A Tribute to an Old Enemy

General Vo Nguyen Giap of Viet Nam

General Vo Nguyen Giap of North Viet Nam

He was the greatest military figure of the Twentieth Century. In turn, he defeated the Armed Forces of France at Dien Bien Phu in 1953, and of the United States in 1975. Oh, and along the way, he defeated the Chinese Red Army in 1979, when they decided to invade Viet Nam in response to the latter’s occupation of Cambodia in 1978. And he cheated death for 102 years, dying today in Hanoi.

France, the United States, and China—in succession!

I could only wish the United States had produced a military leader as accomplished as Giap; but whenever they tried to, they ran into the hide-bound Pentagon and Washington bureaucracy. People like Billy Mitchell, George S. Patton, and Douglas MacArthur had the potential; but they did not have the political backup.

So, General Giap, I toast you as an honorable enemy!

Congress on Strike? Hire Scabs!

Who Needs ’em?

Who Needs ’em?

I am now going to sound like a Republican: If the U.S. House of Representatives refuses to do its job, give them pink slips and hire scabs. Of course, they would lose their Congressional health benefits and have to rely on Obamacare. It’s rather unlikely anyone else would be so stupid as to give them a job, so they would also have to go on public assistance. The one on the right in the above photo would make a great welfare queen.

In the past, I tried to stop writing about politics, but I find it’s impossible to remain silent when I see my country being attacked by the very people who are supposed to protect it. Didn’t they swear an oath? And now, they are threatening to destroy the U.S. because they don’t like a piece of legislation (the Affordable Care Act) that was duly passed by a previous Congress and vetted through the Supreme Court. Well, if they can do that, I say fire the mo-fos , and maybe give them each a 90-day jail sentence to go with the package. If the law of the land can be unlawfully attacked in this manner, the perquisites of the House of Representatives are also up for grabs.

Weepy John Boehner tells the nation, “This isn’t some damn game!” I say it is, and the crybaby ought to go, but maybe with a 1-year sentence for his part in the fracas.

Here’s the oath of office these scum broke: I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.

Talking Point Nation

I Don’t Know What the Tiger Represents, but of the Piglets There Is Little Doubt

I Don’t Know What the Tiger Represents, but of the Piglets There Is Little Doubt

Every once in a while, some rabid right-wing nut job tries to take me on in these postings, but I never let them get very far. This is not a debating society; and all these goons have to offer are “talking points,” usually from some out-there conservative ideologue such as Glenn Beck or Bill O’Reilly. Typically, these talking points eventually all fall apart because they ultimately rely on some premise which I cannot accept.

For instance, anything that relies on the authority of the Bible or the Constitution is not automatically guaranteed acceptance from me. After all, I think the Second Amendment is a piece of excrement that appears to justify the NRA and other recidivist organizations, now that King George III is safely dead. And according to Article I, Section 2, isn’t our President three-fifths of a human being? (I think he’s twenty-fifths of a conservative Republican.) I know the wording has subsequently been amended, but the House of Representative’s record of racism makes me think they had crossed their fingers behind their backs. Besides, the bewigged Fathers of Our Country were men, not demigods, and as such made many mistakes and evasions that subsequently led to Civil War and hundreds of thousands of casualties a few decades later.

And don’t get me started on the Bible! Although I am by no means an atheist, I think most Bible-toting Evangelicals are little better than the Khmer Rouge, the Taliban, or Peru’s Sendero Luminoso (“Shining Path”) guerrillas. Quote some out-of-context verses at me, Sonny, and I’ll gladly demonstrate to you how you’re probably in violation of the strict dictates of the Books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. I respect heartfelt beliefs, but note that I may be immune to them.

So if you read what I have to say and thing you can turn me around based on some Oxycontin-inspired argument that Rush Limbaugh pooted out of his butt cheeks, don’t expect me to provide you with a forum.

I suppose I admire how you clowns can hang together, which is convenient for the voters who will kick your Tea Party behinds out of office come next year.

