Archive Listing
September 28, 2009 - September 21, 2009

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

THE INVISIBLE CAMPAIGN. Like most of you, I suppose, I'm still waiting for John McCain to remember that he's a Republican and start pinning the blame for the financial meltdown where it belongs -- on the Democrats.

He ostentatiously failed to do it in the debate when Obama left himself wide open to such a counterattack on the very first question. He continues to say that it's not time to fix blame because it's time to fix the problem first.

Uh, is he too dumb to be president? I'm starting to wonder. The problem with the economy is Democrats who subverted free market principles so that a bunch of their deadbeat constituency could buy houses with no personal financial risk. Which means that the best long-term solution to our economic problems is to put the White House and congress in Republican hands. The short-term view that any bailout bill can restore our economy is folly if management of the bill's provisions will be controlled by President Obama and a Democrat congress.

I'm tempted to say that it's already too late for McCain and the Republicans to recover. But there's still a month left and polls in a time of crisis are exceptionally volatile. If the wizards behind McCain were to wake up now, remember that the mission is not some damn bill but the presidency and control of congress, they could undo most of the damage that's been done.

The communication agenda doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure out. Tie the financial crisis to the Democrats who opposed Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac reform. Tie Obama to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac and ACORN, the ultra-corrupt symbol of the racialization and destabilizaton of sound financial transactions. And hammer the message home with voters that the long-term health of the economy depends on getting the federal government out of the business of running business and using private resources as a treasure chest of bribes and favors for all the losers who keep Democrats in office.

In case they've overlooked this fact, voters do know that McCain is a Republican. No amount of self-destructive posturing can wish this state of affairs away. Almost half the electorate doesn't mind that he's a Republican. Neither would another eight to ten percent of the voting public if this self-proclaimed maverick warrior would just stand up and fight for the office he aspires to.

If he doesn't stand up and fight, he doesn't deserve to win. But that's an irrelevancy. What does matter is that we don't deserve an Obama presidency and the incalculable harm it would do to the American economic system, national security, and our way of life.

I'm begging McCain nd his genius advisers to quit self-obsessing and go to war on our behalf. It's long past time.

HOT NEW SINGLE. Presumably, all those feminists who hate Sarah Palin so much that they'd like to see her stripped and raped  in public are proud of Nancy Pelosi, the worst Speaker of the House in the history of the republic. Here's what she accomplished yesterday in her infinite stupidity.



Yes, she's a nice looking older woman with great big breasts, which makes her one of the hottest search topics on the Internet. But should the feminists really approve of a woman who is probably setting back their sex's prospects in politics by a decade or more? Rest assured, there will be no female Speaker of the House for a long long time after Pelosi gets sent home to San Francisco by acclamation.

For those of you with short memories, here's our list of Nancy Pelosi's Greatest Hits.

Congressional Gothic

Pelosi Quits Congress.

A Media Mystery.

Pelos Diplomaci.

Pelosi Update: The best diplomacy is breast diplomacy

Serendiptity. (and update here).

The Speaker Broad.

Peace in Our Time.

The Liberals We Love:  Nancy Pelosi.

Nancy Pelosi Speaks Out.

And don't forget our exclusive Pelosi Campaign Ad from the last election.


We wouldn't want you to forget what great judgment the Democrats have when it comes to choosing their leaders

Monday, September 29, 2008

FINAL GAME. He did on me, anyway. His early movies and most of his famous ones left me kind of cold. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting -- these will be celebrated a lot today, but all I can do is mention them, along with The Towering Inferno, as relics of Paul Newman the movie star. He was able to glide through movies on his looks and his undeniable presence, and I think he did that more often than fans would like to admit. The much ballyhooed "H" movies strike me that way, perhaps unreasonably, because I can't even keep Hud, Hondo, and Hombre from blurring together in my head (although The Hustler stands out as a terrific noir fable).

But there was one kind of part at which I believe he truly excelled, and I came to admire him eventually because he kept returning to the part of the flawed loser afflicted with a tenacity that won't him quit or, in the end, lie to himself. It seemed to me that when he played such roles he was drawing honestly on his own experience and that the self-deprecating humor he evinced in them was also authentic.

I don't know much of his biography. I know he was married to Joanne Woodward, who always seemed to me the kind of woman who proves that strong, wise, independent women flourished long before the first bra got burned. I know he must have had good qualities for her to put up with him for so long. I know he liked to drive racecars. And I know that he lost a son. Almost everything else I know about him, or think I do, is derived from four movies. If I read him right, I think he grew on himself over the years and reached a wise if prickly truce with the contradictory currents that run though every life: love, loss, faith, despair, hope, injustice, self-doubt, joy, sin, fairness, weariness, work, winning and losing, and acceptance of the sum.

