The indecent descent

Yesterday, in the op-ed pages of

The New York Times, Texas' Sen-

ator Cruz revived confidence in

our dread of Friday the 13th by

fulminating in highest evangel-

ical dudgeon, for the principle

that the foreign policy of the

United States should be shaped

in the most extreme Right wing

of the ruling coalition in Is-

rael's Knesset. When you peel

away the languour in his rhet-

orical swoons, as the fetching

draping of a fisherman's sweat-

er from the fallen trapezius of

his argument, it exposes his

chronic insinuation of lubri-

cious fervor where discipline 

has failed. We know vampires

of cooler head. 

Americans now know, only one

candidate is commenting with

the discipline and the candor

necessary to guide themselves

and the peoples of Palestine

away from the revolting escap-

ist habit of sentimental war.

Much shenanigan and sideshow

lend cover in this season for

ignominy more enduring and bi-

partisan than the parodies we

suffer in our discontent. Our

seduction by contentment hums

along on continuing consensus.

Even Le Pavillon closed as yet

another fashionable restaurant.

Xavier Serrano

Suppose it were Friday cxiii: In the fluent café

      Happens all the time. You have
      to hasten away from your table
      for a moment and you glance at
      a nearby stranger and then nod, 
      at your half-sipt macchiato and 
      folded paper. The appeal is too
      familiar to be stated.

      Watch this for me ?

      Which came first, the change of
      rhythm or the emotion? The text
      had hollowed itself out, to sal-
      vage itself. Had this been an act 
      of force, or of our literature?

      

   








  

Gangland get-together

Any moment now, innocent bystanders
of the momentous tête-à-tête the GOP
has arranged between Mitt Romney's
casuist running mate, the Speaker of
the House, and the loose cannon can-
didate who opposes most of their a-
genda, are going to realize that we
do have a dog in that hunt. It is the
defeat of faux Conservatism from with-
in its own ranks. Given that the Dem-
ocrats promise to present us with an
exponent of triangulation, is neces-
sity for expunging the loony-tunes 
liturgy of laisser-faire, from erupt-
ing in our face over every proposal 
of sanity in government, worth infil-
trating a mole in that sorry place,
instead of a shepherdess of foxes?

Origins of Wednesday xxviii: That boy in the churchyard

Fans of Dickens in Italy are
a small elite who, whenever
they meet, start to reminisce
about characters and episodes
as though talking of people
they actually knew.

    I lent a dvd to someone at the

    office, which opens with a boy,

    accosted in a graveyard. All o-

    ver the world, the 3 letters in

    his name flood the mind on pre-

    cisely this synaptic sight. Pip.

    All over this world. And today,

    I can't offer you the name of a

    single man who knows who is his

    Congressman. Is this not sound,

    given the business they are in:

    serving-wenches to remote prop-

    rietors, mugging a way of life.

        Eternal preachers, that corrupt the draught,

        And pull the god that never thinks, with thought;

        Idiots with all that thought, to whom the worst

        Of death is want of drink and endless thirst ..

    This is not a discrimination e-

    lection. It is a way of life e-

    lection. Readers of Dickens in-

    habit this electorate in peril-

    ous abundance, and know, honest

    narrative of the wholesome life

    in trial to enjoy its dignity.

    The whole shell game of bi-pol-

    ar blame has finally exhausted

    "discrimination," itself, as in-

    adequate in measuring injustice.

    Did we ever discover Pip, beset

    by sadness? Oh, lovelorn, in a

    timely time or two; but angry,

    vituperative, outraged, defiant,

    pathetically cornball indignant?

    How well do these voices speak

    for his trust, his irrepressible

    energies, his gift for affection,

    much less his mental well-being?

    Yet the nation is under sentence

    to sustain nostalgic accusation,

    in default of urgent renovation,

    in a choice between a nitwit de-

    featable in four years, and Miss

    Havisham's incinerating umbrage.

    

    I think the avatar of our temper

    this year is Pip, in all genders.

