Thursday, March 19, 2015

More Advice to Obama: Don't Be Seen With an Umbrella!

One of the most common "lost" items in this household is the ordinary umbrella. For the record, it is not me who loses them -- it is She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. For as long as I've known her she has had a variety of umbrellas, and almost all of them have been lost, mislaid, stolen, forgotten, left behind, disappeared, beamed up by aliens, etc.

And me? Of course I can't lose one because I don't carry one. For people of my age and older, the umbrella is the very symbol of "appeasement".


For those who were homeschooled, that's the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain being greeted by Adolph Hitler at the 1938 Munich Conference that led to Hitler invading the Sudetenland, sealed the fate of Czechoslovakia and led to charges of "appeasement" against Neville Chamberlain, who gave in to Hitler's demands for "liebensraum" and secured, in Chamberlain's own words when he arrived back in the UK, clutching that umbrella firmly in hand, "peace in our time".

We all know how that turned out.

Note the umbrella in the picture. BTW, also note the physical placement of the two world leaders. Chamberlain is two steps below Hitler in that photograph, so it appears that he is trying to supplicate to Der Führer. I don't even have to be told to be sure that it was taken by a photographer from the Third Reich. Hitler and his Nazis were nothing if not cognizant of the propaganda value of ... well, everything.

And this, in short, is why people of a certain generation and older see the umbrella as the symbol of appeasement.

And Neville Chamberlain, meanwhile, has recently become, long after his death, a ridiculous obsession of the Right Wing in this country, because of that umbrella ... appeasement! 

Even if they don't always know what appeasement means:


"Appeasement" has become become a dirty word, rightfully so, and no red-blooded Amurrican would be seen dead with its symbol, the umbrella. And that's why Obama needs to just stop it with the umbrellas already!
Sidebar: There is a school of thought which holds that Chamberlain's actions, while they did result in the invasion of Czechoslovakia, bought some valuable time for England (and England Jr., aka the United States) to build up her forces and prepare for the war that everyone knew was inevitable.
The after-the-action analysis indicated that Hitler was all bluff and if, at any time during his initial blusters -- marching into the demilitarized-after-WWI Rhineland, for example -- he had met any resistance he would have backed off.
But that's all Monday-morning quarterbacking. Without that time machine, there's really no way to know.
And, even though I live in one of the wettest corners of the country, I still won't carry an umbrella...

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Must-See Cinema: Beat the Devil 1954

By now you know that I am a fan of the oddball, the quirky, the offbeat, in films. Today's must-see-cinema choice is Beat the Devil from 1954 (Wikipedia mistakes it at 1953), and it has all of that and more.

Trailer:


The movie stars Humphrey Bogart, Jennifer Jones, Gina Lollobrigida, Robert Morley (playing the role that Sydney Greenstreet would have played had he still been acting), Peter Lorre, and Bernard Lee (who would go on to widespread recognition with his appearances as "M" in the earlier James Bond movies), and was directed by the great John Huston. It was "scripted" by Truman Capote -- if you can call it that: Each day's filming was done more or less by the seat of the pants and a lot of the actors made up their own in-character dialog as they were shooting.

The plot centers on a rag-tag group of small-time swindlers and shady ne'er-do-wells in a small Italian port who hatch some big plans to go to "British East" -- aka Kenya -- allegedly to sell vacuum cleaners(!) but instead to strike it rich some shady uranium mine deal.

Eventually they take passage on a questionable tramp steamer bound for Mombasa, but are forced to abandon ship off the coast of Africa and have to straggle ashore, where they are immediately taken into custody. The scene in the office of the local police/immigration official in North Africa is totally hilarious.

The Italian scenes were filmed along the spectacular Amalfi Coast.  Watch for the classic Hispano-Suiza car (photographs) being allowed to run over the cliff and the ensuing dialog. Priceless.

I've referenced this movie before in this blog; longtime readers will know already that this movie supplied as a recurring line my pirated phrase, "a chill on my liver". I still say it all the time, when I am feeling a bit under the weather.

You can rent Beat the Devil from Netflix or, better yet, buy it from Amazon, because I have the feeling you are going to want to watch it more than once. For copyright reasons, it is not available on YouTube.

BTW, Bogart is on record as saying he never liked the movie: "Only phonies like it." Probably because he spent a lot of his own money bankrolling it. But, unless I am a "phony" (and I am not), he is wrong -- it is a terrific movie and an outstanding example of a box-office bomb that became a cult classic.

More reading:
   · Beat the Devil on the IMDB.
   · Roger Ebert's Review


Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Rare Solar Eclipse a Warning from God?

It's being billed as an event that takes place only once every 100,000 years. This from a website (WorldNetDaily) that thinks the earth and the rest of the universe is only 6,000 years old. Do the math on that and you'll find something missing. Like science.

It's a total solar eclipse that will happen just at dawn over the North Pole. And because it is over territory that is not claimed by any nation, it will serve as a sign from god to all nations that the End Times are near. It's an "unmistakable" sign of judgment.

And it's going to happen THIS FRIDAY!!! Be afraid, be very afraid!

WND's "biblical experts" are all creaming their jeans over this. According to one professional expert, Little Bobby O'Dell, "This is likely a message from God to the entire world."

Another "expert", Pastor Mark Blitz, says, "In Jewish tradition, a total solar eclipse is a warning to the Gentiles and a sign of judgment on the nations. When we look at where the darkness will be, it will be in northern European countries like England and Sweden where we see the rise of Islam and anti-Israel sentiment. Europeans especially should take heed."

Yeah, uh-huh.

This reminds me of the old story about the explorer in the wilds of the Amazon who is captured by the natives. They are going to perform some kind of horrible savage death ritual on him when he suddenly remembers that there is an eclipse coming at two o'clock.

"Let me go," he says. "For I am a powerful wizard who will block out the sun and plunge the world into darkness and all of you will die."

"Yeah?" says the chief. "Well, you better hurry up about it since there's going to be an eclipse in an hour."

Monday, March 16, 2015

Monday Music Break: One Toke Over the Line

This is one for your "now I've seen it all" file. Lawrence Welk and the fresh-faced-and-glassy-eyed Gail and Dale, with the "modern spiritual", One Toke Over the Line:   


Watch old Larry the Whelk -- you can't see even a glimmer of a knowing grin, not even an ironic raise of the eyebrow, as he introduces this "modern spiritual"...

Modern spiritual, huh? As you might expect, Mike Brewer and Tom Shipley, the song's writers and original performers, just happen to see it a little differently...

Exploitation Movies: The Road to Ruin (1934)

The 1930s produced a cornucopia of grindhouse exploitation films (aka "sexploitation" movies), usually disguised as "educational" movies that were ostensible cautionary tales about one social problem or another.

Today's feature is The Road to Ruin from 1934.

Full movie:



This is another cautionary tale about a young girl whose life is ruined by sex and alcohol and marijuana. Typically, "good girl" Ann Dixon and her high school friends are 25-year-old teenagers, and we know the first time we see her best friend Eve that she is trouble. How do we know that? She's a bleach-blonde.

She's also a "fast girl" who uses some subtle peer pressure to get Ann to take that first drink, a leftover from a party thrown by her divorceé mother. (In these movies, a child of divorce always = trouble.)

From there, of course, it all goes rapidly downhill as Ann has some crying-afterwards first sex with her "teenage" boyfriend, and then hooks up with Ralph, an "older man" (i.e., about 30 -- only three years older than Helen Foster, the actress who plays teenage Ann) . She falls in love with him, he slips her a mickey of some sort and they "do it" on his couch after he discreetly switches off the light.

Then there's a wild party at the house of one of Ralph's friends, they all play a game of strip craps  (I guess it was faster for the whole getting-the-clothes-off thing to show strip craps rather than strip poker), Eve loses all of her clothes, and then someone suggests they take a dip in the pool.

