Cinematic Observations

Greetings, gentle readers.
The past few days (and a free trial subscription to the Hollywood Channel) have afforded me the opportunity to screen a few films of yesteryear and make some ruthlessly cynical observations about them.  Let's revisit some of the films that ran their fingernails across the chalkboard of popular culture all those years ago.

Ladyhawke

This is a film that seems to have improved in people's recollection in proportion with the length of time elapsed since the last viewing.  In short, it looks better in the rear view mirror the smaller it becomes.  Is it as good as we remember it being?  What are the mediocre parts that our subconscious is concealing from us, to spare our childhood innocence?

Cast

Everyone loves Matthew Broderick.  Period.  Not just because of the adolescent ebullience of "Ferris Bueller" or the Civil War anti-slave monument "Glory" or his Broadway work.  He's just been around forever, an unchanging avatar of impish goodwill and positive energy.  If the audience response from the recent film "Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets" is anything to use as reference, Rutger Hauer is still a folk hero.  As any hardcore gangsta-rap aficionado will tell you, Michelle Pfeiffer still has enough street cred to stop a drive-by shooting with a single arched eyebrow.  Even John Wood is recalled by many, although only as Professor Falken from the equally-revered 80s cult classic "Wargames."  It's possible that some may recall his excellent and tear-jerking performance in "Shadowlands" as Christopher Riley, but that demographic is ridiculously small.  In fact, beyond myself and a fellow named Colin Mitzel, very few people recognize the devastating emotional power of that film.
Finally, fans of the original TV series "The Prisoner" will fondly remember Leo McKern as the most enigmatic of the actors to portray Number Two.
In short, Ladyhawke has no shortage of acting talent or pedigree. Why on Earth was this film not given a triumphal procession at the Academy Awards en route to some sort of AFI recognition as a masterpiece of modern cinema?

Plot and Other Stuff

The epic, legendary, faerie-tale scope of this film place it firmly in the genre encompassing other fondly esteemed films as "Willow", "The Hobbit"', and "Labyrinth."  Like those other classics, picking out logical inconsistencies or other narrative flaws is futile.  Suspension of disbelief trumps everything, and the power of character in the spotlight of myth is the dynamo that drives the story.  Bizarre developments like summer crashing into the depths of winter within 48 hours, or the mechanics of crossbow construction and ballistics can be gleefully dismissed because of the intensity of the clashes between good and evil, right and wrong, and love against the forces of avarice and malice.

So What's Wrong?

Why is "Ladyhawke" not rated as a classic, or even a great film?  Everyone is welcome to their own speculations and calculations, but I reckon that there are two things that torpedo the production: editing and music.
The cinematography itself is not totally garbage.  As I mentioned, there are some great shots of scenery and sets, mountains and cathedrals, and some great pageantry using costumes and uniforms.  That being said, the post production staff must have been a troop of foeces-flinging spider monkeys.  Shots are cut and spliced helter-skelter, with very little attention to continuity or even linear narrative exposition.  Several scenes are dropped (or flung) at the feet of the audience without any establishing shots, dialogue, or segues. Several sequences of cross-cuts are supposed to increase tension through simultaneous and time-dependent actions, but are so sloppily dredged into one another as to provide all of the dramatic impact of a runny bowel movement.  The beautiful Italian landscape and mediaeval sets make for some wonderful mise-en-scéne shot constructions, but some of the shots are haphazardly stapled together to produce jarring disturbances in the storytelling process.
Finally, there is the music.  There are two flavours on offer throughout the film - a sombre and dramatic orchestral score underpinned with Gregorian chants and pentatonal progressions, and a pop-rock electro-synth bastard byproduct of rejected Alan Parsons Project riffs.  The latter has not aged well.  Unless you are abnormally nostalgic for side-ponytail haircuts, legwarmers, and extended montage sequences of learning to gleam the cube, the music is absolutely repellent and thoroughly incompatible with the film.
In conclusion, a solid post-production team should be able to overhaul this film and create a new special edition from the existing component pieces and some appropriate musical passages.  In fact, this should be such an elementary exercise that I am surprised that there hasn't been a "Blu-Ray Platinum Collector's Edition" released yet.  It should only require a 12 year-old with Adobe Premiere Pro, a 16-track sound mixing board, and a 1981 Bontempi organ.  Film executives, take note - you don't need another sequel, reboot, or comic-book adaptation to fill your production and release schedules - just fix "Ladyhawke" and collect the spoils.

The Inglorious Bastards

Quentin Tarantino's remake of the 1978 original had a number of very subversive elements in it.  People who have been brainwashed into thinking that Tarantino is some sort of gore shock-filmmaker because of ignorant reviews of "Reservoir Dogs" and disturbingly sycophantic reviews of "The Hateful Eight" will happily buy into the idea that his "Inglourious Basterds" is a gleeful shoot-em-up of Nazis, who are cinematic shorthand when it comes to cheap villains. 
It's very simple.  Nazis are evil.  Those who do something to oppose them must therefore be good.  No further character development, script, or exposition of any kind required.  If the morality of a grave-looting defiler of antiquities is in doubt, just remember that he's against the Nazis, and that will tell you that he is a good guy.
"The Dirty Dozen" is a typical redemption story of ne'er-do-wells turning from criminals to charming rogues by dint of slaughtering a few hundred on-screen people in SS uniforms.  It's a tempting template: good guys shoot loads of Germans, no moral questions involved, the world is saved, and everyone can congratulate themselves about the appropriate and justified use of lethal force in a good, proper, and ethical war.  Pass the ammunition and expand the Defence Budget again.  Producers get funding and insurance without a problem, the project is greenlighted by the studio, and the film makes it's prerequisite 250% return on investment.
The thing to notice here is that both the 1978 original "Inglorious Bastards" and the 2009 "Inglourious Basterds" are deeply subversive.  What do I mean by this?  The filmmakers play an elaborate joke on the audience and their expectations.
The first film sets up the usual conventions - Americans represent decency, democracy, freedom, etc. while the Germans are brutal non-humans that act as living target practice, forming an agency for Americans to prove their innate goodness through murder.  But somewhere along the lines, the Italian filmmakers got a little cheeky.  Serious cracks appear in the depiction of the American troops, first through a scene showing American officers gunning down their own deserting forces, and then later through an extended dialogue between two Americans featuring some race and gender baiting that would send entire college campus populations fleeing to their safe spaces.
By the end of the film, after the vast majority of charming rogues have bravely sacrificed their own lives to defeat the godless Huns, it turns out that the one notable survivor of the original gang is the most racist, rapiest scumbag of the lot.  So racist that he calls Fred Williamson a nigger to his face.  The film concludes with the predator walking off with an innocent French nurse whom he intends to rape, murder, and dump.  Unflattering portrait of Americans in Europe?  Probably.  An unsettling conclusion to an otherwise stock B-movie plot?  Definitely.
Tarantino ups the ante in his seemingly generic WWII shoot-em-up of a similar name.  In this film, we see a complete inversion of tropes.  The SS baddies are slick, cultured, educated, erudite, and impeccably well-mannered civilized sorts, while the American revenge-fantasy liberation heroes are knuckle-dragging, slobbering barbarians who delight in gratuitous gore and monosyllabic threats.  To top it off, the revenge fantasy here is JEWISH.
Let's recall that the United States refused to allow refugee ships of Jews leaving Europe to dock, like the SS St. Louis in 1939.  Later, after the United States had declared war on Germany, they actually persecuted Jewish refugees as German spies, and sought the death penalty.
Quick aside - the current presidential administration's predilection for a "Muslim Travel Ban" or for denying entrance to Syrian refugees sound an awful lot like this statement by William Bullitt, the American Ambassador to France:

"More than one-half the spies captured doing actual military spy work against the French Army were refugees from Germany.  Do you believe there are no Nazi and Communist agents of this sort in America?”

How about President Franklin Delano Roosevelt?

“Not all of them are voluntary spies.  It is rather a horrible story, but in some of the other countries that refugees out of Germany have gone to, especially Jewish refugees, they found a number of definitely proven spies.”

And as The Smithsonian reports:

"Until the very end of 1944—by which time photographs and newspaper reports had demonstrated that the Nazis were carrying out mass murder—Attorney General Francis Biddle warned Roosevelt not to grant immigrant status to refugees."

Remember the poisoned Skittles tweet by Donald J. Trump, Jr.? 

“If I had a bowl of skittles and I told you just three would kill you. Would you take a handful?”

History let the American government watch innocents perish before.  It seems to have given the current administration a similar pass.
So here's the fantasy - the American government was not complicit in the holocaust because of its xenophobia, and Jews are magically given some sort of agency to "strike back" in revenge for the holocaust... during the holocaust.
Laughable, given the historical circumstance.
And so we find Brad Pitt leading a group of murderously thuggish "Jews" to run about in Europe, killing as many Germans as possible in retribution for a then-ongoing genocide.  One wonders how an elderly rabbi would view the depiction of urbane, polite, cultured, and literate German officers being beaten to death and torn to bloody ribbons by slavering, grinning troglodytes with Stars of David around their necks.  Or even how these bloodthirsty brutes emerged from their yeshivot, their minds twinkling with talmudic meditation, before deciding that they would much prefer bludgeoning skulls to bloody pulp instead of reading the Torah.
In short, Tarantino pulls audiences in with the expectation that they will be gratified by seeing justice done in a hideously entertaining way against villains who thoroughly deserve it, and thus rectify all of the horrid, atrocious things that really happened in history.  He then confuses them by making the baddies educated and civilized, while the good guys are grunting neanderthals.  The introduction of the "Bear Jew" character actually depicts him emerging from a cave with a baseball bat.
Finally, the viewer is left with one of two options - a distasteful and repellent victory for the forces of "Good", or a sad and tragic defeat for the forces of "Bad."  In the final analysis, it is a challenge to audiences to determine if they can make their own moral evaluations, or whether they just accept conventions blindly and identify with whomever wears the proverbial white hat.  Douglas Sirk would be proud.

