Hilaire Belloc

On a General Election

The accursèd power which stands on Privilege

(And goes with Women, and Champagne and Bridge)

Broke–and Democracy resumed her reign:

(Which goes with Bridge, and Women and Champagne). 

Goya

Saturn Devouring his Son

I'm posting this today for no reason other than it just came to mind, as I thought about my trip to Madrid, remembering my days in the Prado.

The usual interpretation of this painting is pretty much what the title says explicitly, the idea being based on the Greek myth of Kronus who feared his children would betray him and take his throne, so he ate one.

I beg to object.  Yes, okay, it does allegorize the fear of the idea or feeling of endless generational renewal, fear of becoming irrelevant once one's children have grown up, of being replaced, forgotten.

But according to me it also means something else.  Present here is the obscure and perturbing need --present in all of us to some extent-- also shared by Narcissus. Falling in love with oneself, wanting oneself, wanting to please oneself.

Rubens' Saturn

Compare, for example, this painting with one by Rubens on the same theme.  Rubens puts some distance between Saturn and the son he's eating, but Goya puts Saturn's "son" in a position and at an angle reminiscent of another body altogether, but another body within Saturn's own, not a body foreign to his.  It is almost as if his "son" were an appendage of himself, instead of another person.

Rubens depicts a child with limbs, a head; it is unmistakable, it's a person.  But Goya's?  

It has half of an arm, its legs are stretched out and pressed together, so that it is almost a perfect cylinder.  Also, notice that this isn't really a child's body; it is a body with rather developed, tightened, inflated muscles.  He's gripping this body with both hands, another contrast with Rubens' Saturn; to me, this hints at a lack of control.  Rubens' Saturn is his son's "better" in a way, he is holding the baby's body with one hand, but Goya's Saturn is grabbing his.

Rubens' son is in a position of inferiority; Goya's is being brought up to Saturn's horizon or field of vision, up to his level, as it were.  Goya's Saturn is lifting that "body" and not leaning over it.

  

Further: Goya's "son" has no head.  No head.  A human without a head is a very strange symbol for a person, even in a painting depicting an anthropophagous scene.  Where its head ought to be more or less, we see Saturn's own, horrified.

So to me, in Goya's painting, Saturn isn't eating another person at all.  He is eating himself.

C.S. Lewis

On a Vulgar Error

No.  It's an impudent falsehood.  Men did not

Invariably think the newer way

Prosaic, mad, inelegant, or what not.

Was the first pointed arch esteemed a blot

Upon the church?  Did anybody say

How modern and how ugly?  They did not.

Plate-armour, or windows glazed, or verse fire-hot

With rhymes from France, or spices from Cathay,

Were these at first a horror?  They were not.

If, then, our present arts, laws, houses, food

All set us hankering after yesterday,

Need this be only an archaising mood?

Why, any man whose purse has been let blood

By sharpers, when he finds all drained away

Must compare how he stands with how he stood.

If a quack doctor's breezy ineptitude

Has cost me a leg, must I forget straightway

All that I can't do now, all that I could?

So, when our guides unanimously decry

The backward glance, I think we can guess why.

Capsicum laude

When consumed, capsaicinoids bind with pain receptors in the mouth and throat that are responsible for sensing heat. Once activated by the capsaicinoids, these receptors send a message to the brain that the person has consumed something hot. The brain responds to the burning sensation by raising the heart rate, increasing perspiration and release of endorphins. 

Jalapeño

Capsicum annuum

Dedo de Moça (Lady's Finger)

Capsicum baccatum

Piri-piri (Malagueta)

Capsicum frutescens

Rocoto

Capsicum pubescens

Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto the Third, 1816

XXXVI.

   There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men,
   Whose spirit antithetically mixed
One moment of the mightiest, and again
On little objects with like firmness fixed;
Extreme in all things! hadst thou been betwixt,
Thy throne had still been thine, or never been;
For daring made thy rise as fall:  thou seek'st
Even now to reassume the imperial mien,
And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the scene!

XXXVII.

   Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou!
   She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name
Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now
That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame,
Who wooed thee once, thy vassal, and became
The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert
A god unto thyself; nor less the same
To the astounded kingdoms all inert,
Who deemed thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert.

XXXVIII.

   Oh, more or less than man--in high or low,
   Battling with nations, flying from the field;
Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now
More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield:
An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild,
But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor,
However deeply in men's spirits skilled,
Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war,
Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star.


