92Ct900CH4dxtR_z5-ZRZoCUreTg9nWDXe9GHW15HfgDglvXTdkyREiGd/s1600/6c25b9f8ca29279fc8a552d8a3401358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinitE0h6VOimKZQ9lF8piA_xv9lZaez5avfzol7nYzVaXj_raXwPchqV2_ShG27Ka7GIIlUN5r03j6tLHyNTf92Ct900CH4dxtR_z5-ZRZoCUreTg9nWDXe9GHW15HfgDglvXTdkyREiGd/s640/6c25b9f8ca29279fc8a552d8a3401358.jpg" width="378" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1tivKFvikIMG2nk0NyQI6kOhIAmpxq9PpyModnOX5rhkhhm5vwI4zHWhflrMC9E5lu8hfiAcosEYOyJSFifhsDgOu1ticG6p4eOLirk5TCc1fBobBhzbPXu6InA7Pl2ZJmg6ckTXNfCz/s1600/2812712059_d8e6802e49_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1tivKFvikIMG2nk0NyQI6kOhIAmpxq9PpyModnOX5rhkhhm5vwI4zHWhflrMC9E5lu8hfiAcosEYOyJSFifhsDgOu1ticG6p4eOLirk5TCc1fBobBhzbPXu6InA7Pl2ZJmg6ckTXNfCz/s640/2812712059_d8e6802e49_o.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This morning, intent on resuming my post of thoughts arising from the old movies I've been watching, I logged onto my computer to discover news that the new Attorney General had been caught lying about his contacts with Russia. These contacts, as well as a number of others surrounding the new administration, seem to expand into an ever deepening well. There are lies upon lies. As the stories of investigations into these incidents become public, they aren't just denied, the press is accused of making them up to discredit the President. Also in the news were further stories about the new administrator of the Federal Communications Commission and his repeal of polices protecting access to the internet, programs which helped the poor afford the internet in their homes, and rules of privacy which had hemmed in internet providers ability to keep records of what sites and information anyone had accessed. All of this is, of course, in the name of fostering business growth and competition. Such information would never be used to assist in rounding up people.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCwoUz7UsEYrawYAbsEsNim3Mufr-bx-gZHVOcVw9uXx3TPwFJrHjFEuA3Y4FAlW5HTq5UuKIM7x6jUl-oqJpt_0N24KNXAj_8VJMWbMJv0aMugKGldjCzAzFlQ48R6U1enQ-HDCbCktI/s1600/bd9dd9a128f782cedf82d4e263ba3577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCwoUz7UsEYrawYAbsEsNim3Mufr-bx-gZHVOcVw9uXx3TPwFJrHjFEuA3Y4FAlW5HTq5UuKIM7x6jUl-oqJpt_0N24KNXAj_8VJMWbMJv0aMugKGldjCzAzFlQ48R6U1enQ-HDCbCktI/s400/bd9dd9a128f782cedf82d4e263ba3577.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Other news stories concern the President's travel bans, people being deported due to such criminal backgrounds as having traffic violations, people being detained for hours or days without warrants, people having their identification papers checked as they left a flight which started and ended within the United States, and so forth. When the travel ban was imposed to protests and legal actions across the country, Homeland Security backed the President. They will be getting 15,000 new agents. The Department of Defense will get billions, partially to fund new atomic weapons. Other areas of the budget will have to be cut; these include monies for health care, social security, education, and the arts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The man in the center of the above photograph is Bix Biderbecke. He is one of the men who was instrumental in the development of jazz. He was an alcoholic who died young, at the age of 28. He was gay. </span><br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-16323820436195360462017-02-18T11:54:00.002-05:002017-02-18T12:00:36.592-05:00Paul's Grandfather and the sky blue sky. It's a beautiful Saturday morning here in Vermont. It's gone from 29 degrees Fahrenheit when I started writing this blog entry, to 36 degrees; wispy cirrus clouds spread themselves over portions of a sky that can't seem to make up its mind if it wants to be light blue or Columbia blue. The piles of snow reflect white, unless they are near the roadside, in which case they are topped with shades of sooty black, and disturbed dirt gray, an effect of automotive exhaust and road/sidewalk plowing. They remind me of the days when snow was generally mixed with soot, when hanging icicles at my father's house were multi-colored thanks to the Dupont plant about an hour's drive away. Memory drifts to my days at the beach, summer in Ocean City, and one particular trip to New York City. I was too poor at the time to afford more than an occasional visit to the laundromat, and having few "good" clothes, hand washed much of what I wore on a day to day basis. I washed my best non-suit shirt for a day trip to New York. The next morning, I washed it again. The water turned black, darker than the color of a well used cast iron frying pan. The black was from the soot in the air. That was the era when smog hung over our major cities and industrial areas, when breathing problems began to be noticed amongst the populace. The daily news programs on the tv reported a smog index. In 1970, under the administration of President Nixon, a Republican, the Environmental Protection Agency was created to deal with such problems. The concept for the EPA had been pushed by Democrats, and modeled on the suggestions which Representative George Miller (a Democrat) had put forth in 1959. More conservative Republicans, as well as major industries, have been attempting to discredit the agency, and gut its regulations, ever since - often using incredible distortions of the truth, and outright lies about the agency and its actions. In the meantime, due to the work of the EPA, the severity of smog was reduced in the United States to such point that it is barely mentioned anymore. This is not true of other countries, like China. <br />
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To help consumers make purchasing decisions based on cleaning up the environment, the Safer Choice label was created. Years later, the Energy Star ratings were added to consumer products such as air conditioners and heaters. <br />
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Our drinking water has been cleaned up and protected by the EPA. Legislation covered over 80% of our nation's drinking water supply. Reports often seem better than the actual situation, as a number of pollutants never came under regulation. And smaller streams are still used as chemical dumping grounds by corporations which refuse to foot the bill for proper disposal of their effluent. Stories of various areas of the country being told not to drink their water can be found a few times a year. That problem would be much worse if it weren't for the EPA.<br />
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The EPA's Clean Air Act was amended in 2011 to include greenhouse gases. Last year, the hole in our planet's ozone layer began closing. <br />
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These are just a few of the many things the EPA has accomplished. It is now an agency under siege. Within a day of two of President Trump's inauguration, all of the EPA's research on climate change was deleted from their website. A gag order was imposed by the President preventing any release of information from that agency. It gets worse; I'm only glazing the surface of what has been happening. <br />
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Yesterday, Scott Pruitt was approved by a vote of the majority Republicans in Congress to run the EPA, and sworn in as the head of the agency. As close as I can gather, this was done during the President's contentious news conference, in which he castigated news reporting as being unfair to him, mentioned his imagined margin of victory, insulted minorities, and comported himself in such a manner that his denial of creating chaos in the government was obviously a falsehood. Mr. Pruitt was yet another of President Trump's picks to run agencies which they have actively opposed or called for dismantling. Mr. Pruitt has described himself as a ""leading advocate against the EPA's activist agenda". Over the last 6 years as Attorney General of Oklahoma, he sued the EPA 14 times over water standards, clean air standards, coal emission laws, and etc. (all of his suits have failed). He also fought for "religious freedom" laws (which would allow someone to refuse business or other service to anyone whose existence violates their religious beliefs - i.e. legalized discrimination), and against the Affordable Care Act, abortion rights, and gay marriage (he even tried to claim that the ruling of the Supreme Court allowing gay marriage did not affect Oklahoma). <br />
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I could, and probably should, go on, but I won't. <br />
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Today's post was going to be about last night's screening of 'A Hard Day's Night', the 1964 movie which starred the Beatles. I guess I shouldn't have mentioned the blue sky, for that sent me off in another direction. I should probably note that part of the thread of the plot of 'A Hard Day's Night' centers on Paul's Grandfather, a cranky old man who spreads dissention, chaos, and creates arguments wherever he goes. <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-789471516229580612017-02-17T13:27:00.000-05:002017-02-17T13:34:18.416-05:00"Preposterous, but the laughter dies upon the lips."Days have gone whizzing by again. Around the time I reached my 40's, I came to the realization that the years were going by quickly, but the days seemed to take forever. Now even the days go by quickly. It's a couple of the hours that have become painfully, agonizingly slow. <br />
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True story: I have a friend who comes over quite often. We spend a good deal of time not doing much, talking about the world while watching the news as I make dinner. Then we screen a movie. My friend has difficulty sitting through an entire feature without cigarette breaks, which he takes outside at my request. At any rate, about two weeks into the Trump Presidency, we put a film on hold while he took a cigarette break. As I was expecting a communiqué from someone, I used that pause to check my computer to see if the missive had arrived. When my friend returned, he saw me reading something off of the screen, while my left hand was raised to the side of my head. Without missing a beat, my friend asked, "What's he done now?" <br />
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Movies at my place look better in the dark, but this shows off the size of the screen.</div>
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On screen, Rod Taylor is about to take off in 'The Time Machine' (1960).</div>
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That's how it is now, in this age of the Trumpenstein monster. The news is the circus train wreck from which we can not look away, one of those overlong mid century modern Cecil B. DeMille roadshow spectaculars where they sold souvenir books along with the candy at Intermission. God forbid they stop carrying the souvenir books, you'll hear about it. It is probably worth pointing out that for the 1956 version of 'The Ten Commandments', the voice of God was uncredited. One of the rumors was that it was DeMille himself. My memory suddenly conjures up the early 1930's pre-code DeMille favorite, "The Sign of the Cross", a saga of early Christianity in which the faithful are sent to the lions, and Rome burns. One critic commented, "Preposterous, but the laughter dies upon the lips." That comment is easily applicable to the political situation in which my country finds itself. See, I can't even keep this paragraph focused. Indulging in free association has always been a bit of a hobby of mine, but then again I'm not the President of the United States speaking to reporters or supporters, or allegedly running the show. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Laughton as Nero in "The Sign of the Cross" (1932), which is worth an entire post of its own (and will get one).</td></tr>
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I was all set to comment upon some of the many movies I've watched since my last post, but at the moment... nope the thoughts are gone. See this is the problem. Mr. Trump is like some kind of 1950's black and white commie witch hunt paranoia sci-fi creature that sucks all the air out of a room. It would be an interesting phenomenon if we weren't all gasping for air while we slowly choke to death. It's all a roll of the dice. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mJcZRlPu455EzrwDjfRmZMgpLR21oZ7M9kJmgpW9dCLBK2IlfcFAw2kTRpZJc1ha29ozQN2RTZ55Gl4HsW0RLwYweeEQXJPCLbFq_YyvqXq1HapFZi9WEY4JYHOrQ8zIYnG2OYEItfR7/s1600/The+Boy+Friend+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mJcZRlPu455EzrwDjfRmZMgpLR21oZ7M9kJmgpW9dCLBK2IlfcFAw2kTRpZJc1ha29ozQN2RTZ55Gl4HsW0RLwYweeEQXJPCLbFq_YyvqXq1HapFZi9WEY4JYHOrQ8zIYnG2OYEItfR7/s640/The+Boy+Friend+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Ken Russell's 'The Boy Friend' (1971)</td></tr>
