I have blocked all domains associated with Simps and all of his known sock-puppet names. He can lie his head off - as he will certainly do - without me being aware of it.
Simps mocked my late father who was permanently disabled in the fight against the Nazis and their allies. I can tolerate his lies about me and have used them as a diversion and as an entree into studying the degeneracy of the secular play-left, the degeneration of education and the intellectual value of a college degree and associated depravities but that was the definitive breaking point. I would repeat what Joseph Welch asked of Joe McCarthy, the coup de gras of his similar but far more prominent public life is confirmed, he has no decency, no honesty, no character.
That type is a dime a thousand, there are more interesting examples to use as a jumping off point, some who will try to address facts. Ones who at least read on more than a Trumpian level. Simps never, ever addresses facts, he just repeats the Hollywood-TV-low to mid-brow scribbling class lies. That is clearly OK with his type of play-lefty, the kind that Eschaton has provided a typical example of, one of the reasons they're counterproductive to a more decent future. I've moved on from that.
Saturday, July 25, 2020
Friday, July 24, 2020
Gee, Simps, Didn't You Tell Me "Ill Bet" Was Trumpian Weasel Words?
The Thought CriminalApril 7, 2018 at 6:13 PM
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Gee, Simps, didn't you tell me "I'll bet" was Trumpian weasel words?
I know the joke of you and the Eschatots going on histrionically over the very aged, you know, dying of old age.
I listened to the video of his funeral which was just full of praying for his soul. It was touching.
Posing In A Time Of Plague
It's pretty funny for Simps to puff out his scrawny little chest and tap it with his fists and wheeze his threats about the terrible hurtin' he lay on me if I set foot in NYC when, years ago, I told him I had no interest in visiting it again. For a start, everyone I knew there is dead and I'd have to pay to stay in a hotel. For getting on with it, other than seeing a few pictures in a few museums there, meh. Not to mention I'm not going past the border with New Hampshire until Covid has been suppressed.
A local politician told me that the state government has been begging the Canadian government to lift the travel ban because the tourism industry here in Maine is suffering enormously, Old Orchard Beach is really suffering, Canadians, especially from Quebec having been one of their greatest sources of trade. The Canadians are not eager to have their people coming to the developed country with the worst record of spreading the disease. I'm not even crossing the border into New Hampshire to go shopping because, though it has been relatively lightly stricken, going anywhere you don't have to is unwise these days.
As for Simps warning me he won't come back because I pissed him off by pointing out what a whopper of a lie he told in a way that even he had absolutely nothing he could come back with BECAUSE EVERY WORD I SAID WAS NOT ONLY TRUE IT IS FULLY DOCUMENTED IN PUBLIC COURT RECORDS, THE RECORDS OF SENATE HEARINGS, HISTORY AND EVEN THE "DOCUMENTARIES" THAT ARE THE ONLY SOURCE OF "HISTORY" THAT THE LIKES OF SIMPS EVER HAS LOOKED AT.
A local politician told me that the state government has been begging the Canadian government to lift the travel ban because the tourism industry here in Maine is suffering enormously, Old Orchard Beach is really suffering, Canadians, especially from Quebec having been one of their greatest sources of trade. The Canadians are not eager to have their people coming to the developed country with the worst record of spreading the disease. I'm not even crossing the border into New Hampshire to go shopping because, though it has been relatively lightly stricken, going anywhere you don't have to is unwise these days.
As for Simps warning me he won't come back because I pissed him off by pointing out what a whopper of a lie he told in a way that even he had absolutely nothing he could come back with BECAUSE EVERY WORD I SAID WAS NOT ONLY TRUE IT IS FULLY DOCUMENTED IN PUBLIC COURT RECORDS, THE RECORDS OF SENATE HEARINGS, HISTORY AND EVEN THE "DOCUMENTARIES" THAT ARE THE ONLY SOURCE OF "HISTORY" THAT THE LIKES OF SIMPS EVER HAS LOOKED AT.