No one has a swimsuit (of course) so the girls, already in their 1930s skivvies, jump into the pool with guys who don't look like they've taken anything off except their shoes and jackets. Eve, already naked, takes a swan dive off the board. A couple of uptight neighbors are outraged, call the cops (while the man -- comic relief -- keeps peeking out the window wearing a broad leer, "to keep an eye on things") and when the cops show up Ralph sneaks off and leaves Ann to face the music on her own.

At the police station Eve and Ann are labeled as "sex delinquents" -- really; we see their official cards -- and they are detained for an "examination" by a doctor. Ann passes her Wassermann Test but Eve doesn't. Ann's mother shows up to take her home, leaving Eve behind because her mother is "out of town" (i.e., she's at a wild party herself and can't be located).

Even though Ann managed to pass that Wassermann, she is still not off the hook -- not by a long shot: She is pregnant. She tells Ralph about it and he hems and haws and says he will marry her, but not now since he's "not free". He convinces her to get an abortion from the slimiest-imaginable "doctor", and then we fast forward to the death scene. Spoiler alert: She dies from complications from this "doctor" and his botched butchery.

One modern critic called this a "sordid drive down the path of moral and physical degradation, capped off with just enough of a moral lesson to alleviate any guilt the viewer might feel for watching such a decadent display."

I was actually surprised by the amount of professionalism shown here. There's some pretty good movie-making going on, especially in the first half, in spite of all the hand-wringing sensationalism. The actors do the best they can with a raft of wooden dialogue, especially the moralizing social worker in the "girls division" of the justice system who lectures Ann's mother on her lack of child-raising skills. Yes, of course it is the fault of the parents -- that's who this "educational" movie was aimed at. In fact, the producers billed it as suitable only for persons over 18.

Turns out it was a remake of a 1928 silent film of the same name, also starring Helen Foster in the main role. I haven't been able to find a copy of it, but there are reports that it was way more salacious than this version.

The money shot: The pool party -- girls in wet underwear and Eve doing her naked dive.

Lessons learned: Don't take that first drink, don't have sex, and if you get pregnant don't have an abortion. Especially not from some sleazy "doctor" with a leer fronted by a mustache! Oh, and of course don't trust blonde girls... Ever.

Directed by: Dorothy Davenport (billed as Mrs. Wallace Reid), who also makes a cameo appearance.

More reading:
The Road to Ruin on the IMDB
Dorothy Davenport on the IMDB

Quoting Winston Churchill on Muslims

My IBIL* is at it again. He forwarded me an email, 8 Pictures to Make You Think, from his Rethug buddy containing a bunch of "before" and "after" pictures, allegedly of "free" Iran before the 1979 revolution showing "happy" Iranian youth in "western clothes" in 1970 compared with the burkha-ridden frothy-mouthed murder-eyed radicals post-Ayatollah.

And the email quoted Winston Churchill in a speech from 1899, in which he supposedly "nailed it":

"How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries, improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live. A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement, the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men. Individual Muslims may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it.
No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome."
So here is my response:
Fuck this. The problem is not Islam. The problem is Fundamentalism. It's the same with Christians (I can point to chapter and verse in the Holy Bible where "our" god is as big a dick as Allah -- in point of fact, for that matter, "our" god IS Allah) but, like the fish is the last one to understand the principles of water, most people in this country can't see that. Especially the Christian Fundos, who all think that they are "normal" representatives of God on Earth.
It's easy to pick and choose "representative" photographs, but these are not representative at all.
Here's just one picture to "make you think".
What do you make of this?

In case you don't know, that's Detroit's own Rima Fakih, Muslim, Miss Michigan, and winner of the Miss USA pageant in 2010. Yeah, she's probably a Terrorist as well, but I don't know where she's hiding that suicide bomb...
As far as the Burkah and Hijab -- sure, we think of them as weird, but are they really any weirder than men wearing dresses (Catholic bishops, etc.) or the magic underwear of the Mormons? We accept that (well, the Catholic thing, anyway) because it is part of our culture.
And I wouldn't be quoting Winston Churchill if I were you. He was a dipshit racist and an anti-Semitic imperialist dick who believed that "the Aryan stock is bound to triumph". You could look that up.
So feel free to send this back to that Rethug Faux-News-Watchin' anti-Semitic (Arabs are a Semitic people) friend of yours and tell him to blow it out his ass...
Like I say, like She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed says, I really shouldn't respond to this shit. But I just can't help myself. Besides, it gives me some surefire fodder for this blog -- almost as good as my wackjob cousin. A blog which BTW he never reads, so he won't know I refer to him as my "IBIL"...


*IBIL = Idiot Brother-In-Law

Sunday, March 15, 2015

I'm Back

I'm back in town after a long and tiring weekend away. Everyone is coping as well as can be expected. There was a very nice memorial for Mike, my granddaughter's husband, held at Cathedral Park in Portland OR, one of his favorite places. A lot of his friends were there and were very supportive of my granddaughter and the children.

It's called Cathedral Park because it is under Portland's St. Johns Bridge, one of the most picturesque bridges in the country, if not the world:


As you can see, the bridge was designed in the Gothic style, and from underneath it looks like you are in a Gothic cathedral:


But it was cold and rainy and wet, but fortunately someone thought to bring canopies. Obviously it was someone from Mike's side, since none of us are that aware.

It's a pretty nice park, if you ignore the half-dozen or so Long Island Whitefish in the parking lot...

Anyway, I'm back now. Yesterday's post was one of those write-it-in-advance-and-schedule-it posts that I wrote a couple of weeks ago.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Today is an Extra-Special Once-in-a-Lifetime Pi Day


Today is Pi Day. Every March 14 is Pi Day. It has been around for a while, since 1988, actually, but today's Pi Day is special, because it is 3-14-15, which the astute reader already knows, represents the first five significant digits of the mathematical concept of pi -- π -- , which, as the ancient Greeks figured out, is what you have to multiply the square of the radius of a circle by in order to get its circumference.

Or, as it's usually represented, πr2  -- or "pi r squared".

Anyway, at 9:26:53 this morning, and again this evening, an even more special event will occur: π to ten digits, or 3.141592653 -- that's why today is a extra-special once-in-a-lifetime Pi Day.

Traditional celebrations of Pi Day include, naturally, eating pie and throwing pies. I intend to do both and I enthusiastically encourage all of you to celebrate as well.

Unless you were home-schooled and the Bible is your only source of knowledge. Then you can look at 1 Kings 7:23 and figure out your own version of π. You probably also subscribe to the Pie Are Round, Cake Are Square school of mathematics as well.

Much has been made of this apparent mistake by god in calculating the circumference of a circle -- see here for example -- but since I don't accept the Bible as a reliable guide in any other sense, I'm not going to squabble about what is essentially a rounding error by an "inerrant" god.

Nevertheless, Happy Extra Special Pi Day, everyone! We won't see another one like this for 100 years.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Suicide: The Ultimate Selfish-Aggressive Act

Suicide is the ultimate act of selfishness. It's also an act of aggression. No, not aggression against yourself, although that is true, but it's an act of aggression against your loved ones, the ones you leave behind to wonder for the rest of their lives if there was something that they could have done.

Last night, the husband of my oldest granddaughter shot himself in the head. Admittedly, the kid had some ... issues, but it was the way he did it that was the most shocking, most disgusting act of selfish aggression that I have ever encountered.

He killed himself in the living room of their house, with my granddaughter and his oldest child, a four-year-old boy, with him. I thought that he really loved their children, and I watched him do everything he could to take care of them. But apparently I was wrong, and what he could do wasn't nearly enough.