Monument to Napoleon, Les Invalides

Sonntag Along

Which shines the brightest today for you? 
For now, I'm just avoiding looking out the window at yet more rain...

José Feliciano

so far, I haven't heard a single version of this song which I disliked, tho it can get old, to my surprise!

George Harrison

...unlike this one; to me this is the best version, the only one I ever want to hear, and I never tire of it.

Simply Red

Fun, relaxing.

Ray Charles

I rillly dig, tho I'd have liked it better if it were a little shorter. But don't tell Ray, I'm sure he'd be devastated if he learned my opinion hehehe

Soundgarden

Was fresh when it came out, still okay now, but by no means exceptional (and also at least a minute too long - and do we really need "Won't you come" 2564 times on screen?) 


Shaun Escoffery



Good for dancing and mustering the strength necessary to go outside and walk when it's cold. Naff vid alert.

Oh, Pleeeeeea!

 a rant




Mike McDermott: "...and please don't splash the pot."
Teddy KGB:  "... in my club I vill splash de pwot venever de fahk I pliz."

When will it be possible anymore to have a conversation or a heated debate about anything important if:

a) we must constantly start any discussion by reassuring our interlocutor we're aware of ethical, legal, moral, and politically correct considerations, therefore ensuring s/he knows we're not Hitler, or any of the "lesser" dictators; 

b) we must present as many easily verifiable facts as possible;

c) we must not make the conversation personal in any way;

d) we must not have any emotional reaction to a topic/point;

e) we must 'let go' as soon as it becomes apparent that "it is making ppl uncomfortable"

When did it become a faux-pas to make a point? to be passionate about it? to have convictions?  When did ppl start behaving as though they're on MSNBBCNN?  Why this endless need for consensus, for blandness?  What is wrong with a hint of chili in chocolate?   Are mashed potatoes always preferable to something that needs chewing?  Babies like mushy peas.  But that's because they haven't got teeth yet.  As soon as toddlers get teeth, they want crunchy things, hard candy.  Picture tigers only having smoothies.

Then ppl complain they're bored.  Well, of course they are.  Fascinating though an earthquake or a volcano eruption might be, there is only so much that can be said about these natural phenomena, unless they're turned into a metaphor in a bigger, more cunning, more difficult, stupendous, mega-fascinating, point.  Or a joke.  Or a euphemism.  You get where I'm going with this.

So you make the points you find need making (all these tiny points, screaming in your head, saying 'pick me! pick me!' - like 6yo orphans no one wants, desperate for attention, yearning for warm arms to embrace them and make them feel they matter-) only to be told 'oh but you see, we can't run the risk these ideas will take over because the moral consensus has always been that..---' and on.  As if it'd be okay if the conversation would only happen between you two, but it can't be discussed with others, lest ppl who aren't v mature or intellectually prepared for these ideas should be exposed to them. All very hushush.  "Oh I know John, you and I know this, but imagine if ppl like Gareth put their hands on it; we'll all be doomed."  Yah? Guess what, that's not the case. Ppl like Gareth can also hear about it, because ideas aren't the boogey man.

Picture someone saying that to Robespierre or George Washington or Nelson Mandela?  'Sorry, Nelson, we just can't have you saying these things; they're dangerous and plus which ppl might adopt these ideas and then what?'  Gandhi?  'Oh Mr. Mahatma, do stop sulking and have a bite out of this er plate of mushy peas.  Here's the salt.'

Then the skies open up and suddenly the sun shines on your face and obliterates even the most moronic and boring, relentless droplet of drizzle, the climatic equivalent of a whine. 

Every now and then someone will say something that makes you feel alive, because you couldn't agree or disagree more. The important thing is that it stirs a strong response in you, even if it is short-lived.  Isn't that a wonderful moment?  Isn't that why we live?  OK, one of the reasons why we live.  Otherwise, it'd be a situation where "I may not agree with what you think but I'll die to defend your right to say bluebells bloom in spring."  

This is probably why I find TV is so pernicious; it ends up BPermeating our unconscious mind and downloading onto our hardrive reactions which aren't normally ours, a kind of corporate takeover of the mind, much like these multinationals make every single city in the world look the same, so that you can be in Buenos Aires or New Delhi and buy the exact same products from the same shops with the same automatons who mistake bad taste for subversion.  

Now we can also talk to ppl from all over the world, of all ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, and education, and be almost sure they'll tell us exactly what we'll hear if we turn the tele on.  

