A favorite phrase of Il Douchebag, which he often applies without any reasonable signification, is “like a dog.” While watching the fascist horror arising in Portland, Oregon, and wondering about where the kidnapped protestors might be taken for further interrogation and bodily harm, I was reminded of Franz Kafka’s The Trial. The link occurs in the final lines of Kafka’s great novel:
Where was the judge he’d never seen? Where was the high
court he’d never reached? He raised his hands and spread
out all his fingers.
But the hands of one man were right at K.’s throat,
while the other thrust the knife into his heart and
turned it there twice. With failing sight K. saw how
the men drew near his face, leaning cheek-to-cheek
to observe the verdict. “Like a dog!” he said; it seemed
as though the shame was to outlive him.
Continue reading “The Letter Z”
Amazing …Fuzzed-Out Gayageum Cover:
You can see even more of this amazing music at Laughing Squid (scroll down for additional covers).
Continue reading “We Don’t Need No Guitars”
It was the early ’60s. I was in High School and two things were my top fantasies, the 1957 Chevrolet Nomad and girls’ breasts. Television was black and white and I was beginning to lose interest in the lure of an evening in the vast wasteland. There was so many things to do outside of television: girls, homework, folk music, girls, surfing, onion rings, girls, art movies, the Beach Boys, and of course, girls.
It was a time when I started to develop my television watching habits that I still practice today: pick out a show or two and enjoy them but don’t worry about all the crap you ignored while doing your homework or holding hands with girls.
Continue reading “Thalia Menninger … sigh”