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Several nights ago, I watched 'The Boyfriend', one of those Ken Russell movies that seems to have something to say, but which careens out of control, and goes both over budget, and on too long. It's somewhat unsatisfactory as a complete whole, but absurdly entertaining in many other respects. Based on what was supposed to have been a charming off Broadway style revue, Russell's movie tells a story that is pastiche backstage movie musical cliché, concerned with a struggling theatre troupe, and equally struggling actors, their temperaments, and their crushes. There is an on-stage story, with various complications arising from the backstage story, and then there are the imaginings of the actors, sometimes as themselves, and sometimes as their characters. Most of the scenes are photographed with such care to their design that they appear, at first, to be beautifully composed paintings, which convert almost immediately into low camp. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZga_nOzLFqpwlssQUeN2RNassTPIFUQzZPUmFCUy5WFEvoWLKd2VFJR4EVXm18ewQrw7cE9NNVPrtUP65Oa62-SsaZbH8cqf4jZCakxOrHxzUnYYYp7jJpv2qranso_TvRIRUrg1Nqz5y/s1600/The-Boyfriend-1971-film-Twiggy-Ken-Russell+boy+friend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZga_nOzLFqpwlssQUeN2RNassTPIFUQzZPUmFCUy5WFEvoWLKd2VFJR4EVXm18ewQrw7cE9NNVPrtUP65Oa62-SsaZbH8cqf4jZCakxOrHxzUnYYYp7jJpv2qranso_TvRIRUrg1Nqz5y/s640/The-Boyfriend-1971-film-Twiggy-Ken-Russell+boy+friend.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twiggy as Pirouette in 'The Boy Friend'. </td></tr>
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I've always liked Russell's movies. They're fun entertainments, with frequently memorable images. I think my problem with 'The Boy Friend' is that it promises to say something about movies, or musicals, or whatever you please, but never quite gets there. It just skips off to another idea. Maybe the problem is that the viewer ends up identifying with the Glenda Jackson role of the star with the broken ankle; who can't go on and must sit in the audience the night the big Hollywood movie producer is in attendance. We should be in the show, but we're once removed, helpless in our seats. At any rate, my point in mentioning 'The Boy Friend' was that the morning after viewing it, I read the news, which of course centered on the new President, and immediately could not remember what movie I'd watched the night before. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twiggy dances with her love interest, a chorus boy played by Christopher Gable.</td></tr>
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The night after I watched 'The Boy Friend', I watched 'George Washington Slept Here', adapted from a Moss Hart - George S. Kaufman Broadway farce. I've never read the script, even though I was always fond of the Kaufman-Hart shows. While the movie version wasn't really successful, it wasn't painful either. Jack Benny was the city loving apartment dweller whose wife (Ann Sheridan) uses the family money to purchase a run down country place in Bucks County, PA (where several NYC theatre denizens had homes). Of course, complications ensue. It turns out that Washington hadn't stayed in the house - it was Benedict Arnold. There's a wonderfully taciturn handyman, played by Percy Kilbride to laconic perfection. (There is a story that Kilbride, who had performed the same handyman role on Broadway, and who was hired at Benny's insistence, so cracked up his co-stars that the film was going over budget due to re-takes. Benny allegedly resorted to staying up all night so that he'd be too tired to laugh during filming.)<br />
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The highlight of 'George Washington Slept Here' (1942) was Percy Kilbride's performance as Mr. Kimber.</div>
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Kilbride would later be typecast as Pa Kettle in a series of films with Marjorie Main as Ma Kettle. </div>
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Also involved in the storyline is a rich overbearing uncle in the guise of Charles Coburn. There's the cranky neighbor preventing happiness through any number of means, portrayed by Charles Dingle as though he had just wandered off the set of 'The Little Foxes'. Hattie McDaniel is the housekeeper. There's a bratty kid relative who comes to stay for the summer (his parents are divorcing, and neither want to deal with him). There's an ornery dog (who had played Toto in the 'Wizard of Oz' ). There's the actors who arrive for a summer theatre production of 'The Man Who Came to Dinner' (another Kaufman-Hart play). There's even a plague of locusts. If the house itself seems familiar, it was the set which had just been used for 'Arsenic and Old Lace'. There's plenty of topical jokes which only those versed in the news of 1941-42 will get. (The Lend-Lease program gets mentioned a couple of times, etc.) In the Broadway version of the show, the husband bought the house to the wife's dismay. That set up was changed to having the wife make the purpose to better match up with Benny's miserly, complaining character familiar from his radio show. Which gets a few in-jokes as well. <br />
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Of course, everything finally works out, and a letter from George Washington, which quotes Thomas Paine's "The American Crisis", is found and read. It may have addressed the situation of a United States that had been drawn into WWII, but there's enough in that letter that perhaps a revival of the show (maybe set in Vermont) is due:<br />
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"We are facing a time of peril so grave in our brief National history, that there is now only the choice of serving the country a little longer, or having a country no longer to serve... In the words of Thom Paine, 'These are the times that try men's souls. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness alone that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.' <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-51793930027326557692017-02-08T17:10:00.000-05:002017-02-08T17:30:36.663-05:00The natives are restless tonight...The other night I screened another old favorite which I hadn't seen in years, "Island of Lost Souls". A 1932 opus released in 1933, it melded popular genres of the day; the horror movie ('Dracula', 'The Mummy', 'Frankenstein', 'Freaks'); the horror movie subset of the mad doctor-crazed evil scientist movie ('Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde', 'The Mask of Fu Manchu', 'Chandu the Magician', 'The Invisible Man'), and the Island picture ('Tabu', 'Bird of Paradise', 'The Most Dangerous Game', 'King Kong'). All of the above (as well as a number of others) were released during the first few years after the use of sound was mastered, between 1931 and 1933. Even Mickey Mouse got into the act as in the following: (I always recommend using the full screen option)<br />
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All of these movies were released before the production code began to be enforced. Various church groups, as well as other moralist busybodies, had become upset at some of the content of the movies; a censorship was implemented to keep the movies from being censored. If you have trouble with the logic of that statement, I would advise against following the news in this era of Trumpenstein.<br />
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Many of these horror stories had originally appeared as novels, with subtexts intended to provoke thought on social movements and concerns of the day. In the hands of the early sound filmmakers, they were turned into grandly visual entertainments with thought provoking subtexts regarding the human condition. That particular horror film cycle occurred during the darkest days of the Depression, and often seem to send a message that some of the people who had created the monstrous worlds in which we found ourselves were victims, too. (The capitalists of industry must have breathed quite a bit easier without the showing of distressed populations in revolt.) In that era of such stories, a satisfactory conclusion often depended upon groups of people working together towards a satisfactory resolution; often including the creators of the monsters. A new horror cycle started in the early 1940's. With the rise of fascism, Nazi Germany, and Imperialist Japan, resolution began to depend on Super Heroes. ( I left out the Italians - no one really paid attention to them, unless they were stock comic relief characters.) The heroes of both eras had egalitarian American values, stood up for their neighbors, as well as anyone being oppressed, and took action without thinking too much about it. A sock in the jaw often started the richly deserved payback. The monsters in our stories are now usually aliens, and resolution is out of our everyman hands - the only role for 'the people' is as victims. These new horrors can only be stopped by the intervention of deus ex machina superheroes, who are now tortured souls full of self doubt and dark thoughts. This is all off the cuff generalization; perhaps it will become its own blog entry some day.</div>
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"Island of Lost Souls" is based on H. G. Wells', "The Island of Dr. Moreau". Mr. Wells was not happy with this first adaptation of his 1896 novel. He felt that stressing the horror elements downplayed his themes, which included moral responsibility, human identity, tampering with nature, vivisection, pain and cruelty. The film had changes from the book, one of which, the inclusion of sex in the form of the Panther Woman, was incorporated into later tellings of the tale. The story centered on a (mad?) doctor, who uses his private isolated South Seas island as a research center for his work in speeding up evolution. It will not give much away to note that this process is accomplished by operating on animals and turning them into human beings. The operations are performed without anesthetics. Unsuccessful experiments are ejected from the Doctor's compound, and forced to live on the island. The film struck pay dirt in costuming Dr. Moreau and other (upper class) persons of authority in white, which immediately conjured images of colonial authority over those considered lesser beings than themselves. (In the book, the Doctor and his men are described as wearing blue work clothes.) By the way, the release of the movie in England was delayed by censorship until the late 1950's, and I think in Australia it didn't see the light of a projector until the 1980's (but I can't find my note on the date). The print broadcast on Tuner Classic Movies, which I believe is available as a Blu Ray DVD from Criterion, was made from a variety of 35mm prints, including a few frames from 16mm. It is easily the best quality I've ever seen on this title. Watching it is still a disturbing and eerie experience. <br />
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The role of Doctor Moreau was performed by Charles Laughton. While the movie itself can't be accused of much subtlety in its 70 minutes, Laughton's doctor is part visionary genius, and part insane sadist, sometimes expressed with childlike glee. It set a standard for such roles that has not been often equaled. I seem to recall that Laughton once stated that he based his character on his dentist. <br />
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Bela Lugosi played a leader of the island's rejects, the "Sayer of the Law". The Law had been set down by the good doctor. Lugosi and "the natives" would chant in call and response fashion, "What is the law?" "Not to spill blood. Are we not men?" "What is the law?" "Not to go on all fours. Are we not men?" The law is something each creation must learn after it has left "The House of Pain". If you're recognizing a few things that would later show up in association with various 1970's and 1980's rock bands, I should probably note that the movie was also the source of a once popular saying, "The natives are restless tonight." That, by the way, was not a good thing. <br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-34360276771329416372017-02-07T11:05:00.000-05:002017-02-07T11:11:36.923-05:00"I'm not crazy, my reality is just different from yours."It has been difficult to return to writing here, even to just jot random notes about the movies I've watched. It's not that I don't want to do so, and it's not the laziness of older age; I think my reluctance has more to do with wanting to protect what has become my own little bubble of sanity and security. Movies, after all, have much value as escapism. As the ad campaign for 'That's Entertainment' put it, "Boy, do we need it now". <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ticket Booth, Times Square, 1954. Photo by Frank Oscar Larson.</td></tr>
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Last night, the anchor of the CBS News program introduced a segment by saying, "It has been a busy day for presidential statements divorced from reality". My cable box has the capability to 'rewind' whatever has just been shown, kind of like a videotape could be rewound to replay something, or instant replay on a sports program. I had to go back and listen to that introduction again. At first, it was because I couldn't believe the anchor, Scott Pelley, had actually said it. Then I watched it again to savor the moment. And a third time to accurately note the wording of the quote. Frankly, I'm still amazed. It's not something I ever expected to hear on a news report. Certainly not on one of the major networks, and certainly not on CBS, once the center of great reporting by journalists like Edward R. Murrow, and Walter Cronkite, now fallen on the same hard times that beset most news departments under the purview of their networks' entertainment divisions. It would seem that even CBS News has had enough. The sad thing is that most people probably don't realize how important and unprecedented it was to make that statement. <br />