He had been an angry depressive -- although he never abused her or the kids -- for a over a year. My granddaughter repeatedly encouraged him to seek professional help, but he refused to do it. She never suspected that it would go this far -- but families of suicides rarely see it coming, except in retrospect. Then a lot of things seem to fall into place, and so she will spend the rest of her life rerunning the last year in her mind, haunted by all of those "if only" thoughts.

But the four-year-old (who will be five in May) is the one who will be the most fucked up by this, for the rest of his life. He's already saying stuff like "My daddy didn't love me and that's why he did it"...

Sure, he's going to get grief counseling, psychiatric help, and constant reassurance from the rest of the family that it wasn't his fault, but deep down, is any of that going to really matter?

It's hard enough on someone to have a parent die when they are young. To see it happen, by the parent's own hand, is so fucking terrible that I don't have the words to describe it. It may have seemed to him to be the easy way out, but that "way out", that was so fucking easy for him, will screw up that boy of his for the rest of his life (the other child is only a year-and-a-half old, so it won't affect him the same way -- he'll just feel a profound but vague loss, wondering where his daddy is).

I'd feel bad for the father if I wasn't so goddam mad at him for doing it...

Must-See Cinema: Dr. Strangelove (1964)

No one born after the 1980s has any idea about the nuclear Sword of Damocles that hung over us all in the 1950s and 1960s. We were all going to die! Duck and Cover cartoons created a grade-school horrorshow experience, complete with drills designed to help you protect yourself from nuclear Armageddon. Post-nuclear-apocalypse fiction dominated the reading public with such titles as Philip Wylie's Tomorrow (in which a lot of people survived by making adequate Civil Defense preparations), and Triumph, in which, despite the name, pretty much everybody dies. On the Beach by Nevile Shute was a best-selling novel in 1957, a long-story-arc comic strip illustrating the book and appearing on, in my local newspaper, the Opinion/Editorial page in about 1958 and an acclaimed movie in 1959. Spoiler alert: No one survives.

Into this depressing mix came a black humor (back when "black humor" had a different and non-racial meaning) movie, originally scheduled for a pre-release screening on Nov 22, 1963 but postponed to June 1964 because of the JFK assassination. The movie was called, to give it its full title, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

Trailer:



Dr. Strangelove is a both hilarious and scary story of how the world stumbles into total nuclear war, all because General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) takes it on himself to get back at the commies who are busy "polluting our precious bodily fluids" with fluoridation in the water. And the names! General Buck Turgidson, Major "Bat" Guano, Major "King" Kong (the inimitable Slim Pickens in a role turned down by Bonanza's Dan Blocker because it was "too pink").

Mere descriptions can't do this film justice. If you haven't seen it, click on over to Netflix and get it in your queue. You won't regret it. This is one of those films that I can watch again and again and it never gets old. It is also available on YouTube for streaming, but if you are like me, you'll want to watch it on the DVD, where you can see it all and get it all, in all its glory.

Directed by the legendary Stanley Kubrick.

More reading:
Dr. Strangelove on the IMDB.
Roger Ebert's Review from 1999.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Exploitation Movies: Delinquent Parents (1938)

The 1930s produced a cornucopia of grindhouse exploitation films (aka "sexploitation" movies), usually disguised as "educational" movies that were ostensible cautionary tales about one social problem or another.

Today we have a snooze-fest from 1938 entitled Delinquent Parents:

Full movie:


This one is so lame that it doesn't even have its own Wikipedia page. But it does have a grabber poster:


And some killer taglines: Under Age! Out of Control! A Picture You Will Never Forget... Modern Youth In Revolt!

The plot, such as it is, first focuses on a girl law student who gets pregnant and chooses to give her "illegitimate" daughter up for adoption, and then has to keep it secret from her husband and friends later in life. You can guess how well that works out for her. She becomes a judge(!) and that baby comes back to haunt her: We see the baby all grown up and when she finds out she's adopted, she goes "youth crazy". Blah blah blah.

The money shot: There really isn't one. A girl is seen dancing in wild abandon, lifting up her skit so we can see -- gasp! -- her thighs! That's her in the circle on the poster.

Lessons learned: Don't get pregnant, stay out of trouble with the law unless you can snag an "understanding" judge, don't dance like that. Oh, and if you are adopted, don't panic out and turn into an "underage and out-of-control youth". Get over it.

Directed by: Nick Grinde

More reading:
Delinquent Parents on the IMDB.

Monday, March 09, 2015

Success!!! Blogger Accepts "Porn"

And we have a winner! Just got this from Blogger -- An update on the Blogger porn content policy:

This week, we announced a change to Blogger’s porn policy stating that blogs that distributed sexually explicit images or graphic nudity would be made private.
We’ve received lots of feedback about making a policy change that impacts longstanding blogs, and about the negative impact this could have on individuals who post sexually explicit content to express their identities.
We appreciate the feedback. Instead of making this change, we will be maintaining our existing policies.
Ta-daaahhhhh!

And this means for you, my loyal dozens of readers, there will likely be no more "Pornography + Time = Art" Fridays.

Sorry. And it was shaping up to be such a fun fight, too...

Lucky Pierre

When I made my triumphant return trip to Vietnam in 2008, I happened to run into an old French guy in a bar in Hanoi. He was a veteran of Dien Bien Phu and like a lot of veterans of his generation, he was on a tour to reconnect with his old battlefields -- I was actually surprised at the number of old French guys in Hanoi, either on their way to or coming back from their battlefield tour.

This battlefield tour is, I was told, a big deal in the former North Vietnam. I didn't go on it myself since it meant a minimum of two days from Hanoi to go out there and back, just to see what is now a remote clearing in the jungle. But it meant a lot to the guys who were fighting there in 1954, and I don't begrudge them that.

Anyway, Pierre had to have been at least 75 years old (assuming that he was about 20 at the time of the battle of Dien Bien Phu), but he didn't look or act that old. He was actually pretty spry for an old guy -- I can only hope that I am as spry when I am that age (which is creeping up on me sooner than I want it to...).

When he found out I had been an American soldier during the Vietnam War (or as the Vietnamese refer to it, "The American War") he had some questions for me.

This is a capsule summary of my conversation with Pierre -- you'll just have to imagine Pierre's accent:

"I am Pierre, " he said when I introduced myself. "They call me 'Lucky Pierre'. I was at Dien Bien Phu. Not a scratch. I was in Algeria. Not a scratch. I never even got the Indochine Venereal Disease. I was very, very lucky, and that is why everybody, they call me 'Lucky Pierre'!"

I hoisted my beer. "Well, here's to you, Pierre l'heureux!"

"Ah! Alors vous parlez français?"

"Un peu. Je suis un cours de français à l'université, mais il ya plus de plusieurs années..."

And that launched a verbal flood of French from Lucky Pierre, none of which I really got. Admittedly I was just showing off, and I had pretty much exhausted my already dangerously-low reserves of French. (I actually did study French in college a million years ago, but it was all pretty stiff textbook stuff and it did not really stand me in good stead in later life, neither on my trips to France* nor on my trip to Vietnam.)

But, a couple of "33"s later, Pierre said something to the effect of, "Why did you Americans think that you could just step in and take over when we French had lost so badly?" I'm paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it.

It was an easy answer. "Because you were French."

And that is the easy answer, but not in the conventional the-French-are-fucked-up kind of way you might think. We Americans really did think that we were better than the French (and we still do), and it was that very American arrogance, more than anything else I believe, that led us too down the garden path to defeat (there's no better word for it) in Vietnam: "Get outta the way, Froggie, and let a pro show you how it's done!"

"Because we were French??!!" Pierre said, sounding a little offended.

"Calmez-vous there, Pierre. It's really because we were Americans."

"Oh, you Americans," he said in an exasperated tone, shaking his head.

And that about summed it up, for both of us.