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Brain Diseased Brain Trust
No one has pointed out a thing I said that was untrue, no one has pointed out exactly what was supposed to be "antisemetic" about it. The Eschaton "brain trust" - they really do, unironically call themselves that - check about as many facts as Trump does.
All I did was point out that contrary to what was claimed, in the Army-McCarthy hearings, SOMETHING THAT SIMPS MADE HIS CLAIMS ABOUT!, not only was the scumbag Senator from Wisconson (That's Joe McCarthy for the Eschatots who wouldn't know that) had hired Roy Cohn to be his chief-counsel and he hired G. David Schine to work for him too. It's pretty much near entirely impossible to accuse him of antisemitism, especially when, as mentioned, he was a board member of a Jewish McCarthyite group.
As to what I said about the possibility that McCarthy may have been gay along with Cohn and very likely the rich-Harvard boy Schine (they, unusually, shared a private office and expenses - Schine was quite wealthy) and they were widely rumored to be having an affair while working for McCarthy.
As to what I said about the danger of McCarthy coming on to you:
Was McCarthy himself gay? There were certainly widespread rumors to that effect, despite the hard-drinking bachelor senator’s propensity for pawing women at parties. Drew Pearson, the syndicated columnist, who despised McCarthy, kept a file on the subject. In his diary entry of January 14, 1952, Pearson makes mention of a letter that a young Army lieutenant had written to Senator William Benton of Connecticut claiming that McCarthy had engaged in an act of sodomy with him after picking him up in a bar. But when the FBI interviewed the lieutenant, he denied everything, claiming that his letter had been planted by “another homo who was jealous.” None of Pearson’s information ever reached print, at a time when newspapers were far less inclined to publish information about private lives of high officials than they are today.
One newspaper publisher had no such compunction, however. He was Hank Greenspun, the publisher of the Las Vega Sun. A former press agent for a Las Vegas gambling house, Greenspun was a passionate McCarthy-hater. He had his reasons: McCarthy had once referred to Greenspun’s newspaper as “the local Daily Worker” and charged erroneously that Greenspun was an army deserter and ex-convict. In an October 25, 1952 article in the Sun, Greenspun minced no word. “Joe McCarthy is a bachelor of 43 years,” he noted. “He seldom dates girls and if he does he laughingly describes it as window dressing. It is common talk among homosexuals in Milwaukee who rendezvous at the White Horse Inn that Senator Joe McCarthy often engaged in homosexual activities. The persons in Nevada who listened to McCarthy’s radio talk thought he had the queerest laugh. He has. He is.” In another article, Greenspun wrote, “The Young Republicans held a state convention in Wausua, Wis., at which Sen. McCarthy was an honored guest. During the convention, McCarthy spent the night with William McMahon, formerly an official of the Milwaukee County Young Republicans, in a Eausua hotel room, at which time, McCarthy and McMahon engaged in illicit acts with each other.” It was widely believed that Greenspun’s “information” came from Drew Pearson’s files McCarthy contemplated suing Greenspun but never did so.
All the evidence about McCarthy’s alleged sexual proclivities remains circumstantial. Thomas C. Reeves, author of the most extensive biography of McCarthy, states flatly that the senator wasn’t gay. But McCarthy was clearly discomfited by the accusations. In September 1953, at the age of forty-five the Wisconsin senator married Jean Kerr, a member of his staff. But even marriage didn’t entirely dispel the talk.
Looks like a beard to me.
As to whether or not he was part of a threesome with Cohn and Schine, I don't know. Here's more from the chapter of the book where that last passage came from, "The Age of McCarthy," from Out of the Past: Gay and Lesbian History form 1869 to the Present.