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It is snowing at the moment. It is, as a voice somewhere in the back of my head would put it, "coming down at a pretty good clip". I don't have a particularly wonderful view; Putney Road gets a lot of traffic as it's the main artery going north to the land of shopping malls, empty stores, pizza joints, supermarkets, discount palaces, auto parts, and fast food. A couple of old mid 19th century mansions, once the homes of the local gentry, are in evidence peeking out from under trees, and from behind hedges of evergreen. Even with the traffic, it is still mesmerizing, calling forth the little boy still trapped somewhere within. It's probably the boy who is so entertained by the movies. Certainly the movies lead me to reading a number of books which became favorites. I often bemoan my books being in storage, but I suppose it's better that way. Just before they all got packed into boxes for the trip to a friend's early 18th century barn, I had to sell off quite a few of my best, my favorites, my - yes, friends. It was during a period of unemployment uncertainty and had to be done to raise the necessary emollient for modern life. I don't quite know what I still have left. I would be crushed to discover I sold my Compleat Sherlock Holmes, my annotated copies of Dickens, my reference edition (including manuscript) of 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'Through the Looking-Glass'. The Alice books have been on my mind a lot recently.<br />
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The quote which serves as the title for this post is from one of the Alice's. With the beauty of the falling snow visible before me, the image of falling down a rabbit hole into a world of nonsense seems a fit metaphor for the current political situation in these United States. I've occasionally railed against the present unpolitic politic on Facebook, which does not lend itself to writing of more than a few sentences. People seem to read a paragraph or so and move on. People post links to articles with wildly exaggerated headlines they think bolsters their reality, without having read the accompanying story. Only liberals and reporters seem to be bothered by statements which stress "alternative facts", as noted by one of President The Donald's <strike>hench</strike> spokespeople. I could go on and on, but I don't want to at the moment. I'm feeling peaceful while looking at falling snow, and such moments of peace are few and far between just now. <br />
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I'll try to force myself to come back later, or tomorrow, to make a few notes about some of the movies I'm already beginning to forget. After all, tomorrow is another day. (cue swelling music)<br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-8854768163889346952016-12-03T11:47:00.002-05:002016-12-19T08:01:35.258-05:00Two short notes on Ronald Coleman moviesLast night I ended up screening another movie I'd had no intention of watching. It was on the Turner Classic Movies channel, and something about the title cards and music caused me to pause it while I finished up some miscellaneous household chore. The ability to pause whatever I'm watching is one of the things I like about digital television. (One can rewind and watch something that has just gone by as well. I often pause programs like 'Dancing With the Stars', later fast forwarding through commercials and other time consuming bits of business. I've started that program more than 45 minutes in, and caught up with the live broadcast by the program's end.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_aJBvLGJoOo5u0GZnxAvBDOE2cjk1BCjttLR2JZZdS5db3pdCbYvaIdCrAGK7EPE0a6Wa7n0MuphK-LNDRpVMZz890dpXDsteiq0ImwtnyXjH-AsKmOV6cVMBF34xTtbkLGM5i4brI-y/s1600/the+devil+to+pay+poster+ronald+coleman+loretta+young.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_aJBvLGJoOo5u0GZnxAvBDOE2cjk1BCjttLR2JZZdS5db3pdCbYvaIdCrAGK7EPE0a6Wa7n0MuphK-LNDRpVMZz890dpXDsteiq0ImwtnyXjH-AsKmOV6cVMBF34xTtbkLGM5i4brI-y/s320/the+devil+to+pay+poster+ronald+coleman+loretta+young.jpg" width="253" /></a>This particular exercise in serendipity involved a 1930 United Artists release called 'The Devil to Pay'. It stars Ronald Coleman as a son of English nobility. We are introduced to his character whilst he is in the process of selling off his home and furnishings (in 'East Africa', no less) thanks to his tendencies to bet on "horses with short noses, and cards that were good but not good enough". He's the kind of charming roué who, back in England, visits his old girlfriend - at midnight! (Gasp!) It's definitely pre-code. Oh, by the way, the girlfriend is a sultry young Myrna Loy in a blonde wig. Of course Mr. Coleman's character, Willie, soon meets a wealthy sweet young thing whose engagement to a Russian Grand Duke is about to be announced. The sweet young thing, with the movie foreshadowing name of Dorothy Hope, is played by Loretta Young. There's plenty of connective tissue for film buffs: Willie's father would soon play Baron von Frankenstein, people like cinematographer Greg Toland worked on the project, a memorable scene involves Ronald Coleman talking with a fox terrier he instantly names 'George' - sadly Myrna Loy has no screen time with George; she'd soon co-star with another fox terrier in the Thin Man series, etc.). The film's favorable review in the New York Times took pains to note that, "The sound recording is remarkably satisfactory, for not only are the voices lifelike, but one even hears George's persistent panting." Often cited as a melodrama, it's really a romantic comedy. <br />
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As it happens, one of the first movies I screened with my video projector was another Goldwyn - United Artists - Ronald Coleman pre-code talkie, "Bulldog Drummond", released in 1929. (Just to clear things up, Samuel Goldwyn's company was merged with Metro into the formation of MGM, but he had nothing to do with the new company. United Artists was a releasing company formed to give movie makers better control - and a better percentage of profits - by Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith. But that is, as they say, another story.) I was familiar with 'Bulldog Drummond' from other early sound movies as well as its 1940's radio shows, so seeing the first sound version had caught my interest. (There were a couple of 'Drummond' silents.) The 1929 picture gets underway when Drummond, a rich, bored, ex-WWI captain, takes out an ad in the newspaper: </div>
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Naturally, trouble finds him with all due dispatch. The picture is, as they say, a hoot - full of melodramatic nonsense, a missing rich uncle, a sinister sanitarium, even more sinister shadows on the walls, a torture room, a little light bondage, and Lilyan Tashman. What more could any decent movie fan want? As the review in the New York Times noted, "...it conveys a strong appeal even to the most blasé individual".<br />
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There's any number of other movies and life events with which I should catch up, but as is so often the case, I lack the time to continue just now. And yes, I know these notes are frustratingly brief. <br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-15609715186345365142016-12-01T12:04:00.000-05:002016-12-01T12:20:59.726-05:00'The Last Waltz' and old friends. A bit over a month or so ago, I discovered that buried deep in the "free movies" section of my cable company's streaming options was one for Turner Classic Movies. I'd often wished they would have one, and suddenly it appeared as though the Cinema Gods had smiled upon the retired movie lover. Titles available at first seemed to be those which had just shown on TCM proper. That has changed a bit, with other titles not on the recent schedules popping in. Most of the titles are only there for 5 or 6 days at a time. As my cable box's digital video recorder is almost always full, I was over joyed to get a second chance to watch titles I had missed, or old friends which I wanted to see again. last night, for instance, I watched a 1942 MGM potboiler about an unfortunate event befalling a gold digging Broadway starlet:<br />
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I'll comment on that movie another time, but just as a 'circle of life' kind of thing, I'll note that I used to work in Grand Central Station a long time ago. I will add that it made for a rather interesting almost a double bill, as the late afternoon/early evening had been spent with a friend who came over to see the restored pre-code 'Baby Face', which had been on my DVR for two years waiting for the perfect time to watch it. Notes on that one later, as well. <br />
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At any rate, last Saturday night I turned on the video projector, intending to go to the streaming TCM option to see what might be expiring that I'd like to see. I had left the cable box on a Vermont PBS channel; 'The Last Waltz' had just started. My immediate reaction was to email a friend to come over - he had been invited to go to see the live concert but chose not to go. I also figured that it would be constantly interrupted and was being used as pledge bait. That turned out to be correct, but I watched the whole thing (slightly over 3 hours) anyway. It had been a long time since I'd seen it. The concert was the Band's farewell performance, held on Thanksgiving in 1976. Adding to the frustration of the breaks was a pledge promotion for a Blu-ray (only available as part of a set of CDs) which had been restored and approved by the filmmaker (Martin Scorsese), with it's soundtrack remixed by Robbie Robertson (member of The Band who produced the movie) for Dolby 5.1. This was frustrating for a few reasons. 1. I couldn't afford it. 2. I didn't have the room on the DVR to record it. 3. The version they were showing had a standard stereo mix. It was still a delight to see it again. Of course, I looked online to see if this new edition was available. It might be a repackaging of previously available material, or not - information was scarce. Now, I can't go to any website without being confronted with ads for 'The Last Waltz 40th Anniversary' special set. <br />
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I've mentioned elsewhere in this blog that in the late 1960's and early 1970's, I used to help run a counter-culture coffee house in Ocean City, NJ, called the Purple Dragon. Ocean City had originally been a Methodist camp meeting. When land was sold, a clause was put in the deeds that should the sale of alcohol ever be legalized on the island, the land would revert to the possession of the Methodist Church. Now, when I say that Ocean City was an island, I do mean that literally, not figuratively. The main bridge was at 9th Street. Across that bridge, on the mainland, was a town called Somers Point. And, on one side of a traffic circle, there was a very large liquor store said to have the highest volume of sales in the entire United States. (Across it's access road was a popular club, 'Your Father's Moustache'.) On the other side of the circle was an even more popular club called Tony Mart's. Just next to it was an old fish market. The Methodist church, which funded the Purple Dragon, got that building and opened another coffeehouse, called The Fish Market. (I think that was supposed to be a display of ecumenical humor.) Now, I spent many an evening at the Fish Market. I only mention this as it is my tenuous connection to Tony Mart's. The Band used to play there under the name of 'Levon and The Hawks', a leftover form the days when they played with Ronnie Hawkins. They were, in fact, playing there when Bob Dylan made them an offer to become his back up band. <br />
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Needless to say, I was a fan of both The Band and Mr. Dylan. When Dylan ended a multi-year retirement (after the motorcycle accident), he did so by going on tour backed by The Band. When they played Madison Square Garden as the tour's last stop, I was there - with my friends Richie and Keith. That's the same Richard, by the way, with whom I go on camping and canoe expeditions into wilderness areas of the Adirondacks. (Trips which I credit with maintaining my sanity.) At any rate, I went to see 'The Last Waltz' when it played in the theatres. When another friend, John, bought a building in Brooklyn (in partnership with his brother) to rehab, they threw a party. The idea was that they would have something different going on in each room for guests to enjoy while wandering around. At the time, I was working for a film company which had the rights to 'The Last Waltz', and managed to get my hands on one of the brand new 16mm prints to show in one of the rooms. That's the same John, by the way, who was instrumental in my moving from NYC to Boston, and who took me on my first car culture excursions, as well as my first trips to Vermont. He was also one of the kind folks who helped me move here. I've lost contact with him over the years, much to my regret. So John Chiafalo, if you stumble on this, please get in touch. <br />