The Comedians

Given a scriptwriter of Graham Greene's calibre, and a cast that includes Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, James Earl Jones, Peter Ustinov, and Sir Alec Guinness, one might think that this film would be requisite viewing for film aficionados.  Strangely enough, very few people have even heard of the production.  I think that it's worth watching for several reasons. 
First off, the script is tight, economical, and neat.  Very few words or scenes are wasted, making the entire production tense and gripping.  Guinness has a smaller role, but commands attention during every appearance.  Taylor and Burton exude a confused and conflicted obsession for one another — a parallel between their real selves and their characters in the film that draws the eye in an almost hypnotic spiral of emotional turmoil. 
Second, the film deals with an emergent post-colonial dictatorship in the third world.  The film treats this sort of potentially explosive setting with respect, and allows the audience to experience the situation dramatically, rather than editorially describe the conditions.  For example, "Star Wars Episode IV:  A New Hope" begins with an introductory narrative crawl that declares that Rebel forces have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.  No subtlety here.  In contrast, "The Comedians" presents characters and events dispassionately and lets the viewer decide where good and evil, or right and wrong reside.
Finally, this film has some fantastic roles for minority actors.  Not just for 1967, and not just for a film set in Haiti, but in general.  James Earl Jones, Georg Stanford Brown, and Cicely Tyson turn in magnificently nuanced performances.  To the best of my recollection, this is the earliest film roles I can recall for Zakes Mokae ("Cry Freedom") and Roscoe Lee Browne (TV cameo artist extraordinaire), making this a film where super-mega-millionaire-stars Taylor and Burton are almost upstaged off the star billing.
More films to come when I build up some more stamina to document my responses to them.  "Battle of the Sexes" is likely to come under scrutiny soon, as my mother and I recently watched the Emma Stone/Steve Carell vehicle in Calgary.

Shower Songs

And finally, here is the playlist that accompanied one of my showers in Calgary, during the time I spent over the holidays in my mother's house.

• Devil Went Down to Georgia, by The Charlie Daniels Band
• Roxanne, by The Police
• All Your Base are Belong to Us, by Zerowing
• One of those Rivers, by Dodgy
• He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother, by The Hollies
• Lord of the Dance, performed by Captain Tractor
• Magneto and Titanium Man, by Paul McCartney
• Catholic Girls, by Frank Zappa

And until next time, good night England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

The Giving Season

Greetings, gentle readers.
Allow me to sketch a quick tableau of a family Christmas gathering.  The hearth fire is puttering away radiantly, the tree is adorned with all manner of shiny and pretty baubles, the gifts and snacks are heaped high in their own realms, and everyone present is smiling contently with stomachs full of a hearty meal.
But this is Christmas, after all, and Christmas means acquisition.  Gather ye consumer goods while ye may.  It is not long before the carefully wrapped boxes of things are being distributed to the awaiting crowd.  Let's fast forward an hour's time.
There are heaps of presents stacked in corners of the room, organized and readied for transportation, and a couple of toys are making obnoxious noises and worrying the puppy.  One teenage girl surveys her loot - a box.  The other kids got presents.  She got the empty container that might have held a present, but didn't.  Don't get me wrong.  A cardboard box can be thrilling, particularly to a kitten.  However,it looks a bit lacklustre in comparison to the turbo drone aircraft in front of the teenage boy in the centre of the room, or the 3-D virtual reality goggle set his father wields.  The girl smiles bravely.
The girl's father sits across the room.  He has already refused several invitations to sit closer to middle of the congregation.  Whatever reasons he had seem justified as round after round and circuit after circuit of gift recipients are named, and his name is notably absent from the rolls.  Finally, a present is passed over to his corner.  It's a frying pan that is divided into several sections, allowing a person to cook an egg, two rashers, and some hashbrowns simultaneously.  It's a wonderful present for a person who lives alone and has to prepare breakfast for one every morning.  It's a great way to let a person's food feel close to other foods, and not alone and abandoned on the stovetop or in the kitchen.  It's not a good present for a single father.  The subtext reads:  you will never have custody or share your life with another, so get used to feeding yourself.  This is an efficient way to do so.
Before long, the gifts are distributed, the stump of the tree is visible beneath the boughs, and the father quietly excuses himself, takes his bachelor's frying pan, and leaves without much ado.  His daughter heads upstairs to the guest room to play with her empty box.  The other parents play card games over coffee while their children try on their clothing, read their books, and take pictures of their toys with their smartphones.
So, in conclusion, if going to attend a festive gift-giving celebration where there are likely to be second-class citizens, bring a few extra presents that can be quickly addressed on the spot.  It's a small sacrifice to make.  It doesn't upset the more fortunate, and brings a disproportionate amount of joy to the overlooked and ignored.
I never thought that a specific occasion was required to mandate that one person give a gift to another.  If you care for someone, give that person a gift, where it be a peck on the cheek, a line of poetry, an afternoon's worth of housework, or whatever.  It is really disappointing when you realize that you only get gifts from people who feel obligated to go online sometime in November and order something that ticks all of the boxes for an appropriate present, before perfunctorily handing it to you and washing their hands of another odious responsibility.
So after another heartwarming holiday season, it's farewell from me and may authenticity pursue you doggedly for the rest of your days.
Goodnight England and the Colonies,
—mARKUS

Decency prevails. Barely.

Greetings, gentle readers.
Judge Roy Moore, fondler of teens and bizarrely adherent fan of the ten commandments, was defeated in the Alabama special Senatorial race last Tuesday.  This is a tremendous victory for people with some sort of sense of dignity and honour, particularly the 93% of African-American voters who helped elect democrat Doug Jones, whose record as a public prosecutor includes convicting Ku Klux Klan members for the murder of four little girls.
But as for the mouth-breathing, pig-ignorant, swayback rednecks that are still dragging their knuckles around the state, there is still some sort of hope that their narrow, discriminatory, and bigoted agenda will be represented in Congress, as Doug Jones recently admitted that he will be inclined to vote in line with certain Republican values.
It's yet another way that a slight updraught in fortune can carry a whiff of sulphur with it.

Reality Revelry

The latest reality "So You Want To Be A Celebrity" television show is just launching in Canada.  Fine.  Mediocrities around the country can queue up around soundstages and demean themselves for the amusement of the average populace.  I noticed with disinterest that "Fergie" from the Black Gin Doo-Doo Crowes is one of the coaches for the wannabe candidates.  Fine.  Another chance for women to claim some airtime and stake a place in an admittedly squalid, but apparently real piece of celebrity real estate.  Then I heard the kicker.  The judge, who will award a record contract, merchandising campaign, and grandiose concert tour is none other than... some fat, sweaty A&R guy.  Yup.  Post-Weinstein, and with all of the knowledge and progress we've made, the position of gatekeeper is still held by a seedy-looking guy behind a desk who is "famous" because he "made Taylor Swift," if I recall the advertisement verbatim.
Women are going to throw themselves into another one of these crucibles, reminiscent of the part of Pink Floyd's "The Wall" where the song "Young Lust" accompanies a groupie as she makes her way backstage by performing a series of sexual activities on male gatekeepers.  I've mentioned before that the proverbial "casting couch" is not proverbial at all.  People of all persuasions, not just women, are drawn like moths to the flame of fame and celebrity, and will sacrifice anything to get there.  The Law of Supply and Demand automatically directs poovy power-seekers towards those gatekeeper positions, and people like Mira Sorvino and Ashley Judd end up being the victims of those gatekeepers capriciously flexing their muscles.
How do we fix the problem?  Well, really, the answer is art.
Once upon a time, artists had to labour at their craft to produce something that would be weighed by the marketplace of consumers, and the value of that artistic expression to society could be measured by things like sales and performance attendances.
In that atmosphere, musicians wanted to play and compose music.  Writers wanted to wrestle words, sculptors wanted to shape the human experience into the tactically perceptible, actors wanted to make experiences and insights accessible to others, and so on.  If artists worked hard enough, they became good at their chosen field.  Fame and money then followed as a logical development of skill and craftsmanship.
That was then.  Now, albums/films/books do not need to be recorded, pressed, marketed, distributed, etc.  Any old chump with a smartphone can record some audio or video clip (or text) that can spray around the cybersphere in seconds and gain instant public acknowledgement.  There is no incentive to get better or to improve if the objective is fame.  One can get it and keep it with a minimal amount of effort, as many talentless and inauthentic humanoids have capably demonstrated.
One might suggest that this dilution of artistic vision in all manner of production should reduce the role of the gatekeeper and therefore direct the industries involved away from manipulative and sexual abuses of power.  Not so.  Big corporations have already shown that when a newfound "celebrity" is not profitable to their branding, they can very easily turn off the tap.  I won't even mention the names of the talentless asshats that constitute examples.  And the fact that "The Launch" is an actual television program (I admit, I had to look up the name of the thing) indicates that big corporations are still capable of dangling carrots in front of avaricious and simple-minded individuals so as to profit from the schadenfreude and entertainment value of people embarrassing themselves in front of large audiences.
As an authentic individual in this society, one suspects that avoiding the tendency towards instant gratification and high-volume consumables should be self-evident.  It's also extremely difficult.  Perhaps we'll have to wait until the revolution comes before we can really start appreciating the aesthetic as a necessary aide toward emotional and spiritual maturity, rather than a diversion that reduces our anxiety about our dire socioeconomic predicament and diminishing possibilities of a better life.