    The election is not about Women's

    Pay, it is about Pay. It is not a-

    bout racist Flint, it is about de-

    cay. It's not about managing twi-

    light in one generation against

    the dawn of another. It is about

    securing open avenues to a thriv-

    ing way of life. No party favors,

    no extra charge for honesty, and

    no wars for sentiment's sake.

    The Party which attracted a can-

    didate of this position, has al-

    ways been determined to marginal-

    ise him. But the people are still

    coming, still listening, still in-

    nocently hoping, and still voting.

    

    As we exchange thoughts in this page,

    people are assembling Summer reading.

    Dickens is a cornerstone of that re-

    storative custom. Pip is coming.

  

Italo Calvino

Why Read the Classics?

Martin McLaughlin

  translation

Jonathan Cape, 1999©

David Lean, director

David Lean, Ronald Neame,

  Anthony Havelock-Allan

  screenplay

Great Expectations

Rank, 1947©

Lucretius

De Rerum Natura

   III, fragment

John Dryden

  translation

John Dryden

  Selected Poems

Steven N. Zwicker and

  David Bywaters, editors

Penguin Classics, 2001©

Albert Razumov

Cornwall, 1930s

    

A reprieve for Republicans

I come by this aspiration honestly,
having been indentured to lick pos-
tage stamps for Party literature as
a child, for a Senator campaigning
for re-election as a Republican in
California - little suspecting much
of anything would come from it, a-
part from a maternal donation to my
piggy bank. Who could know, my home-
land would furnish the driving vit-
riol of the Party's collapse into
Nixonian cynicism, Reaganite hallu-
cination, Birch Society paranoia, 
and all nine yards of strip-mall
pseudo-Christianity? Back then, we
were simply post-War imperialists,
extending the mantle of corruption
to every regime we could patronise.

So one does owe the GOP a flick of
compassion in any wave of a hanky
to its misplayed game this season.

1. The Republican Party has been
snookered into a box which certain-
ly will cost it dearly in House and
Senate races this year, if it pro-
ceeds to extend nomination for the
Presidency to Mr Donald Trump, who
would not fare well in that effort
and who, it is plausibly feared,
would diminish the Party's immacu-
late reputation for the qualities
cited above. This would be adverse.

2. Therefore, by what blindness do
the Republicans even contemplate
proceeding down that path, if not
extending the nomination to Trump
could spare its name and a handful,
at least, of its incumbents? By the
blindness of habit.

3. The solution, staring the Party
in the face, is for the Convention
in Cleveland to be called to order,
for the chair to recognize a dele-
gate who will rise to propose, "Mr
Chairman, I move we adjourn," for
a second to be requested, and for
a show of hands to register, that
the Convention had concluded its
business for this quadrennium. A
gavel's as good as a balloon-drop.

Who could believe, that any Par-
ty would create by-laws for itself,
obliging it to nominate a candid-
ate for the Presidency? In a situ-
ation where catastrophe is assured,
why not avoid the situation? Ah, 
"our pimped Federal Judiciary,"
you say, "our casuistry caucus on
the 'Citizens United' Bench." Yes,
but the way to be sure of sustain-
ing the partisan pollution of jur-
isprudence, is to protect a posi-
tion in the Senate, sufficient to
block appointments. Why fritter
that away, to ornament the loss
in a Presidential fiasco?

Just sayin'. I think as well of
Cleveland, Ohio, as the next man,
but I wouldn't want to write home
to say, I spent my Summer vaca-
tion anywhere near Donald Trump.

Why do anything to grant a vic-
tory, to the mendicant of the
Electoral College's largesse?
And take the long view: short-
sighted wars are certain to be
resumed, without your signature.
Why costume the unthinkable in
the garb of legitimacy? Why go
down in history as enabling a
sordid Presidency, by proposing
an impossible one? Take 4 years
off, tidy up a few prospects, 
and run the tables in 2020.

But, that's it, GOP. With this
settlement, I do renounce thee.

Man Ray
undated