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Now, I'm not going to go into the whys and wherefores of what is probably the best rock and roll concert film ever made, or some of the problems it had. Or the sadness of the years and realizing that Richard Manuel, Rick Danko, and Levon Helm are no longer with us. What I will say is that if you've never seen it, you owe it to yourself to do so. Here's the concert's, and the movie's, finale (an encore was used as the film's opening). Joining the Band are Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond (Huh? - don't worry about it), Paul Butterfield, Dr. John, Van Morrison, and Ronnie Hawkins. Oh, yeah, when you start the clip use the full screen option if it's available to you. And, as the filmmaker requests, turn up your volume.<br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-44648647429584210162016-11-26T12:40:00.002-05:002016-11-26T12:55:30.332-05:00Waiting for the fog to lift...It's one of those gloriously foggy mornings, the kind that one gets in my area in late September or early October as the morning air cools over nearby warm water. It's late November, though, and it's the time of year when older lady cousins should be wiping frost from windowpanes, smiling, and declaring it to be 'fruitcake weather'. The fog, and the obscured road ahead, function as metaphor. <br />
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It's been quite awhile since I last worked on these pages; it's the longest break I've taken from these meanderings since this project was started. It's a kind of obvious cliché to note that much has changed during my absence from this - this - this what? Diary? Forum? Longer form Social Media? (It's probably best that I not get into a discussion of Facebook at this point, except to note that any entry over a couple of paragraphs in length goes largely unread. The same is true for linked articles, except that people will respond - at length - in high dudgeon to the assumed content from merely reading the title.) <br />
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Aside from the usual cheery transformations of climate and politics (not unrelated), I've had a personal development of some significance. I've removed myself entirely from the low power Community Radio station I helped create. It's the usual story of frustrations with an all volunteer Board of Directors (I was the President, for a second time), the volunteer staff of 60 some persons, and attempting to manage both. All as an unpaid volunteer. Things erupted over the July 4th weekend; after two sleepless nights in a row, I realized that I just couldn't do it anymore, and resigned. I also walked away from my radio show. I figured that if I weren't easily accessible, I wouldn't be called upon to do things, or, for that matter, feel that I should participate. I'd assumed I was putting the show on hiatus, and would return after a nice rest, but I no longer know if that will happen. <br />
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The weather this past summer was hotter and more humid than I could take. I spent a small fortune, close to $300.00, for a portable air conditioner. (My rented studio has no windows, just a sliding glass door to a balcony.) As I once passed out from the built up heat in this place, I felt the expense for something I'd only use for a couple of months a year was justified. The heat and humidity also made it difficult to work in the garden. I take care of the much larger Solar Hill gardens; with time at a premium most of my work on my own spaces went to the vegetable garden. The flower garden suffered from neglect. </div>
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The late fall crop of raspberries was wonderful, heavily producing over an extended season. I delightedly made an unconscionable amount of raspberry jam, even though I abandoned an entire picking for a week's wilderness camping via canoe trip. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTlg9DpMP1z0WRL5djc_E2huwgWVw3rxv2bYoKQimp-MRVFU9O1iFBzNtmVrkOr8iIonBJywIdaObnet-GwxgTKq_E4px75oGI1vUQGY2uY17YXkYEci73253qqPqAByGy6dJuM0QfYb8/s1600/DSCN1901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTlg9DpMP1z0WRL5djc_E2huwgWVw3rxv2bYoKQimp-MRVFU9O1iFBzNtmVrkOr8iIonBJywIdaObnet-GwxgTKq_E4px75oGI1vUQGY2uY17YXkYEci73253qqPqAByGy6dJuM0QfYb8/s640/DSCN1901.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paddling between Little Tupper Lake and Rock Pond in the Adirondacks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4be412Q9MfWE0DK-YUCBNBWJXTStVtwkF8HwFGytI1823fYhTHkpTXxVtgKsIiXuvEMJ0iAlOTX1IUNL7pNfbV4GLMkAD8yzhSNV_P_uQ8N0I7eN9GFmSMNoE1nduUiWv_hkANfWfKYcQ/s1600/DSCN2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4be412Q9MfWE0DK-YUCBNBWJXTStVtwkF8HwFGytI1823fYhTHkpTXxVtgKsIiXuvEMJ0iAlOTX1IUNL7pNfbV4GLMkAD8yzhSNV_P_uQ8N0I7eN9GFmSMNoE1nduUiWv_hkANfWfKYcQ/s640/DSCN2044.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of several beaver lodges on the same passage - taken on the way back a few days after the above photo. </td></tr>
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Sanity has been maintained through the video projector and many, many movies. Of course, I'm upset with myself for failing to note them. While I'll remember Kay Francis in 'Mandalay', I'll never be able to remember much of the other Kay Francis titles from a Turner Classic Movies DVR binge. Mandalay, by the way, is a hoot. Francis played a good girl sold into white slavery style prostitution by a traitorous boyfriend. After surviving and escaping her time as "Spot White", she ends up killing the traitorous tormentor, falling for an alcoholic ex-doctor, and trudging off with same into the jungles on a mission of mercy to relieve the suffering of plague victims. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PJ9wPHo7nRdL9mGN1m1X-pJRHi6pHyq78KnT18G3qy4q_V9PdZncJPnVZ0qIZ-JXuFbMj-_Nt4hAh70WOQpBD1KKCkozVApaZPKXOIner6234XSoVqXFSHqRvzeyqzwBa9hR-9WAkPXi/s1600/Kay+Francis+as+bad+girl+Spot+White+in+MANDALAY+%25281934%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PJ9wPHo7nRdL9mGN1m1X-pJRHi6pHyq78KnT18G3qy4q_V9PdZncJPnVZ0qIZ-JXuFbMj-_Nt4hAh70WOQpBD1KKCkozVApaZPKXOIner6234XSoVqXFSHqRvzeyqzwBa9hR-9WAkPXi/s640/Kay+Francis+as+bad+girl+Spot+White+in+MANDALAY+%25281934%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kay Francis as Spot White in 'Mandalay'.</td></tr>
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How could I not note a WWII era western, 'Cowboy Canteen', in which Jane Frazee's ranch is turned into an entertainment venue for servicemen stationed nearby? Charles Starrett wanders about, two rollicking numbers are provided by an impossibly young Roy Acuff and his Crazy Tennesseans, two numbers are contributed by Tex Ritter, plus there's couple of numbers from Jimmy Wakely and His Saddle Pals. Add in Vera Vague, plus a few turns by a number of country and western vaudevillians. The toppers (for me) were the two songs provided by 'ranch hands' The Mills Brothers, "(Up a) Lazy River", and "Paper Moon"! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpM4GCZj9B-fMTXlphTGKlsm3ImUcM9qSZTMFsceSiUKZ1QgOlVHxc4hdni4AOzmDceLXOC7ICtPfDrXylPfqozR4TKImQkxJUSul8cpd0C3T8VZII1VBYgfTRmocnTpub_pWX6M0nw8P_/s1600/mills+bros+cowboy+canteen+lazy+river.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpM4GCZj9B-fMTXlphTGKlsm3ImUcM9qSZTMFsceSiUKZ1QgOlVHxc4hdni4AOzmDceLXOC7ICtPfDrXylPfqozR4TKImQkxJUSul8cpd0C3T8VZII1VBYgfTRmocnTpub_pWX6M0nw8P_/s400/mills+bros+cowboy+canteen+lazy+river.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mills Brothers, fresh off their farmhand duties (in <br />
spectacularly ill advised costumes), 'rehearse' their hit "(Up a) Lazy River".</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPKnQ3-KX-Gi6a20YO2oVomhDq4h5RcFGlpkusdsMJpE5EQQdJ-gysHDI2zI14Jb02ow_X0IcjbbqPPRsqA0kqi7eF61A5FXGd-GxGFRoTEmSFsvm9G-csE7AggGnH2yefPOBasZP6DWo/s1600/roy+acuff+wait+for+the+light+to+shine+cowboy+canteen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPKnQ3-KX-Gi6a20YO2oVomhDq4h5RcFGlpkusdsMJpE5EQQdJ-gysHDI2zI14Jb02ow_X0IcjbbqPPRsqA0kqi7eF61A5FXGd-GxGFRoTEmSFsvm9G-csE7AggGnH2yefPOBasZP6DWo/s400/roy+acuff+wait+for+the+light+to+shine+cowboy+canteen.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy Acuff (on the right), and a few of the Crazy Tennesseans, <br />
as they perform "Wait for the Light to Shine". </td></tr>
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I am remembering such things with a little more clarity than had become my custom. I was reading an article on the internet, clicked on a link, and saw a reference to drugs which cause memory problems. I followed the latter link, and found the statin I've taken for years for bad cholesterol listed. I stopped taking it for a couple of weeks to see what would happen. My memory improved! My vocabulary, which I admit I'd downplayed and dumbed down after being told I intimidated people, began to return to everyday use. I'd had episodes in which I'd be doing a tribute show on the radio, and at station break be unable to name the person being saluted. I even heard myself on one show's recording credit Louis Armstrong when I meant Louis Jordan. Things are much better now. The memory isn't as sharp as it once was, but where recalling a bit of once well known information was taking 20 minutes, that action now takes anywhere from 10 seconds to a few minutes. It's not consistent, but it is a definite improvement. It's been six months since I stopped the statin; my doctor went along with this experiment provided I took another cholesterol test after 6 months. The improvement is enough that I'm concerned, lest the test put me back on the damn pills. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40dbw3bn-VrOlyh3y5mjhkRvdGid01re04-OhBzdXv4ikyaf7IdZD96Vgyd3erZqYOOyDn0F-eSCFWOYZIYTwibaV-HDbcyFbB1jv8Ykt_nZxe1t0eWoXdoPVgAkq76ahTCuKpParwysG/s1600/DSCN1923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40dbw3bn-VrOlyh3y5mjhkRvdGid01re04-OhBzdXv4ikyaf7IdZD96Vgyd3erZqYOOyDn0F-eSCFWOYZIYTwibaV-HDbcyFbB1jv8Ykt_nZxe1t0eWoXdoPVgAkq76ahTCuKpParwysG/s640/DSCN1923.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning mist obscuring an island with pine trees, reminiscent of a Turner painting, Rock Pond, Adirondacks. </td></tr>
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There's a lot more movies to note, more life events to note (this is a sort of diary, after all), but my late breakfast of oatmeal (with maple sausages, the entire concoction drizzled with maple syrup) is ready. Now that mornings (when I usually do this kind of thing) are no longer spent at the garden, I am going to try to get back in the habit of writing. He said, as the fog lifted. sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-75255994107823452762016-07-04T13:29:00.000-04:002016-07-04T13:29:40.729-04:00notes on a July the 4thIt has been awhile since I've scribbled any meandering thoughts in this particular back road of cloudy cyber-space. Life has just been too busy for this aging semi recluse. I haven't even posted my weekly radio shows for awhile, and am somewhat disappointed with myself in this regard. That project has gotten so far behind that I am not going to bother to catch it up. Instead, here's a link to my account on the show's web-stream service provider, <a href="https://soundcloud.com/stream" target="_blank">SoundCloud</a>, where the last year and a half of my humble weekly efforts of musical exploration are available. My current shows are mostly done in a jukebox format, songbook style interspersed with a few clips I've made from old music and variety radio shows. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2Ba4pkQVgLOc44quwwKzJMtESN1lhxsxEDJogY-fnv0mVOfmzm0V92DyjEyyKfWvgc0ecULRwlvjhP5NZ8gPpTLhllSqrWglZyBOe7nDHJV7x5lXA0IfoGnHSyi1lZvgCx7WN8UxHV99/s1600/scan0015+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2Ba4pkQVgLOc44quwwKzJMtESN1lhxsxEDJogY-fnv0mVOfmzm0V92DyjEyyKfWvgc0ecULRwlvjhP5NZ8gPpTLhllSqrWglZyBOe7nDHJV7x5lXA0IfoGnHSyi1lZvgCx7WN8UxHV99/s640/scan0015+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my old real camera pictures, a few miles up the road outside of Grafton, VT, probably July 4th, c 1993- 1994</td></tr>
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I've also disappointed myself by failing to make notes on the movies I've watched recently. When I used to screen movies in 16mm, I kept a list of titles I'd shown, mainly as a method of counting bulb hours. As the hours of use added up, I'd be sure to purchase a standby bulb to have at the ready just in case. I don't quite remember how many hours I used to get per bulb - was it 40? Did it stay the same when bulbs changed from incandescent filament to halogens? My cheap little video projector advertised its bulb life at "up to 50,000 hours". Figuring average running times of the movies and occasional tv programs I watch on it, that's well over 20,000 movies. At this point I don't think I need to keep a bulb check. When I last looked at the list from the halcyon days of my 16mm screenings, there were a number of movies I can't recall watching. There were also a number of movies I can remember watching, but that doesn't imply that I remember anything about them. In our current era of instant internet info, it only takes a moment to look up one such title, Dario Argento's "Four Flies on Grey Velvet" from 1971. There are plot synopsis, reviews, "making of" info, as well as the entire movie itself all for free at the click of a mouse. Such access still amazes me. I only got to see it because I worked for the company that had the 16mm rental rights. When it gets right down to it, when I look up movies I remember quite well from watching dozens of times, I often find errors in online materials. Sometimes I wish I had made notes on some titles so I could check my impressions and reactions all these years later; kind of like re-reading a favorite book and noticing how some parts no longer affect you while others now have great consequence and import. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnqb3k5JuINq_U2wP33vSDpPkDU4G0L46N3smyYHf-Ny7xr2Rd49NOwqLB-VlQ27Mevijs27akal3-vNuGL3oBK0FPTYQqSkLrLoQY3dFD6fYUmBFGu26AM0Jwu6AHXi8PfKQesQnkDpr/s1600/scan0022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnqb3k5JuINq_U2wP33vSDpPkDU4G0L46N3smyYHf-Ny7xr2Rd49NOwqLB-VlQ27Mevijs27akal3-vNuGL3oBK0FPTYQqSkLrLoQY3dFD6fYUmBFGu26AM0Jwu6AHXi8PfKQesQnkDpr/s640/scan0022.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another of my old 35mm film camera pics, at the Grafton cheese company c July 1993 - 1994<br />