In 1953, Cohn prevailed over Robert F. Kennedy to become the McCarthy investigatory committee’s chief counsel. Cohn brought along his friend and night-clubbing companion, G. David Schine, as “Chief Consultant” to the committee. Within a few months, the two young men were running the show. Heir to a hotel fortune, the twenty-six-year-old Schine was “a good-looking young man in the sallow, sleekly coiffed, and somnolent-eyed style that one used to associate with male orchestra singers,” writes Richard H. Rovere. In fact, at one time he had been a press agent for the Vaughn Monroe orchestra and had published two or three ballads of his own, on of which was called “Please Say Yes or It’s Goodbye.” As an undergraduate at Harvard, Schine was known for living in a high style that featured an exquisitely furnished room, a valet, and a large black convertible equipped with a two-way telephone. Schine’s anti-Communist credentials rested on a six-page pamphlet called “Definition of Communism,” which along with the Gideon Bible, was placed in every room of the Schine hotel chain.
Cohn and Schine were “a study in contrasts,” notes David M. Oshinsky in his book A Conspiracy So Immense. “Cohn was short, dark, intense, and abrasive; Schine was tall, fair, frivolous, and complacent.” According to some observers, it was Schine who was the dominant influence. Despite Cohn’s intellectual brilliance, Schine was fond of humiliating Cohn in front of strangers and acting as if Cohn was his inferior.
In April 1953, Cohn and Schine set off for Europe, ostensibly to investigate U.S.-run libraries to make sure that no left-wing literature was hiding out on their shelves. The trip was a fiasco that turned up nothing, infuriated virtually every American embassy in Western Europe, and turned the two investigators into laughing-stocks. (In one incident, Schine supposedly chased Cohn through a hotel lobby, swatting him over the head with a magazine.) Upon their arrival at a particular hotel, Cohn and Schine would ask for adjoining rooms but insist on separate accommodations, explaining, “You see, we don’t work for the State Department!” The joke seems to have been primarily for the benefit of a retinue of journalists who recorded their every move; hotel reservations clerks in Rome or Vienna were unlikely to have heard very much about accusations that the U.S. State Department was a haven for homosexuals.
Nicholas von Hoffman, one of Cohn’s biographers, reports that people who saw Cohen and Schine close up doubted that they were lovers or that Schine was gay. People who observed them at a distance assumed they were just two playboys. Cohn, in private conversation with friends, denied any intimate involvement with Schine. In any event, Cohn was deep in the closet. He was dating women and spending more time at the Stork Club than in Washington’s gay bars. For years, he would deny that he was gay, telling journalist Ken Auletta in an interview in the 1970s, “Anyone who knows me and knows anything about the way I function . . . would have an awfully hard time reconciling, ah, ah, reconciling, that with ah, ah, any kind of homosexuality. Every facet of my personality, of my, ah, aggressiveness, of my toughness, of everything along those lines, is just totally, I suppose, incompatible, with anything like that.” As Hoffman notes, Cohn’s “embarrassed, thick-tongued denial of his sexuality” took place at a time when even high-school students had come to realize that most gay men were anything but “limp-wristed, lavender lads.” Cohn’s view of what constituted a gay man remained mired in stereotypical notions of the fifties. At the time of his well-publicized death from AIDS in 1986, newspapers did not hesitate to write about his homosexuality.
During Cohn’s eighteen-month period of service to Senator McCarthy, the young counsel apparently had no compunction about using allegations of other people’s homosexuality to destroy them. Whether this was an effort to hide his own homosexuality through cruelty to others, or an expression of gay self-hatred, or his own defiant pride in his own toughness and aggressiveness, or some combination of all three, is anyone’s guess. The first case concerned Samuel Reber, the Acting High Commissioner in Germany. Cohn was convinced that Reber had deliberately trapped him and Schine into a news conference at a stop in Bonn during their European junket, in order to make them look ridiculous. According to von Hoffman’s sources, the McCarthy people had dug up a story about a homosexual relationship that Reber had supposedly been involved in as an undergraduate at Harvard years before. They threatened Reber with its revelation. Reber resigned from the State Department.