Well, to this, I say an overweight NO. ¡No pasarán!

I prefer the slightly insane but thinking person to the reasonable consensual parrot, telling me how smoking will give me cancer, and betacarotene is good for tanning, and how donkey rides on Greek islands are giga-chic.  

StarSower

Kaunas, Lithuania

WordSword

Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
Et emitte cœlitus
Lucis tuæ radium.

Holy Spirit, Batman !

They Live

John Carpenter (1988)

Apple & Pear

"What you see is what you get" is a cliché that interests me.  How true is it of people? How true is it of people who say this phrase about themselves?  I don't have answers, I'm afraid.  Today, I have questions.

The idea according to which we're all complicated complex layered human beings whose appearance may not reflect this state of affairs is one I thought true as far back as I can remember.

People talk and sometimes say something which is neither v intelligent nor desperately original, and yet one thinks to oneself "no, it can't be all, there's got to be more to her/him."

Similarly, whenever someone is consistently interesting, funny, all-good-things-etc, one tends to ask the Q: "what's the catch?" or say "if it's too good to be true, it probably is."

And yes I see the merit in this basic speculation vis-à-vis one's inner core, if you'll allow me this Cosmo-Elle-Marie Claire-ism.

But what's been bugging me is: what if one's appearance IS one's core?  What if sometimes one's tendency to see something that isn't immediately visible is a fruitless exercise precisely because there's nothing else there?

If you can imagine removing someone's mask only to find the same thing underneath, over and over, ad infinitum, that's what I mean.  Or that character Jim Carrey plays in The Mask-- at one point the mask is absorbed by his body and is no longer an "accessory", but a sort of second skin.

Imagine going to a costume party wearing a mask of... your own face.  

Why must there always be something else under the scratch card? 

I've been finding more and more that ppl's masks are not only an 'incomplete' representation or manifestation of their inner cores, but that, often, much more frequently than I'd previously allowed for, if you scratch the surface you find either nothing under it or you find a larger sample of what is manifest on the surface.  Perhaps the example par excellence of what I mean is Michael Jackson.  He turned his face into what he perceived himself to be inside, and yet, looking at him, one of the first thoughts that come to me is: he isn't only his appearance.  But isn't he his appearance, too?  And why are appearances considered as less relevant in the order of things?  And I don't even mean it in a superficial way.

Guilty Until Proven Guilty

Let us imagine a simple, simplified even, hypothesis-- not original by any means, in fact, something anyone who's ever watched TV shows or films involving legal trials can recognize immediately.

A stereotypical & serial rapist is finally caught by the police.  The officers in charge of the investigation, however, succumb to the temptation of taking a rather gluttonous bite out of the fruit of the poisoned tree (oh the apple, that most vilified fleshy product), resulting in failure to properly keep to the legality with which evidence is supposed to be acquired.  Nevertheless, this fact only becomes known during the trial, by which time the defendant's guilt has been amply established beyond reasonable doubt.  A mistrial ensues, to the horror of all, and the serial rapist has to be let go, according to the rule of law. 

He is not less guilty because of this, he is only not guilty in the eyes of the law.

Let us imagine another hypothesis.

This same serial rapist is charged with a rape, but one he didn't commit.  This time, however, the police manages to get evidence "by the book" that he is a rapist, but not specifically about the rape for which he is on trial, so that most of the evidence presented concerning said rape is circumstantial. He is found guilty and sent to jail.

He is not less guilty because of this, he is only not guilty of this rape in particular.

The second hypothesis is, according to me, representative of the case involving Dominique Strauss-Kahn, (now) ex-president of the IMF.  While it's true he took office only two years ago and can therefore not be said to be directly responsible for the actions this anti-democratic institution has carried out worldwide in the past 30 or so years, he is still guilty of rape.

Not, of course, of raping the chambermaid in that hotel in NYC, though he might turn out to be guilty of that as well.

No.  He is a serial rapist, and the aggravating factor is his conscious effort to overcome his knowledge and political persuasion (DSK has been and still is a card-carrying member of the Socialist Party in France, which tells us how much that term means anymore) in favour of his true class affiliation.  Because how can a person who calls himself a leftist want to be at the head of an institution such as the IMF?   

I have heard the argument according to which he took the position many Catholics take: change the institution from the inside, without leaving it.  But if one isn't in agreement with what forms the institution's very core, its raison d'être, how can one choose to join it?  He wasn't born into the IMF.  He chose to be a candidate for this position after its guilt had been amply demonstrated beyond reasonable doubt throughout the world, and even by those who claim to be partisans of the political and economic ideology this most loathsome of institutions imposes in a cruel and dogmatic way on peoples.

