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 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 it’s a real sport.” A Homer quote. Right over his head!) Then I made supper, walked the dog, went upstairs, arranged the graphics for today’s 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 that’s 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 couldn’t shiv him in the back when the time came. It’s always amusing how people post the Rumsfeld-shaking-hands-with-Saddam picture as if that somehow settles every argument and answers every question. Well, here’s 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.
That’s right: Chill out. You expect him to say he’s allll about the bling, see.
The movie was good – a ripping yarn with the usual trajectory, made interesting by Cagney’s 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 movie’s 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 anyone’s interested. Some exteriors, two shots of City Center – under massive renovation – and one picture taken today after Gnat decided to put a towel over Jasper’s 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!
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perm link: here.
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