For Nik C

For Nik C, Prince

Black Mirror | White Christmas | Channel 4 (For Nick C)

Yum! Jon Hamm, Rafe Spall, and Oona Chaplin in the feature length "holiday" Black Mirror.  In the UK on Channel 4 on December 16.  When will it get Stateside?

XTC - Melt the Guns - 1982 (For Nik C)

I'm speaking to the Justice League of America.

The U S of A,

Hey you,

Yes you in particular!

When it comes to the judgement day and you're standing at the gates with your weaponry,

You dare go down on one knee,

Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,

'cos we say...

Our father we've managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,

Let's hope they shoot themselves instead of others,

Help to civilize the race now.

We've trapped the cause of the plague,

In the land of the free and the home of the brave.

If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.

You ought to,


Melt the guns,

Melt the guns,

Melt the guns,

And never more to fire them.























--Ardent

I found this practically by accident.

I was looking on YouTube for docs on WWI, typed in the Great War, and this popped up.  It is an eighteen hour long BBC documentary, featuring Sir Michael Redgrave as the narrator, and Sir Ralph Richardson as Sir Douglas Haig.

You really get the feeling that Ken Burns most certainly could have seen this somehow when he was a youngster, or when he went to college, because it is pretty much the complete foundation for his style.

I am five episodes in, out of twenty-six total, and it is great stuff.  Highly recommended.











--Ardent

For Nik C

Produced by The THREE WISE MEN and The GOOD LORD!

The Three Wise Men - Thanks For Christmas

New Wave Anglaise

This is a great video, XTC playing in Paris, almost thirty-five years ago to the day.  I like the Parisian up front, with a coat and tie, jumping up and down.  And, I like the little computer graphic they use after the introduction.  And, our hosts are so French.  One of them, in the background, looks like he is a super villain, holding a small pet



Three years later, Andy Partridge had a nervous breakdown on another Paris stage, and the band never toured again.































--Ardent

London

That swear word in Paris was appropriate because this is what happened in London (not all that far away from us, actually) on our first night in London.  


While we were checking out the Food Hole (25% discount for teamies!) and having a smashing dinner at e&o restaurant in Notting Hill, Chelsea FC were busy eliminating PSG from Champions League two-nil.  It was a late goal from Chelsea that sealed Paris' fate.


So, even though, after two matches, both sides were level on points and goals (three each for both for both), it was Chelsea's penalty in Paris that saw them through to the semis. Chelsea scored an away goal, you see.  Paris did not.  


PSG will get 'em next year.










xxxoooxxx,

Ardent

Paris

This is what was happening across "town", if you will, on our first night in Paris.  We were so jetlagged and exhausted from our flight, that after a nap, and a snack and some Champers at Cafe de Flore (right across the street from our bedsit), we promptly tried to go to sleep again.  It was a bit daunting for me, because the celebration in Paris of this 3-1 Champions League victory over London's Chelsea Football Club was loud and crazy.  There was drinking and singing and jubilation (all very good natured and sweet) until five AM all over Paris, and right underneath our window! The next morning, at the street corners where they would have their giant green glass recycling bins, all the bins were completely stuffed with bottles, so the Parisians politely and neatly placed all their wine bottles, upright, on the pavement surrounding the bins.  The tourists all got a huge kick out of that, and took a bunch of pictures.  (We skipped that photo opportunity.)


But, this video is amazing.  It is one of my all-time favorite sports videos ever.  I love how he gives us a before and after the match on the streets.  I love how close he gets us to the action.  I love the sensation I get, that I am really at the match, and that these are real people we are watching.  There is none of that fakeness, or eroticization, of a television production.  I am not saying our "director" is a genius, or anything, but that it is just so refreshing to witness an amateur up close document of a major sporting event.  No commercials.  No jumbotron.  No replays.  And, he edited it! It is slightly less than half of the full match in length.  Brilliant!


But, my favorite part has to be when Chelsea converts their penalty (we do not get to see the foul that conceded the penalty), and our director yells, "Merde!", and then scans over to the hinterlands of Parc des Princes where the Chelsea hooligans were all relegated.  


He had good reason for swearing.  That penalty was huge, because a week later in London, ...