* When She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I were on holiday in France and tried to get our point across by stumbling around some awkward attempts to speak the lingo, most people were immediately helpful and guided us along, even to the point of speaking English themselves -- all the French want, all anyone wants really, is a little respect, and by and large Americans don't give it to them -- Americans already speak the language of god (the Bible was written in English, goddammit!) and there's no reason to resort to anything less.
So you won't hear any snarky comments about the French from me. Go get your fucking "freedom fries" somewhere else.

Monday Music Break: Blackbirds

Here are Voices on the Verge from their only album, Live in Philadelphia, with "Blackbirds":


I first heard these "girls" on a low-watt indie station out of Philly while I was driving up rural Clark's Valley, in Eastern Pennsylvania a few years back. I had no way to write down who they were or the name of the song, and I had a hell of time after I got home trying to find out more. But find them I did, and bought their album on CD ("buying an album", even on CD, sounds so quaint, so ... I don't know, "yesterday"...). I haven't regretted it.

Sunday, March 08, 2015

50 Years Ago Today in Vietnam

On March 8, 1965, the first official US combat troops, consisting of 3500 Marines, landed in Da Nang, Vietnam. There had been of course an ever-increasing number of "advisers" on the ground since before the 1954 French defeat at Dien Bien Phu, but these Marines were the first Americans who were sent there in force with the sole purpose of rooting out the Viet Cong to protect "democracy" in the not-really-a-country of South Vietnam.


We all know how well that worked out: Not well.

Sidebar: We very easily could have been there eleven years earlier. I knew a guy who had fought as a Marine in the Korean War and who was subsequently stationed in Japan. He told me one time that when it became obvious that the French would be defeated at Dien Bien Phu, the US loaded his whole division onto transport ships and headed south. For about a week they hove to, just out of sight, off the coast of North Vietnam while they made preparations for an amphibious landing. Then, for no stated reason, they suddenly left and steamed back to Japan.

I still have no idea what that was all about.

Before you dismiss this as just some more barracks-room braggadocio, keep in mind that I heard this story about 1961, long before most people in the US had even heard of Vietnam, let alone be able to find it on a map.

Saturday, March 07, 2015

Babbly Nothin-Yoohoo and my IBIL

My IBIL (aka Idiot-Brother-In-Law) is an expert at yanking my chain -- he ought to be, since he's been at it for 35 years now. Yesterday he forwarded a pro-Netanyahu email from his Rethug friends that went on and on and on about what a "hero" Babbly is, called 5 Badass Things You Should Know About Bibi Netanyahu: 1. He's a war hero. 2. He has taken bullets for his country. 3. His family has paid the highest price for Israeli freedom. 4. He's damn smart. 5. He is one of the most successful politicians in Israeli history. Complete with a photograph for each one of the points, and a side-note under the "damn smart" section that he is friends with Mitt Romney. And that is supposed to show he's "smart"?.

And also complete with side-by-side photos of Babbly on one side and a two-shot of Obama and Biden on the other. They are labeled "Nut and Yahoo". (Okay, I'll admit that is kind of funny... Surprising, since I didn't think Rethugs even had a sense of humor.)

So here's my response:

So what? He's still a dick and an Israeli terrorist. He's been Chicken-Littling for over 20 years that Iran will have The Bomb "in two years". They are at least 19 years behind schedule. Where is it? And so what if they do? Pakistan has The Bomb and they are way more scary than Iran. Don't fall for it. If he ever starts saying "we'll be greeted as liberators" when we invade Iran...well, you know how well that worked out in Iraq. Iran is actually our potentially-best ally in the fight against ISIS.
Fuck your kneejerk Republican friends. It's time they stopped kissing Israel's ass and woke up to reality in the Middle East. Has Israel every sent troops to any shenanigans we've been involved in? Have they ever even committed any money towards shoring up "American Values" in any farflung backwater where we try to impose them at the barrel of a gun? It seems to me to be a pretty one-sided alliance. We give them guns and planes and shit, and all we get back is a handful of "gimme" and a mouthful of "much-obliged".
All they can do is say to the US about Iran, like Wimpy in the Popeye cartoons, "Let's you and him fight."
And Babbly Nothin-Yoohoo is BFFs with Mitt Romney? That in itself is enough for me.
(An aside to whatever dickwad at the NSA is reading this: Fuck you, too)

Didn't take long to get a response from him:
Cute recap of basics. Reckon we all need to carry around air sick bags at times like this. Well, all times with so much self interest. How can our congress sit back and let him talk to the hand, clap and not say anything about what you just said. Are they all ignorant or just in for the ride and what they can get out of it...........Seems our government it the scary one.
Well, that was kind of disappointing. I was hoping to get at least a little flame war out of this...

My reply:
Hmmm, was that a little too strong?
Don't forget that 50 Democrats boycotted the speech, but their side doesn't get told in the "news" -- only that they are Jew-hating communists. The whole thing was set up by John Boner as a slap in the face of Obama. Boner knew he was doing an end run on the diplomatic end of things, and trying to shore up Babbly's support at home where he faces reelection with only 39% of his voters supporting him.
And now that I have pretty much sealed my fate with that snarky sidebar to the NSA, I'll see all of you in the concentration "re-education" camp.

You are going there just for reading this...

Parsing the JFK Assassination

I've been a student of the JFK Assassination as well as a critic of the official explanation contained in the Warren Report for over 50 years and have written about it on this blog periodically.

The only thing I am certain of is that the Warren Report is wrong. That said, I really don't know what is right. It seems like every time you turn around someone is popping up with a new theory. The whole thing is like one gigantic Rubik's Cube, except that you can eventually, with enough time and by keeping your wits about you (or by using a "cheat sheet") solve a Rubik's Cube.

I have purchased, borrowed -- or out-and-out stolen -- and read well over 100 books on the JFK assassination, and most of the theories in them just seem to fall apart when you start asking the inevitable "Yeah, but what about...?" questions. No one has a waterproof and airtight theory.

The Kennedy Assassination has one solution. The problem is that it is not an easy one, an obvious one, an apparent one, and a lot of the data can go to support one theory or another. The single assassin aka the Lone Nut Theory? Plenty to support that. The Mafia did it? Got it. The CIA? Of course. The anti-Castro Cubans? Good case for that. The Kremlin? Okay, maybe... Castro himself? Hmmmm, well....

Those are the biggies, but there are many more theories scuttling around in the lower part of the curtains that latch onto one aspect or another and stretch it out beyond the breaking point: Oswald was actually shooting at Connelly because of his "undesirable" discharge from the Marines (Connelly had been Secretary of the Navy); the Secret Service agent who was driving the limousine turned around and shot Kennedy point blank with a pistol; a Secret Service agent in the followup car accidentally shot Kennedy in the head with his experimental weapon (actually a prototype of the M-16) when the first shot was fired; or my personal favorite, Kennedy was assassinated by the South Vietnamese version of the CIA in revenge for the assassination of Vietnamese president Ngo Dinh Diem on -- get this -- November 2, 1963! Less than three weeks earlier!

All of these theories have their hardline enthusiasts who can show you the all of the clues that prove their point -- when the clues are lined up "correctly". The big problem is that many of those clues are all fairly easy to use when you pull together your own theory, if you line them up correctly. The key is that "correctly" -- we are all predisposed to see things that support our presuppositions and ignore any messy extraneous details that don't fit. See my post on Pareidolia from New Years Eve. The trick is lining them up really correctly, to fit all of the facts. Not so easy to do. Actually, it's apparently impossible to do.

