Bang Bang, Crash Crash.

Not surprised. Grieved. Shell-shocked. But not surprised. Worst death toll yet in Orlando, five in a domestic in hometown Roswell, another one averted in West Hollywood where friends are marching for our right to live and love today. It’s an endless list … they’re just like car wrecks now … 32,675 dead on the roadways in 2014 didn’t make us blink, while 475 dead in 372 mass shootings in 2015 made us yearn for more anger and violence … so there’s lots of room for more … the merrier. There’s tons of land for cemeteries.

Sing it: “This land is your land, this land is my land … this necropolis was made for you and me.”

The Dawn of Childish Just Me

William Bradley’s ‘The Dawn of ‘Just Me’: Zack Snyder’s Neoliberal Superheroes’, just published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, contains a telling paragraph, the first part of which exactly sums up someone I personally know. I suppose it’s true of Zack Snyder, the person and the director, as well. Seems bang on:

‘In the end, I don’t know that Zack Snyder’s Superman films demonstrate a coherent philosophy. They seem to be the reflections of a guy who read a lot of superhero comic books as a child, made his action figures fight each other, saw a lot of special effects-driven blockbusters, read some Ayn Rand, got stoned, listened to some Rush, and then, as an adult, was loaned copies of Watchmen, V for Vendetta, and The Dark Knight Returns and came to believe that the entertainment of his childhood could be made acceptable for an adult audience if it was just made a little bloodier.’
—William Bradley, The Los Angeles Review of Books

This paragraph also captures an aspect of this kind of persona rather well:

‘Or the scene toward the beginning of Watchmen (2009), during the weekly “beer session” shared between Dan and Hollis. Note how Dan announces that he needs to get going, despite the fact that he still has about two-thirds of his beer left. Imagine you had a guest over, and that guest opened a beer while you were talking, and then promptly set the beer down and announced, “I must leave now.” You would assume that you had said something offensive to prompt such an abrupt exit. That, or your guest is an android who does not yet properly understand human protocol surrounding conversations over drinks.’
Ibid.

Mr. Bradley appears to have met some of the same people I’ve met.

Big Voice

Goose arriyed here at his forever home at around 2:30 this afternoon. His wonderful transport man, who brought him from Knoxville to Cookeville, said Goose was completely quiet and all calm and everything the whole trip. He was completely quiet with us all the way back to Hermitage too.

Finally, when I was just thinking maybe he would never utter a peep, some people drove up to a house on the other side of the creek in the back.

Then … Goose found his voice. Let's just say we may have to rename him … "Bay" or "The Unholy Howler" or "The Howling" or "He Whose Voice is Far Bigger Than His Body" or "Goosebumps" … you see the theme. I'm not good at creating names.

At any rate, here's "Goose: The First Howling." [Speakers on lowest level, you've been warned.] Enjoy!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, March 26, 2016