Shower Songlist

• Pretty Fly for a Rabbi, by Weird Al Yankovic
• Eileen, by Keith Richards
• War is Over, by John Lennon
• The Lion Sleeps Tonight, performed by Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger
• Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles
• The Pirate Song, by George Harrison and Eric Idle
• Hurricane, by Bob Dylan

Well, there are certainly some songs there that would assist people in appreciating the obsolescence of the "i before e" rule of English spelling.  There also seems to be a downward trend in terms of emotional appeal.
And that's things as I see them.  Until next time, goodnight England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

Late Night Roundup

Greetings, gentle readers.
It will come as no surprise to many of you that I derive much of my current events knowledge from late night chat shows on telly.  With the exception of dedicated news providers like the CBC News Channel, there are very few places to find information on world events.  It may also come as no surprise that late night chat shows can be extraordinarily superficial and annoyingly fluffy industry-schmoozing and giggling.
I PVR these programs not because their broadcasting hours are past my bedtime, but because the advertising is monumentally dominant in terms of airtime.  I skip something like 30% of the time by blowing through the commercials.  The shows that I have currently scheduled to PVR reveal something of my preferences and choices.
I stopped recording Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show primarily because his cringeworthy toadying and obsequious celebrity worship was starting to nauseate me.  Another factor is one that Fallon shares with Stephen Colbert - his consistent tendency to act as a huckster for his own book.  Both of them use airtime ostensibly intended for entertainment and information as a platform for shameless self-advertising.
The straw that broke the camel's back was the death of Fats Domino.  Fallon spent a goodly portion of his monologue rhapsodizing about the musical legend, reminding people of the legacy that the big man bequeathed to us all.  Throughout the monologue, and into a large portion of his time spent behind the show's desk, Fallon kept on lyrically leading into Domino's big hits, launching into a capella versions of "Ain't That a Shame", "Blueberry Hill", and "I'm Walking."  on each occasion, his oft-lauded and praised house band "The Roots" stared silently at him, mouths agape.  Drummer Questlove occasionally tapped his hi-hat out of rhythm.  By the third or fourth a capella attempts, I realized that Fallon was inviting the band to join him, but they didn't know how.  One of the greatest musical legends of stride rock 'n' roll and R&B piano went unrecognized and unacknowledged by a band of professional musicians.  That's when I wrote that show off.
As I previously mentioned, Stephen Colbert irks me when he promotes his own material, but there is also something lurking in the production of the whole show that I am only just beginning to recognize as inherently mediocre and inauthentic.  A couple of weeks ago, one of Colbert's guests was author and biographer Walter Isaacson.  He was on the show to promote his new biography of Leonardo da Vinci.  His previous biographies of Einstein and Steve Jobs are both New York Times bestsellers, and there was every expectation that this book would perform similarly.
Colbert's Late Show afforded Isaacson a tiny sliver of time, likely because they thought that the man and the material were not peppy enough to titillate the younger demographic that their advertisers are chasing.  They were dead wrong.
Colbert used all of the buzz words in the opening exchanges of the interview.  Steve Jobs?  Check.  Kids have heard of him.  Genius?  Yep.  Draw a similarity between the author's subjects.  As Colbert's ideas sputtered out, Isaacson volunteered the real reasons that his work is relevant and immediate.
Leonardo da Vinci already has an "official" biography, written almost contemporaneously by Giorgio Vasari.  Isaccson's biography uses events in Renaissance Italy five hundred years ago to draw social parallels with our present day civilization.
Here's where Colbert missteps.  The interview could have pivoted around the fact that da Vinci's life and works not only revolutionized art, medicine, literature, engineering, architecture, and industry, but the man as an individual gives us a glimpse of what it takes to change the world.  Elon Musk is trying now.  Will he succeed? 
The answer is found in the book.  15th century Florence was a hotbed of contrasting opinions and ideologies.  The Catholic Church was just about to run into the Reformation, the New World was just being opened up to Europe, trade with the Orient was blossoming into a true exchange of ideas as well as commercial goods.  The Crusades and the  Black Death were over, but population migration had scattered cultures and languages across any sort of national boundaries.
Into this comes Leonardo.  Left-handed, homosexual, flamboyant, iconoclastic, and more than a little heretical, it is possible that he only succeeded because he managed to offend everyone equally while simultaneously charming them over by dint of personality and wit.
Consider today's climate, where political tensions over national identities, immigration, environmental science, religious dogma, and a confused moral compass are tearing apart families, cities, and political parties.  In all of this drama and chaos, there is a fertile bed of energy yearning for a creative individual to channel it.  Perhaps this book should be titled "Looking for Leonardo."
Considering that the Spanish Inquisition started torturing and burning people for precisely the "perversions" and "heresies" that Leonardo flaunted, and that they were doing it during his lifetime, his triumphs and achievements must be seen as humanity's transcendence surpassing some of its greatest depredations.
The innocent refugees fleeing the ghastly charnel house of Syria and the post Arab-spring Middle East are mimicking the movement of humanity in the wake of the Crusades.  The debates over homosexuality and abortion are just alive now as they were then.  Climate change?  Medical ethics?  The clash of ideas is still vigorous.  Whether it be the partial sinking of the Tower of Pisa or a starving polar bear; foetal stem cell experiments or the use of cadavers for anatomical research; the grounds of conflict remain the same.  The wars have not been won in five hundred years of argument and debate.
In short, Isaacson could have dissected the current American political climate from the point of view of a historical figure who navigated those same waters to create some of humanity's greatest triumphs and sparked centuries of creative insight into the human condition.  Instead, he was boiled down to quick factoids and meaningless pop culture references in the space of a few hundred seconds.
That is why Colbert is just about to be kicked off my viewing list.  He only remains because he still manages to draw interesting guests who occasionally provide a useful or meaningful datum.

Musical Interlude

• When We Was Fab, by George Harrison
• Roxanne, by the Police
• Stuck in the Middle With You, performed by the Frantic Flintstones
• Have Love, Will Travel, performed by Crazyhead
• Make You Mad, by Odds
• Outside of This, by Jon and Vangelis
• Alison, by Elvis Costello
• Southbound Again, by Dire Straits

And here is where I must leave you once again, dear reader.  Until next time, it's goodnight England and the Colonies.
Cheers,
—mARKUS

John Lennon Memorial Day '17

Greetings, gentle readers.
After some intense feuding with some sort of diabolical stomach flu for the past week or so, I've finally brought myself to set a few more jagged thoughts to publish.  It does seem a bit like whistling whilst western civilization immolates itself in a funeral pyre of fear and ignorance, but Samuel Pepys scribbled notes as the 17th century sputtered and bumbled about, and we are all the inheritors of his commentary. 

Political Musings

Having just picked up another copy of Niccolo Machiavelli's Discourses on Livy, I was forced to ask myself once again to consider the ongoing struggle between appearance and reality.  Just as a person can't mention Thomas Hobbes without being beaten over the head with the line "nasty, brutish and short" to describe human life in the state of nature, so too is Machiavelli eternally tarred with the "it is better to be feared than loved" bollocks from The Prince.  Both political philosophers are associated with the catchiest and most popular phrase in their respective bodies of work, rather than their most insightful or even their most representative thoughts.  History thus thinks that both men endorse some sort of tyrannical, repressive regime, presided over by a "Prince" with the authority derived from the force of a "Leviathan."
To make long stories short, both men were writing for a particular audience, and telling them what they wanted to hear.  Hobbes wanted to return to England after the Parliamentary Rebellion, and so had to suck up to Oliver Cromwell, and thus said that the right to rule was not a Divine Right of Kings, but one derived from the barrel of a gun (point of a sword, heavy bit of a club, etc.).  Machiavelli had to tell the Medici family that he wasn't going to stir up any trouble against them so that they wouldn't see him as an obstacle and have him revoked.  K-I-L-L-E-D... revoked.
Political scientists who argue that force and coercion are the keystones of social contracts ought to use these sources to support their arguments very carefully, lest those same sources contradict them.
But as one astute wag remarked, political science is just history for people who are unable to draw their own conclusions.

What Has Trump Done Now?

American politics is such a trash heap of idiocy and incoherent myopic onanism that it defies anything resembling a simple or clear delineation.  Every poll and survey conducted in the past ten years indicates that the two-party system of Democrats and Republicans is seen as corrupt, ineffective, misrepresentative, and broken.  The American public overwhelmingly despise their current system of governance.  Period. 
And then we hit a touchstone issue, and we can see how the American public are again herded into their pens and forced back into the same polarizing paradigm that quietly becomes synonymous with the old two-party system. 