Paris

For our last day and night in Paris we decided we would go to Père Lachaise Cemetery, say hello to Edith Piaf, Jimbo, and lay some flowers on Oscar Wilde's tomb.  Père Lachaise is north of the Seine, and is not in a particularly touristy part of Paris.  Generally, everywhere we had been in Paris to that point, we could count on hearing a fair amount of English, and be comfortable speaking English, too.  

After paying our respects, the Wife decided we should go to this Thai bistro she had heard about called Sawan.  Sawan was closer to where were staying, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, on the north side of the Seine, but was still a considerable jaunt from Père Lachaise.  We decided to try and catch a cab, and until we could, just keep walking south towards our destination.  Only problem was there was nary a cab to catch.  So we walked.  And walked. And walked.  We must have walked through two or three arrondissements just to get to this restaurant.  These were not touristy neighborhoods, either.  They were decidedly working class, a little dingy in spots, and no one spoke English.

I was getting cranky for sure, but Renee kept us on the path towards nourishment, and we did reach Sawan.

Sawan was packed when we sat down, but was fairly empty by the time we left.  One thing I noticed was that the menu included prices in Thai Bhat as well as Euros.  I suppose you could pay in that currency if you had it.  Next to us, packed fairly tightly, by the street window, were two Parisian businessmen, both wearing coat and tie.  When our waiter came, Renee took the initiative and placed her order in English.  The waiter understood perfectly, and I did the same.  But, you should have seen the look on the older (facing me) Parisian businessman when he heard the two of us have the Charles de Gaulle to not even try to speak French.  It was pretty funny.

The meal was wonderful.  I had a beer.  It was one of the best restaurant experiences we had on our honeymoon, and it was cheap.  But, the punch line comes near the end of our meal, just before the businessmen left.  The younger businessman (facing Renee) wanted to do a high five with his buddy.  They tried.  It was the most pathetic high five I have ever seen.  Their hands barely grazed each other, and there was no oomph or panache whatsoever.

So.  Maybe we are a couple of well-meaning ugly Americans, but the Wife and I sure as hell have mastered the American art of the high five!

















xxxoooxxx,
Ardent

For Nik C, the Grundy Pistols Filth and Fury Interview, 1976

I particularly love the way  Siouxsie Sioux matches Grundy's lecherous flirtation with one of her own.  It is amazing to think how shocking this was in the UK in 1976.  It is fucking brilliant.  I will always love the Pistols.















xxxoooxx

Philip always tells the truth, and exactly what is on his mind.

Except when he lies.  But, his lies are lies of omission or plain thoughtlessness.  And, because he believes he is an open book and everything he thinks or does is so obvious, to be thought of as a given, any chance he might have to find true happiness in his life, with or without a lifetime partner, is suffocated.  

Philip is played by Jason Schwartzman in the film Listen Up Philip, which was written and directed by Alex Ross Perry, and is truly one of the best films I have seen in years.  (And, this comes on the heels of Los Angeles Plays Itself -- another masterpiece.  So, I am getting very lucky lately with the cinema.) 

There are so many things to love about Listen Up Philip.  I love the fact that there are no tidy endings, or serious romantic hookups; that real love in this universe is fleeting and might last no longer than the second it takes to throw a glance in someone's direction.  I love that there are so few likable people in the picture.  I am so tired of the maxim that films and novels and plays have to have likable people in them to be great or appreciated.  It seems such a lazy criticism.  I love that the story is constantly changing focus, moving from the country to New York City and back so haphazardly.  It makes it feel like a real novel.  That you are watching.  Which is just an astounding amazing trick all of itself.  I love the stylized, again novelized (if you will) dialogue. Everyone tells the truth constantly.  Insight and keen personal perception are never precious in this film.  Everyone seems capable of summing up their exact feelings and emotions in breathtaking devastating brevity.  There is absolutely no small talk.  Zimmerman's daughter susses Philip the instant they meet.  And, never once does a single character in this film refrain from expressing themselves.  Ever.  I love the fact that some characters disappear for long stretches of the film.  I love the novelistic voice over narration, which is normally a conceit in films that I do not like.  I love the end titles.  I love Elizabeth Moss, Jason Schwartzman, Jonathan Pryce, Krysten Ritter, and Joséphine de La Baume.  I love the way the film plays with our ideas about storytelling.  It is as if Alex Ross Perry has written a novel with film stock.  An experimental challenging novel in which no one wears a mask or hides their feelings about any gesture or opinion or emotion.  Which only goes to prove that in that kind of 'utopian' sort of life, where there are no lies, and everything is always on the table, there can also be no lasting love or real happiness.