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Oh, no! Oops, sorry about that, we've undergone a sudden shift in subject matter, and I just got a bit of a shock. It's the Fourth of July. Our local Independence Day parade should be stepping off at the south end of town just about now. I didn't get any sleep at all last night, and am in a snitty cantankerous mood. My feelings for my fellow human beings over the course of this past year are best summarized by that old Charles Bukowski quote, "I don't hate people. I just feel better when they aren't around." So I am staying home today as my personal sacrifice for the betterment of humankind. I just turned on our local cable access station (also available via <a href="http://www.brattleborotv.org/" target="_blank">webstream</a> when the gods of electronica smile upon us). The first visual was of the retail portion of downtown. It's the main part of Main Street. Even though the parade won't get there for a bit, it was quite a shock to see so few people that huge portions of the street and curb sitting space are empty. When I moved here, it would be difficult to find a decent parade watching spot at this point in the morning. And that would be on the sunny side of the street. Now there are huge empty spots even on the shady side. (Being that this is Brattleboro in the age of Social Media, an age of constant umbrage, I feel I should point out that the use of the word "shady" was not a reflection on local businesses or their practices, but a reference to that side and portion of sidewalk which is not in full direct sun.) <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7Wj9CUnrkvnsDZP2XFHbuML8wM43exRqim5UaNbPz7cFw4Z2pf1CejcEGp1V94pH6XfBYVX-ld76hoAKdhYTI_U1EuRsuBxym49ZGw3ihjJigP899LJ5BWC_QdDp8cEMifssWeDBxxzB/s1600/brattleboro+july+4th+flag+marchers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7Wj9CUnrkvnsDZP2XFHbuML8wM43exRqim5UaNbPz7cFw4Z2pf1CejcEGp1V94pH6XfBYVX-ld76hoAKdhYTI_U1EuRsuBxym49ZGw3ihjJigP899LJ5BWC_QdDp8cEMifssWeDBxxzB/s640/brattleboro+july+4th+flag+marchers.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The parade - not my picture, taken from a website which credited it to "Kristopher Radder/Brattleboro Reformer Staff"</td></tr>
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Many years back (stop me if I've noted this before), our 4th of July parade was one of the biggest around, drawing state politicians as well as those from the county and local towns, bands from all the area high schools, synchronized snowmobile spectaculars from the Shriners, and so on and so forth. This being Brattleboro, protest groups were an integral part of our July 4th parade. A few such groups would participate while protesting the local and problematic nuclear power plant. The Chamber of Commerce used to stage the parade; when a good bit of funding began to come from the power plant company, the rules were changed to forbid protests. Parade participation and attendance dropped over such heavy handed attempts at censorship in a event celebrating our country's freedoms. Not long after all of that occurred, a new parade and festival started on the first Saturday in June. When first proposed by someone who moved here from the cities, the proposal was for a parade of bovines down Main Street so that tourists could see the animals from which their milk originated. We used to refer to the idea as "the running of the cows". <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiSNbW-9RKxXrKz0HfCHUjyhC6isrIlwhdtRdweV-sMXoNKjWZzyHuB-GbPMR-U48Jae0Dkmtj4LSX9esKz4p0v6KkWZV48r8ddKGUHfj5uG76YKsItuysw3RzcmU-DdvvnO4cGM7y_ZM/s1600/scan0017ab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiSNbW-9RKxXrKz0HfCHUjyhC6isrIlwhdtRdweV-sMXoNKjWZzyHuB-GbPMR-U48Jae0Dkmtj4LSX9esKz4p0v6KkWZV48r8ddKGUHfj5uG76YKsItuysw3RzcmU-DdvvnO4cGM7y_ZM/s640/scan0017ab.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All I remember about taking this was that it was off of a back road about a half hour west of Brattleboro, July c1993 - 1994</td></tr>
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For the first few years of this new extravaganza, sponsorship was provided by corporate agribusinesses in an area known for localism, small family farms, and organic and natural foods. The first year or so, at the once little festival at the parade's end, free samples of ice cream (the kind with bovine growth hormones) were given out, as well as bottled water whose origin was suspect. The organizers learned quickly and by year three the only available refreshments cost a good bit of money. Over the next several years, the parade folks began to acknowledge their localism faux pas, and the sponsors began to change to concerns which didn't seem to be the diametric opposite of everything our local farms stood for. It is now the big event of the year, and not meant for local folks as much as their relatives who come to visit that weekend, as well as the standard tourist crowd. Their success has helped to kill off the annual parade of the High School alumni and the current year's graduating class, the Winter Carnival parade, and a couple of others I can't quite recall at the moment, The kiddie Halloween parade is a shadow of its former self when it happens at all. Seeing empty sidewalks where people used to stand four to five deep on July the 4th is truly sad. As I write, the parade has already ended, and another tradition has been broken. The official end of most local parades has, for several years now, featured Alfred, our local black celebrity drag queen "debuting his annual top-secret ensemble". Now there is a parade unit after him, while he sits in a car and is seldom in full regalia. During the years I've watched or participated in the various parades, all of the local dairy farms have vanished, their herds sold off. The changes, from local to corporate, to 'localism' as supplied to tourists by corporations which bought most of the organic companies, the killing off of local traditions in favor of corporate sponsored, branded and promoted tourism designed to separate the remains of the middle class from their money, is a reflection of the changes in the country during the same years. The meaning of the day seems to have been lost to the empty calorie glitz of pandering to the tourist dollar. Sic transit Gloria mundi. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEiz8MQM8eMYpr6bNIo8bjUsad3yI9-bgrO2MF7i8JlX-s595035Xlxb1eoBj-6wgo35Byr7lqXN3-3LrBeiGgel9Qnjbmn75PnhDI31PZVfKBbdKmh8p8sDyE_WTkYMinYmMP07OuHV2/s1600/alfred+hughes+jr+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEiz8MQM8eMYpr6bNIo8bjUsad3yI9-bgrO2MF7i8JlX-s595035Xlxb1eoBj-6wgo35Byr7lqXN3-3LrBeiGgel9Qnjbmn75PnhDI31PZVfKBbdKmh8p8sDyE_WTkYMinYmMP07OuHV2/s640/alfred+hughes+jr+%25282%2529.JPG" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alfred - not my photo, and, sorry, but I don't know who to credit.<br />
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-29294948320362228052016-06-01T08:01:00.000-04:002016-06-01T08:02:09.512-04:00A month of SaturdaysMemory is such an odd thing. At the moment, there is a panel from the comic strip 'Peanuts' floating around in my brain. One of the characters in the strip is uttering a well timed, "Good Grief". I can't quite remember which character says it, though. I want to say it's Charlie Brown, but then I think it must be Lucy. Or Linus. I notice that I haven't posted here for an entire month. Good Grief. <br />
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It's been a busy time. There's been quite a bit of work at the garden. I still haven't gotten around to writing much about Solar Hill, where my little plots of insanity are located. I could swear (and I do more than I'd like) that I've written a brief history of the place. It was once a Governor's (and Senator's) mansion. The house has also been used for research by an optics company, as the main building of an experimental college, and has for over 20 years now been used as offices for alternative healers, therapists, and similar or related services. A second building was added at some point - I think for the college. It now houses the Neighborhood School House, an experimental educational facility of some note. They've added pre-school. Every nice day, shortly after 10:30am one group heads to the garden during recess, and I instantly hear the voices of 6 or 7 of the very youngest youngsters calling out, "Hi, Steven", "Hi, Steven", "Hi Steven". I both love it and want to run and hide at the same time. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I always feel odd taking pictures with people in them. I don't want to 'invade' someone's space.<br />
As the tulips started blooming, a couple of the kids saw me about to take a picture and asked <br />
if I would include them. As I'm not mentioning anyone's name, I hope it's okay to post this. <br />
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The above photo of tulips is not one I had intended to post - it's inclusion was an accident. I can't get rid of it, though. If I add a caption, the photo vanishes along with the photo above it. If I try to delete it, all heck breaks loose and much of the text vanishes. Or re-arranges itself. After struggling with it for awhile, I decided to utilize the lessons acquired in the aging process and simply let it be. <br />
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In April and for a good bit of May I spent so much time working on Solar Hill's gardens that I'm now pressed to catch up with my own. At the moment, I'm glowing over the return to blooming life of a few of the iris. The white ones haven't bloomed in many years. The ever so delicate light yellow ones haven't bloomed in many years longer. Soil amendments helped. (Sometimes spreading manure is a good thing.) Weeding helped - I now firmly believe that the Iris don't like too much around them. They want to show off and become somewhat recalcitrant if they sense any blooming competition. The yellow iris were left behind by my friend Jonathon and incorporated into my garden when I had to move it many years ago to make more room for the schoolhouse's playground area. I remember them as being of a darker shade, with brown falls and veining. Maybe that one is there but hasn't bloomed yet? Maybe it has something to do with the soil? At any rate, they only bloomed once after their initial move. I've moved them over the last two autumns, and this year they finally seem happy. (They should be, they are where they can show off.) I've long had a problem with yellow colors in the garden - I just don't know how to use them to my liking. Maybe that's because I don't try very often.<br />
But these delight me. <br />
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Blogger is once again giving me a bit of trouble, and the morning is a wastin'. Time to go. More on the garden, and May's radio shows, later. </div>
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-43625527107378382862016-05-02T09:56:00.000-04:002016-05-02T10:01:38.245-04:00Playin' rondo variations on the sciatic nerve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Grump, grumpy, grumpola, to grump, or not to grump... do you see where this is going? Do I? Should that be "Do eye" just to be contrary and upset grammariticians? No, I'm not just trying to cover up for my lack of posts, or the fact that I'm now behind by three radio show links on my own blog. If I thought anyone actually read any of this or listened to my shows through the posted links in any sort of regular fashion, I'd be horrified. Something is wrong. I'm having the worst attack yet of pain from the sciatic nerve. It's so bad that I can't think off hand if this is the beginning of week three or week four of this go'round. I'm out of any kind of painkillers, and it will be another two hours before there will be a bus to the market. My spine is now making complaints. I wonder if has to do with the rainy weather? My skin condition has been acting up - it's not supposed to be painful but it is at times, and I seem to be in one of those times. It's enough to make me wonder if there is a doll somewhere that looks like me with any number of pins stuck in it. </div>
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I've been goofing off and watching movies again. Last week, all but one of the movies I watched had some bearing (not that much really) on my radio show. I've just deleted a couple of paragraphs about the interconnectedness of the movies I watched. I shall try to get back to pondering such things a little later - after I get to the store and purchase a giant bottle of Aleve. For now, I'll just catch up with posting the last few weeks of radio shows.<br />