Then there was the case of Senator Lester Hunt, a Wyoming Democrat. An opponent of McCarthy, Hunt was up for reelection the following November to a Senate that was split down the middle between Democrats and Republicans. Senator Styles Bridges of New Hampshire, a friend and political ally of Cohn, had a talk with Hunt. Unless Hunt withdrew from the race for reelection in November, Bridges reportedly told him, everyone in Wyoming would find out that Hunt’s son had been arrested the previous October for soliciting a D.C. plainclothes policeman for “lewd and immoral purposes.” Hunt withdrew from the race. Eleven days later, he shot himself to death in his Senate office.
You see, unlike the jackass who inspired this who claimed to be a scholar of the topic, I have, actually, read a bit on it.
All I did was point out that contrary to what was claimed, in the Army-McCarthy hearings, SOMETHING THAT SIMPS MADE HIS CLAIMS ABOUT!, not only was the scumbag Senator from Wisconson (That's Joe McCarthy for the Eschatots who wouldn't know that) had hired Roy Cohn to be his chief-counsel and he hired G. David Schine to work for him too. It's pretty much near entirely impossible to accuse him of antisemitism, especially when, as mentioned, he was a board member of a Jewish McCarthyite group.
As to what I said about the possibility that McCarthy may have been gay along with Cohn and very likely the rich-Harvard boy Schine (they, unusually, shared a private office and expenses - Schine was quite wealthy) and they were widely rumored to be having an affair while working for McCarthy.
As to what I said about the danger of McCarthy coming on to you:
Was McCarthy himself gay? There were certainly widespread rumors to that effect, despite the hard-drinking bachelor senator’s propensity for pawing women at parties. Drew Pearson, the syndicated columnist, who despised McCarthy, kept a file on the subject. In his diary entry of January 14, 1952, Pearson makes mention of a letter that a young Army lieutenant had written to Senator William Benton of Connecticut claiming that McCarthy had engaged in an act of sodomy with him after picking him up in a bar. But when the FBI interviewed the lieutenant, he denied everything, claiming that his letter had been planted by “another homo who was jealous.” None of Pearson’s information ever reached print, at a time when newspapers were far less inclined to publish information about private lives of high officials than they are today.
One newspaper publisher had no such compunction, however. He was Hank Greenspun, the publisher of the Las Vega Sun. A former press agent for a Las Vegas gambling house, Greenspun was a passionate McCarthy-hater. He had his reasons: McCarthy had once referred to Greenspun’s newspaper as “the local Daily Worker” and charged erroneously that Greenspun was an army deserter and ex-convict. In an October 25, 1952 article in the Sun, Greenspun minced no word. “Joe McCarthy is a bachelor of 43 years,” he noted. “He seldom dates girls and if he does he laughingly describes it as window dressing. It is common talk among homosexuals in Milwaukee who rendezvous at the White Horse Inn that Senator Joe McCarthy often engaged in homosexual activities. The persons in Nevada who listened to McCarthy’s radio talk thought he had the queerest laugh. He has. He is.” In another article, Greenspun wrote, “The Young Republicans held a state convention in Wausua, Wis., at which Sen. McCarthy was an honored guest. During the convention, McCarthy spent the night with William McMahon, formerly an official of the Milwaukee County Young Republicans, in a Eausua hotel room, at which time, McCarthy and McMahon engaged in illicit acts with each other.” It was widely believed that Greenspun’s “information” came from Drew Pearson’s files McCarthy contemplated suing Greenspun but never did so.
All the evidence about McCarthy’s alleged sexual proclivities remains circumstantial. Thomas C. Reeves, author of the most extensive biography of McCarthy, states flatly that the senator wasn’t gay. But McCarthy was clearly discomfited by the accusations. In September 1953, at the age of forty-five the Wisconsin senator married Jean Kerr, a member of his staff. But even marriage didn’t entirely dispel the talk.
Looks like a beard to me.
As to whether or not he was part of a threesome with Cohn and Schine, I don't know. Here's more from the chapter of the book where that last passage came from, "The Age of McCarthy," from Out of the Past: Gay and Lesbian History form 1869 to the Present.