These are my feelings.  And, I have already heard from a colleague who differs.  (Which did not take long, by the way, and seemed the perfect riposte that proves the point of this film.) But, this might just be a Michael thing.  I can definitely understand why others might dislike this film, even if I have bookmarked Alex Ross Perry's name in my own personal, never to be published, novel of the cinema.  He is a name to watch, and for me, Listen Up Philip is an absolute master work.

All my love,

Ardent

The Jewels - Opportunity

This was not the documentary I wanted to see.

And, to be honest, I do not think it was all that great a documentary, period.  Even going in to it with the knowledge that Mr Dynamite is supposed to be an account of the rise of James Brown, this film did not cut it.  

You can not tell the story of this man and conveniently forget about the end.  The battle over the body, the spousal abuse, the high speed car chase, the drugs, the hypocrisy, the fact that he would constantly fine his band for essentially not keeping all eyes on him at all times, or the fact the he rarely paid the Famous Flames or his other bands, at all.  

Mr Jagger and Mr Gibney would have been better served to just compile a greatest hits of all available film and video materials to present like a thrilling feature length film, near to what a James Brown Revue Performance would have been like.

And, it is no surprise to me that Brown supported GOP folks like Nixon.  Or, that GOP folks like Nixon would callously use him to further their own political aims.  Mr Brown never wanted a hand out, and good for him.  But, like it is mentioned in the film by a witness, most African-American folks in this country are not as "immensely talented, driven, or ruthless" as James Brown.  Brown appears to me to have many of the hallmarks of the typical entrepreneurial conservative.  i.e.  I got mine, Fuck you.  Whilst all the time completely forgetting about all the others that were crucial to his succeeding in life.  

Perhaps his art would not have been so important, so crucial, so earth shattering, if he had not been such a ruthless egomaniacal asshole.  And, that is fine.  Lots of great artists are assholes.  But, if you are going to do a documentary about The Hardest Working Man in Show Business, you had best come with a fully rounded honest approach about the entire sweep of his life, actions, and career.

Seriously, you are much better served watching the TAMI Show, and any performances you can find on YouTube.

Mr Dynamite did little or next to nothing for me.

--Ardent

London

When the Wife and I finally made it to the Rothko Room at the Tate Modern in London, there was a docent, a teacher, and about a dozen and a half French schoolchildren -- I would guess they were Junior High age (?).  (I also like to imagine they were from Paris, but I have no idea.)  The docent spoke in English to the children.

Rothko Room at the Tate Modern

The docent explained about the Seagram's commission, and how Rothko turned it down, and the paintings ended up here at the Tate instead.  And, he even told the possibly apocryphal story about why Rothko refused the Seagram's job, where his very large paintings would have been hung in the Four Seasons restaurant on the ground floor.  The story goes that Rothko refused the commission because he could not stand the idea that people would be eating in front of his paintings.  The docent leaned heavily on the idea that the story was not true.  Personally, I disagree.  That seems totally like something Rothko would say.

The Wife and I explored the room a bit on our own, and soaked up the religious atmosphere, but you really could not help but be sucked in to the docent's talk.  The kids were not having any of it. They were bored to distraction.  They seemed to understand the language.  That was not the problem.  They just did not "get" Rothko, or Abstract Expressionism, I suppose.  

The docent even tried some typical English laconic humor out on the kids.  I do not remember the jokes.  The Wife, the teacher, and I all thought he was very funny.  The jokes died with the kids, though.  They continued to yawn, scratch their arms, and smack their gum.  

A Monet Water Lilies panel at the Tate Modern

Finally, at one point, the docent proclaimed that just about everyone believed that the Rothko paintings at the Tate were considered the finest acquisition the museum ever made. Then, he said, he begged to differ.  He thinks the Monet Water Lilies panel is the best.  

I love the Water Lilies panel, but I got to disagree with him there on that one, too.

When we first encountered the group upon the entering the room, I thought it might spoil the experience for me.  It did not.  Everything was just fine.

Long work week just about over! 

All my love, 

Ardent (mds)

Poor Bobby!

He really really would like to stay.  But, he has to ramble.  On.