• Abortion.  Democrats are obviously all godless babykillers.  All marginally literate evangelicals therefore must vote for the Republican party at all costs.  There's one demographic sorted.  People who can barely read use ancient scribblings of those who could barely write to justify voting for dirty old pooves.
• Sexual Harassment.  Democratic members of Congress must be horsewhipped within an inch of their lives and ridden out of DC on a rail.  Republican members of Congress are given a badge and several fund-raising events where they can double down and insist that the Bible has set a precedent for acceptable misogyny and paedophilia. (paedos love Exodus 19:31-35)
• Immigration.  Anyone that does not endorse hermetically sealing all of the borders of the United States indefinitely is some kind of bleeding-heart liberal who no doubt masturbates to a bust of V. I. Lenin shrouded in a hammer-and-sickle flag.  Eating popcorn while watching Syrian refugees drown, starve, burn, and bleed to death is solid patriotism.
• Taking a knee.  Military veterans who take a knee out of respect for fallen comrades during a funeral procession is fine.  Athletes taking a knee to protest over-militarized and racially discriminatory police forces is un-American.  Another example of offense being taken where none was being given.
• Gun Control.  Mass shootings are always declared some kind of mental health problem.  Why then is there no impetus to increase funding or resources for mental health either in the armed forces, or in the national health services?  Postulate:  
• all mass shootings are as a result of mental health issues
• women and men are equally susceptible to mental health issues
• over 98% of mass shootings are perpetrated by males
• An easier conclusion to reach prior to speed-dialing the psychiatric association hotline would be to look at the issue from a gender perspective, rather than a wellness one.
• Health Care.  Everyone knows that the best thing for the American population is a single-payer health care system.  By "best," I mean keeping the most people healthy at the lowest overall cost.  The problem with single-payer is that it doesn't make corporate CEOs filthy rich.  Pharmaceutical and medical tech companies make billions every year at one end, and medical insurance companies make a fortune at the other.  Some 50% of American taxpayers are one leukaemia diagnosis away from bankruptcy, but the majority deny the possibility, saying that Medicare, Medicaid, and other social health programs are just part of the slippery slope toward godless communism.  See Abortion.

In short, the deadlock of the American public over these basic issues is actually reflected in Senate and the House of Representatives.  A greater person would be like Kierkegaard's Knight of Faith - someone who believes the absurd not only because of a wellspring of positivity, but possibly because it is inherently absurd.  A true Knight of Faith believes that somewhere over the rainbow, some magical Hegelian synthesis between these diametrically opposed viewpoints will lead to a true enlightenment of all the parties.  Mutual appreciation and compromise all around.
Unfortunately, I fall a little short of that lofty spiritual perch.  I'm more of a Knight of Infinite Resignation.  Like two falcons locked in a death spiral, pirouetting toward the stony earth, I see only annihilation.  Rigidity, intractability, and inflexibility have condemned American society to death. 
I have hope that once the cycle of verwirrung has run its course, common sense will allow a rebirth that incorporates the secular humanist democratic thoughts of Washington, Jefferson, Adams, et al. with the rational post-industrial economic understandings of the 21st century.  Until then, citizens of the world just have to hold their noses and keep their head down while ignorance and fear run rampant.

Washtime Warblings

• The Motorcycle Song, by Arlo Guthrie
• Why, by Melanie Chisholm
• Escape, by Journey
• Wrote for Luck, performed by Manic Street Preachers
• African Sky Blue, by Juluka
• Let it Ride, performed by Big Sugar
• Furious Rose, by Lisa Loeb
• My Favourite Game, by The Cardigans
• Turn On Your Lovelight, performed by Them, featuring Van Morrison

Just a few quick observations:

• Returning to the iPod hours later and letting the random playlist continue, the next track to play was "Shine a Little Love" by the Electric Light Orchestra, which is a very eerie track to follow "Turn On Your Lovelight."
• Almost fifty percent of the tracks feature female lead vocalists, something egalitarian to note considering that I have never made a conscious effort to specifically populate my music collection with any sort of quota.
• In a playlist almost bereft of any sort of drug or substance references, Lisa Loeb's song sticks out by mentioning "your opiate eyes." Depending on how physiotherapy goes, I may be looking at breaking my own opioid habit in the next few months.

In Memoriam

Today marks the 37th anniversary of John Lennon's death.  The occasion saddens me immensely, and has done every year.  Just wondering what the world would be like with his acerbic wit to deflate some of today's self-indulgent pretensions is an intellectual exercise as depressing as it is futile.  I miss the guy, warts and all.  I've been moping for decades, and the list of wonderful contributors to the soul of humanity and illuminators of the human condition who have passed away lengthens each year.  Tom Petty was the most recent knife-twist to the figurative cultural gut, and I'm tired of exposing my emotions on social media.  So cheers John.  I'll have a brandy alexander and think about you.

And that's it from me, other than to say that Liverpool FC have been struggling to deal with some severely woeful defensive issues, and have decided over the past month that the answer to defensive frailty is complete offensive overload.  Smashing seven goals against Spartak Moskva this past Wednesday was just a further honing of the knife's edge as every minor misstep by the Russian squad was ruthlessly and relentlessly punished by swift execution.  Surely Everton FC are quaking in their proverbial mukluks ahead of this weekend's cross-town derby.  That sort of fear is the progenitor of the same minor missteps I mentioned earlier.
Goodnight England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

The Conspiracy for Today

Greetings, gentle readers.
I'm tired, achy, and cranks, so I'm just going to belch out my disgruntled complaints in an unadulterated fashion before I have a nap.  What injustices are the world neglecting?  Let's start with the United States, the global equivalent of Azathoth. 
For those of you not acquainted with Lovecraftian lore, Azathoth is the master of the universe, but he is a a dumb and blind idiot, dancing through the cosmos of his own design to the tune of thin, monotonous flutes.

Harm the Poor

To give substance to the metaphor, this year marks the sixteenth anniversary of the United States' involvement in Afghanistan.  2,386 American military personnel and 1,173 American civilian contractors have been killed in that time.  I am not going to criticize, just ask:

• What has been accomplished?
• What provisions have been made for the children made parentless by these deaths?
• How have the 20,049 wounded Americans been treated upon their return from this theatre of operations?
• How much longer must the United States occupy Afghanistan to "complete" its mission?
• Would anyone volunteer to guard the poppy fields in Afghanistan if it were possible to earn money for a family locally?

Economics

Enlistment in the U.S. Military is dropping.  Word is getting out that poor people are being told that their military wages can pay for a home and a health plan for their families.  Word is also getting out that these are bald-faced lies.  Would you like to buy a cheap home?  Get one that is foreclosed on a veteran's family.  The Department of Veterans Affairs sells them off HERE.  Or you can click on this  https://www.hudforeclosed.com/government-foreclosures-info/va-foreclosures
Here is the lie - sign up for a tour of duty, and we can get you a mortgage at a cheap rate.  We pay you while you shoot little Afghan kids for a year, and then life is free and easy for you and the next generation of soldier.  Problem:  when you get injured, you are no longer considered part of the war against terror/drugs/al-qaeda/ISIS, you are part of the problem that holds America back from fighting whichever one of those problems threatens democracy this week.
Wounded, disabled, and handicapped soldiers return from combat to find that they are no longer eligible for the sub-prime mortgage rates that are issued to soldiers in active rotation.  Suddenly, boom.  Your family lives out of the car if you've got one, and you can't get a job.  Why not?  Click HERE or copy and paste this address: https://www.huffingtonpost.com/sudy-bharadwaj/veterans-employment-discrimination_b_3347752.html
Bottom line: for decades, the U.S. Military has been selling people a bogus product.  If you serve your country and defend America against... erm... stuff like Nazis and terrorists, serving freedom and liberty and the like, you will end up better than you started.

Poor Shame

People that are one leukemia diagnosis away from complete bankruptcy look to the military as a way out because their families have always voted for autocrats that made decisions for them and absolved them from the awful weight of freedom..  That demographic is shrinking because they are dying.  Literally.  With no health insurance, and with no employment in increasingly useless industries like coal-mining, buggy-whip-making, or slave-manacle-manufacturing, large numbers of people thought that the military would pay them enough to get their family into a house that had heat and possibly water.
That dream is falling apart.  Now, instead of sparing Ma and Pa from a serving at the dinner table every night and coming home with enough to save the family farm, a young man or woman leaves and comes back missing a limb or two and needs help going to the bathroom.
What price are we paying for freedom, and... wait.. how are we defending freedom again, exactly?
The entertainment industry has been working overtime to make sure that mutilations in Afghanistan are justified because of 9/11 and xenophobia,etc.  "Designated Survivor" and other prime time television shows are packed with messages that U.S. military troops are needed all over the world (that have valuable resources) and must rescue all sorts of confused people that would much rather have lived their lives in peace.
How many tens of thousands of displaced, maladjusted, disabled, and emotionally unstable people must this militarist state create before it undermines itself?
The movement to create a mental health service within the military has been afoot for years and can be found HERE.
Please watch the film.  This is not a political issue - it is a humanitarian one.
http://www.thankyouforyourservicethefilm.com/

Yemen

One of the few places where American military boots are not seen on the ground is Yemen.  Millions are literally dying as we speak.  Please look at this article [HERE]: 
https://reliefweb.int/report/yemen/millions-yemenis-days-away-losing-clean-running-water
Cholera, starvation, and dehydration are killing millions.
Why don't we hear about this?
American weapons destroyed all of the hospitals and water stations.  President Trump declared the missile and drone sales to the Saudis as a tremendous deal for American workers.
OK.  Some of you are indifferent toward human misery.  That's fine.  How about the animals that have been affected by Saudi Arabia's embargo against Qatar and Yemen? 
Here is an article detailing the number of poor, dumb animals that have died a horrible and miserable death because some piece of thousand-year-old manuscript has more validity than another thousand-year-old parchment.  HERE.
And because I know none of you will click on the link, I'll attach some pictures.