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I'll start off with the program from April 16th. The legislature in my state has had a major push to decriminalize the use of marijuana. The bill passed the Senate, but once it got to the House it became the unhappy subject of legal shenanigans. A committee decided to delay, stonewall, and obfuscate by re-writing the bill, and took out the decriminalization part in favor of just discussing regulations. They passed their version to the next committee, which put everything back, plus added a clause which would allow folks to have two plants for their own use. (The two plants thing was standard, if unacknowledged, 'look the other way' practice in Vermont some 20 years ago.) With the "four-twenty" a few days away, I thought I'd do a show featuring viper songs of the 1930's. ("Four-twenty" is a pot culture reference, and a day on which "smoke-ins" are held to encourage repeal of anti-hemp and anti-marijuana legislation. It grew out of a meeting of students at the appointed time to search for a fabled abandoned field of pot. These things take on a life of their own.)<br />
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The above, by the way, is one of my most played shows on Soundcloud. It was almost lost - the station's recording computer program burped and ate my show. Luckily, one of the DJs wanted to hear it, didn't know about my recording and posting my shows, and set his home computer to record the program. His volume was set a little high and there is a bit of distortion - particularly during the first few minutes - but I'm extremely grateful the show was saved, and that someone likes my show enough to record it. Another listener used to record it on cassette tapes and send them out to his friends.<br />
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Up next, the show from April 23rd, which took note of the birthdays of Lionel Hampton, Shirley Temple, and one of the show's Patron Saints and Goddess of Song, Ella Fitzgerald. It was also the start of Passover. In all of the surviving radio shows which are generally available, there are only a couple which even mention it. Those two mentions were from "The Eternal Light", a drama series. I assume that shows like "The Goldbergs" had Passover themes, but those shows are not among the survivors. So, for friends who celebrate the holiday, I included a segment I made last year which edited together scraps found of a NYC Yiddish radio station. Included in that segment, the Barry Sisters sing "Yiddle Mitn Fidl" in both Yiddish and English. <br />
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Just as a by the by
kind of thing, "Yiddle With His Fiddle" was the most successful Yiddish musical ever filmed. (I think the actual citation is that it is the most successful movie in Yiddish.) It starred Molly Picon, a wonderful entertainer now largely forgotten. I screened a 16mm print of it when I lived in NYC, but don't remember much of it. I can't find a reference to this anywhere, but I'm fairly certain it was a stage show long before it was a movie. I have a memory of discovering that a theatre on Second Avenue (or was it on Third?) on the Lower East Side whose existence was endangered had been where the show played, with Molly Picon as the star. <br />
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And that brings us to the most recent show, which "played a few" for the birthdays of Blossom Dearie, Duke Ellington, Kate Smith, Lorenz (Larry) Hart, and Bing Crosby. There were also segments for Walpurgisnacht and May Day. Whew! Too much to do, not enough time. Many years ago, I did a show called "Bing and..." which was only Bing Crosby and various other performers in duets and etc. It was, I think, the most fun I ever had in the 'doing' of one of my shows. Maybe this Saturday I'll do more for Bing. And Kate Smith only got one song. Few now remember that she was a jazz baby singing "hot" songs. <br />
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Well, now that the posting of the radio shows has been caught up, I can go writhe in pain until it's time to catch the bus. I shall try to get back later (today, tomorrow, or whenever) to record impressions of the movies I've watched, as well as the garden and this year's attempts at Spring. <br />
<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-46790909329729522712016-04-10T13:21:00.000-04:002016-04-10T13:34:33.341-04:00Yes, memory is now like that comback you thought of a half an hour too late. About a half an hour after I finished the last post, I finally remembered the film I'd watched (and deleted form the DVR) which I wanted to note someday before I forget it completely. It was Tim Burton's "Big Fish". I like Burton's movies, even the less than successful ones. It's the kind of movie in which no one gets any appendages cut off in clinical detail while fighting invading intergalactic warriors. There aren't even any transforming intergalactic warriors. There is a transformation of sorts, but it's part of a story about a man who is a teller of tall tales, and his relationship with his son. Released in 2003, it probably couldn't get made today, even for an internet only streaming content provider. All in all, a lovely little film I hope to see again someday.<br />
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As usual, I'm running late on some things and rushing through others. One item in the "late" category is the posting of my radio show from April the 2nd. The show opened with a few songs to greet the new month, then turned to a meditation of sorts on the idea of a pop song "April in Paris". <br />
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By the way, I've noticed that some of my shows posted here through SoundCloud no longer display the player/picture for that episode. Just click on the square and go to my account on SoundCloud - I have shows archived there going back to November 29th, 2014. <br />
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There's lots of other stuff and nonsense on which I'd like to catch up, but have little time to do so. Which means that I'm going to post last night's show and go do other things. <br />
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I would like to make a mental note that today is the anniversary of my turning on the new transmitter which put WVEW-lp back on the air almost a year after the fire at the Brooks House. This event was on April the 10th, 2012. I had also turned on the old transmitter when the station made its broadcast debut on September 1st, 2006. I turned the transmitter on for radio free brattleboro a couple of times, too. It's probably quite wrong to be proud of such things, but I am for many reasons I'm not going to enumerate just now. <br />
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Okay, now - last night's show played a few for lyricist E. Y. "Yip" Harburg, whose birthday was April the 8th. And I played a few for Capitol Records, which was founded around this time in 1942. Accounts differ, and I've seen April the 9th (1942) listed as the day the company was founded, the day it changed its name from Liberty Records to Capitol (about a week after the founding), and the day on which its first record was cut. And finally, there was a set for pianist/band leader Martin Denny who practically founded the "Exotica" movement of the late 1950's and early 60's which resulted in a proliferation of Tiki bars and lounges. The image for the sound file for the show is of a woman listening to a crystal radio made out of a coconut shell. It seemed appropriate at the time.<br />
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As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show(s).
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p.s. Well, what do you know, all of the shows form this year are now displaying their players properly. I'd written an old address I had for Soundcloud's tech support (all such info having vanished from their site), but never heard from them. I'm just glad it's working again. It's not like friends or family are currently waiting with baited breath for each and every post, but I'd like things to be available for anyone who stumbles upon these pages. sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-20023374640890665062016-03-31T16:44:00.000-04:002016-03-31T17:04:24.119-04:00Harness My Zebras"Harness my zebras - gift of the Nubian King."<br />
So sayeth Mary of Magdala, who was a bit miffed that her fave hunk was off gallivanting around the countryside with some carpenter.<br />
Oh, the shame.<br />
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Which means that the big old fashioned Hollywood epics have been showing again somewhere in the recesses of memory, as well as on the tv, and on my wall. That video projector I gave myself for Christmas has reignited my on again off again affair with one of my first loves, the Hollywood movie; as well as the offshoot subgenre, the Hollywood Movie Spectacular (usually with special effects for things like giant apes, cataclysms, flying carpets, various and sundry miracles, etc.). <br />
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A little over a week ago, my attempt to gain useable space in my DVR resulted in watching the 1924 silent version of 'The Thief of Bagdad'. I have the 1940 version waiting as well, he bragged with a happy feeling that found visible expression in a sly smile of delight. It's been years since I've seen either. The silent version is a sort of major Hollywood studio super colossal big budget auteur epic. Produced by its star, Douglas Fairbanks, the director's credit is given to Raoul Walsh but it was Fairbank's project all the way. (He wrote the script under a pseudonym.) The releasing studio was United Artists, which had been formed a few years earlier to give greater artistic control of its product (and, needless to say, financial participation) to its principals; Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford (Mrs. Fairbanks at the time), Charlie Chaplin, and D.W. Griffith. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How big is that set? See along the bottom area of the picture? Those little forms are actors.</td></tr>
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The sets, among the largest ever built, were constructed for Fairbanks' 1922 production of 'Robin Hood', and said to be 10 stories in height. They were redesigned into an art nouveau Bagdad by William Cameron Menzies. The walls of old Bagdad were later re-used for the gate to King Kong's part of Skull Island. The set was ultimately burned to ashes as a stand in for Atlanta in 'Gone With the Wind'. Those scenes of that particular epic, by the way, were directed by William Camron Menzies. It is said that among the old sets burned for 'GWTW' were parts of a set used in the silent 'King of Kings'. I have not yet figured out if the silent movie Jerusalem was another redressed variation of Nottingham/Bagdad revisited or just how the 'King of Kings' (via DeMille and Paramount studios) got into that conflagration. When I was in my teens, I read that the Kong gates were originally from the Babylon set of the 1916 epic 'Intolerance'. I've since read that the Intolerance sets, which were left standing after filming ended (i.e. the money ran out) were taken down in 1919. I guess Hollywood history is a lot like Hollywood versions of history. A major shopping center, which includes an 'event' theatre (where tv shows like the Academy Awards are staged) now sits on the site that was once ancient Babylon (at Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenues in Los Angeles), while Nottingham castle/Bagdad (and maybe Jerusalem) were at Santa Monica Blvd. and North Formosa Avenue, several blocks to the southwest. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nottingham Castle on the Pickford-Fairbanks lot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtfB75qlrNgQIW6OnfkozKQQo_lJ7ZuUbw8nrrbIll7kNyQt46fi8hoLxEO8-L99GsdYWrx_GTs8_tbQMKVjxkR3ZNS33aAZNcEhjfmhrIhu6OOPiZB_ZEmwYPSYSgC-5CepMNuK2OpO_/s1600/Pickford_Studio+bagdad+set+aerial+1924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtfB75qlrNgQIW6OnfkozKQQo_lJ7ZuUbw8nrrbIll7kNyQt46fi8hoLxEO8-L99GsdYWrx_GTs8_tbQMKVjxkR3ZNS33aAZNcEhjfmhrIhu6OOPiZB_ZEmwYPSYSgC-5CepMNuK2OpO_/s640/Pickford_Studio+bagdad+set+aerial+1924.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two years after the set was built for Robin Hood, it became Bagdad.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">As a by the by kind of thing, Pickford and Fairbanks had purchased the former Jesse Hampton studio for their productions. It later became the United Artists lot. In the sound era, Joseph Schenck and Samuel Goldwyn filmed there, adding offices and sound stages for productions like 'Wuthering Heights'. The dual ownership status became a problem after the land and studio buildings were left to various inheritors. The courts, in settling the various claims and lawsuits, forced a sale. For a time it was owned by Warner Bros. An independent rental facility known as "The Lot" now occupies part of old Bagdad. Other parts of the former Pickford-Fairbanks studio are now used for an apartment house, a water processing plant, and various retail stores. Among the productions which filmed there are "The Best Years of Our Lives", "The Bishop's Wife", the Roy Rogers tv show, "Guys and Dolls", "Some Like It Hot", 'The Apartment",. "West Side Story", "Apocalypse Now", and in some odd turn of fate, "Robin Hood - Men in Tights".</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Fairbanks 'Thief' is a heck of a lot of fun, but it is definitely best seen on as big a screen as possible. Camera positions constantly shift from intimate close-ups of the principals to shots intended to show the enormity of the sets; human figures are so dwarfed in some shots that one might assume the humans were miniatures. They weren't - the sets were that big. It doesn't help that the aspect ratio is assumed to be 1.33:1 (which is what is listed on the Internet Movie Database). At the time, a 1:1 ratio was common. Printing the film (or showing it) using 1:33:1 thus cuts off a small portion of the frame. Usually, it is the top of the frame that goes missing in such situations. With the Fairbanks Thief, however, the height is kept for effect, while the bottom of the picture frame is impacted. For example - in the shot below the thief, while trying to become worthy of the hand of a Princess, is tempted by sirens in a scene of only a few seconds duration, part of a larger underwater sequence. </span></div>