Ah, Sports!

Or, as they say in England:  Sport.

The bar where the attack happened.

This happened Wednesday evening in Lille, France.  According to all the UK sources I have read, Evertonians (Everton Football Club supporters are called Evertonians) were attacked by a group of hooded Lille OSC supporters.  The UK press, and the eyewitnesses in the video embedded in the link above, all maintain the attack was unprovoked.  The confrontation got so bad that the police had to teargas everyone involved to end the melee.

I would seriously encourage you to watch the video at the link.  The newspaper's eyewitnesses are two nine stone weight, probably teenage, Liverpudlian brothers.  My favorite parts of the video are their accents (of course!), and the time where the older brother explains that although he really does not smoke, actually (Really hoping his Mum doesn't see this!), he was, just this one time, smoking outside the pub when the Lille hooligans struck.  I also like how the older brother, who does most of the talking, says that the little brother was knocked out cold early in the fray, and missed some of his slightly heroic attempts at protecting the Evertonian bairns in the bar.

I was talking to Nick C, though, and I was wondering what the Lille press reaction would be.  I would like to think that they would report that it was an unruly drunk mob of Evertonians that attacked a group of Lille Grammar School children that were on a school evening field trip, attending a Debussy concert in the park.

Sports!

PS:  The game went off without a hitch today, a nil-nil draw.  Lille travels to Liverpool in two weeks!

















--Ardent

Last night I dreamt

That Nick C and I were climbing all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  The stairs were not metal, they were wooden.  The stairs were of impeccable quality, white, with gold moulding. They were very heavy and strong.  The staircase made a spiral and became smaller and smaller the further we got to the top.  Eventually the room at the top was like Alice in Wonderland in a box.  We went through the door, and Nick C vanished.  I never saw him again.  (Sorry, Nick!) He was replaced by my Wife, Renee.  

The Wife and I were overjoyed and excited to explore the "top" of Tour Eiffel, which was actually an expansive verdant neighborhood.  This twenty-first arrondissement was essentially a massive park, with restaurants, shops, and hotels sprinkled all around.  The Wife and I talked about going to "the edge", "the edge of the world", which was a formidable cliffside where we could view the rest of Paris from below.  We agreed to save that for the last thing we would do before we went down.

In the meantime, the Wife and I separated for a while, and I explored a small church on my own. As I left the church, I remember feeling worried about the Wife and I's meeting place, but there she was, sitting at a cafe table, reading a menu.  From a distance, I noticed how skinny and pretty she was, and I told her as much as I sat down beside her.  She blushed, and we had a sweet small kiss.  The menu looked not at all unlike a Denny's menu, with beautiful pictures of all the food on offer, and every thing was done in a typical tricolor French style.  It seemed all the cafe had to offer was breakfast.   Page after page of breakfast offerings.  When the waiter arrived I asked him (in English) whether the restaurant really did serve breakfast twenty-four hours.

And, then I woke up.











Mwah, ... 

Been listening to Taking Liberties non-stop lately.

And, Dr Luther's Assistant is quite a queasy little masterpiece that reminds me of Everyone's Gone to the Movies by Steely Dan.  The Dan's track is more funny than mean, and Dr Luther's Assistant is genuinely unnerving and vengeful.

And, I figured out what the song Ghost Train is about.  EC says it was one of his first songs ever, and it involves a story about his Da.  But, I believe he resurrected the song just after his awful terrible incident with Delaney and Bonnie.  I think he means the song to be about them now.  Not in a good way.



















xxxoooxxx

Seriously? This is a thing?

You really really really need to read Kyle Wagner's entire GamerGate article for Deadspin. But, because I love you, I am going to give you a shorter version below:

What has happened is that a bunch of basement dwelling, still living with their parents gamer dweebs ("Hey, I want my pop and grilled cheese sandwich now, Mom!") have become incensed over the fact that a fair amount of those icky beings happening to possess ladyparts have decided that they wanta play video games, too.  So, instead of the girls just hanging around, watching the boys play video games, and being on call for them, now they are wrenching the controllers away, and busting the boys nuts at all those first person shooters online.  If that was not bad enough! More recently, the Ladyparts Brigade have also begun to ask the (predominantly male) game producers some really uncomfortable questions.  Questions like, Why do so many of the females in these games all look like Tinkerbell in a chain-mail bikini? Or, Are these really the kind of games that speak to women? Maybe we could try something new? Do I really want to play games that let you rape women?

