Had a chance to visit my friend Shane in Kentucky and took it. So glad I did. Returning to the city has involved a bit of culture-shock for the first time ever, but I'm sure I'll readjust. Meanwhile, some photos of Shane at his work, and also with one of his horses, Motown.



( More photos behind the clicky. )

Oh. My. Gods.



I thought it was enough Gay to have seen Liza perform this year.

So this is a normal day on the internet for me:

I find this disturbing article in the NY Times about an anthropologist in the employ of Disney,
 who is searching to find better ways to sell the ambiguous product we call Disney to 6-14 year old boys.

This leads me to thinking about Edward Bernays, nephew of Sigmund Freud, author of the book Propaganda,
1928, and the man who made it fashionable for American women to smoke, got Americans
eating eggs and bacon for breakfast (his clients included big egg and pork producers of America) and
instructed Public Relations folks how to create desires where none existed before.

Bernays is on my list of targets of time-travel assassinations, assuming Time travel isn't Twelve Monkeys-style.

But once you're in Wikipedia, why stop there? I started searching for information about my friend Paul's
grandfather, who was part of the early days of Public Relations; but he had the foolish notion that a
company should be fully accountable for its actions, and PR would serve as a window to the public.
No mention of him.

 However, I did find one of Bernays' competitors: Ivy Lee, who worked for John D.
Rockafeller and Bethlehem Steel. Also seems he worked to protect the Rockafellers'
image during the Ludlow Massacre of April 20, 1914.

And huh, it turns out Ivy Lee was uncle to one William S. Burroughs.

I moved her dress so I wouldn't sit on it. Black party dress.

"AFRICA!" she shouted, green stuff between her teeth, like seaweed.

"AFRICAAAA!" she called out, too much mascara on Japanese eyes. She looked at me. "We're enemies, I guess."

I shook my head. "We're not enemies."

"Yes we are. You've got blue eyes and I've got brown. That makes us enemies." Her hair black and up in pigtails piled high.

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does. I'm full-blooded Russian-Japanese. Did you know that?"

"Really?"

She nodded and repeated herself. "I'm full blooded Russian-Japanese. I'm your enemy!"

"I'm not your enemy, though."

"And Africa, she's my baby. I love you Africa! You see they converted. They started in Asia but they converted."

At one point she took my hand. This was difficult because I had a shopping bag around my wrist.

"She's my baby," she repeated. She held my hand and said "You're my baby. You see I'm not afraid anymore.
I love the Africans. But they're afraid. They converted but they were afraid. But I guess they're not afraid now."

"Who's afraid?" I had lost track of the argument.

"The Africans." She took my hand again and smiled. She let it go. "White toilet paper. I got plenty of white toilet paper in my shoes."

And indeed, her little black pumps were in her lap, stuffed with pieces of toilet paper.

I chose not to get off at 34th street, instead to wait for 42nd.

"Gettin' dirty is the hardest thing to do in the world." she expliained.

"No it's not." I said. "It's very easy."

"No, gettin' dirty is the hardest thing in the whole world."

"It's really easy, I think."

"No it's not."

"This is my stop. You be careful out there."

"Africa!" She touched my hand again as I got up.

"You be careful."

"I love you!" She gave me her seaweed smile again as I walked out, feeling kissed by the Moon.

...

Happy Winter, everybody. Stay warm and hold on to your modifications.

This is hopefully a regular effort to both delight and confuse my friends.


Exhibit A:  A brilliant map from the 1860's that charts the progress of Napoleon's diminishing forces as he attacked Moscow and was forced to return home; it also tracks the temperature at different points during the campaign.

Exhibit B:  Swedish dance bands of a bygone day. Suddenly  Abba looks incredibly tasteful. Warning! Not for the faint of heart, though SFW.

via ditloudidintle :


Creative albeit criminal uses for Craigslist. And inner-tubes. I bow down in awe.

I spent part of election night dancing on 125th street with the elated residents of Harlem. Having lived under the reign of George Bush for 14 years (I was in Texas when he was the misgovernor) I swore in 2004 that I would dance in the street as soon as somebody better was elected. I couldn't have picked a better place nor better company.

In the "life imitating art imitating life" department, it seems that Rahm Emmanuel, Obama's pick for White House Chief of Staff, was the inspiration for the character of Josh Lyman from Sorkin's "The West Wing".  I didn't follow the show, but I have a few friends on here who've said nothing but good about it.

 So.... This meme, again from hangingfire .

I picked the first 20 songs with lyrics from my Itunes shuffle and post the first line of the song. 
You get to guess the song. Person who identifies the most songs and at least one of their performers, gets a special prize. Googling the lyrics IS cheating.


( Lyrics behind the cut! )

Via hangingfire .

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 42.
3. Find the first full sentence.
4. Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

Not sure if this seems more or less pretentious than hangingfire 's book, but I'm reading P.G. Walsh's translation of The Golden Ass by Apuleius. It's my subway reading today, and is the closest book to me.

"They were trying to wrench the house-doors off their hinges; all the bars which had been most securely installed had been violently torn away. The robbers were plotting with each other the murder of those within. Then one of them, more eager for action and of more imposing physique than the others,  began to rouse them to the same pitch with exhortations like these: "Come on lads, let's attack them while they sleep, with all our manly spirit and ready vigour. Away with all feelings of hesitation and cowardice! Let slaughter stalk with drawn sword throughout the house. Let's cut down those who lie sleeping, and run through those who try to rersist. We shall make good our retreat unscathed only if we leave no one in the house unscathed."