Sunday, January 13, 2019

Sunday nibbled sleeve ii





Have you noticed? Our satirists
are doing their best to beat
more dust of hilarity from the
grounded magic carpet of the
New American Government. But an
appetite which has expired is a
tough one to appease; and one
can't be sure it's the fault,
say, of Alexandra or Gail that
evidently even they have seen 
the corpse. If the first duty
of a menace is to be credible,
the first one of despotism is
to hold the pose for Voltaire.



Heaven knows, Palm Beach always
had been somewhat thus. A com- 
munity founded by migration is
never going to resemble one in
place before rails. More and
more the pretenses of the NAG
recall ever more loudly this in-
teresting tardiness in its path-
etic fumblings for greatness, as
if it were just noise and steam.

And yet, earnestness claims per-
haps the heaviest toll. The four
dollar magazine cover of the week,
suspiciously possibly of the year,
is not of a ruinous goon, but the
gathering of reluctant faces, all
bearing a set and sodden stamp of


















Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Insatiable deformity






The Speaker of the House has described
the proposal of a "wall" sealing the
Mexican border as an "immorality." To
be fair, she has also gone on, to ob-
serve its inevitable futility, never
going so far as to describe it as the
monument to cynicism many say it is.

Or is it. Is it, rather, only the most
grotesque expression politically feas-
ible today, of an insatiable compulsion
to inflict humiliation and pain, already
market-tested in two years in power and
another in purloining it. The pretended
constituency was never satisfied by the
rape of the Treasury or even of the land.
It wants a final solution, though, in a
gold standard all its own. Human life.

If there is anyone who believes that the
achievement of a showy, wasted erection
is where this manipulation will end, he

















Tuesday, January 8, 2019

A voter's guide to the evening's farce


The police chief of Sycamore Springs
sidles up to an open hamburger joint
at the town rail station:

Give me a cup of coffee and 2 aspirins.

The wondrous Nora Charles, in full up-
per East Side couture, approaches him:

Hello, Mr MacGregor. I'm so glad you're
here!

Always glad to see a member of the
Charles Family ...

There's a man here. I want you to
arrest him.

But what for?

Does it have to be for something?

Oh, ho, no! No, you just pick out
anybody at all, and I just put him
in jail for life.

But he's trying to leave town . . !

Look, Mrs Charles. I can't arrest
anybody unless they do something,
to get arrested! Get that? They
gotta do something!

I think you're being very tech-
nical, Mr MacGregor!

Nora Charles stalks off, stage right.

Make that 4 aspirins.





One resists raising hopes for any
resemblance between a Presidential
address on the greatest crisis to
affront a Christian nation since a
slave discovered the underground
railway, and a miracle of wartime
scripting from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer,
but there we are. The Fates have
summoned our Buchanan, nay, our
Andrew Johnson, to guide us toward
the great panic they knew would


















Richard Thorpe
  director
Robert Riskin
Dwight Taylor
  screenplay
The Thin Man Goes Home
MGM, 1945©






Monday, January 7, 2019

Much agit, no prop




 It was Gérard, someone reminded us last evening, 
 who advanced a notion so captivating to our lit-
 tle band, as to engage even the Republicans' be-
 loved general population. Oxford and Cambridge 
 have their dueling wine tasting teams, Laurel 
 and Hardy their slapstick slaps, Jekyll and Hyde 
 their Susan Collins. Why shouldn't we have a twit-
 ting society, for contestants who get up from the 
 wrong side of the bed, to spend the day refuting 
 themselves? It could only elevate our name for wit, 
 and make us all illustrious. Alas, an unknown de- 
 fect in this fad, was that it had already worn out.

 Gérard then proposed a game of chance, but with
 the twit still at large, nobody was taking any.













































Sunday, January 6, 2019

Sunday nibbled sleeve





   Why, of course, Martin, I believe
   you, I suppose. But, what strikes
   one as uncanny, even for him, is
   how he could have known that some
   speak Russian in Ukraine. My dear,
   this would explain so many things.















Jaguar E-Type
  Eagle Speedster





Saturday, January 5, 2019

Saturday commute clxii: 7 when right-handed






     We don't have to crop a Vivian Maier
     photograph, to pare it to essentials.
     We just have to look at it. How fam-
     iliar she finds the subject's own an-
     nouncement, I am 7 when right-handed,
     8 when I'm left. For all the many in-
     formative features of a Vivian Maier
     photograph, there's no cluttering its
     unforgettability. We take in every-
     thing we see, as utter verification. 














Vivian Maier
Rolleiflex photograph
  full field
1956





Friday, January 4, 2019

Suppose it were Friday clxvii: And the lights came up





   and we were here to see
   the end of unanswerable



















Carolyn Haster, AP, photograph
United States House of Representatives
Washington, DC
The Washington Post
January, 2019©






Thursday, January 3, 2019

Weaving spiders, mind the Steppes






      How tiresomely, it never fails.
      The moment we launch an entry
      tending to challenge the regime
      in power, our "readership" from
      Russia suddenly matches or ex-
      ceeds the native marketplace.
      You'd think our new Speaker
      were of investigative interest.

      It's enough to call to mind the
      plea of Bohemia, Weaving spiders,
      come not here, to be updated only
      as Naughty bots, buzz off. It's
      enough to make one think the Re-
      publican Party's own security
      apparatus can't manage a simple
      opinion sample of their own -
      not, I admit, that they're much
      in favor of any science. Well,
      let's hope we're paying for it
      in bawdy nights at Mar-a-Lago,
      and not the Secret Service fund
      for the despot's exile there.