What a flipping bummer, right?!

Then, one of the loudest and shrillest of the Ladyparts Brigade used her magical ladyparts to seduce a gaming journalist in to giving her brand new Ladypartscentric video game that she created a fabulous review.  Or, so says her spurned ex.  And, he said it online.  And, that is where the fun really begins.  The basement dwellers finally had a cause to cloak their misogyny with! This was really all about journalistic integrity, don't you know! They were tired of the game makers and reviewers litrilly being in bed together.  They had proof.

These asshat gamers then went about doing what they do nearly as well as play First Person Shooters.  They flooded 4chan with hateful comments about all the loudest of the Ladyparts Brigade, and theorized on the hateful things they could do to these women.  They even did some doxxing of these ladies, posted nude photos of them, threatened to kill them, and you know, just regular good fun.

But, you gotta hand it to the troglodytes, they were savvy enough to get an anonymous random Baldwin Brother to become their spokesperson for freedom.  The fact that the best thing on said Baldwin Brother's CV were some character voices for the Halo games was just gravy!

Now, they upped the ante, and are threatening to kill even more of these outspoken ladies.  One event had to be cancelled at Utah State because the campus, like the state, is open carry, and no one there felt confident in protecting the safety of the young woman.

What the fuck, man? What is up with this country sometimes?

UGH!







mds

A big happy birthday shout out to my Da, Andy!

(And, your present is on its way.  And, it is not McCabe & Mrs Miller.  You will get it next Wednesday.)

But I use this clip below just to show what a massive and positive impact my father has had on me.  On how I look at and appreciate life, and art, and politics, and good manners.  And, how to understand that I am still gonna screw up sometimes, and that I have to own up to my mistakes when they happen, and then try not to repeat them.  He has been a superb model to me for what it means to be a good citizen, and a good person.  Just what a father is supposed to do.

He is also hip enough to appreciate the work of someone like Robert Altman, who brashly fought the Hollywood system with unorthodox sound, editing, photography, story, film length, etc; but still hungered for and thrived within many of Hollywood's most traditional practices.  Altman truly was an Exile on Main Street.  

That is one of the many reasons I love Altman's work.  Maybe Andy agrees with me.

Happy birthday, Bud! Hope you guys have a great dinner tonight! You guys going to Palace?

--M

Nick, here is 6 minutes to whet your appetite:

Pay no attention to the YouTube comments, of course.













All my love,

M

I really am trying to have a positive attitude,

And am desperately trying to channel my inner Poppy from Happy-Go-Lucky, but terrible awful things like this keep on happening.  (I wonder if any of those racist yahoos making comments realize that they are not anonymous because the St Louis Post-Dispatch run their comments through facebook?)

This situation appears to be different from the Michael Brown incident (if you believe what the St Louis cops are going to tell you), but once again Charlie Pierce has got it right.  Greater St Louis just does not get any benefit of the doubt right now.

And, I wonder how Major League Baseball feels about the fact that one of its 2014 World Series cities could possibly be hosting games while their city burns.

Trying to keep it positive.  Take a deep breath.  More Peanuts cartoons with Franklin in them. Sally Hawkins as Poppy.  And here:  Have some Booker T & the MGs live, 1970, at the Oakland Coliseum.

mds

Did not see Pynchon in the trailer, ...

Didn't see Pynchon in the trailer, ...











Mwah, ...

I am currently rereading

Thomas Pynchon's novel, Inherent Vice.  And, the book is even better the second go around.  I am catching more of the puns and jokes, I guess.

I am checking that book out again because PT Anderson is making a film of the novel, the first film ever of a Pynchon book.  The film debuts tomorrow in New York City at the New York Film Festival.  (It will not get to the rest of us heathens until mid-December.)

I am intrigued and scared for sure.  I respect Anderson's talents as a filmmaker, but I am most certainly not an adoring fan.  I am a besotted Pynchon worshipper, however, so my butt will be firmly planted in to a cinema seat when the film gets to me.  (Even though I am a little worried about Anderson's claim that he was watching movies like Naked Gun and Airplane! for inspiration for this film.)

