Monday, September 5, 2011

I just saw more pictures of Charlie de Bestegui, and you know?

I don't think we can use them.

The blogosphere is awash these days with even more namedropping idle worship than you'd hear at the Pines at tea this afternoon, and I'd like to pitch in, but I think one really has to let the muck erect its own dike. Where is Dorothy Parker, now that we're finding white ties laid end to end from one gasp sheet to the next, as in, omigod did you realise George V had the use of a Crown? People might as well publish a photocopy of Magna Carta, apart from doubting that it's worth it, and cite it as part of Her Majesty's trousseau from King John. Behind all these doll's houses lies a childlike sense of the social fabric as a matter of the decorative arts.

Remember when we had that punctilious little fellow running around here, clucking about guytummy? Possibly it's his shock, to find oneself on a page swarming with relicts of Mussolini's court, flashing loot at a dinner party. Still, fascism is so timeless.

Not that we know much of what to say about Labor Day. I don't know, do guys work anymore? Yes, thank you; I hadn't thought so, but I felt I should ask. I gather we're to hear that the President thinks they should - which is to say, that he'll give Perry's speech. I saw that there were flags out in our little Piedmont town today, which gave Main Street a kind of bustle not seen since Walmart shuttered it. 

Maybe the President will come out for a Christo Fence public works program, to sustain this same gaiety. I do so wish he would. Great swaths of disused pectoral bunting, don't you think, and Sobranie foil on the belching smokestack tips he just condoned, would give lavish improvement, as in the doll's house.

iii Bastiaan van Gaalen


  1. I'm stealing a picture from your blog which I'll repost on AC at a later date. I'm not in the mood to add anything to today's post after reading the news from Iran. Will this madness ever stop?

  2. So much to love here-and given my advanced heads up to direct me here-rather late I know, but really a trousseau from John, better something from the 40's when Mussolini was a bride. anything from the Windsor wardrobe will cover the era, and I gotcha covered there. Sometimes its Bronte sometimes its Beaton sometimes they share their offerings together, both in my vivid imaginings are manna from heaven. f,s & hg, amen

  3. We do not really know the explosive power of 14 million men in our own country, who wish to have work and do not, because we have embraced changes in the world that's in our own hands, which disposed of them. If there is anything more detestable than our nation's disposal of these people, it is the complicity of our delegation of judgment and action to our standard-bearer. Now that the President has come down from his dune at the Vineyard to observe this manifestation of his complaisance, he is subjecting them to the tease of a support he could have extended by struggle. And why? Because we did not demand it, and because garden-variety "strong men" are encircling him, to ease him from his cares. But they don't ease me, and they don't ease you; and they will do worse than nothing for these 14 million men. They are mine, they are yours.