February 10, 2008 archive

The Summer of Our Discontent

I’m going back and looking at the last few years, and like many others here, I’m bringing back past posts because they are still relevant.

This is from July of ’06:

This song has been driving me crazy all night… won’t go away:

GentillyGirl

LAND OF CONFUSION- Genesis 1977

“I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams

Been haunted by a million screams

But I can hear the marching feet

They’re moving into the street.

Now did you read the news today

They say the danger’s gone away

But I can see the fire’s still alight

There burning into the night.

There’s too many men

Too many people

Making too many problems

And not much love to go round

Can’t you see

This is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

Ooh Superman where are you now

When everything’s gone wrong somehow

The men of steel, the men of power

Are losing control by the hour.

This is the time

This is the place

When we look for the future

But there’s not much love to go round

Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

I remember long ago –

Ooh when the sun was shining

Yes and the stars were bright

We walked through the night

And the sound of your laughter

As I held you tight

So long ago –

I won’t be coming home tonight

My generation will put it right

We’re not just making promises

That we know, we’ll never keep.

Too many men

There’s too many people

Making too many problems

And not much love to go round

Just tell my why

This is a land of confusion.

Now this is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

This is the world we live in

And these are the names we’re given

Stand up and let’s start showing

Just where our lives are going to.”

Iglesia ……………………………………… Episode 31

(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)

Previous episode

.

“I can most definitively assure you,” Rogers said, “That I am neither God nor Mohamed. Just a humble” smirk “servant, here to assist you in whatever small way I possibly can, within my meager abilities” smirk.

She was very proud of herself for not trying to punch him again, when he did that smirky thing he did. She looked down and saw that she had barely spilled any of her tea when she restrained herself, too.

She was almost positive now that the Indian accent was fake. It was just too stereotypical to be real.

Kick Out The Jam Bands

You know, I read Victory Coffee’s post and it totally hurt my heart. I almost went emo on you.

Then, I realized, I’m 43 years old and I got no fuckin’ excuse.

SO what do I do? See, I totally RELATED to that post:

This whole place is sick.  War is right.  Torture is legal.  Love is hate.  Shame is pride.  God is fear.  This is the world I’ve walked in to?  I don’t know if I should vomit or cry.  I’d sleep it off again but this time my bed is gone.

Fuck the elections and fuck the superbowl.  I don’t give a shit.  Impeach the war criminals, throw out the complicit congress and start this over right.  This is beyond surreal.  Should I be knocking on people’s doors and shaking them or something?  Maybe kick over their TV while I’m at it?  What exactly are you supposed to do in this situation anyways?

So? What’s the answer?

Ultimately? The answer to the angst of the individual, regardless of the fact that I happen to share it to a crippling extent…I ain’t got it. I can’t lie to you.

But..in the short term?

Just for now?

Create headspace. Break off and unwrap.

In other words:

You know the vibe.

It’s on below the fold.

Harry Truman’s calculated overreaction!

In a stunning display of shameless political calculation, President Harry Truman angrily threatened a Washington Post music critic for panning a performance by Truman’s daughter, Margaret. As reported by the New York Times, Margaret Truman Daniel openly admitted that her father’s fame helped get her concert gigs, and she had already performed before audiences of more than ten thousand, while millions had listened to her on the radio. When she performed at Washington’s Constitution Hall, in December 1950, she thought she had performed well.

But Paul Hume, the music critic of The Washington Post, while praising her personality, wrote that “she cannot sing very well.”

“She is flat a good deal of the time,” Mr. Hume added, concluding that she had no “professional finish.”

Incensed, President Truman dispatched a combative note to Mr. Hume, who released it to the press.

“I have just read your lousy review,” it said in part, adding: “Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you’ll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below!”

In the ensuing uproar, reporters pressed Mrs. Daniel for her reaction to her father’s letter. “I’m glad to see that chivalry is not dead,” she told them.

Because it’s well-known that President Truman lacked basic human emotions, his attempt to use his daughter to score political points based on sympathy was much criticized in Democratic blogs.

Video – Despotism and Democracy

BenFranklinoval2 lett

“A Republic – if you can keep it” – Ben Franklin


Kick Out The Jam Bands

You know, I read Victory Coffee’s post and it totally hurt my heart. I almost went emo on you.

Then, I realized, I’m 43 years old and I got no fuckin’ excuse.

SO what do I do? See, I totally RELATED to that post:

This whole place is sick.  War is right.  Torture is legal.  Love is hate.  Shame is pride.  God is fear.  This is the world I’ve walked in to?  I don’t know if I should vomit or cry.  I’d sleep it off again but this time my bed is gone.

Fuck the elections and fuck the superbowl.  I don’t give a shit.  Impeach the war criminals, throw out the complicit congress and start this over right.  This is beyond surreal.  Should I be knocking on people’s doors and shaking them or something?  Maybe kick over their TV while I’m at it?  What exactly are you supposed to do in this situation anyways?

So? What’s the answer?

Ultimately? The answer to the angst of the individual, regardless of the fact that I happen to share it to a crippling extent…I ain’t got it. I can’t lie to you.

But..in the short term?

Just for now?

Create headspace. Break off and unwrap.

In other words:

You know the vibe.

It’s on below the fold.

Obama is like Chocolat

Before anyone starts slinging the “R” word around, this is not about that. So get your pointed little cursor off of the Hide Button and have a read.

The film Chocolat begins in a church…

Opening lines from the film “Chocolat”

Once upon a time, there was a quiet little village in the French countryside, whose people believed in Tranquilité – Tranquility. If you lived in this village, you understood what was expected of you. You knew your place in the scheme of things. And if you happened to forget, someone would help remind you. In this village, if you saw something you weren’t supposed to see, you learned to look the other way. If perchance your hopes had been disappointed, you learned never to ask for more. So through good times and bad, famine and feast, the villagers held fast to their traditions. Until, one winter day, a sly wind blew in from the North…

I’m not going to spoil it in case you haven’t had the pleasure, but I will include some of the themes of this fine piece of film making directed by Lasse Hallström and written by Joanne Harris (novel) and Robert Nelson Jacobs (screenplay).  

*whimper* (Updated)

Straight from the pages of Haaretz, Israel’s oldest daily newspaper.

Twilight Zone / Cut short By Gideon Levy

Here’s a short excerpt:

And to all Israelis, al-Adam says: “Our neighbors are not the Europeans or the Americans. You are our neighbors and we have to watch out for one another. We’re living here and not hurting anyone. For years I brought up my children to live together [with Israelis], telling them we have to live together, and now they don’t believe me anymore.” The farmer says these things while standing amid the ruins of his land, which he had worked and nurtured for two years, having transformed the rocky ground into fruit orchards and fields of vegetables and grains. But it was short-lived: A few weeks ago, bulldozers dispatched by the Civil Administration showed up and destroyed all of his fields and his neighbors’. There went the grapevines and the young fruit trees – all uprooted. The magnificent terraces al-Adam had built were destroyed along with the wells they had dug. Just a few days before Tu Bishvat, Jewish Arbor Day, Israel showed them just how much regard it really has for trees.

The European Union had provided generous aid to these farmers in Beit Ula as part of an extensive development project covering almost 100 dunams (25 acres). The farmers invested their own money and much toil in the project, but in the end, all it took was a few hours of work by the Civil Administration’s bulldozers – accompanied by foreign workers hired as an auxiliary destructive force for Israel – to trample it into oblivion.

It’s not your average Israel vs. Palestine story and it’s heartbreaking.

Just go read it. You’ll understand.

(hat’tip Cranky Old Bitch)

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