There was this fantastic NYT article last Sunday, wherein Anderson talks about changing the ending of the book for the film, and working with Pynchon on certain parts of the script! But, the best part of the article is Anderson's fierce dismissal of the notion that Pynchon makes a cameo in the film.

Pynchon is a stone cold genius, for sure.  Here is one of the world's most reclusive and private "celebrities", who has already made two cameos on The Simpsons, both with him being illustrated with a bag over his head, and now, he apparently he is going to do it again in Inherent Vice.

But the genius part is is nobody knows what he looks like.  How will we recognize him? Who on the set knew that Pynchon was actually there.  It could have literally been anybody.

That is just all kinds of brilliance.

xxxoooxxx

Actually,

I suppose I do not have that much to say re Gilmore Girls in its entirety dropping on to Netflix tomorrow.  Other than, I am ecstatic, and I could really use a giant dose of Gilmore Girls right about exactly now.

But, I was perusing fauxluxe for past Gilmore Girls posts, and happened to notice that I never talked about the show directly.  It was always a train a thought somehow connected to the real subject of the post.  That is fine, and perfect, actually, for the loony, stream of consciousness, insanely pop culture referenced, His Girl Friday dialogue of the first five essential seasons of the program.  

So here below is an annotated list (with links) to three Gilmore Girls posts from fauxluxe.  One each from 2011, 2012, and 2013.

This is from 2012, and is actually one of my fave fauxluxe posts ever. Here I compare Lena Dunham's Girls to Gilmore Girls, and I get it all horribly wrong about Veep.  Veep is obviously the best thing on television now, and Gilmore Girls is nine million more times better than Girls, which was already coming apart after just two seasons.

This post is from December 2013.  Here I compare Gilmore Girls to Scandal, which I think is a pretty decent observation, as well.  Plus, Liza Rebecca Weil, who played Paris in Gilmore Girls, was a large part of Scandal's first season.  I still have a very soft spot in my heart for Scandal, even if I do not think it is a world beater as a teevee program.  This post also has some great Pinterest/Tumblr Paris gifs/memes, which I will prob post onto friendface later today or tomorrow.

Finally, this post is from May 2011, right after the Wife and I got married.  Now, I am talking about seeing Bridesmaids the day after the wedding, and how much I love Melissa McCarthy, who played Sookie on Gilmore Girls.  Even though I am not particularly crazy about the blockbuster films Ms McCarthy makes these days, I can not tell you how proud I am of her that she is now the number one box office draw in American film comedy today.  She and her husband deserve all of their success.  

************

I do not think I will binge on Gilmore Girls starting tomorrow, but, will prob enjoy a more leisurely pace, and could even skip around from season to season, like I do with The Rockford Files, Peep Show, The IT Crowd, etc, ... Sometimes I am going to want to be at Yale (The Paris years!), and sometimes I am going to want to be back at Stars Hollow when Rory was still at high school.  

It is going to be a lot of great fun, though, whichever way I do it.  Gotta keep my ears open.  I want to catch every single reference or spoof all over again.












Mwah, ...

Dear Renee, Here is what happened after you left for work:

You are never gonna believe this!

So, Ward went ahead and got the pet store owner to open up after nine PM, just so he could rent the annoying parrot for one day.  He was convinced to do this because June, his wife, told her own personal sob story to him, about how when she was at boarding school, she was so lonely and homesick that she told all the girls that her mother was a big time movie star, Laverne Laverne.  Her mother found out, and instead of backing her up, made her tell the entire school that she had made it all up.  June was obviously still carrying shame over this incident, and encouraged Ward to get the parrot, and trust that the Beav would realize the error of his ways, and never put his parents in that kind of spot again.

The Beaver took the parrot to school for the Pet Fair, and won the Blue Ribbon, much to Judy's utter disgust.  After the whole class left, Beaver tried to return the Blue Ribbon, explaining the whole situation, about how he lied because he was embarrassed his family did not own a pet. His teacher, Miss Landers, told him that was a very silly thing to be ashamed of, and that his parents were pretty great for backing him up like that.  The Beaver told Miss Landers he would never put his parents in such a spot again, and he accepted the Blue Ribbon, after all.

I do not think anybody mentioned the new pet hamster ever again.  They probably killed it.

************

In the next episode, Wally had to stay home all weekend and study for his history exam, instead of crash Mary Ellen Rogers house with Lumpy and Eddie Haskell.  They were supposed to "listen to records and eat junk".