These camels were denied permission to migrate because of Saudi border patrols.  But the Saudis are awesome because they buy a load of American-made weapons.

Shower stuff

Now that I've depressed you, here is the music that accompanied my last washing-up.

• Friends, by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant
• Tell the Truth, by Derek and the Dominoes
• Science and Love, by Cheapskate 
• American Beauty, by the Grateful Dead

When I return, I am going to try and write a scathing attack at Stephen Colbert, and the way in which his show tried to marginalize the relevancy of Walter Isaacson's latest book on Leonardo da Vinci.  Academia has a place in the world, and any sniggering attempt to reduce it to some sort of ivory tower speculation is part of the decay that has made truth a negotiable currency, rather than an absolute aspiration.
I apologize.  I have begun to figuratively froth at the mouth when discussing the intersection of ideology and life.
Please let me rest.  Good night England, and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

The Life of Frustration

Greetings gentle readers.
At risk of sounding like a whinging hypochondriac, it seemed appropriate to moan about how much my life is terrible, and thus to provide evidence for anyone to create standards of comparison.
"You've got it easy comparative to third-world children."
Response:  Yes. Yes I do.  I also object to the deployment of "first-world" military forces around the the globe to assist in the extraction of resources for multinational corporations.
Oh.  I'm one of those kooks.  Yes, most people are able to ignore bits.  Like the American soldiers who kept being delivered to their families in flag-covered coffins for two decades.  Suddenly, those same coffins start returning from Mali, Mauretania, Chad, and Yemen.  Why are American servicemen and women in those countries?  Where are those countries?  Who authorized those deployments?
Answer:  Americans are, by and large, ill-informed and inappropriately prepared to process information.  Their educational system has been undermined for decades such that only the rich can afford qualifications, and the poor resign themselves to manual labour.
Side note:  Manual labour is not a dropout option.  A serious carpenter can be more inspiring than a structural engineer.  My grandfather's friend built his whole house from the ground up - the entire thing - and it is built with such love that I doubt any cathedral coold encompass such emotion.
I'm getting weak, so I'm going to hit one more point, splash out some song titles and artists, and then come to a close.
Having watched snippets of television over the past week, I've noticed that the propaganda for the American presence in Afghanistan has been intensifying.  Why are troops in Afghanistan?  Drugs.  What reason is given by five primetime TV shows, two films, and innumerable pres conferences? 
"Defend Liberty"
"Protect Democracy"
"Build/Help/Establish/Create/Verb -- Freedom/Honesty/Equality"
Whatever.  If people want to support their triops, they ought to support political movements to bring them home and away from bizarre ideological conflicts supported by money interests.
To the people of the United States:  please do not send your children overseas unless they are part of an internationally sanctioned peace mission.  Do not allow your government to do so on your behalf.
And now, the music from my last shower.

Music:

• Rhiannon, by Fleetwood Mac
• Jump Around, by House of Pain
• Make Believe, by Matthew Sweet
• Since You've Been Gone, by Aretha Franklin
• I Know You Rider, by Max Creek, written by the Grateful Dead

In short, Americans have been told that public service = military service, and that shooting an Afghan orphan is morally equivalent to feeding an Iowan grandma.
The United States has long ago forfeited any claim to a moral high-ground on foreign affairs.  Berta Caceres would have spoken to the United States' handling of Honduras, and many women would have spoken to the U.S.'s handling of Libya, Syria, and Myanmar under Secretary of State Clinton.
The United States is not the world's policeman.  It is a fascist jackbooted enforcer that squeezes resource extraction from banana republics that ignore human rights.
May the logical extension of my model never become replicated in reality.
My optimism can only reach so far.  Until the sun rises on a world that makes sense to  JohnLeCarré, I bid adieu.
Until next time, for England and the Colonies,
—mARKUS

Irritation Nation

Greetings gentle readers.
Just a quick note to indicate the latest news from Zimbabwe, now that Emmerson Mnangagwa has been sworn in as the new president of the country.
CBC managed to find some bloke from the University of Johannesburg to give his commentary on the transition, and the result sounded like a Trump-esque mishmash of sentence fragments, incomplete thoughts, redundant and relentless self-paraphrasing, and blurry conclusions.  Somehow, the fact that he was standing on the same continent was supposed to give his opinions a greater significance, but you wouldn't know it from his meandering and incomprehensible babbling.
When asked about the history and importance of free and fair elections, he beat his gums for around seven minutes with something that sounded like this:
"Well, you know, South Africa, which has a large interest in the economic situation in Zimbabwe, and indeed in all of southern Africa, has been working with the West, or whatever you want to call the development agencies or the international community that involves itself with the affairs of countries in the developing world.  And they've put together a package of something like sixty million... billion rand, rand which is what South Africa is using for currency, and there was a time, particularly in 2006 when there was an election where Mugabe used the usual election things of coercion and violence, but that was because he wasn't a clear winner, and there was a runoff election.  So now there might not be violence because there is a clear winner and then we don't know where the package is going to come from.  We don't know about the package in a situation where if the election is in doubt or is not free and fair.  There might be violence and torture, you know. But we're not very certain about all of it.  We're just going to have to wait and see because we're not sure about the package and what that means to the people who are dependent on the results of either an interim government or an election of some kind."
If all political correspondents spoke in this manner, I would expect a lot more violent reactions - mainly from people telling this talking head to shut his mouth.
Bottom line:  Mnangagwa is 75 years old.  He has spent the past 37 years operating within the Mugabe régime.  Don't expect sweeping changes and reform during his reign, but we can predict that some of the more draconian Mugabe governmental dictates will be relaxed in anticipation of the next generation's incoming policies.  Why?  The next set of people to take over the country will be chronologically unlikely to claim status as a veteran of the War of Independence, and thus will have to appeal to a different segment of the population.
Side note:  Veterans of the War of Independence refers to members of ZANU and ZAPU that actively terrorized and murdered people in the 70s and demanded recolonialization by Great Britain.  Those that struggled for independence legally and constitutionally, like Josiah Gumede, Jeremiah Chirau, and Bishop Abel Muzorewa, have all been wiped from the country's history and have no political value.
Which leads us to the music.

Shower Songs

• Since You've Been Gone, by Melanie Chisholm and Bryan Adams
• Zodwa, by Juluka
• Life's Too Short, by the Lightning Seeds
• Veronica, by Elvis Costello and the Attractions
• Father and Son, by Cat Stevens
• Till the Morning Comes, by the Grateful Dead
• Sky Blue, by Peter Gabriel

And that's it for me.  I'll try and get back after I finish some report writing with my doctors and insurance account representatives.
Until then, goodnight England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

Degrees of Separation

Greetings, gentle readers.
With so many things afoot at home and abroad, it's often difficult to know where to start.  The beginning seems like a good place, and where do most tales of confusion and controversy begin but in high school?
Before we go there, let's quickly address the songlist that accompanied my last soapy and sudsy adventure.

Showering Songs

• Jacqueline, by Franz Ferdinand
• Dance Hall Days, by Wang Chung
• Purple Haze, by the Jimi Hendrix Experience
• Rock and Roll is King, by the Electric Light Orchestra
• Hey Little Girl, by Bad Manners
• Twilight, by Jon and Vangelis

Looking at the above list, I can see certain areas of relevance, particularly to the Roy Moore election campaign and its revolting candidate, who recently described scoping out his future wife while she was at a dance rehearsal.  She was fifteen years old at the time.

Archbishop MacDonald High School

I went to a Catholic academic high school on the west end of the city of Edmonton from 1988 to 1991.  As my scholastic career advanced, I began to start coaching and volunteering for the various extracurricular clubs and activities, like debating, public speaking, and Reach for the Top (general knowledge trivia).  One of the younger ladies that I advised was named Darya, and her mother was on the faculty as one of the senior maths teachers.  It was not surprising in a high school environment that she wouldn't want to carry her mother's name around, so she used her father's surname.
What is the point of all of this?  Try and follow my logic.
Darya Fustukian was born in the mid-1970s in Edmonton, Alberta at around the same time that Bryan Fustukian was headlining a country rock band in the area.  One of the more notable band members and creative influences in that band was Billy Cowsill, of The Cowsills. 
It is entirely feasible, therefore, that I went to high school with a girl whose godfather was the inspiration for the character of Keith Partridge, played by David Cassidy, who just died yesterday at the age of 67.
It's a stretch, but one should always work to make current events relevant.