In 1953, Cohn prevailed over Robert F. Kennedy to become the McCarthy investigatory committee’s chief counsel. Cohn brought along his friend and night-clubbing companion, G. David Schine, as “Chief Consultant” to the committee. Within a few months, the two young men were running the show. Heir to a hotel fortune, the twenty-six-year-old Schine was “a good-looking young man in the sallow, sleekly coiffed, and somnolent-eyed style that one used to associate with male orchestra singers,” writes Richard H. Rovere. In fact, at one time he had been a press agent for the Vaughn Monroe orchestra and had published two or three ballads of his own, on of which was called “Please Say Yes or It’s Goodbye.” As an undergraduate at Harvard, Schine was known for living in a high style that featured an exquisitely furnished room, a valet, and a large black convertible equipped with a two-way telephone. Schine’s anti-Communist credentials rested on a six-page pamphlet called “Definition of Communism,” which along with the Gideon Bible, was placed in every room of the Schine hotel chain.
Cohn and Schine were “a study in contrasts,” notes David M. Oshinsky in his book A Conspiracy So Immense. “Cohn was short, dark, intense, and abrasive; Schine was tall, fair, frivolous, and complacent.” According to some observers, it was Schine who was the dominant influence. Despite Cohn’s intellectual brilliance, Schine was fond of humiliating Cohn in front of strangers and acting as if Cohn was his inferior.
In April 1953, Cohn and Schine set off for Europe, ostensibly to investigate U.S.-run libraries to make sure that no left-wing literature was hiding out on their shelves. The trip was a fiasco that turned up nothing, infuriated virtually every American embassy in Western Europe, and turned the two investigators into laughing-stocks. (In one incident, Schine supposedly chased Cohn through a hotel lobby, swatting him over the head with a magazine.) Upon their arrival at a particular hotel, Cohn and Schine would ask for adjoining rooms but insist on separate accommodations, explaining, “You see, we don’t work for the State Department!” The joke seems to have been primarily for the benefit of a retinue of journalists who recorded their every move; hotel reservations clerks in Rome or Vienna were unlikely to have heard very much about accusations that the U.S. State Department was a haven for homosexuals.
Nicholas von Hoffman, one of Cohn’s biographers, reports that people who saw Cohen and Schine close up doubted that they were lovers or that Schine was gay. People who observed them at a distance assumed they were just two playboys. Cohn, in private conversation with friends, denied any intimate involvement with Schine. In any event, Cohn was deep in the closet. He was dating women and spending more time at the Stork Club than in Washington’s gay bars. For years, he would deny that he was gay, telling journalist Ken Auletta in an interview in the 1970s, “Anyone who knows me and knows anything about the way I function . . . would have an awfully hard time reconciling, ah, ah, reconciling, that with ah, ah, any kind of homosexuality. Every facet of my personality, of my, ah, aggressiveness, of my toughness, of everything along those lines, is just totally, I suppose, incompatible, with anything like that.” As Hoffman notes, Cohn’s “embarrassed, thick-tongued denial of his sexuality” took place at a time when even high-school students had come to realize that most gay men were anything but “limp-wristed, lavender lads.” Cohn’s view of what constituted a gay man remained mired in stereotypical notions of the fifties. At the time of his well-publicized death from AIDS in 1986, newspapers did not hesitate to write about his homosexuality.
During Cohn’s eighteen-month period of service to Senator McCarthy, the young counsel apparently had no compunction about using allegations of other people’s homosexuality to destroy them. Whether this was an effort to hide his own homosexuality through cruelty to others, or an expression of gay self-hatred, or his own defiant pride in his own toughness and aggressiveness, or some combination of all three, is anyone’s guess. The first case concerned Samuel Reber, the Acting High Commissioner in Germany. Cohn was convinced that Reber had deliberately trapped him and Schine into a news conference at a stop in Bonn during their European junket, in order to make them look ridiculous. According to von Hoffman’s sources, the McCarthy people had dug up a story about a homosexual relationship that Reber had supposedly been involved in as an undergraduate at Harvard years before. They threatened Reber with its revelation. Reber resigned from the State Department.