Lumpy and Eddie went to Mary Ellen's house without Wally, and told him they were not worried about the history test.  They had it covered.

What that meant was that Eddie had come up with some cockamamie scheme to cheat on the test, involving them excusing themselves to wash their hands and get the answers, written on paper towels in the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to all three, the history teacher was wise to this scheme, and had planted a quote from Hamlet on the paper towel, removing the illicit answers.

Wally saw this first, however, because he legitimately had a pen explode on him, and actually had to wash his hands.  Lumpy and Eddie went to the bathroom, only to find no answers, and both failed their exam, both scoring in the low fifties.

Wally, on the other hand, got a 92, one of the best scores in the class.  After learning this, Eddie decided to get even, and wrote a pathetic attempt at an anonymous note, pointing the finger at Wally for cheating.

The very wise teacher, though, saw right through this, and confirmed it to Wally that Eddie and Lumpy were the rascals.

Wally wanted to beat Eddie up, but Ward convinced him not to.  He said Eddie would have to figure it out on his own that had done a bad thing.

Sure enough, Eddie came over right then to apologize to Wally, and tell him he was going to try out "this studying thing" that was working so well for Wally.

The next day at class Eddie amazed everyone with his knowledge of the founding members of the League of Nations.

************

Then, Daniel Boone was captured by the Spanish Army.  They wanted to take back the Virginia territories for Spain.  I had to go to work, though.













Mwah, ... 

John Oliver's new show, Last Week Tonight, on HBO is so great.

It is on HBO most every Sunday evening.














--Ardent (mds)

Man, what happened to intellectual discourse in our country?

Why is being an intellectual considered a crime?

What happened to the days when Sontag, Chomsky, Vidal, Mailer, Germaine Greer, Kate Millet, Joan Didion, and Hannah Arendt would be on the late night chat shows?

What the flip happened?

************

I was just watching HBO's latest doc triumph, The 50 Year Argument, directed by Martin Scorsese and David Tedeschi, which is about the history of the New York Review of Books.

(I do not read the New York Review of Books nearly enough.  I generally only buy it when I am in superb indie bookstores -- which is nearly never now.  The last one I bought was at Shakespeare & Company in Paris! In April!)

Anyhoo, the very fine documentary just made me pine for the 60s and 70s when so many of this nation's greatest thinkers would not only appear in print, but were eager to do television, as well.

The 50 Year Argument then led me to the above full length feature film, Town Bloody Hall.  That film is bloody brilliant.  It is Norman Mailer versus a half dozen leading feminists (and Susan Sontag, in the crowd), and a thousand or so other women in the crowd with Sontag.

You can watch The 50 Year Argument on HBO or HBOGo, and Town Bloody Hall on YouTube.  Great stuff.

Still, what the fuck happened, man? Why is it all FoxNews and Housewives of Wherever now that rule our media world?

From Andy Warhol's "Screen Test" for Susan Sontag

--Ardent (mds)

FINALLY finally finally saw Design Is One last night.

Massimo and Lella Vignelli

And, I am just so in love with the Vignellis.  I just want to hug 'em, you know what I mean? I wish they were our next door neighbors, and the Wife and I could have them over for tea, and they would bring over their awesome tea cups that they designed.  Or we'd have pasta in their beautiful modernist pasta bowls.  We would look at all their catalogues, or architecture books that they designed, or Renee & I would marvel over and play with Lella Vignelli's insanely fun jewelry that she designed. That would be perfect, you know.

Vignelli tea cups

The Vignellis are an Italian married couple that have been changing millions of people's lives every day, without them ever knowing it.  They have been married for over fifty years now, and they are still working as hard as ever.  They design everything.  They are not specialists. Jewelry, flatware, cups, chairs, interior design, a cathedral in Manhattan, architecture books, the US National Park brochures, clothes, anything.

Their personal motto is:  "If you can't find it, design it."

Of course, what they are best known for, though, are the corporate identities that they designed and that Massimo Vignelli designed the New York City Subway and Transit identity.

Many of the corporate identities that they created have still not been changed, forty or more years on.

Below, are some of their 'Greatest Hits':

And, on and on and on and on.  Plus, they are just the nicest sweetest people ever.  I just want to hug 'em, have 'em over for tea. You know what I mean?