Zimbabwe

At this point, it looks as though it is all over bar the shouting, but the 37-year despotic reign of Robert Mugabe has come to a close.  The doddering old bastard has finally called it quits, amid rumours that he has done so in exchange for complete immunity for himself and his family.  He, his wife, and their children have been emptying the till of the diamond-rich country for decades, and I'm sure they'll relinquish the absolute power they enjoyed in exchange for a lifetime of exorbitant and decadent luxury.  They'll no doubt purchase some penthouses in Dubai and while away the years racing expensive supercars and drinking bottles of exquisite champagne.
While the history is somewhat muddled, the present is eerily clear.  Zimbabwe's independence, first as Southern Rhodesia declared independence from the UK, and then later, as black militant nationalists forced Southern Rhodesia to temporarily recolonialize in order to declare independence again as Zimbabwe, is a bit tough to understand.  Some historical figures, such as Zimbabwe's first black Prime Minister Bishop Abel Muzorewa have been erased.  The legacy of political moderation has been washed away as surely as the thousands of Ndabele that Mugabe tortured and murdered as soon as he had pushed aside the last remnants of the Lancaster House constitution.  The massacres of the Ndabele has become known as the gukurahundi - the rains that wash away the harvest chaff.
So the dictator has successfully expunged most of his atrocities with his bombastic thunderings about colonial exploitation, and his reign has come to a close with a relatively simple whimper.

Cherchez la femme

This whole situation came about because the young, attractive, socialite, fashionista wife of old Robert Mugabe was about to take over the country.  All of the old-school, gun-toting thugs that could claim favours from the old despot could not rely on "Gucci Grace" to dispense the same sort of treatment.  For months, Mugabe's sons had been bragging about their wealth and possessions on Instagram and other social media platforms, while the image of Grace in the eyes of the public came to resemble that of Marie Antoinette - indifferent to the plight of the unwashed masses.  As sycophants who fawned on Grace were promoted to higher positions of office, worry began to spread throughout the ranks of the military and the "war veterans" associations.  When vice-president Emmerson Mnangagwa was abruptly booted from his position, Mugabe had finally made one move too big, and too soon.  Before Grace or one of her surrogates could replace Mnangagwa, the army stepped in, suspended government and forced the old bastard to resign publicly.

So, with the situation in Southern Africa looking as though it will settle down into some mild electoral froo-frah, it looks as though there should be some stability and perhaps a bit of prosperity in the region before the next power-crazed lunatic seizes power and declares himself king-for life, just like:

• Amin in Uganda 
• Mobuto in Congo
• Hastings Banda in Malawi
• Charles Taylor in Liberia
• Nguema in Equatorial Guinea

Until we know the name of the next insane, torturing, paranoid, kleptomaniacal, genocidal dictator, we'll just consider Zimbabwe steady for now.
I will launch into what I hope will be a lengthy tirade against subhuman pervert Roy Moore that will spill into a generalized condemnation of all people who value adherence to a political party or ideology greater than the concepts of decency, morality, and compassion.
I will do that at a later point, however, as I grow weary.
I shall return with more vigor.  Until then, good night England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

Spinal Rap

Greetings, gentle readers.
It was recently brought to my attention that I don't talk about myself enough.  For example, I managed to put together a solidly semi-coherent ramble about how I was unable to attend the entirety of a concert presented by one of my favourite acts in history HERE.  But what I may have neglected to mention in context is that my spine is a bit crocked.  I mention it in passing every so often, and I misguidedly think that means everyone is already aware of my Facebook posts and other social media channels.
In a nutshell, my spine skewed itself in such a way that it squished the cartilage protecting the bundle of nerves that leaves the central spinal column and branches off to my right side.  Let's deal with this the way my pharmacist did.

What Happened?

There wasn't any "bang" or accident of some sort.  This was the result of years of lousy posture, particularly working in an office environment where I was perpetually hunched over in a very non-ergonomic way, doing a lot of repetitive stress activities.  Namely mouse-wrangling — a sort of wildlife-related hobby peculiar to tier-2 IT specialists.

Did It Hurt?

It sure did.  But it took years of headaches, neckaches, backaches, wrist, elbow, and shoulder problems before we finally nailed it down.  Around a year ago, the upper back and neck pain was so bad that I couldn't sit properly and part of my hand went numb more or less full-time.  The pain was so blinding that I would black out, and I had to abandon driving a vehicle.

How Was The Surgery?

That was the easiest part.  The neurosurgeon and his staff are total pros and had me taken apart and riveted back together as shown below in just a couple of hours.  The procedure is called a C7 radiculopathy. If you take the goofy-looking vertebra at the base of the skull as number one, count down the spine until you reach number seven.

The two little white things to the right of the "L" in the picture are the screws.

Does It Hurt Now?

It didn't.  For about a month or two, I was doing great.  Then I started trying to push the bounds - to get stronger, to do more.  I think that I may have tested those boundaries a little too thoroughly, though, and now I'm in a lot of pain unless I take the analgesic medications on a VERY strict schedule.  Now I can't stand for extended periods, and sitting requires an odd posture.

What Happens Next?

More doctor's appointments.  Just went for a GP appointment and more x-rays yesterday, and am seeing my neurosurgeon on Monday.  We'll see what we shall see.

In the meantime, I'm going to be watching the Alabama senatorial race and the developments of the Mugabe Family, featuring Gucci Grace and her sons.  Apparently, they "keep on rolling" as reported on their Instagram feeds, which were reported HERE on The Citizen.
In the meantime, Goodnight England and the Colonies.
Cheers,
—mARKUS

There But By The Grace

Greetings, gentle readers.
While the African continent slumbers, I thought that I would take the brief respite in edifying news updates to take some more cheap shots at itty-bitty-titty groper, Roy Moore.  You remember him - the former Alabama justice who is now running for the Senate seat vacated by nightmare pixie Jefferson Beauregard Sessions.  The one who loves talking mothers into letting him babysit their daughters, and who trolls shopping malls for unripened forbidden fruit. 

Moore takes great pride in calling himself an evangelical and boasts proudly about setting his interpretations of the Bible as greater legal standards than dinky little documents like the United States Constitution or the Bill of Rights.  There are a number of problems with staking your entire moral fibre on a pastiche of desert proverbs.  Like paying yourself a million dollars from your Biblical charity, Foundation for Moral Law.  Or when you can't pick if you like the Old Testament or the New Testament better.  The New Testament doesn't say anything about homosexuality, but it does tell womenfolk to shut up (1 Corinthians 14:34-35).  On the other hand, the Old Testament hates gays (but not lesbians) in Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13, while the New Testament has some hippie love stuff in it.
Then there are friends and allies that try to help.  Alabama State Auditor Jim Ziegler, in an attempt to justify a grown man molesting pre-adolescent girls, drew a Biblical parallel to the parents of Jesus Christ, saying that "Mary was a teenager and Joseph was an adult carpenter. They became parents of Jesus," apparently forgetting about the whole immaculate conception, and Virgin Mary mythology in his zeal to normalize Roy's behaviour.

Since my last mention of Roy Moore's campaign for the Senate, the number of females accusing Roy of sexual offences against women has risen to seven.
One wonders - what if Moore had been molesting little boys?  Would his evangelical base in Alabama continue to support him with the same fervour?
That's about it for me.  I am still watching the Zimbabwe situation with interest and shall return shortly.
Good night England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

Evader Zim

Greetings, gentle readers.
Just when I thought that the sleaziness of Judge Roy Moore was going to fill my column inches for weeks, news arrives of events unfolding in Zimbabwe, where nonogenarian dictator-for-life Robert Mugabe continues to cling to power, despite the fact that the army has seized control of Harare, stationed troops at all significant points of transportation and communication, and has made broadcasts over national television that the old scumbag is alive and well.

Quick Zim Summary

In order to understand what's happening in Zimbabwe right now, let's walk through the last 50 years there really quickly.  I imagine something significant will happen in the next few days, and we should make sure that we're all up to speed.  Then when something actually does happen, I can discuss it full in the knowledge that everyone is conversant with the overall context.