Art and Courage

Opening Oneself Up to Create Art

Opening Oneself Up to Create Art

The reader walks away from real art heavier than she came to it. Fuller. All the attention and engagement and work you need to get from the reader can’t be for your benefit; it’s got to be for hers. What’s poisonous about the cultural environment today is that it makes this so scary to try to carry out. Really good work probably comes out of a willingness to disclose yourself, open yourself up in spiritual and emotional ways that risk making you look banal or melodramatic or naive or unhip or sappy, and to ask the reader really to feel something. To be willing to sort of die in order to move the reader, somehow. Even now I’m scared about how sappy this’ll look in print, saying this. And the effort actually to do it, not just talk about it, requires a kind of courage I don’t seem to have yet. … Maybe it’s as simple as trying to make the writing more generous and less ego-driven.—David Foster Wallace, Conversations with David Foster Wallace

 

Thirteen Horrors

Scene from Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf

Scene from Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf

This being the start of Halloween Season, I thought I’d recommend thirteen horror films that have, over the years, continued to scare me. (Let me begin, however, by saying that nothing has scared me more than seeing Ted Cruz try to do Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham.)

It was difficult to limit the list down to thirteen. In the process, I had to omit some real classics, such as the original Universal Frankenstein and Dracula, plus some more recent films such as Dracula Prince of Darkness and Roman Polanski’s Repulsion. But I guess that is in the nature of things when trying to narrow down such a large field.

The films below are listed in alphabetical order:

The Black Cat (1934), directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, starring both Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. Frightening and very weird.

Black Sunday (1960), directed by Mario Bava, starring Barbara Steele. One of the very best of all the vampire films.

Carnival of Souls (1962), directed by Herk Harvey, starring Candace Hilligoss. A superb film made by a bunch of nobodies in the Midwest, but curiously affecting. See it if you can.

The Cat People (1942), produced by Val Lewton and directed by Jacques Tourneur. One of Lewton’s atmospheric horror films that are among my favorites.

Curse of the Demon (1957), also called Night of the Demon, directed by Jacques Tourneur and starring Dana Andrews. Probably the scariest film on this list. After multiple viewings, it still works!

The Hour of the Wolf (1968), directed by Ingmar Bergman. Another take on the vampire myth, this time from Sweden.

Kwaidan (1964), directed by Masaki Kobayashi, an anthology film based on stories compiled by Lafcadio Hearn in the 19th century. In wide screen and gorgeous Technicolor.

The Leopard Man (1943), produced by Val Lewton and directed by Jacques Tourneur. (I was torn between this and the same duo’s I Walked with a Zombie).

Nosferatu (1922), directed by F. W. Murnau and starring Max Schreck (“Terror”). The original Bram Stoker Dracula plot, set on the Continent. Probably the best of the silent horror films.

Scene from Rosemary’s Baby

Scene from Rosemary’s Baby

Rosemary’s Baby (1968), directed by Roman Polanski and starring Mia Farrow. Polanski had a gift for making great horror films.

The Shining (1980), directed by Stanley Kubrick and starring Jack Nicholson. Find out why all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Ugetsu Monogatari (1952), directed by Kenji Mizoguchi. A classic and lyrical Japanese ghost story that just happens to be one of the greatest films ever made.

Vampyr (1932), directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer. This is probably the scariest vampire film ever made. There are a lot of bad prints of this Danish film, so it’s worth getting your copy from a good source, like Kino-Lorber.

Are there any horror classics you’d like to add to this list? Use the comments for your suggestions.

Money to Stop the Shutdown?

How Would Contributing More Money to the Democrats Affect the Shutdown?

How Would Contributing More Money to the Democrats Affect the Shutdown?

My e-mails this morning were full of requests for money by various Democratic organizations to stop the shutdown. How, pray tell, would that happen? Now I would not mind contributing my hard-earned money to have John Boehner hog-tied and dragged through the streets of Washington, or to have Eric Cantor split down the middle by a chainsaw, or Paul Ryan molested by 150 rabid Catholic priests.

But that’s not what the money is going toward. Is it to bring a frown to Boehner’s face? That sad alcoholic wouldn’t even notice the difference.

No, it’s just that the Democrats want more money to eventually throw at television stations. There’s nothing they could do with the money now to avert the shutdown other than staging a mass annihilation of the House of Representatives (not a bad idea at that!), but they wouldn’t have the guts….