Mwah, ... 

Lella and Massimo Vignelli

Here is a list of the best films I have seen this year.

First, the films that came out in 2014:

Grand Budapest Hotel, dir Wes Anderson
The Double, dir Richard Ayoade
Obvious Child, dir Gillian Robespierre
Ida, dir Paweł Pawlikowski
Le Week-End, dir Roger Michell
Violette, dir Martin Provost
The One I Love, dir Charlie McDowell
No No:  A Dockumentary, dir Jeff Radice
The Trip to Italy, dir Michael Winterbottom
Gloria, dir Sebastián Lelio

************

Of that list up top, only Ida can hang with the other top older films I have seen so far this year. That "New to Me" list looks like this:

A Nos amours, dir Maurice Pialat (1983)
Zazie dans le métro, dir Louis Malle (1960)
L'argent, dir Robert Bresson (1983)
Pickpocket, dir Bresson (1959)
La Cérémonie dir Claude Chabrol (1995)
Une Affaire de Femmes, dir Chabrol (1990)

************

The four best films I have seen this year are Ida, A Nos amours, La Cérémonie, and Une Affaire de Femmes.

Three are French, one is Polish.  And Sandrine Bonnaire and Isabelle Huppert are in two of those films each.

Still have not seen Conte d'été yet, directed by Eric Rohmer (1996).  That will likely be added to these lists.

Will check back in with you in a few months to update these lists.

Jenny Slate in Obvious Child.  A truly great flick.

Paris

No matter what Joni Mitchell says, I did not see folks kissing on the Main Street.  (I did see an Eastern European twentysomething couple snogging in front of Tour Eiffel one day.)

What I did see a lot of, and it was to beautiful to witness, was that just about every older couple on the streets held hands as they walked down the grand boulevards.  You do not really see a lot of that kind of sweet affection here in Urban or Suburban US of A.

Paris was so wonderful.  When are going back?







Mwah, ... 

First, let me start by saying,

That even though it is likely that I know a heck of a lot more about United Kingdom policies and politics than just about anyone in my immediate circle of friends, that that notwithstanding, the phrase that best sums up my sum total of knowledge of UK policies and politics would be:  I do not know shit about UK policies and politics.  

I think these folks will rue their victory yesterday.

My thoughts on Scotland saying No to independence yesterday are really coming from from my gut, and my realistically modestly cynical view of human nature.

I suspect that the No folks will soon rue this chance that they let slip away.  England, London, and Westminster will not concede anything.  There will be no forgiveness and bonus burgers for Scotland (or Wales, or Northern Ireland.)

I think it is infinitely more likely that England will begin to act cruelly toward Scotland (and Wales, and Northern Ireland) in order to relieve their guilt for centuries of crap.

There will be a good deal more punishment than pleasure for Scotland because of what they did.

I watched the BBC report on CSpan last night, and just about every single Talking Head there was so smug and mean spirited.  They had one Yes pundit on, and he was never allowed to speak, constantly being cut off for returns or the dude next to him interrupting him in dissent.

England got exactly what they wanted, and I figure they are going to find ways to make Scotland pay for their even thinking about leaving the UK.

Just my gut.  Take it for what you will.








mds

Two quick things for folks today:

One,

I am so frickin' torn.  Even though I know it might not be a good idea, at all, part of me would really love to see Scotland stick it to the English, and go out on their own.

Nick C and I even have a great idea for their new currency:  The 'notes' (bills) would be called The Scots Dram.  And their coins would be called Rocks, like the ice in their drams of whiskey.

And, two,

Even though the Wife does not believe me, I have officially suspended my support for the NFL for an indefinite period of time.  We are through.  It is just too much shit to take, and I would not be surprised, or even that upset, if the NFL ceased to exist.  I am done with it.

In my defense, I have quit major sports before.  I quit the NBA nearly ten years ago, and have not watched a single regular season game all the way through since then.  I have seen some Mavericks and Warriors playoffs games, but my interest is pretty weak.  I am barely engaged, and hardly even know the players these days.

As for college football.  Well, if the Sooners sucked, I would probably abandon it, as well.  The Sooners are a weakness I might not be able to defeat.  Maybe the Sooners could win it all this year, start sucking next year, and I could kick American football all together!








--Ardent