Over in the newsgroup alt.assassination.jfk, which I check out regularly, there's a guy who goes by the name "Ralph Cinque" who is really into the photographic evidence from November 22. He runs a blog called Oswald in the Doorway which is probably worth taking a look at. The long and the short of it is that he thinks that Oswald is innocent and the famous Altgens photo, taken seconds after the first shot, clearly shows Lee Harvey Oswald standing in the doorway of the Book Depository Building; therefore he couldn't have been on the 6th floor. Lately Ralph's been obsessed with the Time Magazine cover that shows a long-lens shot of JFK and Jackie in the limo at some point just before the assassination -- he's convinced that it's been "doctored" in some way. I'll admit that it does look a little "off", but it was a telephoto shot and anyone who's ever taken pictures through a high-power telephoto lens knows that the resulting photograph will likely look a little "funny".

Sidebar: It is also interesting that in that Altgens photo, you can't even see Lyndon Johnson, who was riding in the right rear seat of the convertible that was the second car behind Kennedy's, with Ladybird sitting next to him (look between and behind the two motorcycle cops on the right side in the photo -- you can see his wife Ladybird, unmistakable in that hat, but where's Lyndon? He was 6'4" tall and he ought to be visible sitting on Ladybird's right). That fact, in and of itself, has resulted in another branching JFK Assassination theory, one that holds that LBJ was either involved in it or else somehow knew in advance that Kennedy was going to be shot in Dealey Plaza and scrunched down in anticipation of the shots as his car turned into Dealey Plaza. Since Lyndon Johnson was a notoriously amoral Texas wheeler-dealer, it's really not that much of a stretch when you look at that picture and wonder, Where's Lyndon?
Anyway, Ralph treats his blog like a newsgroup chat, which makes it really hard to follow, but if you alternate between it and his posts on that newsgroup, it sort of makes sense. Kind of.

The book I'm reading now, Harvey and Lee: How the CIA Framed Oswald, by John Armstrong, posits that there were two different Oswalds, along with two different mothers, whose paths trail and cross and follow each other over time in several key locations: New Orleans, Fort Worth, the Marine Corps, and New York City. All of this was orchestrated by, of course, the CIA.

Armstrong, with a huge number of footnotes to source materials,  does a good job of bringing together such various well-known discrepancies as the height of Lee Harvey Oswald that is reported differently in several places (e.g., 5 ft 9 inches here, 5 ft 11 inches there, 5 ft 8 inches in another place), the scars that he did and sometimes didn't have, and also resolves the question as to how Oswald could be enrolled in two different junior high schools in two different states at the same time, how he could work two jobs at the same time, one in New Orleans and one in Texas, how he could also work a job in New Orleans while he was already in Japan in the Marine Corps, how he could be seen in anti-Castro training camps in Louisiana and Florida while he was also in Minsk in the Soviet Union. And it also answers the question that seemed to come out of left field a few years ago: Was Lee Harvey Oswald living in North Dakota at one point? Reliable-sounding witnesses say yes, the Warren Commission supporters say no.

The only solution, according to Armstrong, is that there had to have been two different Oswalds, the original and one who looked a lot like the original but who spoke fluent Russian (everywhere except in Russia!) and who slowly took over Lee Harvey's identity in order to be able to "defect" to Russia on a CIA spy mission. This other Oswald -- whom Armstrong calls "Harvey" as opposed to the original Oswald, "Lee" -- was the one who went to Russia pretending not to speak Russian (and Marina is the only one who has said that he did speak Russian while he was in the Soviet Union) and came back to Dallas just in time to be set up as a "patsy" for the JFK assassination. I know, it is convoluted, and Armstrong takes some 1200+ pages to deliver it.

BTW, the theory of Two Oswalds has been around almost from the beginning of the investigation. A guy named Richard Popkin, a respected academic, even wrote a book, The Two Oswalds which identified the many discrepancies between the Oswald that the WC (Warren Commission) wanted us to see and a shadowy "Second Oswald" hiding in the dark corners. For example, the Oswald who drove a car vs. the Oswald who never learned to drive, the Oswald who was acting the dick at a shooting range vs. the Oswald who was at work at the same time, etc.

Harvey and Lee is an expensive book, $90 on Amazon. Better to find a library and try to get it from them, either directly or through Inter-Library Loan (ILL) -- if you can; I found a couple of out-of-state libraries who had it but wouldn't loan it out to another library. But I did manage to find it in a kind-of choppy pdf format for free from a questionably-legal Box account. It does not contain the disk of photos and documents and other exhibits that comes with the book, though, and that's too bad. But if you want to look for them, Armstrong gives you enough information to find them with a little diligent searching. Use this Box at your own risk, but it also contains numerous other rare and out-of-print books on the Kennedy Assassination in addition to this one.

For a brief look at Armstrong's theory, check out his blog, Harvey and Lee where you see such photos as this one:


Look at those pictures and tell me that you would bet your next paycheck on both of them being pictures of the same man. On the left is the USMC photo of Oswald, on the right is the Dallas Police mugshot of Oswald. Check out Armstrong's site, but try to ignore the early-days-of-the-Internet look of his web design, though. I don't think it really does his presentation of the facts a good turn.

Another blog that covers this is called Oswald's Mother and if you dig down enough you will find some side-by-side photos of the two Mrs. Oswalds -- something is definitely a little "off" there as well.


With pretty much any event, you are going to find what appear to be anomalies. Those Six Seconds in Dallas are probably the most analyzed six seconds in history, and it's weird that the more they are analyzed, the further we seem to get from the truth. A few anomalies, well, that's coincidence. But when you start stacking up the anomalies, at some point you get beyond a mere string of coincidences and start to wonder just what the fuck is going on?

There are more loose threads here than you'd find in Rick Santorum's sweater-vest after he's been ravaged by pit bulls. None of them seem to lead to anything close to a satisfactory conclusion.

Fuck that. I want the Unified Field Theory of the Kennedy Assassination. Chances are I'm not going to get it. Just like Chief Justice and Committee Chair Earl Warren said, "not in this lifetime."

It actually bugs the shit out of me to realize that at my age I will likely not learn the truth as to who shot Kennedy, and how, and who else was involved, before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Friday, March 06, 2015

Sorry, No Sex For Me -- I Have a Bad Case of HTML

According to a probably questionable survey, fully 10% of Americans think HTML is a sexually-transmitted disease.

And, silly me, I thought Internet pornography was a healthy outlet for those base sexual urges. As a wise man once said, "Don't knock masturbation -- at least it's sex with someone I love."

The same survey found that 23% thought that MP3 audio files were some kind of Star Wars reboot, and Blu-Ray was some kind of marine animal.

It's kind of fun, but as I say, it needs to to be taken with a grain block 50 lb. bag of salt.

BBQ Baloney Sandwich? Really?

Okay, I'll admit it up front. I really do not like baloney -- or, to use its proper, high-falutin' name, "bologna". When I was a kid growing up on the farm, we would occasionally take day trips to visit my cousins in Sapulpa (yes, that's really a place) or my great-uncle in Okay (yes, that's Okay OK, really another place), and we would have to make it a fast trip. Those cows, as much as we might have wanted them to, wouldn't milk themselves.

And those fast road trips meant that we had to eat our food on the run. This was a million years ago, before there were McDonald's, before there were Subways on every corner, even before there were Oklahoma-born Sonic drive-ins. This meant that we had to get food that was fast and easy to put together and eat while you were driving. This meant, sad to say, baloney and Wonder bread. The recipe? Take a slice of bread, slap a piece of baloney on it, fold it over and there you go. Mustard?  Forget it. Mayonnaise? What's that?

A couple of years ago I was at my local deli/prepared-meat counter getting some corned beef for sandwiches and I noticed that they had a big log of baloney. Something reached out to me across all those years and I found myself wondering if it was really as bad as I remembered -- you know, tastes change, etc. Long story short, I got three slices of their "premium" exotic-brand (and expensive, so you know it must be good) "bologna" and took them home.

I managed to get one slice down, and the other two went to my crows. Yes, it was as awful as I remembered it being. Worse, actually.