In consequence, I will ignore these importunate e-mails while shaking my head at the gullibility of my fellow man. Oh, well, a fool and his money are soon parted.

 

 

Spiritual Testing

Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu

What gives value to travel is fear. It is the fact that, at a certain moment, when we are so far from our own country (a French newspaper acquires incalculable value. And those evenings when, in cafés, you try to get close to other men just to touch them with your elbow.) We are seized by a vague fear, and an instinctive desire to go back to the protection of old habits. This is the most obvious benefit of travel. At that moment we are feverish but also porous, so that the slightest touch makes us quiver to the depths of our being. We come across a cascade of light, and there is eternity. That is why we should not say that we travel for pleasure. There is no pleasure in traveling, and I look upon it more as an occasion for spiritual testing. If we understand by culture the exercise of our most intimate sense—that of eternity—then we travel for culture. Pleasure takes us away from ourselves in the same way as distraction, in Pascal’s use of the word, takes us away from God. Travel, which is like a greater and a graver science, brings us back to ourselves.—Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942

El Tren de la Sierra

It All Began in 1980...

It All Began in 1980…

My interest in visiting South America first began when I read Paul Theroux’s The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the Americas back around 1980. Even earlier, my interest had been whetted by reading the stories, essays, and poems of Jorge Luis Borges—though the South America of Borges was more nonspecific, almost mythical.

Theroux, on the other hand, was an intelligent and highly snarky American who decided in the 1970s to travel by train—insofar as it was possible—from Boston to Patagonia in Argentina. One of the routes he took, El Tren de la Sierra ran from Lima’s Desamparados (“forsaken”) station to Huancayo high in the Andes. It is one of two Peruvian rail routes that claims to be the second highest in the world; the highest is the recently opened rail route connecting Xining, Golmud, and Lhasa in Tibet. According to Wikipedia’s list of the Highest Railways in the World, the high point of the route is at Ticlio, altitude 4,829 meters (15,843 feet). The Tibet run is a scant 800 feet higher at Tangguia.

I am thinking of taking the same route as Theroux if and when I go to Peru. His goal was to go by train to Huancayo and take land transportation to Cuzco, from whence he would visit Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca. The problem is, it is faster and far more convenient to go back to Lima and take the bus to Cuzco: Travel along the ridge line of the Andes is sometimes possible, but mostly not. Rains, snows, mud, and avalanches take their toll, especially between Ayacucho and Cuzco. Based on the map on the endpapers of my copy of The Old Patagonian Express, it looks as if Theroux flew from Huancayo to Cuzco, though I am not sure that is possible.

On his trip, Theroux ran into problems with altitude sickness, the dread soroche. To help combat the headaches and nausea, railroad employees handed out plastic balloons filled with oxygen, which afforded him some relief. There are some medications that are said to help, including Diamox, which has some gnarly after-effects, and a local preparation called Sorojchi. The locals also chew coca leaves with lime or drink a tea made with coca leaves called mate de coca. If I go, I’ll have to be prepared.  Here is Theroux’s description of his symptoms:

It begins as dizziness and a slight headache. I had been standing by the door inhaling the cool air of these shady ledges. Feeling wobbly, I sat down  and if the train had not been full I would have lain across the seat. After an hour I was perspiring and, although I had not stirred from my seat, I was short of breath. The evaporation of this sweat in the dry air gave me a sickening chill. The other passengers were limp, their heads bobbed, no one spoke, no one ate. I dug some aspirin out of my suitcase and chewed them, but only felt queasier; and my headache did not abate. The worst thing about feeling so ill in transit is that you know if something goes wrong with the train—a derailment or a crash—you will be too weak to save yourself. I had a more horrible thought: we were perhaps a third of the way to Huancayo, but Huancayo was higher than this. I dreaded to think what I would feel like at that altitude.

Theroux didn’t think much of Peru: He thought the whole place rather ramshackle. But then, that’s what Martine thought of Buenos Aires, which I love.