History

• In 1964, the British colony of Rhodesia splits in two, becoming the northern independent state of Zambia, and the southern, still-colonial Southern Rhodesia.
• In 1965, Prime Minister Ian Smith and the Southern Rhodesian parliament universally declared independence from the United Kingdom.  UK PM Harold Wilson tried to strangle to country with economic sanctions.  Zimbabwe reacts by becoming more self-sufficient and grumpy.
• After years of negotiating a new constitution that would allow black African voters a greater share of government without creating fear amongst the White Rhodesians, two sets of political dissidents arise and with the help from predominantly communist countries, establish military insurgencies.  The two rival revolutionary groups are:

• The Zimbabwe African People's Union (ZAPU)
• Predominant ethnicity is Ndabele
• Led by Joseph Nkomo
• Philosophy is Marxist/Leninist
• Military wing: Zimbabwe People's Revolutionary Army (ZIPRA)
• The Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU)
• Predominant ethnicity is Shona
• Led by Robert Mugabe
• Maoist political philosophy
• Military wing:  Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA)
• In 1972, ZANU and ZAPU begin The Bush War.  It rages for seven years, killing loads of people.  The black nationalist revolutionaries, armed with Soviet and Communist Chinese weaponry, wreak havoc on the country.  ZIPRA nauseate many when they shoot down two commercial passenger aircraft, and then hunt down and kill the survivors of the crashes.  ZANLA become known for careless dispersal of landmines.  The image of an elephant shrieking in agony with a blood-spurting stump of a front leg seems to be an accurate metaphor for the country.  Abandoned by its former colonial overlords, the Rhodesian government turns to mercenaries and to South African advisors for help.
• In 1978, Prime Minister Ian Smith crafts a new constitution in concert with a number of non-militant black leaders which appears to satisfy the majority of people.  The "Internal Settlement" would result in multi-racial elections in the new "Zimbabwe-Rhodesia."
• In 1979, the new Internal Settlement elections are held and elect a cabinet of 12 blacks and 5 whites, but the United Nations calls them a "sham."  Robert Mugabe calls all non-militant black leaders, like Bishop Abel Muzorewa "neocolonialist puppets." Nationalist revolutionaries reject the Internal Settlement, and the old colonial masters, Great Britain, are called in to settle the Rhodesian problem.  The unilateral independence declaration is wiped out and the country is declared an independent Zimbabwe, with new electoral conditions.
• In 1980, ZANU absorbs ZAPU and renames itself ZANU-PF (Patriotic Front).  It wins a majority government in the new constitutional parliament.  Things start off well, as all of the trade embargoes are lifted, but over the next 37 years, new President Robert Mugabe turns the country into a tinpot dictatorship, calling for a one-party system, jailing dissidents, seizing white-owned farms for his increasingly numerous group of "war veterans."  GB had set aside money for the Zimbabwe government to purchase farms for black groups, bu Mugabe took that money and then had armed troops take the land and murder and displace white landowners regardless.

Current Events

So what we have is this - Mugabe for 37 years has been unilaterally changing the constitution, creating a militarized youth force committed to himself personally, extorting money from Great Britain and blaming every economic downturn on the "colonial masters."

At last report, he's under house arrest, but has been declared "fine."

The point is - the old bastard is going to die at some point, and because he's set himself as the god-president-for-life, no one knows ow to replace him.  The constitution is as worthless as used toilet paper, and all of his government are military thugs with armed groups behind them.  

Last week, Mugabe sacked his vice-president, shrieking something about "disloyalty."  The ex-VP, Emmerson Mnangagwa, is a long-serving general in the army and holds considerable sway over the army, the Zimbabwe Defence Force (ZDF).

At the present time, here's what it looks like:

• Senile, paranoiac Mugabe thinks his #2 is going to overthrow him, so he kicks him out.
• Mnangagwa flees the country, knowing what Mugabe has done to disloyal people in the past.
• With Mnangagwa gone, Mugabe's wife smells power, and she starts purging Mnangagwa's army friends from high-ranking government positions.  She prepares to be named the new President.
• The army takes over the capital and the broadcast and communication stations.  They declare no harm to Mugabe, but want to deal with "criminals" around him.
• Mugabe's wife Grace flees the country, knowing how presidential hopefuls are treated in a Mugabe system.  She is reported to be in both Zambia and Namibia.  The former seems more likely.

So, is the old bastard finally going to kick it, and if so, will the military unilaterally declare Mnangagwa the new president, to the horror of the old thugs who had coalesced around Mugabe by doing him little "favours" like adding some muscle to election polling booths, scaring white farmers off their land, and smashing up businesses owned by people thought to support people like Morgan Tsvangirai?  

The new army government would most likely "deal with" people who spent the last few years currying favour with Grace Mugabe.  How the legions of Hitl-... I mean Mugabe Youth will react is probably up to the propaganda skills of the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Network.

What will the international community do?  I dunno.  Ask me after the biscuits and tea we'll have as we celebrate Mugabe's demise.  I personally hate the bastard because of what he's done to Salisbury... I mean Harare.  It's heart-wrenching to wake up in the morning, look at the blooming jacaranda trees, feel the warm morning breeze, and then smell the smoke and hear the gunshots from the new food riots.  Or walk through the shadow of the steel-framed skyscrapers on the way to an internet café while listening to the blaring sound of the modified Blaupunkt radios of the Mercedes-Benzes owned by Chatunga Bellarmine or his friends.  They are advertising that not only are they rich, they are connected enough to get petrol to fuel their vehicles.  Robert Mugabe Jr. takes very good care of his buddies, as his social media profiles attest.
Right.  I will keep watching for future developments.  The life and livelihood of a lot of people depends on what happens next in what the ZDF is calling "not a coup d'état."
Meanwhile, here's the last series of songs that punctuated my ablutions.

Showertime Serenades

Rain Dance, by the Guess Who
I Know You Rider, by the Grateful Dead
Inside, by Matthew Sweet
Tangerine, by Led Zeppelin
I Want You Now, by Big Sugar
Strange Magic, by the Electric Light Orchestra
Bitterblue, by Cat Stevens
Gear Jammer, by George Thorogood
634-5789, written by Eddie Floyd and Steve Cropper, performed by Wilson Pickett, Eddie Floyd, and Jonny Lang

And that's it from me.  Next, I've got some pictures that I think summarize Roy Moore adequately, and I'll update you all on my perspective on the Southern African Situation.
Until then, good night England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS

Grounds for Dismissal

Greetings, gentle readers.
Trevor Noah said it best when he said that Sean Hannity seems to have a permanent seat on the wrong side of history.  Hannity really locked on the safety belt this week when he interviewed a Republican senatorial candidate who has been substantially accused of multiple accounts of indecent sexual behaviour with adolescent girls while acting as the District Attorney.  I would really like, as Trevor often says, to get into it in terms of Judge Roy Moore. 
Speaking of the honorific title "Judge," Moore seems like the kind of character that would be deemed too sleazy and revolting to appear as a villainous corrupt official in "Judge Dredd" or its parent comic "2000 A.D."  Those types of adult graphic novel-style comic books were dark, morbid, and horrifically violent, but when it came to sexually explicit, kiddie-porn level smut, they ran away shrieking.  Judge Dredd's niece Vienna was held hostage and threatened with all manner of horror, but never molestation.  The decadent and thoroughly debauched rule of Judge Cal depicted all sorts of improprieties, but never interference with a minor. 
That level of sick crime was never addressed in any of the Mega-City chronicles.  Whether that be because of publishing censorship restrictions that precluded even discussing that sort of sex crime, or the personal aversions of the authors is irrelevant.  In a narrative about the relationship between justice and enforcement, where punishment is so disproportionate as to deter all but the incurably insane from attempting to commit crimes, Roy Moore's despicable predatory behaviour would have an obvious and unimpeachable repercussion.
I must collapse into bed, since the aches and spasms are getting the better of me.  First, I want to remind myself that the Keurig coffee company, which I often ridicule as the purveyor of 1950s-esque inefficient household technology, actually decided to yank its advertising sponsorship of Sean Hannity's TV show after his disgustingly awful interview of Roy Moore.  In response, people supporting the bible-thumping child-diddler have started destroying their environmentally scornful coffee machines in protest of the advertising suspension.
So... if I like the idea of a District Attorney stalking high school football games and shopping malls looking for teenage girls, and then manipulate situations such that he can aggressively molest them... them I should smash coffee machines.  Conversely, if I think that paedophiles should stay out of publicly-elected positions of power... I should drink coffee from an expensive machine that uses non-disposable "pods"?  There's too much here to unpack at a single setting when I'm far too sore to cope with the mental gymnastics.  Besides, it's possible that the following random playlist may shed a light on the whole affair, if such it can be called.

Stochastic Sudsy Songs

Teenager in Love, by Bad Manners
Gloria, by Them
Cordelia, by The Tragically Hip
I Looked Away, by Derek and the Dominoes
Eat My Brain, by The Odds
Europa Geht Durch Mich, by The Manic Street Preachers

And that's all from me.  After another round of x-rays, renewing my driver's licence, and another round of GP and specialist appointments, I'm running on empty.  Back at you as soon as I can concatenate more than three thoughts successfully.
Goodnight England and the Colonies,
—mARKUS

