Crippling Assimilation, Twice Timed

As I indicated nearly two years ago, I found O somewhat too self-conscious in its fidelity, not to fault the actors implicitly, though I remain indecisive about Mekhi's performance. I will have to grumble, curse my own obstinacy, revise some of my older posts, haul Riverside Shakespeare out of my bookcase, review the play and see the damn film again, as I do not agree with Ebert's thought processes on this particular adaptation. Axing part of my seminal biography mode is not difficult, but it is tricky. I poured heart and soul into this account, and while I concede to critics that my elisions lack clarity-- even my intent on any particular day leads to an internal query as to why I went in a particular direction and mashed potatoes-- I have to revise cautiously.

These posts are my markers, whether I fade or actually vindicate my scorched disillusionment. I studied Othello with another professor, not Jerry McGuire, and whether that has any bearing on my disenchantment I'll leave unanswered, but Othello is a problematic drama beneath its notorious conflagrations. Multiculturalism is the strife of humanity, and what Shakespeare is doing with his Moor and the slaughter of lambs is one thing, what O does is condemn Eurocentrism for putting Africans in their present predicament in ways which go beyond enslavement as an industry, which of course was wrong, but the film is provocative within its integral framework, beyond the issue of gun violence and the varied legacy of American mass shootings. 

Deep Dish Cherry

So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves.--Romeo and Juliet, 5.3.5-6

My essential argument, with which most of you would disagree, is that perspicacity should triumph over civility, not so much for trolling as an inherent value in itself, but for the sake of veracity. I certainly respect the way Maher has made a career out of it, and agree with him most of the time, when I spare myself the leisure of paying attention to his routine; it's been a long dry season, as far as that goes, though he would probably be puzzled at my defense of Roman Catholicism despite my lack of parish involvement and my soft atheism. I am having a terrible craving for soda or juice and hate the former. Vending machine in the laundry room but the guard no doubt put it on report if I requested access (sigh). Few things I have been neglecting with Arlington Road, Brazil, which I should make an effort to conclude-- but black ire doesn't concern me all that much. I live among you and want nothing more than to flee from the wonders of the African American codex, qualifying that with the caution that there are discriminations not yet explored in that assertion.