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The set for this scene took months to build - the art nouveau seaweed and jellyfish were made of cut glass.</div>
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Sadly, the bottom of the picture is cut off - I assume due to the wrong aspect ratio being used.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The art nouveau design definitely creates a texture and feel that is different from all other film versions of the tales. It's old Bagdad in context of a slightly fevered Maxfield Parrish dream. I have read that Fairbanks initially wanted to hire Parrish to do the design work. Here's one of William Cameron Menzies sketches, part of a set he produced in a weekend's time to persuade Fairbanks to hire him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fairbanks was around 40 when production work began, and while he still looked pretty good, and wore costumes that accented his (ahem) assets, he was getting a little long in the tooth for such roles. Still, he had a field day jumping and dancing around enemies and situations with the abandon of his younger self. Most of the time it's a most enjoyable and naturalistic performance, marred only on a couple of occasions by old silent film pantomime techniques such as scratching the palm or grasping at the air to denote the thief's desire to obtain something for his own. It's not that such actions spoil any of the proceedings, it's more that such things are so startling in otherwise fluid storytelling that they become minor distractions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The storyline rambles all over the place in a most delightful fashion as our hero undergoes transformation and various quests. (Well what did you expect? What good are heroes without quests?) Along the way are rival suitors, a hiss-able villain (an evil Mongol prince), descents into brutality (the whipping of a man over a minor bit of thievery, and a later whipping of the titular thief), dragons and other monsters (my favorite being a giant underwater spider), valleys of fire, a crystal ball, flying horses, flying carpets, armies from grains of sand - so much in fact that viewers have a tendency to offer audible gasps of astonishment, and mutter "What now?" or "You gotta be kidin' me" in sympathy with our hero as he approaches his next challenge. </span><br />
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The whipping of a small time thief</div>
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Taking on an attacking underwater spider (from an untinted print)</div>
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The Mongol villain (boo- hiss) (the following inter-title gives an idea of his evil ways)</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The print shown on the Turner Classic Movies channel was easily the best quality I've seen on this title, made up from two sources, from what I gather. The tints seem slightly strong when viewed television sized, but blown up in projection are subtle, lovely, and add much to the atmosphere. </span><span style="font-size: small;">This version had an orchestral score which utilized themes from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade. From a quick look online I did a month or two ago, there are (I think) two versions out there on DVD/BluRay which have orchestral scores - one using a small orchestra in a reading of the original score sent to theatres (which used Rimsky-Korsakov) and the version I'm writing about which came form the Cohen group which has a Carl Davis score, which also utilizes the Rimsky-Korsakov themes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">When originally shown in the big city theatres, Fairbanks had the various movie palaces scented with perfumes, with extra atmospherics provided by performers who chanted the call to prayer, costumed to enhance an Oriental mood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It was also fun to watch both the silent <a href="http://auto-de-fey.blogspot.com/2012/04/lost-in-rain-in-juarez-and-its-easter.html" target="_blank">'The King of Kings' (1927), and the sound 'King of Kings' (1961)</a> later in the same week. I'd quite forgotten the physical brutality of the first part of the Nicholas Ray version. This time around, I kept noticing that playing Jesus Christ got a little iffy for the actors involved, as both productions are short on character development. Just the same, the silent version (as noted at the link above) opens with the zebra drawn chariot, and ends with the resurrection as the world explodes into two strip technicolor as though we have all landed in Oz. I saw the 1961 version in 70mm Super Technorama back when. (Super Technorama was an anamorphic widescreen process using film exposed to run through the projector in a vertical manner rather than horizontal - similar to Todd-AO. The idea was to provide widescreen without using lenses which could adversely affect the image. So of course they added anamorphic lenses to it.) When I first saw it, I thought it dwelled too much on the politics of the time, and wanted it to get on to miracles and stuff. Nowadays the political parts seem to go by rather quickly (Barabbas is a revolutionary plotting the overthrow of the Roman state in Judea). (There was, by the way, another movie released in 1961 with Anthony Quinn as "Barabbas". My memory of it is not clear, but clear enough that I no desire to refresh my memory of it.) Plus, the 1961 version has that glorious </span><span style="font-size: small;">Miklós Rózsa score - one feels sanctified just by listening to it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Last night I finally caught up with the Bing Crosby "Pennies From Heaven". I've got company coming, so I'll have to make reference notes later - along with notes on several other movies I've watched recently, either for the umpteenth time, or for the first, i.e. "Boyhood", "The Third Man", "Mark of the Vampire", the 1929 "Bulldog Drummond", "Dracula A.D. 1972" (and "Dracula, Prince of Darkness"), the 1933 "Alice in Wonderland", and a few others I am embarrassed to admit I can't think of at the moment. Hopefully, I'll remember what I wanted to note. </span></div>
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sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-27199560738775182272016-03-27T13:31:00.000-04:002016-03-27T13:31:54.624-04:00Easter SundayI've probably mentioned this before, but I miss the local tradition of a downtown Easter Sunday zombie walk. I think the last time I saw it was on Easter Sunday 2012. That was on April the 8th, and the main reason I remember is that I spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon assisting our engineer with setting up and wiring the new WVEW-lp studio. You know, it would explain a lot about these last few years if I were to assume that the zombies got me. <br />
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Curses! Sidetracked again! </div>
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On to other tasks. I shall have to miss today's chance to be brilliantly witty, charming, and possessed of... well, maybe just leave it as possessed. </div>
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And now (drumroll please) last night radio show. (Applause, cheers) (moves hands up and down, "Thank You, Thank You, that's enough now, thank you".) </div>
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As you may have guessed, it's a themed show chock full of secular Easter time stuff from ye olde days of radio, and commercially released sound recordings made on black shellac. </div>
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As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show. </div>
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="650" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/255398920&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-57203340920918860162016-03-20T14:03:00.000-04:002016-03-20T14:03:23.100-04:00Onion rings for breakfastDo you know what happens when you get too busy for the daily chores of life? You get onion rings for breakfast. My schedule got messed up again thanks to stuff at the radio station (all volunteer, including humble self) and I never got to the supermarket for groceries. As I don't have a car these days, I have to rely on the bus. I missed my planned excursion on Friday morning, with the result that while I have plenty of leftovers for dinner, I'm out of cereal, eggs, and well, just about everything. I could make rice and veggie dishes for dinner for a couple more days without a shopping trip, but I've been trying to be better about actually eating breakfast. Balance and all that. Last night I wasn't all that hungry after doing my radio show, so this morning I was primed for some nice scrambled eggs with veggies, French toast, cereal - something. But the cupboard for the necessary ingredients is bare. (Studio apartments don't have much in the way of cupboards.) All that's in the freezer is some turkey stock, and the onion rings. They made a good brunch. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05U73Q3GypGdRv_wiQZ737eE7QTVBt2xkKkl3czgqOPLXjPbXNzNwU5EiM4SyccxmS25P8zxf083ktKqm5wP4U7tp5p3YGUfedHXzkwCv3hiFwzicLXi5EnoT76-H0GDT-qwe2oP5s7U4/s1600/recycled+radio+16th+anniversary.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05U73Q3GypGdRv_wiQZ737eE7QTVBt2xkKkl3czgqOPLXjPbXNzNwU5EiM4SyccxmS25P8zxf083ktKqm5wP4U7tp5p3YGUfedHXzkwCv3hiFwzicLXi5EnoT76-H0GDT-qwe2oP5s7U4/s400/recycled+radio+16th+anniversary.png" width="400" /></a>Logging in to the blog made me realize that I never posted last week's radio show, which was the 16th anniversary edition. The show has gone through a few evolutions, but lately I haven't been able to spend the time to do the shows the way I want to do them. Between running the station, and being President of the station's non-profit, there is just too much to keep me busy. ("If only I were paid rather than a volunteer", he thought to himself for the 1,474th time.) Over the last few years the show has concentrated on the mid 1940's. This has been mostly due to the number of music oriented shows from that period which have become available. Those episodes, when the entire broadcast was spent in a certain week or two with various excerpts from radio shows of the weeks involved - including the news - are the shows of which I'm proudest. But I've been feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. There's no time to listen to the radio shows of the period, no time to make new clips from the shows, I've just been re-using the clips I made in the year and a half I wasn't running the station. I was thinking of calling it a day last August with the show that marked the 70th anniversary of the end of WWII. At the time I didn't think that I'd accomplished what I had wanted with that show, so I figured I would just keep at it for awhile. Since then, I've had an increase in the odd verbal mistakes I've been making ('senior moments'), and an increase in the feeling that I'm not putting together the quality of shows that I want to accomplish. And I feel like I'm done with the WWII story for awhile. Over the last few weeks, I gave a lot of thought to calling it a day. Just before the anniversary show, I decided that while I'm done with the WWII shows for awhile, I'm not done with the show itself. That decision had a lot to do with my thoughts about Delores deleting her blog. I wrote to her, by the way - she's fine. She didn't say why she deleted it, and I didn't ask. At any rate, here's the 16th Anniversary edition of Recycled Radio:<br />
