I have been thinking about Facebook suicide for some time.  I already made the ‘no relationship status’ change and the response from ‘friends’ was shocking.  Between all the crap, the addictive waste of time I make it and my ‘friends’ from high school that now rant about every Obama-is-a-socialist move I can no longer stand it.  Or this:

“Your whole ass?”

Absurdity.  The word ‘absurd’ cannot capture the nonsense below.

Too many times people try to be cute.  Advice columnists rarely are ever cute, I’m looking at you Dear Prudence, but at least Sugar is funny.  This time he’s got it really really right.  And at a Creeper 5 rating.

For the challenge of cover songs started by Buttercup over at Woodenpickle.org, I re-exposed myself to Orgy’s “Blue Monday”.

Richard Hass, in an essay about a Lowell poem, provides a brilliant insight into not only Sarah Palin and the Tea Baggers but also to the nostalgic politics of the right.  “Nostalgia locates desire in the past where it suffers no active conflict and can be yearned toward pleasantly.  History is the antidote to this.” (330)

I have spent a lot of time lately following writers behaving badly.  Dan Kennedy in a Moth podcast tells a funny joke about a time in the 90s when he was not doing so hot.  He goes to a therapist (reminds me of a party at UNT where a guy tried to game a woman by referring to his roommate as The-Rapist, oops!) and the therapist asks, “how many beers did you have this week?”  “You’re right doc, it wasn’t a total wash, I did manage to have a few beers.”  Oops!  Therapist finishes the harangue, “you’re Irish, you’re last name is Kennedy and your heroes are all writers.  Let’s just keep an eye on the alcohol.”

In any case, writers behaving badly.  So, I’ve been watching some old Norman Mailer segments available on YouTube.  Great watching.  Here’s the best, where Norman squares off against Dick Cavett, Gore Vidal and Flannery O’Connor.

Hass, Richard.  (1997).  Lowell’s graveyard.  In J.C. Hallman, ed. (2009).  The story about the story: Great writers explore great literature (328-47). Portland: Tin House Books.

In his famous but falsified engraving of the Boston Massacre, Paul Revere tried to render the “motley rabble” respectable by leaving black faces out of the crowd and putting in entirely too many gentlemen. (Linebaugh et al. 2000, 233)

Sailors and slaves, once necessary parts of the revolutionary coalition, were thus read out of the settlement at revolution’s end.  Of the five workingmen killed in the Boston Massacre of 1770, John Adams had written, “The blood of the martyrs, right or wrong, proved to be the seed of the congregation.”  Yet had Crispus Attucks – slave, sailor and mob leader – survived the fire of British muskets, he would not have been allowed to join the congregation, or new nation, he had helped to create.”  (Linebaugh et al. 2000, 240.)

Linebaugh, Peter and Marcus Rediker.  (2000).  The many headed-hydra: Sailors, slaves, commoners, and the hidden history of the revolutionary Atlantic. Boston: Beacon Press.

There is an old newspaper account of a mass execution in 1922 of some Greek leaders after a failure in a military campaign against Turkey. The Greeks were brought into a courtyard and one of them was very ill, barely able to walk to the execution site. Supposedly, this one man was unable to stand for his execution and despite efforts to stand him up, the executioners decided to shoot him with his head on his knees. This account is somewhat misleading.

People interpret this as the man being very ill, but why is that necessarily the case? Could it also be that the man was resisting. If he is about to be killed, why make it any easier on his executioners? Why allow them to think there is a dignity in the process? Maybe the scene was filled with the dignity of a Picasso, a scene rife with challenges and hegemonic forces encountering their own resistances.

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