So. Fast-forward to yesterday. I was watching one of the "Food Porn" shows on the Travel Channel, and they were making visits to various "pigout" restaurants around the USA, one of which was the Cozy Corner Cafe in Memphis, where they are proud -- proud! -- to serve a barbecued boloney sandwich!

OMFG.

Pornography + Time = Art (2)


Here's another Venus -- she was a popular girl back in the day -- this one called The Birth of Venus, by Sandro Sandro Botticelli.

Or, as she is probably equally well known, Venus on the Half Shell.

This is another masterpiece from the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. And yes, I put my naked eyes all over this one as well.

As I've said,  Blogger has announced that as of March 23, all blogs containing "images and videos that are sexually explicit or show graphic nudity" will be banned.

While they do say they will "still allow nudity if the content offers a substantial public benefit. For example, in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts", that's some cold comfort -- it's not at all clear whether that ban will or will not include this picture. For example, if I call this "pornography" (which I clearly imply), does that remove the "artistic context" so that it will be banned and my blog taken down?

Only time will tell... And yes, I am trying to push the envelope here.

Thursday, March 05, 2015

The Revenge of the Hippies...

Speaking of Hippies, no less an authority than Mr. Duck Dynasty himself, Phil Robertson says that over 100 million Americans are infected with an STD, and it's all the fault of those god damn Hippies:

There is a penalty to be paid for what the beatniks, who morphed into the hippies [did]. You say what do you call the hundred and ten million people who have sexually transmitted illnesses? It's the revenge of the hippies! Sex drugs and rock and roll have come back to haunt us.
Yeah, Phil. You look like the perfect spokesman for the anti-Hippie movement. Go find a 14 15-year-old to screw before she gets used up -- "ruined" -- and isn't fit for anything except using a hand washboard to clean that skanky beard of yours.

The Death of Hitchhiking

Used to be, way back when, that one of the most efficiently economical, if not speedy, ways to get from point A to point B was to hitchhike. Despite such stories as that of Billy Cook (who did kill a couple who were kind enough to give him a ride on US 66) and a ton of urban legends that told of drivers being murdered by psychopathic or ghost hitchhikers (the "no good deed goes unpunished" school of thought), hitchhiking was a viable transportation alternative in the US starting in the Great Depression and continuing through the mid-1970s.

It was helped along by the likes of Jack Kerouac, whose On the Road was not only the so-called (by the sensationalistic-even-then media but no one else) "Bible of the Beat Generation" but a seminal influence on the thinking and behavior of the "flower children" of the late 1960s. All that despite the fact that even a casual reading of On the Road will reveal that Jack Kerouac did surprisingly very little hitchhiking in that book.

This alternative form of travel reached its zenith with the rise of the Hippie Movement, when any "long-haired freak" (i.e., a Hippie) who wanted to go somewhere was virtually guaranteed of a ride, at least part of the way, by some other long-haired freak in a car. It was rare for someone to have to wait longer than an hour -- and often much less -- at a good freeway on-ramp before getting a ride.

There was an active "jungle drums" communication system between and among the hitchhikers as to what on-ramps were the best and which were to be avoided. Back then, a lot of states still had some very draconian laws against hitchhiking, but those laws were enforced differently in each state. Colorado had the most strict laws, and they were the most strictly enforced. A good friend of mine was trying to hitchhike out of Trinidad and got swept up by the cops, had to spend a night in jail and two hours the next morning at a "rescue mission" (where he had to sit through a lengthy and completely boring sermon) only to get for his sustenance a bean sandwich(!) and an onion, followed by a five-mile hike out of town before the cops finally turned back and he was able to snag a ride over the border to New Mexico.

I did my share of hitchhiking back in the day, and it was almost always an adventure. One time my buddy and I were at the very back end of a line of Hippies wanting rides from Sacramento to "the north" (Portland or Seattle) and a guy drove down the line asking people something and then driving on to the next person or group. I didn't know what he was up to, and I was ready to turn him down since everyone else had, but when he got to us he said he was going north, but he was going over to the coast road (Hwy 101) and then north, but only as far as Eureka. "Only?"

We took the ride, eventually landing in Arcata in time to socialize (i.e., "party down") with some Humboldt State students (even back then it was known as "Dope U") for a few days, and arrived in Portland a few days behind in a schedule that we didn't really have.

No, I didn't ever get picked up by that legendary car full of horny schoolteachers resulting in a Dear Penthouse Forum letter. Nor the solitary woman out to "get even" with her husband -- that's what bars were for, anyway...

But one thing I used to do all the time circa 1974, killing time at an on-ramp, was to write this graffiti on the backs of freeway on-ramp signs: "A man without a country is like a fish without a bicycle." That wasn't original with me by any means -- I cribbed it off the wall of a Hippie bar in the Bellingham WA suburb of Fairhaven -- but I do note with a modicum of anonymous pride that it was eventually picked up by Gloria Steinem and changed to "a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle".

It was an extremely interesting and entertaining way to travel, as long as you didn't have an inflexible itinerary or a schedule, as long as you were willing to entertain the drivers that picked you up, and as long as you didn't have an over-inflated idea of how dangerous it was to hitchhike. The California Highway Patrol did a study, released in 1974, that indicated that hitchhikers were not disproportionately more likely to become crime victims than the general population. Other studies confirmed that as well.

So why did it stop? Nowadays you can drive from coast to coast, from border to border, and see maybe a single hitchhiker or two. I think it's because all the hippies grew older and got more fearful from watching Faux News, and everyone else -- the same people who wouldn't give you a ride back then -- still has the same "fuck you" attitude that they always had...

That and I think we are all more fearful in general than we were back in the day, when it was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius and love was all around, you know, all that stuff. I personally have not picked up a hitchhiker in years and likely will never do so again. It's probably still as non-dangerous as it ever was, but still... I'm older now and I've probably soaked up by osmosis some of that famous "good sense" that we all seemed to lack back then. (My father was famous for saying, about me, while shaking his head slowly back and forth, "that boy just ain't right in the head".)

In 2013, MSNBC did a story called What Killed Hitchhiking? that goes into it in some depth. As a guy named Phil Reed from Edmunds.com says, "it was the demise of the '60s mentality of love and trust and the belief in community ... Hitchhiking hippies were replaced by hitchhiking ex-cons. Even I wouldn’t pick up a hitchhiker today."

And there you go.

Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Who Is Anti-Semitic?

It's an easy question to answer, but first you need to figure out who is "Semitic". It's likely not what you thought. Because of the Holocaust, most people think that Jews are the only Semites. They are not.

The word Semitic actually describes a bunch of different kinds of people, all based on their language. If your culture speaks a Semitic language, i.e., one that comes from something called the Proto-Semitic language, then you are a Semite. I hate to break the news to all of the dickwads on the right wing, but the speakers of those Semitic languages are: Akkadians (Assyrians and Babylonians), Ammonites, Amorites, Arameans, Chaldeans, Canaanites (including Hebrews/Israelites/Jews/Samaritans and Phoenicians/Carthaginians), Eblaites, Dilmunites, Edomites, Amalekites, Turukku, Ethiopian Semites, Hyksos, Nabateans, Maltese, Mandaeans, Mhallami, Moabites, Shebans, Meluhhans, Maganites, Ubarites, Sabians and Ugarites. And, most importantly, that list also includes ... dare I say it ... Arabs!

Which is why it is almost laughable to hear the wingnuttery describe Arabs who hate Israel as Anti-Semitic. These people think the 50 senators and the president who "boycotted" Babbly Nuttinyahoo's speech are anti-Semites.

Can you imagine that, our own pro-Arab crypto-Islamist openly-secretive -- did I mention pro-Arab? -- jihadi-in-chief, Barack Hussein Obama, an anti-Semite? A contradiction in terms if I've ever seen one.