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Another thing that got away from me this week - I'd intended to start writing a bit about the movies I've been seeing. When I first started collecting 16mm movies, I began a practice of noting the movies I showed - mostly as a way of tracking bulb life. When I worked in film distribution, I took home a lot of movies from the company's non-theatrical library. Now I wish I had made notes about the films as well. I remember my assistant asking me to show him Mario Bava's 'Four Flies on Gray Velvet', but I'll be darned if I remember much about it 40 years later. I actually went out to the movies at a movie theatre last week to see - oh, great - I can't remember the name. It's a Marvel anti-superhero superhero movie. Ah, "Deadpool". (Bless the ability to instantly look things up on the internet.) It was in its last week at the local theatre, a late era smaller town movie palace, built in 1938. I've posted about the Latchis before. For its last week the movie went back to the main auditorium which is mostly intact and still has an old fashioned big screen. (The only change of consequence to the main auditorium was turning the "crying room" into a separate screen.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkVtnyQHF4x6eA-7JCxOCzKHhmVEZQRYTkpWTrhmmbvyjzecnSI08-AAFH-rZZEbPCrQyvgSv3IzJrAxNLbdkS0sMObqawBQLCjTq5B0eyQBFnQ7UouM_R6UHAJpl1TeRUZ2IL2IDT27-/s1600/deadpool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkVtnyQHF4x6eA-7JCxOCzKHhmVEZQRYTkpWTrhmmbvyjzecnSI08-AAFH-rZZEbPCrQyvgSv3IzJrAxNLbdkS0sMObqawBQLCjTq5B0eyQBFnQ7UouM_R6UHAJpl1TeRUZ2IL2IDT27-/s400/deadpool.jpg" width="270" /></a>I've not really seen much of the wave of superhero movies of the last decade. While the special effects made possible by computers have opened up a whole new world of possibilities, I can't say that using them for ever bigger explosions and more intense battle scenes has any kind of innate appeal for me. Plus, I was never a Marvel kind of guy. My era was DC comics with the likes of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Justice League of America, et. al. Over the years I've known a number of people who have toiled in the comics industry - when I used to manage that big bookstore in NYC in the 1970's, the guys from Marvel were regular customers. At that same store, I gave several autograph parties for various illustrators. So I've been aware of many of the problems of the artists, especially the shameful way Jack Kirby's heirs were treated, and etc. So a part of my boycott of superhero movies was due to my feelings about Marvel specifically. At any rate, 'Deadpool' makes fun of its own genre without really making it to the levels of camp. It's a movie for the teenage boy still hiding inside of adults no matter what chromosome set they have. It's got the best opening and end title sequences in recent memory, and is highly entertaining. But even though it was very enjoyable, it was kind of like popcorn without butter on it - something was missing, it was satisfying in an empty calories sort of way. Now I have no problem with sheer silly entertainment for entertainment's sake, after all, one of my favorite movies is "Cobra Woman" with Maria Monetz as twin sisters. The problem I have with this kind of big budget film making may come down to the budget itself. When one is spending over a hundred million dollars to make one two hour movie, problems with protecting the investment arise. The necessity of having every single thing planned out leads to a certain lifelessness. This kind of filmmaking used to be the B picture, inventiveness due to budget constraints was required; there was a kind of 'make it up as you go along' giddiness to many of them. Now, it's a very studied affair, a linked group of set pieces told in broad strokes and broadswords. Even the cheeky vulgarity seemed too planned. When I see things like this, I keep wondering what if Kurosawa had been able to use this technology while making 'Dreams', or if Orson Welles or Dali had been able to use it.... etc. <br />
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I keep thinking that I must have seen a movie at home this week, but I can't recall having watched one. I did watch a few pieces of movies on the Blue-Ray player a friend lent me to test the format. And one day was spent at the Smith College annual bulb show. Tuesday night a friend without tv came over to watch the primary election returns, and to bitch about the current state of politics. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNuio5e1FiYwcPf-8sNxkDk_tikqSTi985BZ0CRWd8a8lyVpHqavb_1DbMEpKLhpU0JMoCK5PDKPeGD6MZgC0GD_tk7SdMRP95jtiBs6gq4EkMg1X3VQmxGXaIPS7EJuGH5vouwVzBldO/s1600/swing+into+spring+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNuio5e1FiYwcPf-8sNxkDk_tikqSTi985BZ0CRWd8a8lyVpHqavb_1DbMEpKLhpU0JMoCK5PDKPeGD6MZgC0GD_tk7SdMRP95jtiBs6gq4EkMg1X3VQmxGXaIPS7EJuGH5vouwVzBldO/s400/swing+into+spring+2016.jpg" width="400" /></a>Spring arrived at 12:30am this morning. We've had a temperature drop, and at one point snow was predicted. No matter, it's Spring. My radio show had its annual 'Swing Into Spring', on last night's program, which also played a few for Stephen Sondheim's birthday on March 22nd. 'Senior moments' intruded when I noted Ted Lewis as Al Lewis; and totally forgot to credit a lovely piano solo on "Meditation" to Marian MacPartland, whose birthday is today, March 20th. These kinds of mistakes have been increasing in frequency. My memory doesn't work as well as it once did - or as quickly. This morning I read that statins, which I take for high levels of bad cholesterol, can cause this kind of thing as a side effect. I once went on a specialized diet for many months without any change to the cholesterol reading. My doctor smiled as she said, "this is genetics laughing in your face". When compared to the size of my father, his brothers, and my brothers from both my father and my mother's later family, I may be taller than my Dad and his brothers, but otherwise as far as bulk is concerned, I'm the runt of the litter. Also possibly contributing to these little lapses in memory are the antidepressants I used to take. Ditto the anti-anxietals I used to take. Luckily I got off of those years ago. Next time I see my doctor, I hope I remember to discuss the statin. At any rate, here's the annual "Swing Into Spring". As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.<br />
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.sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6505078736156175892.post-73577045974877621012016-03-09T15:55:00.002-05:002016-03-09T15:58:25.953-05:00A little extra and the Bishop's wifeI pay a little extra to the cable company to have a cable box with DVR, digital video recording. <br />
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I could write more than a few posts deriving from that one sentence. The cable company's rate structure and business model makes me think of modern day pirates. The quality of digital recording is excellent, and it records in high definition if one has that service - I pay a little extra for that, too. Why I should have to pony up more money for high def in a world in which high def became the broadcast standard some years ago has not been explained. Did I use the word 'pirates' yet? There is a problem, of course. (Isn't there always?) The box fills up with recordings, at which point programs and movies have to be deleted to make way for new items of interest. <br />
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I record a lot of movies, mostly from the classic movie channel. You know, the one that I was fortunate to get when it was part of a special deal? Otherwise, I'd have had to pay a lot extra for an entire service level of sports channels which I would never watch in order to get the one non-sports channel in that package, i.e. the classic movies channel. Did I use the word 'pirates' yet?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjjLSskrThqthKSJ_oB0nQshMQJpH_QY8FTnywlV81XpZ8D484raN2f-dCYt000UGviZ87dKYGWY521x5nl-N3yYYlctqZVjMdMPQjb_oSRcgj4gfLlswveakcEQtDETOyx1ActhZZJ9z/s1600/Cary+Grant+and+Loretta+Young+in+The+Bishop%2527s+Wife+-+1947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjjLSskrThqthKSJ_oB0nQshMQJpH_QY8FTnywlV81XpZ8D484raN2f-dCYt000UGviZ87dKYGWY521x5nl-N3yYYlctqZVjMdMPQjb_oSRcgj4gfLlswveakcEQtDETOyx1ActhZZJ9z/s320/Cary+Grant+and+Loretta+Young+in+The+Bishop%2527s+Wife+-+1947.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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Well, anyway, since I gave myself that relatively inexpensive video projector for Christmas, I've been watching a couple of movies just about every week. The way I currently have things set up, the old Hollywood style projected picture is about 5 feet wide, and a little under 4 feet in height. Widescreen, well at least the tv version of it, is over 6 feet in length. In my small-ish space, I could reorient things and get a much larger picture, but my current method allows for a guest or two without totally rearranging the furniture. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTaXbcnMgpTO8igN0QVtvwo5OBnRYQ3tak0Uit8Ja4Q_k79crCktm68l8iDrbnyrMPYGfcRZKs29wRLJoP7MA0-bS59zG-cRvTJlPNGRqG5tObR_DDqmylR7hSuHdshLhkf2FFFm0Qbl2/s1600/the+bishop%2527s+wife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTaXbcnMgpTO8igN0QVtvwo5OBnRYQ3tak0Uit8Ja4Q_k79crCktm68l8iDrbnyrMPYGfcRZKs29wRLJoP7MA0-bS59zG-cRvTJlPNGRqG5tObR_DDqmylR7hSuHdshLhkf2FFFm0Qbl2/s400/the+bishop%2527s+wife.jpg" width="297" /></a>Last night, I finally caught up with "The Bishop's Wife". For some reason or other, I'd never seen it. It's another of those movies with a somewhat messy history. Produced by Samuel Goldwyn using facilities at MGM, it was distributed by RKO, and somehow ended up looking like it might have been filmed at Paramount. The story told of a somewhat fastidious Bishop who had become so focused on the task of raising money for a cathedral that he was ignoring his wife and daughter, as well as the needs of parishioners. Heavenly intervention arrives in the form of a rather rakish angel. Goldwyn became so dissatisfied with the dailies he called a halt to production, replaced the director, had changes made to the sets as well as the script, and changed one important bit of the casting. The role of the Bishop was played by Cary Grant, the Angel was played by David Niven. During the hiatus, the director and Goldwyn decided that the roles should be reversed. Grant was allegedly not very happy with this turn of events. The story has changed over the years, however, so that now it is said that the change in roles was Grant's idea and it was Niven who was unhappy. (Niven was at a low point during the filming. His wife was injured in a fall and died from ensuing complications leaving him with two young sons to raise.) However the change happened, both men gave excellent performances in their new roles. Loretta Young does a decent job as the Bishop's wife, suffering neglect with admirable restraint, but was not quite as inspired in her performance as her co-stars.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyW_6CDXpbPrkfOAWm-umhd-cAXOdSJcF9Nx6DCcMrMr0_y_SIXWT-AtTaW0_FcEQ52chtW2LcA95PFouai8iR-WOHppRZcim9-xy7TmwuGRCeZGn704sC1jtGzG9erDBDbRwe2pKGS39/s1600/The+Bishop%2527s+Wife+Loretta+Young+window+shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyW_6CDXpbPrkfOAWm-umhd-cAXOdSJcF9Nx6DCcMrMr0_y_SIXWT-AtTaW0_FcEQ52chtW2LcA95PFouai8iR-WOHppRZcim9-xy7TmwuGRCeZGn704sC1jtGzG9erDBDbRwe2pKGS39/s640/The+Bishop%2527s+Wife+Loretta+Young+window+shopping.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
One of the stories from the set told of a day the director had trouble with both Mr. Grant and Ms. Young. They each insisted that for one particular scene, they be photographed from their "good side". The only problem was that they both favored the same side. The director filmed the scene with the two stars standing side by side looking out a window. Mr. Goldwyn was not happy. The next day he confronted the director and the stars on the set. After having the situation explained to him, he is said to have remarked that if he was only going to get a shot with a half of the stars faces, then they would only get half of their salaries. There were no further such demands.<br />
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The rest of the cast was rounded out with instantly recognizable character actors. Well, instantly recognizable for anyone of my age, or for inveterate moviegoers. I especially liked Monty Woolley in the role of a history professor, and Gladys Cooper as the rich widow funding the cathedral. Elsa Lancaster had been cast in a maid's role, but had to withdraw due to other commitments. During the production delay, she finished up her other role and ended up replacing her replacement who had to exit due to commitments of her own. Two of the young players in the previous year's holiday picture, "It's a Wonderful Like" are in the cast - the fellow who played the young George Bailey, and the young lady who played ZuZu of the petals. <br />
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Although the film got glowing reviews, it didn't do a lot of business at the box office. Under the theory that the title made people think it was a religious story, the advertising was changed (and in some markets the name of the picture as well) to read "Cary and the Bishop's Wife!" In those markets, the box-office increased 25%. <br />
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It's easy to see why it became a Holiday classic back in the days when movies were regularly shown on broadcast tv. A charming sort of romantic comedy, there's Christmas shopping, snow scenes, and a tad of religion. In once scene, Cary Grant plays a harp in the home of the rich widow. The melody became popular, acquired a set of lyrics, and became a minor hit for Nat King Cole as "Lost April".<br />
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Most of the movies currently on my DVR are old favorites which I haven't seen in many years. I'm running out of movies I've recorded that I haven't seen. Soon I'll be watching a number of old favorites which I haven't seen in a long, long time. I'm still surprised I spent the money for the projector (it cost about the same as my 16mm print of Casablanca, purchased in 1975 or so). All the little extras I've spent which used to make me feel slightly guilty over the expense incurred have made this possible; it has turned out to be more rewarding than I ever imagined. <br />
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<br />sdt (a.k.a. stevil)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08152044046649899476noreply@blogger.com0