Two Corners, Many Shades

I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes:
Through it do well, I do not relish well
Their loud applause and Aves vehement;
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
That does affect it. --Measure for Measure (1.1.67-72)

Foster's forgettable reticence is interesting. Fathomable? This is something that has preoccupied me for the two and half thankless years I have had a blogging account. She is not merely my contemporary, of course, and would not be the actor she is if her talent did not in some sense speak to the American soul. The pretty tomboy, the man girl who dares to transmute a vibrant sexuality, a fast-paced self-reliance that flows with her wit. I tend to think the media backlash she received over Hinckley was a form of moral castigation otherwise unfair to the woman. Taxi Driver was a Scorsese vehicle thick as thieves with Actors Studio methodology and experimentation that doesn't quite pan. Let me put it this way: I have been socially inappropriate with men in order to get laid, and the end result is I am alone with weak legs and a colon which has a mind of its own. Bickle's disturbed mind just doesn't seem consistent with his action of taking a golden girl to a sex education movie. It is akin to me rolling down to the lobby naked after I had enticed the husband, and that isn't an end game, even for a war veteran who is a wounded lone wolf. I have not approached Foster's publicist yet, and perhaps there is no way I could get around the formulaic industry promotional interview to do something different, and this includes the fact that I do not give a flying fuck what she thinks about Hinckley, an assassin of pretend who is notorious for attempting to murder a B-grade actor who had a chimpanzee side kick, an actor who believed in the blacklist during the tenure of his presidency of the screen actors guild before he was senile in the office currently held by a law student who needs to dismiss our highest federal law enforcement official.

I do not agree with McCain about much, but he is an astute politician enough to know when Principals mortally wound themselves. Did you notice Holder's hand shaking in his recent congressional testimony? I did, but in fairness to the Clintonian, I cannot remember any attorney general who was capable of running the DOJ. Holder's competence has been a steady spear in Barack's side since those giddy post-election days in 09 when he opened his mouth about race relations. He just doesn't embody the command and the ability to administer, to adjudicate terrorism, to hold his officers accountable for mismanaged operations.

Near midnight defecation disaster fortunately avoided, I did consider killing myself during the turn of the century. I am not quite sure what force of will stops me, what belief. Defiance has a great deal to do with it. My mind is focused on my leg strength. The level of pretense surrounding Hinckley's nearly successful attempt almost places us in Chesterton's landscape, now that I focus on it. Young Foster was pretending to be Martin's Lolita; Hinckley was pretending anarchy for the pretend kiddie hooker, and Reagan pretended his mettle had solid foundation. I wrote an essay supporting Reagan over Carter and bumped my GPA up significantly.