Must-See Cinema: Citizenfour (2014)

Hey, kids, you wanna see something really scary?

By now everybody knows something about Edward Snowden -- wasn't he that traitor that sold out American secrets to...to...to somebody?

Well, no, he was the guy who blew the whistle on NSA spying on, well, everybody!

Citizenfour is a documentary from filmmaker Laura Poitras that chronicles the Edward Snowden affair from the first tentative contact that he made with her all the way through to his exile in Russia. When you realize that the American government not only has the ability to spy on each and every digital communication not only here but worldwide, but actually does so, then you realize that any right to privacy that you thought you enjoyed was just an illusion.

Watch as The Guardian's Glenn Greenwald interviews Snowden in a hotel room in Hong Kong, where Snowden landed in hopes that the Chinese would not give him up to the US easily. The matter-of-fact approach that everyone seems to take to the NSA spying is in itself chilling.

Snowden was charged in absentia with four violations of the Espionage Act of 1917, which a rational person would think only applies to spies during wartime, passing information to the enemy, that sort of thing. Or, from the true intention of the Act, just being one of those adherents to a "foreign" ideology (i.e., Socialism, Communism).

If you thought that was all it covered you would be wrong. As a group of lawyers offering their services pro bono to Snowden take pains to point out, it's much broader than that -- anything the government says is "secret"  IS secret and you can be prosecuted for revealing it. Even if you can prove that the "secret" was unconstitutional and illegal. That is not a defense against prosecution and conviction.

So it's kind of a hollow reassurance to hear and see Obama in this movie say that Snowden should come home and face a "fair and impartial" prosecution by owning up to his "crimes"... Yeah, I wouldn't come back, either. The minute he sets foot on American soil -- or really anywhere within the reach of the long arm of American "justice" -- he'll be "disappeared" so fast that you wouldn't even know he was there. "Snowden? Snowden who?" will be the response if you have the temerity to ask. And then you will disappear as well.

Netflix doesn't have it yet, but they do have it listed so you can save it to your queue and watch it when it does come out on DVD. Of course the NSA will know that you have expressed an interest in it and you'll come up to the top of their "special list". Just as I'm sure I have for just recommending it.

Citizenfour won the Academy Award for Best Documentary at this year's Oscars. Of course the NSA knows how everyone voted, so don't be surprise if certain voting members of The Academy start mysteriously disappearing in the next few months...

More:
Citizenfour on the IMDB.
The Snowden Saga: A Shadowland of Secrets and Light in the May 2014 issue of Vanity Fair.
NBC News Interview With Edward Snowden.

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

Exploitation Movies: The Cocaine Fiends/The Pace That Kills (1935)

The 1930s produced a cornucopia of grindhouse exploitation films (aka "sexploitation" movies), usually disguised as "educational" movies that were ostensible cautionary tales about one social problem or another.

Today we have The Cocaine Fiends, originally released under the title The Pace That Kills, another morality tale involving dope and at-risk youth (are there any other kind in these movies?).

Full movie:



Pretty but innocent (aren't they all?) Joan Bradford works at her mother's restaurant on a busy highway in the country. A traveling salesman/dope pusher stops by while he's on the lam from the cops and offers her a "headache powder". You can figure out right there where this is going, and it doesn't disappoint that expectation.

Joan falls in love with the guy and heads for the bright lights of the big city, keeps taking those headache powders, and eventually becomes Lil, a "gangster's moll". In the meantime, Joan's even-more-innocent younger brother is working as a carhop(!) at a drive-in restaurant (the iconic Twin Barrels in Los Angeles*) with a blonde girl co-worker who introduces him to some "pick-me-ups" in the form of that now infamous headache powder.

Things go along and we watch intercuts between the sad mother back in "the country", waiting in vain for a letter from her wayward children, and the brother and sister, each of whom is in the thrall of addiction independently of the other. Some stretched-out spiraling-the-drain stuff occurs, the brother's blonde girlfriend from the drive-in, looking especially haggard, becomes a streetwalker to supply his raging habit (now he's evidently shooting up), she eventually commits suicide after she gets pregnant and he says he never loved her, and finally there's a "surprising" plot twist at the end.

Oh, and a couple of people do end up happily ever after, a rich girl we see slumming at -- and kidnapped from -- the Dead Rat Cafe, who can't understand why she isn't acceptable in "society" (there's a reason for that, having to do with that plot twist) and her beau/watcher/protector, who is actually a lieutenant in charge of the vice squad who is working "undercover".

About the only high point here is that Dead Rat Cafe, situated on a sleazy non-descript alley in the "bad part of town". As we hear early on, when girls end up there it's the end of the road for them. But when we finally get to actually see inside the Dead Rat, it turns out that it is a swanky-looking nightclub with a live band and a floor show! Two of the floor-show singers actually get to sing, which kind of makes this a musical. Sadly, they aren't very good singers,which is, I presume, how they ended up in this dog of a movie.

The money shot: There isn't one. The sex is all implied, there's no nudity, and while there are plenty of drugs -- cocaine and opium -- we never see anyone actually using -- the camera would cut away to a reaction shot instead. The raciest thing about this movie is the original poster:


If, based on that poster, I'd gone to see this movie in a theater, I'd demand my money back.

Lessons learned: Don't take that first "headache powder" if someone offers it to you, not even a beautiful blonde, stay away from the city if you are from the country, and don't trust anybody...

Directed by: William A. O'Connor.

Also known as The Pace That Kills (original title).

More reading:
The Pace That Kills on the IMDB


* The Twin Barrels drive-in was legendary to the generation that came of age when "cruising" was a thing. For those not in the know, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, kids in hot-rod cars would spend a whole night cruising "the strip", from one drive-in to another, for no particular reason, other than to see and be seen and show off their cars. This social milieu was captured perfectly in the coming-of-age movie of my generation, American Graffiti.
Given its legendary status, it's kind of surprising that I couldn't find much on the Interwebs about the Twin Barrels except that matchbook cover.

Monday, March 02, 2015

Looking Into Putin's Soul?

I wonder how The Smirking Chimp (aka George "Dubya" Bush) feels now about that rash statement he made way back when, when he said about Vladimir Putin, "I looked the man in the eye. I found him to be very straightforward and trustworthy. We had a very good dialogue. I was able to get a sense of his soul; a man deeply committed to his country and the best interests of his country."

It seems to me that you couldn't be more wrong about someone, even if you defended Joe Stalin by saying, I don't know, that he loved his daughter (for the record, she says he didn't).

So how does Dubya feel about that now? Is he willing to admit he was wrong?

You dreamer, of course not.

We have an answer to that very question from the wingnut media. Just as they always have, they are falling all over themselves to shore up the reputation of their Second Savior (the first being St. Ronald, bless-ed be his nayummmm).

According to the Daily Caller blog, Bush now "thinks" that Putin became "a different person".

Mmmmmmm-kayyyyyy...

It's not at all clear who Putin has become in Bush's "mind". Maybe Phil the Prince of Insufficient Light, since we are sure that W. would never be taken in by an actual Agent of Darkness.

Anyway, it just goes to show you that a con man is actually the easiest one to con (see for example, Magic in the Moonlight, the latest film from Woody Allen). Bush, with his True Believer personality, was eager to see into Putin's "soul", and all it took was a couple of throwaway lines about Putin's mother and the piece of the "one true cross" (or something like that) to convince Dubya that Putin was another "man of god". Like himself.

Speaking of Dubya, he came up in a Listverse post the other day, 10 Events We Can’t Figure Out From The Vietnam War, one of which deals with his "questionable behavior" during the Vietnam War. I have expounded at length on this over the years, so we don't need to go into all that now. You all know the special kind of contempt I feel for him. (Hint: It's because he and Cheney were "chickenhawks".)