Giant Glucose

Greetings, gentle readers.
I need to preface this bit of digital self-indulgence with an apology to Gordie Johnson, founder and core of the act Big Sugar.  I went to his concert last night, and despite enjoying myself thoroughly, had to beg off early and head home before the conclusion of his first set.  It was rude of me, and my only explanation was that I managed to remain standing on the dance floor throughout the entire set of Lex Justice, the opening act.  Throughout the 90 or so minutes of Gordie's performance, I was leaning heavily against a ledge near one of the bars on the side of the dance floor in considerable discomfort.  I was dizzy, perspiring heavily, and the lumbar section of my spine was on fire. Three times I tried to move my neck, and three times I blacked out and nearly collapsed.  All three times, my knees went out from under me and I lost consciousness, only to recover it moments later.  The first and second times, I managed to convince myself that I was under control, just staggering and sagging against the wall.  When I found myself stumbling and clutching other people's clothing on the third blackout, I realized that it would not end happily.
And thus I left, defeated and ashamed of the fact that I has mistreated one of my heroes - a man who, despite being clean and sober for almost two years, hasn't turned into the milquesop, god-bothering asshole that Van Morrison became after a similar life-change.  Please forgive me Gordie.  I still remember that time in 1993 when I deserted my post at work to cycle to the People's Pub on Whyte Avenue to watch part of a couple sets and got you to autograph my "Five Hundred Pounds" CD.  I still hold and cherish that CD with your red-inked inscription.  I've driven to Calgary for gigs, attended workshops at the Edmonton Folk Fest, hung out at the stage during an Edmonton "First Night" festival, and bought stacks of CDs and merchandise.  Over twenty-four years of watching gigs and listening to albums, and my bum vertebrae knocked me for six in a little hometown venue.  I behaved rudely and disrespectfully.  Gordie, if you read this - for what it's worth - I'm sorry.  I truly did not intend to harm yourself or your reputation in any way. 
On top of my embarrassment at leaving the gig was my appreciation for the music on offer.  Lex Justice and his international ensemble gathered around the core of what was once Econoline Crush
had some very danceable reggae/calypso/blues/rock grooves.  His cover of Eddy Grant's anti-apartheid anthem "Gimme Hope Joanna" made even the most jaded cynic bounce around the dance floor.  The set concluded with a tribute to the lead singer's father, felled by cancer this past January - a subdued reggae interpretation of the Eagles' "Hotel California."
Gordie trumped this excellent performance by demonstrating virtuosity in blues guitar coupled with studio sound replication on stage.  He dual-neck guitars allowed him to play lead and rhythm, twelve- and six-string, distorted and chorus instruments simultaneously.
In addition to playing some of his most powerful, driving, high-tempo 12-bar major key numbers, he surprised certain members of the audience (okay, me) by playing Pink Floyd riffs in the middle of his solos.  Some noodled melodic asides raised eyebrows, but there were some very knowing and winking looks around the venue when Gordie not only flared into Floyd's "Fearless" in the middle of "She Left Ashes," but did it again before the final chorus.
This was a demonstration of a musician at a new zenith of his artistic powers, reinventing the most emotionally charged and energetic works of his catalogue into a soaring solo performance with a little help from some accompanying bass and percussion.
And my spine was too weak to allow me to stay the full course.  More the loss for me.
Strangely enough, despite the ridiculous amount of Big Sugar songs that appear in my shower playlists, this entry contains none.  Maybe the shuffle-demons knew that I would embarrass myself going to a Big Sugar show later that day.  Here's what the stochastic view of the future has to say.

Shower Songs

• Vindaloo, by Fat Les
• Green River, by Creedence Clearwater Revival
• We Need a Filthy War, by DJ Earworm
• And We Danced, by The Hooters
• You Don't Love Me, by Matthew Sweet
• Tsunami, by Prozzäk

I just popped a pack of painkillers, and I should be dead to the world for a while.  My eyelids are stinging me now because they long to be closed, and I can't stand on my feet regardless of intent of determination.  I'm slithering into bed.
Good night, England and the colonies.
Cheers,
—mARKUS

In The Beginning Was The Word

Greetings, gentle readers.
One thing that I've noticed is that a large number of people who are unable to understand or use a priori argumentation tend to rely on textual support for their arguments.  The general idea would be that if the words written on a page are old and people still read them, the ideas behind those words must be unassailable.  When asked if something is right or wrong, a lot of people will rely on old books to derive an answer rather than any innate sense of justice or morality.
For example, given the question, "Is it right for a government to execute a citizen for the crime of murder?" you may get people appealing to:

• some sort of religious text.  An eye for an eye turns another cheek and chops the hand off the perpetrating offender who is shamed in the eye of god, blah, blah, blah.  Old Testament, New Testament, Talmud, Torah, Pentateuch, Koran, Hadith, Vedas, Upanishads, whatever. 
  For example, "As the (good/holy/last/only) book says, 'God hath dispassionately presided over the painful and lonely expiration of every living thing throughout eternity, and has never given a fig about any of them.'"
• some sort of political text.  Americans in particular will trot out the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Federalist Papers, or the dissenting opinions of Clarence Thomas (see page 40 HERE).  For example, "The Founding Fathers were absolutely 100% in favour of the death penalty, as Alexander Hamilton demonstrated after he was shot by Aaron Burr and wrote 'Ah, fair fucks to him' in the margins of his diary."
• the writings of another philosopher who attempted to use anything other than a priori thinking, generally a reductionist whose works have been published in easy-to-read print.  For example, "Spinoza thought that capital punishment gave the state too much power in an ethical realm.  That sort of power is better left in the hands of the pogroms."

As you may have guessed by this point, I suggest that the only authentic response is an existential one.  An individual must make that moral judgement and assume the responsibilities alone.
Right.  That's morality, all summed up in a tidy package.

Mass Shootings

In the wake of the latest mass shooting (at time of writing, it was the one in Sutherland Springs), I would just like to throw my four comments at it.

The President

Speaking from Japan, the President of the United States blamed the most recent slaughter of innocents on a "mental health problem."  Interesting to note that the President himself signed a bill in February 2017 (H.J. Res 40) that killed a regulation (81 Fed. Reg. 91702) that would have restricted access of the mentally handicapped and violently diagnosed to firearms.  In short, the current administration has vigorously lifted restrictions and regulations on firearms, SPECIFICALLY as it applies to mental health issues.  Oh, and the sitting House of Representatives and Senate majorities have, over the past 3 years, cut $4.3 billion from mental health services budgets. 
Conclusion:  don't look for any help here.  Start shopping for the "bargain-sized" coffins for your kids now.

The NRA

From NBC News:

Everytown For Gun Safety President John Feinblatt said he expected more gun control rollbacks from the Trump administration. In a statement to NBC News, he called the action "just the first item on the gun lobby’s wish list" and accused the National Rifle Association of "pushing more guns, for more people, in more places."

The NRA are going to do two things with this massacre:  twist the narrative, and exploit paranoia.  First, they are going to claim that the "good guy with a gun" actually saved the day here and protected the happy people of Sutherland Springs.  There is some evidence to suggest that AFTER 26 people were shot dead and 20 others wounded, a guy with a rifle chased the perpetrator away.  In a fwe days, some segments of the media will praise this person as a hero.
Second, the NRA will link any attempt to impose some sort of regulation on firearms as a draconian rescinding of the Second Amendment, and will only lead to to government seizing everyone's guns.  The elected government will become a tyrannical totalitarian police state, and resistance without firearms is futile, so all free will and democracy will perish.
Conclusion:  Let the propaganda wars begin.  You need guns to protect your freedom, and your freedom is in danger.  Be very afraid and purchase more ammunition.

The Media

This is the war of sociology and terminology.  Can white people be termed "terrorists"?  How much of a factor does gender play in the motivations for these acts?  Are white, anglo-saxon, christian males "at risk" for annihilist tendencies?  This is a wonderful smokescreen.  While media talking heads debate for hours on end whether it is appropriate or culturally acceptable to label, generalize, stereotype, or demonstrate sufficient awareness of any person or group involved in any element of the event.  Entire column inches will be expended, glowing with righteous indignation at the fact that a reporter mentioned a witness's weight, and is therefore an example of institutional rape-culture that only addresses gender through body-shaming.  The fact that all involved were ankle-deep in blood and amniotic fluid will be dismissed as incidental to the more germane social issues.
Conclusion:  Whatever news outlet gets the most retweets wins.  The families of the corpses lose.

The Church

More hopes and prayers.  As a matter of fact, all entities involved should endorse this course of action, since it doesn't harm anyone's profit margins.  In fact, the more hoping and praying that actually takes place inside church structures, the easier it will be for the next AR-15 wielding lunatic to find his Thanksgiving crop and rack up a sizable harvest of mutilated and twisted bodies.
Conclusion:  At time of writing, looking to any organized religion for help is the same as using a daily horoscope to raise your children - it's worse than trying to find your own answers.

What do I reckon?  I think that health care is a human right to which all American citizens are entitled, as enshrined in the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States.  If one considers the Second Amendment of that same constitution to be similarly binding, then I say that we should extend it logically.  As all Americans should be guaranteed welfare by its government, all American citizens should be issued state-of-the-art killing weapons.  Multiple weapons.  And ammunition.  Every citizen in the union should be armed to the teeth, even those that think that an armed war of secession against that union is somehow justified and patriotic.
Those that wish to blur the distinction between church and state and have prayer in science classrooms, political rallies, nuclear reaction chambers, septic tanks, and meetings of the National Audubon Society should be encouraged to do so, provided that they wear big symbols consisting of concentric red and white circles on their backs.

Playlist

• Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner, by Warren Zevon
• One of Those Rivers, by Dodgy
• Look Out There's a Monster Coming, by the Bonzo Doo Dah Dog Band
• Bus Stop, by the Hollies

Hmm.  Actually, those song titles almost add up to a coherent narrative all by themselves.
In any event, that is about all that I've got energy to type out today.  I'll be back soon to discuss the awful train-wreck that was Hillary Clinton's network of Super-PACs, beltway insiders, State Department contacts, DNC toadies, and the lickspittle hangers-on waiting to suckle at the withered teats of the presumed 45th President of the United States.  That's right, they created and "elevated" Donald Trump as a "pied piper" candidate on the ASSUMPTION that they would beat him in the general election.  Who made the monster?  Hillary, queen of regime-change, did.
Back at you with all of the evidence from the WikiLeaks vaults.
Cheers,
—mARKUS