Then there was the case of Senator Lester Hunt, a Wyoming Democrat. An opponent of McCarthy, Hunt was up for reelection the following November to a Senate that was split down the middle between Democrats and Republicans. Senator Styles Bridges of New Hampshire, a friend and political ally of Cohn, had a talk with Hunt. Unless Hunt withdrew from the race for reelection in November, Bridges reportedly told him, everyone in Wyoming would find out that Hunt’s son had been arrested the previous October for soliciting a D.C. plainclothes policeman for “lewd and immoral purposes.” Hunt withdrew from the race. Eleven days later, he shot himself to death in his Senate office.
You see, unlike the jackass who inspired this who claimed to be a scholar of the topic, I have, actually, read a bit on it.
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
Yeah, Right
Six words.
Righteous indignation.
Eat shit.
We’re done.
Righteous indignation.
Eat shit.
We’re done.
Ah, if only. Think I'll let Dionne Warwick say it.
Update: I stopped interacting with that wacked out math teacher when she insisted on airing her family linen right down to the smallest of the smalls on Eschaton. Nothing she thinks about me could possibly be of the slightest interest to me. I mean. She has yet to correct Simps' idiotic errors in the most elementary topics of algebra which she certainly knows he's wrong about. Stupid bint.
A List Of The "Non-Facts" That Simps Says He Won't Read*
"STILL NOT A SINGLE REFUTATION OF A SINGLE THING I SAID"
Not a single thing you said was accurate or sane.
You don't refute monstrous anti-Semtitic nonsense.
Go fuck yourself, you lying sack of shit
Not a single thing you said was accurate or sane.
You don't refute monstrous anti-Semtitic nonsense.
Go fuck yourself, you lying sack of shit
This is too ridiculous to not post as a separate post.
"Not a single thing you said was accurate or sane."
FACT: Roy Cohn was Senator Joe McCarthy's chief counsel during the Army–McCarthy hearings in 1954.
FACT: Roy Cohn was, before then hired by Irving Saypol to work under him in the Southern District of New York where he became infamous as a commie hunter, most known for the prosecution of the Rosenbergs getting them executed for espionage. Saypol recommended him to Senator McCarthy.
FACT: G David Schine was named as an unpaid assistant by Joe McCarthy working with and under Roy Cohn.
FACT: When McCarthy and Cohn, during the Army-McCarthy hearings of 1954 started to go after a jr member of Joseph Welch's law firm for alleged communist links, Welch made a comment about "pixies" which was clearly intended as a warning that he would out Cohn and Schine, possibly McCarthy, if they didn't drop it and it was known by most of those in the hearing room he was alluding to the widely known sex affair between Cohn and Schine
FACT I DIDN'T MENTION: Roy Cohn, while he was working under Saypol, Cohn was a board member of the American Jewish League Against Communism.
FACT: Irving Saypol was the one who prosecuted Mariam Moskowitz when the dumb dolly lied on behalf of her adulterous boyfriend to shield him from being exposed as involved in Stalinist espionage, she did it because she was ashamed of admitting she was having an affair with a married man. Then she tried to be exonerated even though she was guilty by her own admission for a crime that Mike Flynn also committed, lying to the FBI.
Simps' original idiocy presented the McCarthy red-hunt as something targeting Jews when so many of those on his side in it INCLUDING HIS OWN HAND-CHOSEN STAFF WERE JEWS PROSECUTING AND PERSECUTING ANY JEWS WHO WERE THEIR TARGET. I could mention other mythologized heroes of the play-left, including Robert Kennedy who also was neck deep in it. Simps just lurves him some Bobby. I once had to point out to him when he claimed the prosecution of his hero, cheap porn peddler Ralph Ginzburg was prosecuted because he was Jewish that his hero, Bobby Kennedy was the Attorney General who signed off on the prosecution of the smut king. I wish I could say that Simps had one of the more profound resistances to an urge to fact check historical assertions and beliefs, but, alas, he's just typical of the way too common type.