I will say, however, that my contempt is tempered -- a little -- by the knowledge that he really couldn't help being so fucked up in the head, what with all that competing-but-always-falling-short relationship with his father and the faulty toilet-training from his mother (think about it). I mean, come on.

If I were just a little more charitable towards him, I'd cut him some slack.

But I am not, and I will never be. Not after 4,491 Americans and an unknown number of Iraqis (estimated as at least 174,000 and likely many more) died as the result of a who's-got-the-biggest-dick contest between him and his dad. I will NEVER forgive him for that.

However, go take a look at the comments section for that Listverse article and see all of the rabid foaming-at-the-mouth wingnuts who are STILL defending the fucker. If you read them all, you'll see that it deteriorates quickly into a "Did not!" "Nyahh, did too!" schoolyard scuffle. Clinton! Obama! Clinton! Obama!

Fuck 'em all. I'm right, they're wrong, and that's the end of that.

That said, I kind of miss the little fucker because I don't have George Bush to kick around any more. Except I do, as evidenced by this post... So there.

Monday Music Break: Quel Temps Fait-Il A Paris

From one of my favorite movies of all time, Mr. Hulot's Holiday:



This is also "must-see cinema". If you've never seen this hilarious movie -- or want to see the restored "director's cut" -- get it from Netflix -- it is available from various streaming locations, but you will want to see it in the best quality and the way director wanted you to see it. Be sure to look for the introduction by former Monty Python Terry Jones on the DVD as well.

Further exploration:

Sunday, March 01, 2015

An Optical Illusion That Is Truly Mind-Blowing

By now everyone has seen "The Dress" -- the famous ugly dress in San Francisco that seems to change colors depending on who is viewing it. See Debate Rages Over Color of Dress.

I am not at all convinced that this is a "real" thing -- I think it's a case of using PhotoShop to lighten or darken the color saturation in the photo and spreading out into a flurry of linkstorms on social media.

However, this is the real deal and it will blow your mind. Take a look at this picture:


See those squares with letters "A" and "B"? You are not going to believe it when I tell you that those squares they are on are exactly the same color. But go ahead, use a color picker of some kind in a graphics program and you'll find that both squares are a neutral gray with RGB factors of "R=120 G=120 B=120"; in Hexidecimal it's "#787878", on both squares. In other words, the SAME color.

The eyes are the easiest things to fool. Yet another reason why so-called "eyewitness testimony" is worth a lot less that we are told in court that it is.

Thanks to Color Wheels are wrong? How color vision actually works for this example.

Book of the Month: The Train to Crystal City

Everyone who was awake in history class (or who wasn't home-schooled) knows that in WWII the US government rounded up 120,000 ethnic Japanese -- both immigrants and American-born -- on the West Coast and shipped them off to a series of "relocation" (i.e., concentration) camps east of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade Mountains.

The one camp that everyone seems to know about was situated at Manzanar, California, in the dry Owens Valley on the east side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, below Mt. Whitney. This camp is so well known probably because of the 1973 book, Farewell to Manzanar, written by former internee Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston, which was made into a made-for-television movie of the same name in 1976. If you want to see it, it's a fairly easy three-hour drive from Los Angeles up the Owens Valley. There's not much left now.

The camps were established in remote locations from California to Idaho through Montana and Wyoming, from Nevada to Utah to Colorado, from Arizona through New Mexico to Texas, and some were scattered even farther away from the West Coast, including one in Bismarck ND.

But one of the most unique camps was built around a cluster of adobe shacks formerly used by Mexican farmworkers in the Rio Grande Valley just a few miles north of the Mexican border on the outskirts of a little town called Crystal City TX. That was a light and airy name for someplace so hot and flat and dusty that many inmates came down with lung diseases from just breathing the air, but the town did (and still does) claim the largest statue in the world of ... Popeye the Sailor (they grow a lot of spinach in Crystal City).

What isn't so well known is that in addition to the Japanese, a lot of Germans -- and some Italians -- who were suspected by the government of being potential foreign agents or just somehow "subversive" (based on such things as unverified reports from suspicious neighbors) were also sent to the camps in droves, driven out of such Midwest cities as Chicago, Milwaukee and Cleveland. Most of them ended up in Crystal City behind barbed wire. These were mostly German immigrants who had some connection to the Hitler government, no matter how tenuous that connection was -- sometimes all you needed was a family member back in Germany who worked for the Nazis. These were people who had been in the US for years and had families but who for one reason or another couldn't or didn't get US citizenship. Almost all of the their children had been born in the United States and were American citizens, but they were locked away as well.

Add in the Japanese internees -- once again mostly "suspicious" characters who had a family member back in Japan who was in the Japanese government; even someone whose brother was in a fairly low position as field translator from Chinese to Japanese was not safe.

After this sudden lockup in the concentration camp at Crystal City, many of them became so embittered at the US government that they leaped at a chance to be repatriated back to Germany or Japan at -- or near -- the end of the war. In most cases they were repatriated with less-than-ideal results, not only for the native parents, but especially for their American-born children.

The full story of this dark part of American history came alive to me as I read The Train to Crystal City: FDR's Secret Prisoner Exchange Program and America's Only Family Internment Camp During World War II by Jan Jarboe Russell

Based on years of research by a native Texan, which included tracking down and interviewing former camp inmates in the US, Japan and Germany, and poring over old newspapers and examining musty documents at state and national archives, this book illustrates profoundly this little-known event in American History.

There were a lot of things I had not known before I read this book. For example, several of the families were repatriated to their "home" countries, i.e., Germany and Japan, even before the end of the war. The Americans, along with the Germans and the Japanese, created a secret "prisoner exchange program" which traded, on a one-for-one basis, Americans held in Germany since the start of the war for German-ancestry people held in Crystal City. The "model camp" at Bergen-Belsen exchanged a bunch of Jewish internees for an equal number of Germans, which meant that families being repatriated, complete with their children, were whisked by train from Marseilles where their boat landed, up into Switzerland and there they changed trains and went on into Germany. This was in the spring of 1945, very near the end of the war. For the children especially the culture shock was overwhelming -- they had gone from the urban environs of major Midwest cities to the pastoral semi-arid desertlands of Texas and then straight into the wasted landscape of a losing war. There was no shelter, no food, no room for them to stay with relatives. They had nothing.

In the meantime the Jews who thought they were getting freedom and a trip to America instead got to go to Algeria, since even at this late stage, when the Nazi atrocities against Jews had already been well-documented, the nativist anti-immigration anti-Semites in the US State Department refused to allow them to board the boat to America.

Another surprise was that, at the start of the war, almost 900 ethnic Japanese had been grabbed up in Ecuador(!) at the request of the American government, taken to the United States and interned at Crystal City. The same thing happened to a lot of Germans, a few Italians, and many more Japanese in Latin America, spirited out of their countries and into the Crystal City camp because they were seen as potential saboteurs to the alliance the US was trying to make with Latin America -- a "Good Neighbor Policy" that even Walt Disney got into by releasing The Three Caballeros as a good-will gesture for our putative allies south of the border.

In case you've never seen The Three Caballeros, you can watch the trailer here:


The book is filled with heartbreaking details of families ripped asunder by the larger issues of the war. It will give you an incredible insight into how the camp came into being, how it was administered, how families survived even as they were being torn apart, and the horror, shock and fear experienced by the children who were "repatriated" to completely foreign countries, countries that had been wasted by five years of war, countries that for the most part didn't even want them and had no place for them.

I rate this book very highly -- it's especially ideal for WWII buffs, military historians, sociologists and even anthropologists. Hell, everybody will enjoy it reading it. Get  it, read it, you won't regret it.

Further Information:
  • Crystal City Internment Camp 1945 (from Dept of Justice documentary film):