I may be wrong, obviously, but I think anyone who watches the following movies will find all these themes moving restlessly through them in varying combinations and especially through the mind of the character played by Paul Newman. I think he was thinking about life for us on camera, not as a hero or sermonizing preacher but as a fellow human being, good and bad like all of us. If so, it's a kind of sharing that has to be driven by a funadamental kindness of heart, whatever other kinds of failings sometimes intercept the better impulses.

Cool Hand Luke (1967). Late sixties adolescents fastened onto this movie and Newman's repeated throwaway line, "Yeah...well...," which serves in lieu of a substantive explanation that (seems like it) might be available if anyone were interested. They admired his insouciance in a southern road-gang prison camp, which reminded them of everyday life as a teenager. Critics saw the character Luke as a Christ figure, sacrificing himself to leave behind a legend that could help subsequent generations of inmates survive their incarceration. I don't doubt the superficial symbolism is there, but to me the key point is that Luke isn't Christ but a self-conscious Everyman. Unlike Billy Budd and The Count of Monte Cristo, he is not an innocent. He's definitely guilty of the crime for which he's imprisoned, even if that crime doesn't seem to us to merit the punishment he receives. Like everyone else, Luke begins his journey in original sin. Yet he has an instinct for how to play the hand he's been dealt, and he follows it in the full knowledge that sometimes a losing hand loses. But he'd rather go all in than fold and forego all chance of winning. His antagonist is a pair of mirrored sunglasses. Which should give some hint about how well the movie avoids the pitfall of preachy, sentimental allegory. Newman isn't yet at the peak of his powers, but his soul is beginning to leak out of its handsome shell.


Slap Shot (1977). If Cool Hand Luke is some species of Christ figure, Newman's character in Slap Shot is a blue-collar variation on Faust. Only Newman's Reggie Dunlop is not a passive recipient of the devil's deal but a pro-active seeker of it. He''s willing to do anything to keep his minor league hockey team alive. And he does. Anything I mean, not keep it alive. The devil isn't interested in Dunlop's proffered deal or his down payments on his own soul. The movie is falling down funny in places, but Newman's character isn't. His life is broken in so many places that the mayhem he unleashes on the ice is a fairly direct depiction of what he's managed to effect in his marriage, his career, and every other aspect of his life. The hilarious Hanson Brothers are inspired stand-ins for the ancient Greek Furies, long-haired agents of destruction who are so unthinking that they can't themselves be blamed for what they do. They are forces of nature unleashed by the corrupt decision of a man who has consciously decided to do wrong in a desperate bargain to rig the rules of life. Newman is better here than he is in Cool Hand Luke. He exudes his own Mephistophelean charm, but he's also aware of the lines he is crossing and (sympathetically) mortified by the discovery of just how far afield his decisions have led him. Who among us hasn't screwed up big-time? Gone too far. Done things we're ashamed of and can't call back? There's no pink ribbon that can tie it all back together again. But we can learn to laugh at ourselves after the fact and hope we'll do better next time. No guarantees. Interesting character journey for a pop hit comedy, huh? And how many fans of this movie appreciate the implication that the bizarre Michael Onkean strip show which resolves the dramatic crisis represents a symbolic virgin sacrifice to call off the Furies? I'm thinking, not many.


The Verdict. (1982). In some respects it resembles Anatomy of a Murder (a better movie to be sure). There's the lawyer in over his head against ruthless, take-no-prisoners opposition. There's the old guy friend and legal fox whose counsel and research spadework might (or might not) save the day. There's the volunteer Girl Friday. And there's a distant, skeptical relationship to the clients, who are less important to the story than the life and well being of the attorney arguing their case. Of all the components of a good movie -- script, music, cinematography, editing, and acting -- the only one where The Verdict is competitive with Anatomy is acting, specifically in two roles. Jack Warden as the old friend and Paul Newman as the desperate attorney Frank Galvin are both superlative. I'm not derogating Jimmy Stewart and Arthur O'Connell here. Anatomy was a work of genius in miniature. The focus was a case. The script was a play. Its ambiguities were elegant and evocative. In The Verdict, however, the screenplay was taking a core sample of Frank Galvin's soul. The courtroom summation shown below is both a legal argument and an interior monologue, something Anatomy never asked of Stewart. But I ask you to compare it to what it would have been like if the "great" Al Pacino had been asked to deliver it. Newman never raises his voice. He is speaking to us and himself. He never appears to be flexing his acting muscles, chewing scenery, "going for the Oscar," or even massing his energy in an emotional bulge aimed at hitting the jury. This is acting as restraint. A withholding of the yelling and rhetoric. Its power lies in its quiet. I believed him in this role. He was growing on me.


