The bitch is back

stone cold sober as a matter of fact

Teetering on the edge of a precipice doesn't stop incidental commands from firing along the neural network on which our minds are, if only that, a conceptual extension. An entreaty to Vast Drive about my block on twitter led to an interesting revelation: I am considered a pornographer. I have battled the establishment in a myriad of ways, and because  I launch into vulgar tirades, I get a label like that, pornography. Weary sigh, need to revise, as if it matters on the close of 1500 posts, reading too much into social media actions, as well. Henry Miller's nihilist rant was ruled not obscene, and I'm a pornographer. Uh huh. Vast Drive didn't block me for my politics, but because their social media manager solicited web porn, otherwise indifferently. I've been graphic, sometimes effectively, sometimes too rushed, but I am not selling "the fuck of the century," in the immortal words of Michael Douglas feint riding Sharon Stone. When Basic Instinct went to DVD, I was still imposing myself on Jimmi Shode and Erik, and you cannot see them, their thick porcine and ghoulishly androgynous human forms, not very nearly approximated on Modern Family. Jimmi is just fat, an ugly flat nose, beady insecure eyes. He pushes back against management by writing defiant nonsense on memos. I, on the other hand, have actual tort against Presby, they know it, and its getting ugly.

The Gladhandler (pseudonym because his cerebral palsy limits him) used to be one of our lambs. Parceled out between us, Erik, corrupt self-hating trans, Linda the Jewish denier prevaricator, me, Debbie. He asked me to give his aide a cigarette. He has no other existence. Who am I to judge? It isn't that I condemn limited functioning invalids, but even Sean Penn made his mentally retarded father dynamic. Gladhandler isn't, he's a dog on a leash.

You'll have to kill me first.

Sudden Slavic Disappearance

The DeVito Douglas partnership is for the most part so orchestrated that it conventionalizes itself, but both DeVito and the ancient crones which comprise the make up of the Southern European Aunts Network know what they're talking about when the masquerade of gas feels like a nose dive in a healthy systolic rate. A moment's peace, deflation, and then all the sudden savage invective decibels against minority building managers gently recoils into its daily knot in the stomach.

What is it exactly that spastic wants in terms of her housing and isn't getting? Every large storied building has tenant issues, private or under housing authority contract. Spastic wants a ground level writing studio where she can be left alone as much as humanely possible, ten thousand leagues away from Presbyterian hypocrisy, which doesn't mean Catholic Social Services is off the hook. Blunt and charming nuns ask me if I have my nursing home facility lined up, which is why I am always screaming with Michael C. Hall's hysteria, even if I'm not the gay mortician, in the pit of my stomach.

Perhaps faux fighting President Clinton is a serenade toward an epitaph. His wife is twenty years plus my senior on blood thinning medication with a deer in the headlights astonished look at the country's anger. Would she really be a competent commander in chief? Mozzarella salad in wait, in the genius of Italian gastronomic comfort.

To my Muscovites: I miss being able to make fun of Russian cultural inadequacy. Do come back soon.

The Faberge Egg of Ponzi Schemes

"They defended a stubbornly held view of themselves, which was that they were ordinary and in the right of it."-- Doris Lessing, kindle loc 27

Dick Polman utilizes the rule of thumb that when mainstream media zigs, you should zag in the other direction, but Jantjie is an irresistible confirmation, a nefarious joke of first order rebellion against saturated accolades of a top heavy liberal era doddering under so many finely attenuated victories. I can only imagine the swarm of stringers and interns who have contributed to the fall out, the back story juice. One flagship outlet blames Afrikaner subjugation, and I don't doubt it. I remember the townships. I also remember Winnie's gang, politely swept under the carpet for the soaring oratory. Many analogies made between apartheid and American segregation, but the Dutch settlement of Cape Town and the European bloodbath which created the United States are not quite identical. White Americans stigmatized a diverse ethnic group, including themselves, and came out of it with an uneasy plurality and an archaic bureau which yelps in decimated cycles, reminding the citizen uneasily of nineteenth century pacification.

So I pick at scabs. To what end? We could speculate that perhaps forced co-existence of diversity, such as within the absurd theocracy of public housing, doesn't work any better than the refugee camps of my favorite Afrikaner film. What District 9 says about racial hatred is not quite easy to parse, as the native Africans are and aren't integrated, and both black and Afrikaners hate the prawns.

