Who hoo! Booyah! Yes! I am on target for the first true five-piece day in some time and on a day when Gnat was home sick, and I was unable to use those precious office hours to bang out the marginal stuff. Finished the Sunday column this morning; wrote the Joe Ohio at noon while she napped before lunch, spent the afternoon at Uno and coloring and other means of passing the time. She got better around three, and we ran an errand or two. Home did the Hewitt show, which was more fun than usual, since he asked 18234 different questions on as many topics. (I managed to slip in a Simpsons reference he asked, out of nowhere, whether I was familiar with Mexican Pro Wrestling, and I said You know, down there its a real sport. A Homer quote. Right over his head!) Then I made supper, walked the dog, went upstairs, arranged the graphics for todays photo album update, snipped the audio, uploaded it all, kissed everyone goodbye they went to the library and banged out a column about Syria.
I was amused by a story that said French pressure had been brought to bear on Assad and thats fine; Welcome Back, Kotteur, and all that. Pitch in, lads. Make yourselves useful. But I wondered why no one was shrieking about French complicity in the Syrian regime. Why, look at this:
Pictures of Chirac shaking hands with Assad! Ergo, all his subsequent words and actions are suspect! It's all about the olive oil! As if he couldnt shiv him in the back when the time came. Its always amusing how people post the Rumsfeld-shaking-hands-with-Saddam picture as if that somehow settles every argument and answers every question. Well, heres another. Ergo, whatever. On the other hand, he's internet savvy. Note to Bashar: change the template. If you know what I mean.
I watched The Roaring Twenties last Friday, part of the Warner Bros. Gangsters collection. The movies come with cartoons as well in this case, Thugs with Dirty Mugs. At one point the Edward G. Robinson dog holds up a pay phone:
The operator shrieks in panic, but he tells her well, you listen.
Thats right: Chill out. You expect him to say hes allll about the bling, see.
The movie was good a ripping yarn with the usual trajectory, made interesting by Cagneys heel-bouncing energy and an atypical third act. The three main characters were introduced in a WW1 foxhole, which, in 1939, would have been a recent memory. Imagine a gangster movie today where the main characters first met in 1981 not that far ago, no? History is always just around the last corner, not down the block. But what really stuck out was the utter flatness of the movies appearance, the pedestrian visuals. In this sense it was probably typical it has that flat, static, staged qualities I associate with 30s films. But now and then, they got it right:
The print was near perfect, the mugs none too Runyoned, the montages of hooch and money predictable and no less delightful. Plus it has Bogey in his unalloyed Bad Phase.
Anyway. Now to the Strib column. Last link: had some time Saturday to take a few photos downtown, if anyones interested. Some exteriors, two shots of City Center under massive renovation and one picture taken today after Gnat decided to put a towel over Jaspers head, as though he's off to join Hezbollah. That is all. Plus Joe.
Update: 11:36 PM. STRIB DONE! FIVE IN ONE DAY! HELLO MANIC CYCLE! JUST IN TIME!
perm link: here.