Typically, it being Simps, he couldn't give a thimble of spit for anyone else who was their target. I only have sympathy for the ones who were not guilty of crimes to any extent and to a far lesser extent non-criminal communists. Communists in the aftermath of the exposure of the crimes against humanity of the Soviets and the countries they occupied in the wake of WWII, after the exposure of the Stalin show-trials, the planned starvation-genocide of Ukrainians, the slaughters in Poland, etc. etc. etc. Not to mention the new Chinese Communist state, are the moral equivalent of Nazis. They're all of them the same kind of thing the American and Western right wing are, gangsters. Marxism is the most pretentious kind of promotion of gangsterism in modern history, if you don't want to mention Darwinism, the inspiration of the Nazis and many putrid varieties of fascists.
What I did is violate the mythology of a segment of post-war pseudo-intellectual, pseudo-academic, scribbling class lore which was a total and complete load of lies. Simps being a college-credentialed, play-lefty movie and TV formed simp believes it as a learned mythology. In order to believe it, you have to deny the above and many other hard facts.
* He's lying about that too, of course.
Monday, July 20, 2020
I guess Stupy forgot about Senator Joe McCarthy's right-hand man Roy Cohn and Cohn's fuck-buddy, an "unpaid consultant" on McCarthy's staff massive asshole rich-Harvard boy, G. David Schine. About the only thing someone was in danger of from Joe McCarthy while being Jewish might be getting asked for a date.
Sunday, July 19, 2020
Well, He Thinks William Borroughs and Henry Miller Were Geniuses So What Did You Expect?
Had a few minutes so I decided to document the guy Simps so ignorantly nominated as the ultimate kew-el white guy, Chet Baker. This article is hardly encyclopedic in listing the drug induced train wreck that Baker was but it's accurate and enough to be going on with.
Much of Baker’s life after 1958 is spent chasing the next high and doing almost anything to get it, from selling his trumpet to stealing drugs, money and prescriptions to using his many girlfriends and wives to run drugs for him, often at great risk to their own safety. Gavin renders the contours of Baker’s descent in prose as stark and austere as one of Baker’s own songs. Here’s Gavin’s description of the night when Baker forced his girlfriend Sandy Jones to shoot up with high grade heroin and left her alone in a comatose state:
Starting with his mother, Baker’s feelings about women had always been violently ambivalent: he needed them, yet he hated them for it. Jones became his latest victim. Years later she recounted the time “Chet tried to kill me.” In fact, it happened twice, although she never understood why. One day he came to the apartment with “a whole out fit of the darkest stuff in the world.” He shoved her into the bathroom, cooked up the dope, tied her arm, and plunged in a needle. “I got weak in the knees,” she said. “A couple of days later I came to.” She learned that Baker had walked out, leaving her on the floor – “blue, blue, blue.”
Chet Baker is a repellent figure, too coarse and pathological to be considered tragic. He was the ultimate nihilist. As a doper, he makes Keith Richards look like a novice. He seems to have had little curiosity about his condition, and even less empathy for the dozens of other lives he helped to wreck, including those of his children. When his son Dean was hit by a truck and seriously injured, Baker didn’t even call to check on his condition. Still Gavin’s account is strangely sympathetic. Baker lived moment to moment, fix to fix, gig to gig. And yet he was able, even in a heroin haze, to play some of the most unforgettable melodies in jazz, tunes that continue to haunt the mind long after his death.