Toe nails on ailing left foot clipped successfully, I am absolutely ecstatic that I now understand how an aggregate works, having forgotten that I posted my Blogger address in my profile statement, my poor brain dancing with pieces in my life already over-extended, and alas, now I have to troll for subscribers, but we're all in a spam lot, just like Gorden Gekko is a parody of a pissing army ant. Why Oliver Stone had to make the 2010 sequel is a bit of a dribble, not that the drool of the story line rests entirely on Douglas's shoulders. I'm beaten people, beaten even if I get the fuck out of this building, even if I feed my former supervisor her head on platter. The aesthetic vanity of a grand dame in dignified old age is beyond and away, dead alive rolling through the motions. I will stay with Examiner.com for a time, however. Sedentary lifestyle-- with patience maybe I can join the editorial team, if I can keep my thinking cap.

Barter Economy

My favorite foreign release is Tampopo, and if I torture myself into buying the DVD and then selling it back, or Amazon gets the instant viewing rights, or in longer odds, it plays on my broadcast channels, it is ripe for dissection, however much I might wish for a photogenic memory, this is not one of my gifts. Culling the vignettes I can recall is not entirely satisfactory, though it might startle some of you that a film like this gives me a rare light-hearted delight, a sense of resolution that allows me to hold out, surviving gravel lungs and all, inclusive of supporting the Japanese if they harbor any future hope of continuing to humiliate China. If the boys of WW2 had played their cards with more acumen, Mao might not have ever had the opportunity to lay the mainland to waste.

Let me roll back a prior hostility slightly: Douglas's A Solitary Man turned out to be a wicked enjoyment, a rare moment when I could set aside my antagonism toward the actor and relish his deconstructions. This film is a subtle amalgam: a more incisive war of the Roses absent the poignant finality, an inside commentary on long winding A list twilight, and a softer, if still edgy, Falling Down, which I've mentioned is Michael as the anti-hero that I liked; but Falling Down slams the brakes and winds itself up in law and order moiety. A Solitary Man refuses this safety catch, and is stronger for it, such that may lend itself to future use.

I should not be posting, but my lungs have nearly reset, and depending on how much I catch up, we'll return to The Brothers Rico shortly. Off to bed.

Mighty Men

I have written about the Douglas'es before on LiveJournal, and when I finish moving my content and making revisions, this post may merge with those, since I'd like to probe deeper, but it seems that the only reason It Runs in the Family (2003) had to be made was to give the father and son a generational vehicle, and that is not good enough. To use David Denby's term for Demi Moore, Michael too often over defines himself for my taste, but papa bear Kirk, who is sad to see in this movie, always made his dramatic definitions work before the mortality crumple; I certainly find this relevant. I will note two things: physical frailty is handled with typical Jewish humor, a known conceit, and this is the only film in which Kirk's ethnicity seems genuine, and not under the careful and rigid control of the studio to make the actor's identity clean and tidy for Protestant America.

In conjunction with my last post, I think humanity has screwed itself, over-succeeded to the point that we're set to wipe ourselves out, give or take 2000 years, and when the crisis hits, diversity will kiss its sweet ass like the pipe dream it is. All these disaster movies, end of the world movies, or the apocalypse as played out on the Supernatural, I cannot say the drama of gloom and doom has no influence on my cynicism, but my dystopian sentiments come from environmental observation of the human animal. We are basically more stupid than we'd like to believe, and cannot rocket toward 11 billion without drastic consequences.

Down Time Binaries

Some philosophers believe the key to solving certain age old metaphysical problems is to embrace contradiction, but I haven't been able to resolve that I can enter into empathy with the father, who is able to draw me in to the hard flint of his psyche, while the son keeps me on the outside, pushing me away with a visceral animosity, the 1993 Falling Down being a notable exception.

Kirk Douglas exudes certain qualities in the best of his 20th century work, qualities that offer a subtle exchange on mind/body vulnerability, that can be exemplified by his black and white films like The Juggler 1953. His game theory with Jewish identity and diasporia doesn't always reach the depth of later Hollywood and foreign film Holocaust revisionism, and I only touched on it briefly in earlier posts, but he is certainly more successful with it at times than Paul Newman, and you may consider this a working outline, to which I shall add, as carefully as the late Christopher Hitchens, that I am critical of Jewish exceptionalism that seemingly makes the modern state of Israel a necessity.