But all this fills me with hope.  He is probably going to be found guilty:  I can't imagine the NYPD would arrest DSK without significant direct evidence, especially forensic.  This still does not mean he is guilty of raping this woman-- we know even forensic evidence can be manufactured or gotten in less than transparent ways.  It can also be interpreted as nothing but evidence they had consensual sex.

His probable innocence on this particular charge notwithstanding, I can't honestly say I'll be terribly scandalized if he's found guilty and ends up spending the next 60yrs rotting in a privatized USican jail.

I can't even say I'd be shocked if this chambermaid from Guinea has been paid to falsely accuse him.  Appalling though this would be, it'd also be the summit of poetic justice.  Third world woman destroys life of IMF president would be the headline I'd write in that case.  

The IMF, the institution which has pillaged and raped, indirectly, millions of pockets, children, women, fathers, old people who have worked all their lives only to see their pensions reduced when they needed it, so a couple dozen useless parasites could see their bloodstained numbered bank accounts in Switzerland grow as fat as their waistband, fed on artisan chocolates washed down with Cristal as they are, while Haitians pay to eat mud cookies.  PAY.  Thirty cents of whatever MickeyMouse unit of their valueless money for a mud cookie.  Thank you, IMF. Thank you DSKum.  Maybe not a common, literal rapist, but a mass rapist.  

I never thought one day I would say "if this man is innocent of this crime, I still want to see him go to jail."  It just isn't how I think and it isn't right, it isn't acceptable.  I'm glad I'm not going to be a member of the jury which will decide whether he's guilty or not; I'd throw ethics out the window.

*****

Still on this topic generally speaking but on another register:  I am properly scandalized by what I heard on French TV this week.  I heard a journalist praise the American judiciary for giving the plaintiff's claim the same weight as it would any other plaintiff, independent of the status of the defendant.  I agree with her on this one, it is indeed one of the reasons I admire the US (plea-bargain aside, naturally--). 

Then, this same journalist, much to my unilateral, impotent, and childish stupefaction, abhorred the fact her compatriot ended up having to spend nights in a common cell, where everyone else has to spend time if they're accused and not bailed out.  And I sat in front of the screen, thinking "how dare you evoke the Republican (as opposed to monarchical) slogan Liberté Égalité Fraternité then make this asinine, passé, and faux-aristocratic comment?" I thought I was in Brazil. None of the people in the discussion pointed out her brown incoherence or her contempt for equality before the law.  Sometimes I can understand why some ppl take drugs. 

Can I have some fries with that Seawolf?

Yes, this is just because I love submarines so much, and have just read about this one:

The Seawolf class is a class of nuclear-powered fast attack submarines (SSN) in service with the United States Navy. The class was the intended successor to the Los Angeles class, ordered at the end of the Cold War in 1989. At one time, an intended fleet of 29 submarines was to be built over a ten-year period, later reduced to twelve submarines. The end of the Cold War and budget constraints led to the cancellation in 1995 of any further additions to the fleet, leaving the Seawolf class limited to just three boats. This, in turn, led to the design of the smaller Virginia class.

Compared to previous Los Angeles class submarines, Seawolf subs are larger, faster, and significantly quieter; they also carry more weapons and have twice as many torpedo tubes, for a total of 8. As a result of their advanced design, however, Seawolf subs were much more expensive. They were intended to combat the then-threat of large numbers of advanced Soviet ballistic missile submarines such as the Typhoon class and attack submarines such as the Akula class in a deep ocean environment.

Seawolf hulls were constructed from HY-100 steel, rather than the weaker HY-80 steel employed in previous classes, to better withstand water pressure at greater depths.^[3][4] The boats also have extensive equipment for shallow-water operations, including a floodable silo (I want!!!) capable of simultaneously deploying eight combat swimmers and their equipment. The boats carry up to 50UGM-109 Tomahawk cruise missiles for attacking land and sea surface targets.

(...)

The class uses the more advanced ARCI Modified AN/BSY-2 combat system, which includes a new, larger spherical sonar array, a wide aperture array (WAA), and a new towed-array sonar. Each boat is powered by a single S6W nuclear reactor, delivering 52,000 hp (39 MW) to a low-noise pump-jet.

Manmade dolphin or shark