Nobody's Fool (1994). My favorite. He was old when he made it. The trailer hints at its virtues but doesn't convey how good he is in the role. But the trailer was all I could find. This is the movie from which the headline of this post is quoted. It's worth seeing. So many times the tabloids and other media outlets ask actors what they would have done if they hadn't succeeded as actors. I believe Paul Newman was telling us his answer in this movie. He knew he was no saint. But he also knew that he had something to offer that transcended all the tradtional conventions of worth. If you liked him and his movies, do him the honor of seeing this last portrayal of a difficult, complicated man who nevertheless loved people and life.


Yeah, I know other stuff is going on. We'll get to it. Stay tuned. But step aside from Drudge for a moment and offer a nod to a man who seems to have been a man. A rarity worth acknowledging.

Friday, September 26, 2008

DON'T BE DEPRESSED. Yeah, everything's pretty dire this morning. A bank failure overnight, stock market poised for another plunge, and congress torn between passing a massive bailout package nobody wants and not passing a massive bailout package everyone sort of knows is necessary. But's it's also a fine comic moment. What must Obama be thinking about now? Isn't the clever young fox always supposed to be more agile and energetic than the old dog who's depicted in campaign ads as three-quarters in the grave? But so far, every time Obama thinks he's about to see daylight in the polls, Senator McDroopy looks to have been a step ahead of him all along. After the Berlin extravaganza, the obsolete old fleabag was waiting back home with a truly deflating set of viral video ads comparing Obama to Paris Hilton. After Obama's Roman Triumph in the Denver coliseum, he marched grandly into the buzzsaw of the old hound's Palin gambit. And now, blessed with the Democrat heaven of an economic crisis that can be blamed on Republicans, Obama sprints out to the expected lead only to find that damned old dog has beaten him to the headlines yet again.

Is McDroopy going to "surprise him like this through the whole picture"? Your guess is as good as mine.

Okay. You are now free to resume being terrified and heartsick about the economy.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

METS-PHILS ROUND 2. I'm not going to name names, but Phillies pitcher Brett Myers is the size of a house. When he waddles to the mound, the whole ballpark shakes. The same goes for most of the rest of the staff. The pictures in the video don't do them justice. They were probably taken before  the long season these guys have spent gorging out of sight in the bullpen. I can only imagine the cornucopia of food behind the screen -- like some medieval mead hall, no doubt, every trencherman with his own leg of mutton and brace of turkeys washed down with a hogshead of ale, every scraggly beard matted with grease and crumbs.


It's a wonder anyone can hear the phone ring when Manager Charlie Manuel calls from the dugout to ask one or more of them to push themselves away from the table. Watching them warm up is like witnessing a pod of whales stranded on some beach, heaving and snorting with painful effort.

Of course, eating yourself into a coma is a grand Philly tradition. Every year, the city celebrates the bitter end of yet another failed Eagles season with an event called the Wing Bowl, which features the same combination of massive food intake and bevies of buxom wenches. And only in Philadelphia could a major league game be threatened with cancellation because of concerns about the supply of hot dogs. So I'm not dismissing the whole gluttony thing out of hand. It has its place. But is that place really in the final stretch of a breakneck pennant race?

Is it really an accident that the three best pitchers on the team actually look like athletes?


Sorry. I probably shouldn't have said anything. Maybe I'm just jealous. Wouldn't it be great to spend just one night feasting with the titans of the Phillies bullpen? You bet it would.

DARKNESS IS ONLY A HIDDEN DANCE. While the atheists are making their full-court press against religion and the belief in any god, their own scripture of scientific truth continues to encounter baffling enigmas concerning the nature of a universe they claim to understand but for a few niggling details.

But, as they say, the devil is in the details. Here are a few of the loose ends they haven't quite tied up to the satisfaction of what people in generations past would have called 'science.' There isn't enough mass in the universe to account for the way it operates. In fact, there isn't even half enough mass. Which physicists have decided to explain by positing a thing they call dark matter, which has never been seen because it's invisible and untraceable except by negative inference; unless it's there, their model of the universe doesn't make any sense. They have a similar problem with energy. There appears to be too much of it, more than can be accounted for by their assessments of where in the observable universe it might come from. So they posit the existence of dark energy, which is just as invisible and untraceable as dark matter.

