That’s Kenneth Tigar on the right, and he plays the old man who will not kneel to Loki in the following exchange:
Loki: In the end, you will always kneel.
Old Man: Not to men like you.
Loki: There are no men like me!
Old Man: There are always men like you.
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
Søren Kierkegaard
Walker Percy
Bob Dylan
Literature & History
Letters from an American
Beau of the Fifth Column
This American Life
The Writer’s Almanac
San Diego Reader
The Stranger
The Inlander
Adoremus
Charlotte was Both
The Onion
From Empty Hands
Ellen Finnigan
America
Commonweal
First Things
National Review
The New Republic
All Manner of Thing
Gerasene Writers Conference
Scrutinies
DarwinCatholic
Catholic and Enjoying It
Bad Catholic
Universalis
Is My Phylactery Showing?
Quotidian Quintilian
En pocas palabras
William Wilson, Guitarist Extraordinaire
Signposts in a Strange Land
Ben Hatke
Daniel Mitsui
Dappled Things
The Fine Delight
Gene Luen Yang
Wiseblood Books
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YES. YES. YES.
There’s only one God, Bob, and I’m pretty sure He doesn’t dress like a bat.
See also —
— Leary, Robin, ‘Surviving His Own Bad Habits: An Interview with Walker Percy’ (1983); published in More Conversations with Walker Percy (1993), pp. 64-65.
Well played. Up until the final hoo-raw, The Hulk is the best thing about the film. But maybe that’s just the rage issues talking.
To clarify: the final hoo-raw does not eclipse the Hulk, rather, it spoils him a little.
That film was the most fun on screen I’d seen in a long time.
Took my oldest son for his birthday. Worth every three-dimensional penny.
My favorite was Captian America* – I need to see the backstory film now…
My only complaint was the 3D – gave me a headache. Next time. 2D will be fine with me. And there will be a next time, I’m sure.
JOB
*Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark goes without saying, I would think.
The ending of the Captain America film, I’m not ashamed to tell you, very nearly induced the shedding of a manly tear. Very nearly.
See, this is how I know you’re not secretly Irish. I bawled like a baby. Oh, sorry. You said manly tear.
Well played. All those sentences you had to diagram in school finally paid off.
For what it’s worth ($0.00), I probably do have Irish blood (or certainly do, depending on how few generations in-country a family must remain before being you count them as ‘Irish’): My Huguenot ancestors, between the time they left France (1680s) and arrived in the Americas (1740s or ’50s), sojourned for about six decades in Ireland. It seems probable that local intermarriage, from outside the Huguenot exile community (if there even was such a community) infused some Irish blood into this bloodline — though if so, it would have been, almost certainly and pretty obviously, Irish Protestant. How susceptible to sentiment are those people, compared to their Popish compatriots? Does anyone here know?
My high-school physics teacher — a priest who, before taking Holy Orders, had worked in some capacity on the Mercury program — told us that his Irish grandmother left dishes of food out at night for leprechauns to eat.
Father then assured us that he took after the German side of his family.
That’s just because he lacked the physics-type smarts to explain how it is that an Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass and not fall off the face of the earth.
That doesn’t work.
JOB
‘But maybe that’s just the rage issues talking.’
Willard! There are rats in the cellar!
(Do note the title of that Percy interview.)
TAGGED WITH: M FOR ‘MAKE MINE MARVEL!’