Making anybody have ANYTHING to do with any kind of holy book would be punishment. They’re usually up to no good.
Tomorrow: #16 begins! Plight of the Phoenix brings in lots and lots of horses. And Udo in a dreadfully bad position — literally – before it’s all over.
Oh, these idiots are any capitalists you can name — British Petroleum, the corn and coal and forest industries — what have you.
Capitalism = harvesting. Whether it’s the mountain your grandpa grew up on, the buffalo herds that sustained you for millenia, your own life after you’ve paid into the commercial health-care system, at some point you’re supposed to die and allow what you collected to be harvested.
In capitalism, in order for the harvest to be collected, something or somebody is supposed to be dead. What’s wrong with you boomers? DIE, already!
God help the bad guys when us good folk figure them out. While they CANNOT see through our eyes, we can see through theirs. And use the knowledge.
Since the good folk can lie and know they’re lying, they can pull the wool over the bad guys’ eyes any old time.
Good folk = thinks ahead, avoids conflict, cleans up and cures with kindness.
Bad guys = kills to cure. If you’ve ever killed a beaver because it’s flooding the lower meadow you should have known was a watershed basin — or tried to wipe out the Jewish population — guess which side you’re on. There are no gray areas, no size degrees. Kill to cure = go to hell with Hitler.
No, I have no tolerance left. I’m sick and tired of this cruelty based on stupidity. Don’t even try to argue with me on this one. Cruel people are stupid, weak and nasty, with no more ability to think ahead than a chimp. And when they get into trouble and get themselves hurt, they whine and come running to us for help. From now I’m just quoting my mother: “Well, we told you not to DO that.”
I’m in my Winzig + Udo mood today.
Re old and new values: we were watching the Criterion Collection’s issue of Sanjuro, and the description of the old and new Japanese cultures was fascinating.
If you do get that DVD, a warning: while it is an excellent overview of Kurosawa’s film-making, it turns the final powerful duel into high comedy. Kurosawa originally got away with THE rule of comedy: “Quick movement in or out of the scene = comedy,” when Nakadai sinks out of the scene, eyes bulging. Now we know what REALLY went on during that scene, we’ll laugh our brains out from now on.
Kurosawa’s actors are interviewed about the movie, and all of them are wonderfully funny. And Nakadai looks like Michael Caine! No, go look.
(The WordPress Spellcheck caught DVD, WordPress and Spellcheck as misspelled — but not Kurosawa or Kurosawa’s. THAT’s fame!)
It’s always fun to draw Rosen; he’s all over the place.
My mom would have called him a “wiggle-worm.”
It’s all about the boyfriends.
Clawing my way though The Tale of Genji. It’s basically just a huge two-volume kimono-ripper. Lord, if that’s the basis for the whole of Japanese culture for the last thousand years — at least until recently — then the island chain has been run by the Harlequin Romances.
Gilbert and Sullivan must have read at least the short first translations of the Tale when producing The Mikado. All Tale characters are designated by their court titles. They actually have titles like “The Secretary Captain” and “His Cloistered Eminence.” They change as the characters change court rank; the women go from being somebody’s daughter or adoptee/wife to Consort, Haven, Intimate — all titles for various bedmates of the Emperor. “Marriage” is sneaking in and having sex with somebody, and we never know who’s going to end up with half a dozen sexual relationships, honorably supporting those women and raising their kids — or hiding the secret of who fathered whom.
No wonder the latest translations list all the characters and their relationships at the beginning of each chapter. If you think a Russian novel is convoluted, you need to pick up the literary chopsticks. It’s good bedtime reading; you will drift off after about a half chapter.
As you probably know by now, I love characters who have no real idea what each other are talking about.
It’s usually what’s happening around us in reality.
Back then, even somebody with Rosen’s limited education could speak a bit of French. Today, even National Public Radio pronounces German wrong; it’s like listening to a 19th-century comedy skit between Hans and Fritz.
I’m beginning the first page of the new anthology, which resembles The Virgin Project in its structure — and has the eager and welcome help of one of its authors. The first person says she thinks a train will get her. I’m having gruesome fun concocting images of subtle — if that’s possible — train deaths. Originally, I was calling the anthology The Mortal Coil, but only as a working title. I’m now seriously considering calling it A Little Death.
Oh, NOW he’s a Luftwaffe officer.
Who knew he was so touchy of his honor and dignity?
My dad was a pilot, so I know something about their feelings about their air-ships.
Sitting on a beach, he gazed at a seagull floating over head, and sighed, “Don’t you wish you could do that?”
In the end, they really just want to be able to swoop through the air with their arms stretched out. As kids, when we wanted to be a seagull we bent our wrists and pointed our fingers. An eagle was signed with wide-spread arms and spread fingers. Arms upwards in a wide V, body tipped back and forth, made a vulture.
Pilots really are just kids. Which is why nobody should let them put real bullets on those things.
Don’t worry, Rosen would never actually HURT an airplane (“hurt” instead of “damage” because the Winged Ones are all “she” to their stick-jockeys). But he knows what touching somebody else’s horse/car/rifle MEANS.
We do too, but why drag Freud in by the short hairs?