Are you with us so far? Now, they have stumbled over another detail:


Let's be clear about what they're conceding here. The mathematical coherence of their cosmological model now depends on the existence of a permanently unknowable other-verse operating in accordance with undefinably different laws of physics. In other words, the only way our current cosmic logic remains logical is if we postulate a vast all-encompassing illogic we can never understand. (Was Moses really offering such a different deal?) They continue to call their formulations scientific. But casually incorporating metaphysics into physics proper without acknowledging the enormity of the leap entails its own kind of dark energy. They don't even have the good manners to wink as they execute their sleight of hand.

Fine. I'm not saying they're wrong. I'm just saying they've got a lot of big, invisible, magical, and unequivocally theoretical balls in the air that they have to keep juggling in the dark, so to speak, if they are to prevent their "science" from shattering into the chaos of a disastrous delusional fantasy. Dark matter. Dark energy. Dark flow. These are hardly details. They're enormous unaccounted for remainders in computations of cosmological long division that just aren't working out the way they're supposed to. And what is their argument for the existence of such immensely powerful forces and entities they've never seen and therefore can't, ahem, observe and measure? They just have to be there, because the scientists are pretty sure their basic theory about how the universe operates is correct.

Funny, but I expect the person who would best understand that kind of a logic-belief superposition is St. Thomas Aquinas. Given the belief, the logic is impeccable. And given the logic, the belief is thoroughly justified. It's called religion. Of course, this is a religion that is unique in one regard; it infers no moral imperatives from the universe it claims to understand so well.

I believe, though, that this is a lack which can be easily remedied. Cosmological physics rests on the observation of, thus far at least, four forces: gravity, electro-magnetism, and the strong and weak nuclear forces. It would appear that our list of only three dark entities is one short of par. Permit me to suggest a fourth. Dark beams.  These are lines of exceptionally powerful energy so finely concentrated that they are presently undetectable, hence invisible or "dark." But, just like the physicists, we can still prove they are there because of the well documented phenomenon of answered prayers. Dark beams arc across the universe to and from the elegant conjunction of dark matter, dark energy, and dark flow that scientists 'know' continuously alters the behavior of the physical (i.e., visible and observable) universe. We see dark beams at work when  the routine predictions of science are confounded -- a brain-dead coma victim recovers, a hard-bitten fireman swears an angel protected him from immolation and led him impossibly to safety, the brief life of one man in a conquered province overthrows an empire and afterwards sets in motion the greatest explosion in the development of human imagination, knowledge, thought, creativity, and freedom in history..

These are not outcomes that can be explained by hard science or all the latter-day disciplines which claim to be sciences. They are the product of dark beams, which will one day make possible a unified "dark theory" which demonstrates that nothing works without the constant interaction between the raw physicality science seeks to measure and the much greater invisible aphysicality that sustains and makes sense of existence itself. And dark beams are the only shortcut that connects the physical universe directly with the aphysical universe. Hence the human association, throughout all the ages of of our species, of dark beams with the concept of the "divine."

Don't like it? Disprove it. In all likelihood, there's probably more voluminous evidence for my dark beams than for your dark matter, dark energy, and dark flows. And consider this: How scientific would all their formulations sound, particularly in the context of religion, if rather than "dark," they used as their preferred term "the unseen"?

Stew on that for a bit.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

THE ONE. The maestro is in the news a couple of ways this week. First, it seems there's been a rediscovery of a lost manuscript: Predictably, it's being used to make lesser men feel less lesser:



Nobody can play the music yet, because he left out information like the key and so forth that mere mortals have to have before they can orchestrate a deathless doodle.

Second, there's news about the long-disputed skull currently in the possession of an Austrian foundation. We may soon have a better idea about whether it belonged to Wolfgang or somebody else..


The scuttlebutt has it that the gravedigger who buried Mozart subsequently stole his skull and sold it. Scientists have managed to procure the thighbone of an aunt to use it in DNA comparisons. We'll see.


Scientists are never satisfied, of course. Without their dumb tests, they're adrift. It doesn't matter that jettisoned body parts have served as soothsayers to millions over the years, capable of answering every "yes or no" question put to them.

Oh? You doubt it? Then give it a try. Frame your question and prepare to hear the voice of the greatest genius yet born in the -- what d'you call it? -- Common Era?

You'll see.

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