Archives for January 2011
Korrektive Kennel-Kronikles Kontinue
I liked him
I liked D. H. Lawrence
he could get so indignant
he snapped and he ripped
with wonderfully energetic sentences
he could lay the word down
bright and writhing
there was the stink of blood and murder
and sacrifice about him
the only tenderness he allowed
was when he bedded down his large German
wife.
I liked D. H. Lawrence—
he could talk about Christ
like he was the man next door
and he could describe Australian taxi drivers
so well you hated them
I liked D. H. Lawrence
but I’m glad I never met him
in some bistro
him lifting his tiny hot cup of
tea and looking at me
with his worm-hole eyes.
–Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
Schnapsidee
Hey.
Blogger’s dashboard says we’re up to 2,993 posts. Well, 2,994 now, I guess. Someone oughtta plan something special for 3,000. I vote for Potter in a dress, smooching a cardboard cutout of WP.
If you thought Kevin Smith’s movies were masturbatory…
Then get a load of this generation-defining pullquote from New York‘s account of the Red State premiere at Sundance:
“I never wanted to know jack shit about business,” he explained. “I’m a fat, masturbating stoner. That’s why I got into the movie business. I thought that was where fat, masturbating stoners went. And if somebody had told me at the beginning of my career, you’re going to have to learn so much about business, finance, amortization, all that shit, monetization, I would have been like, ‘Fuck it. I’m just going to stay home and masturbate. That’s too much work, man.'”
Thought Experiment
Glorify
I like the name of this band, Ivan and Alyosha (as in Karamazov, get it?) and I like this song which I heard them perform live on the radio as I was driving home from work tonight. They’re in town to play a gig, apparently. Wish I could go.
In their words: “We enjoy having a drink, making love with our wives and singing hymns (not necessarily in that order), so we put it all together in one song.”
The Shadow Scholar
This article fills me with a strange mixture of horror and admiration, loathing and self-loathing uncomfortably intermingled with something like manic schadenfreudish glee.
I work hard for a living. I’m nice to people. But I understand that in simple terms, I’m the bad guy. I see where I’m vulnerable to ethical scrutiny.
But pointing the finger at me is too easy. Why does my business thrive? Why do so many students prefer to cheat rather than do their own work?
Say what you want about me, but I am not the reason your students cheat.
And I still feel icky about the college paper I wrote for a girlfriend one time … but also kind of proud of the workmanship involved. The pride of the mercenary.
For instance…
Mother? Is that you?
At first flush, the article is surprising for a Mother Jones entry – until the reader realizes it was all a set up to set the prolife dogs eating one another at the end.
All in all, I would rather have heard the lawyer defend himself against pro-aborts than fellow pro-lifers.
But then that would have been my story, not Blustain’s.
The first impulse is to say, “Why can’t prolife journalists get access to and present abortionists in such a sympathetic way while at the same time maintaining the prolife case?” But when the passions cool, one realizes this has less to do with the journalist’s will and more to do with the abortionist’s.
Would YOU want to go on record for anything remotely akin to what abortionists do?
Best part, this – showing the subject’s conversion. It’s quite salient – and as I’ve said before it is perhaps a fruitful place to have the discussion – how abortion has adversely affected adoption in the US.
That began to change in 1990, when a couple came to him after their child was born with Down syndrome. The doctor had not done an amniocentesis, which might have diagnosed the condition, and they wanted to sue for “wrongful birth”—claiming they would have aborted had they known. Cassidy declined the case. “In this particular instance I was thinking, ‘What would it be like for me and for this little girl if I stood in the well of a courtroom and argued to a jury that they had to give lots of money to her mom and dad because they didn’t get a chance to kill her?'” he says. “That case forced me to ask the question, how did the law get this cruel?…It all led back to Roe v. Wade.”
He also started paying attention to the legal discrepancies between adoption and abortion. What impressed him, he told me, was that a woman thinking about giving away her baby can only terminate the mother-child relationship after the state helps ensure she’s making the right decision: In many states, she must wait until after birth to relinquish the child and must be offered counseling. “Those [maternal] rights are treated with the most profound respect,” Cassidy says, but “in the context of abortion, there is no respect…. My first question that I had for everybody—I’m talking about the courts, about people going into the courts claiming they represent the rights of women, about the pro-life community, the churches who like to talk about this issue—where is their discussion and defense of the mother, the real rights of the mother?”
H/T Margaret Cabaniss, IC
Speaking of Percy Novels…
Korrektiv Press mentioned by San Diego Reader…
Oh, my.
The Manhattan Lawyer brings a gift: The Darth Side.
They say I killed her, that I killed Padme. But it is not true. I choked her, yes, but it was childbirth that took her. The Force traded Padme for Luke, the boy who now races to this city to rescue his friends. As he draws nearer the strings of the Force hum in anticipation, new nodes of causality blooming at the intersections of its interstellar strands…
I wll reach out to him.
As I reached out to Obi-wan Kenobi and was denied, and left to burn, I shall reach out to take Luke’s hand when he is fallen before me. I will have in abundance what no one had for me: mercy, forgiveness, understanding, trust.
When I close my eyes the sky is alight with the whorls of the Force, coalescing here around this city in the clouds. How can I doubt the truth I have divined?
Luke will join me.
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