Stormy Petrel

Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest

Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest

Probably the ultimate bad ass of the Civil War was Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest, commander of Confederate cavalry forces operating primarily in Mississippi and his native state of Tennessee. Just to give you an idea of how divisive a figure he has come to be, the above image was hijacked from the website of the Ku Klux Klan, of which Forrest was first Grand Wizard.

I have just finished reading Jack Hurst’s Nathan Bedford Forrest: A Biography. What is it that interests me about this man? First of all, the late Civil War historian and novelist Shelby Foote referred to him as being one of the two authentic geniuses produced by the conflict. The other was Abraham Lincoln. As William Tecumseh Sherman wrote, he was “the most remarkable man [the war produced, with] a genius for strategy which was original and … to me incomprehensible… He seemed always to know what I was doing or intended to do, while I … could never … form any satisfactory idea of what he was trying to accomplish.”

Forrest used cavalry in a manner that dumfounded his enemy. Instead of attacking on horseback, he used the horses to move his men to battle, whereupon he had them fight on foot as if they were infantry. Once, when attacked on two sides by Union forces, he divided his forces in two and had them attack in both directions. At the Battle of Brice’s Crossroads, which he won against insuperable odds, he made one maneuver which I simply cannot wrap my head around: He attacked with artillery.

One result of his unconventional methods was that he didn’t get along with higher ranking generals with whom he was supposed to cooperate. At one point, he threatened Braxton Bragg to his face. There were numerous other Confederate generals with whom he refused to fight, with the result that, most of the time, he was on his own in territory that he knew well from his childhood.

In the north, he is most famous for the massacre of Fort Pillow in Tennessee, which was mostly manned by black Union forces. When he felt that the negotiations for a truce were being conducted with bad faith (as, indeed, he had some reason to believe), he ordered his men to “kill every God damned one of them.” When he saw the results of his orders, he relented; but not before hundreds of black and white Union soldiers were killed rather than captured. The taint of this action was to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Although he did not found the Ku Klux Klan, Forrest was its first Grand Wizard. After a couple of years, however, he saw where the organization was headed and decided to repudiate it. Instead, he went in for building a railroad between Memphis and Selma, Alabama. The reputation as the perpetrator of the Fort Pillow massacre and his association with the KKK continued to follow him. As he began to suffer bad health, Forrest tried to become a force for good in the South and even became supportive of the African-Americans with whom he dealt, to the extent that hundreds honored him at his funeral when he died of advanced diabetes in 1877.

When it became clear to him that the Southern cause in the Civil War was lost, he addressed his troops:

Civil war, such as you have just passed through, naturally engenders feelings of animosity, hatred, and revenge. It is our duty to divest ourselves of all such feelings, and, as far as in our power to do so, to cultivate friendly feelings toward those with whom we have so long contended…. Neighborhood feuds, personal animosities, and private differences should be blotted out; and, when you return home, a manly, straightforward course of conduct will secure the respect even of your enemies. Whatever your responsibilities may be to the government, to society, or to individuals, meet them like men.

… I have never, on the field of battle, sent you where I was unwilling to go myself; nor would I now advise you to a course which I felt myself unwilling to pursue. You have been good soldiers, you can be good citizens. Obey the laws, preserve your honor, and the government to which you have surrendered can afford to be, and will be, magnanimous.

Today, when the stormy petrel figure of Nathan Bedford Forrest is still being used to divide Americans, it is interesting to see in him a person who changed during his lifetime from a slave dealer in Memphis to a powerful guerrilla fighter to a Klansman and finally to the much-loved warden of a prison farm on an island in the Mississippi where most of his charges were black.

What to Do With Congress

I’ve Had It With These Clowns

I’ve Had It With These Clowns

There are several ways to approach dealing with the U.S. House of Representatives. One could arrest about half of them for high treason and have them drawn and quartered the way our British cousins were accustomed to doing. But that would cost too much money. Perhaps it would be better to just waterproof the chamber and flood it to the rafters with polluted water—but only if there were a quorum present.

I think turning the room into an aquarium would be the only effective means of dealing with the Republicans, even if we lost a few cowardly Democrats in the process.

Any other ideas out there? (Please note: I am not interested in hearing from Republicans. I’ve heard far too much from them already.)