And if that wasn't enough, there's more:
Though one of Baker’s lovers exalted his talent for cunnilingus (he was a trumpet player, after all), Baker’s sexual technique drifted far from traditional notions of romantic love. He had no interest in foreplay, didn’t like to kiss and basically wanted to have missionary position sex as quickly and harshly as possible. The sensual experience of being next to Baker also lacked a certain erotic appeal. Hygiene didn’t come high on Baker’s list of priorities. He didn’t like to bathe, wash his hair or brush his teeth—when he had teeth. He rarely changed his clothes or washed them. By the mid-1960s, he walked around in sandals, because his feet were swollen from repeated injections, his untrimmed toenails curling like a Chinese empress. Nearly all of Baker’s long-time lovers became heroin addicts, after they encountered Chet.
Baker was a beater. He would berate and slap and punch his wives and girlfriends, often in public. His wife Carol was repeatedly seen sporting a pair of black eyes. He tried to strangle his longtime girlfriend Ruth Young with a telephone cord and later broke into her apartment, looted the place and sold her grand piano to pay for drugs.
Yeah, a real dream beau, the picture of kew-el.
I doubt Stupy knows any of this, he like most middle-brow non-jazz listeners knows "My Funny Valentine" and the young Chet's biggest hits most of all the hit with non-jazz fans, "Chet Sings" from the early years of his recording career which is a better demonstration of the consequences of Housman's athlete not dying young but lingering on into a degenerate early adulthood and middle age. Baker didn't die too soon at the age of 58, he died way too late. I say that noting how many of his many girlfriends and wives he beat up, cheated, robbed, got addicted to drugs, etc. The world would have been better off if he'd done what he finally did before he took so many down with him. Oh, yeah, and his crooning on that, probably his most famous disc, read about that at the end of the article.
Also read the accurate description of Baker's crappy musicianship. I would suspect that his drug use was partly if not muchly due to his insecurity because he knew he was a very limited musician. Some musicians had said the same thing contributed to the alcoholic downfall of that far better candidate for coolness in a white Jazz man, Bix Beiderbeck. I once wished I could have gone back and taught the poor guy how to read music and to have encouraged him to stop drinking, though that second one is a hell of a lot harder. Beiderbeck was a true genius, Baker wasn't. As you can read in the rest of the article.
I do think you should note what drugs did to a true musical wonder, Charlie Parker and how even his advocacy for the young Chet Baker was a symptom of the tragic degeneration of that genius as drugs took him down. It didn't make much of an impression on Baker. He was many things, cool wasn't one of them.
Much of Baker’s life after 1958 is spent chasing the next high and doing almost anything to get it, from selling his trumpet to stealing drugs, money and prescriptions to using his many girlfriends and wives to run drugs for him, often at great risk to their own safety. Gavin renders the contours of Baker’s descent in prose as stark and austere as one of Baker’s own songs. Here’s Gavin’s description of the night when Baker forced his girlfriend Sandy Jones to shoot up with high grade heroin and left her alone in a comatose state:
Starting with his mother, Baker’s feelings about women had always been violently ambivalent: he needed them, yet he hated them for it. Jones became his latest victim. Years later she recounted the time “Chet tried to kill me.” In fact, it happened twice, although she never understood why. One day he came to the apartment with “a whole out fit of the darkest stuff in the world.” He shoved her into the bathroom, cooked up the dope, tied her arm, and plunged in a needle. “I got weak in the knees,” she said. “A couple of days later I came to.” She learned that Baker had walked out, leaving her on the floor – “blue, blue, blue.”
Chet Baker is a repellent figure, too coarse and pathological to be considered tragic. He was the ultimate nihilist. As a doper, he makes Keith Richards look like a novice. He seems to have had little curiosity about his condition, and even less empathy for the dozens of other lives he helped to wreck, including those of his children. When his son Dean was hit by a truck and seriously injured, Baker didn’t even call to check on his condition. Still Gavin’s account is strangely sympathetic. Baker lived moment to moment, fix to fix, gig to gig. And yet he was able, even in a heroin haze, to play some of the most unforgettable melodies in jazz, tunes that continue to haunt the mind long after his death.
And if that wasn't enough, there's more:
Though one of Baker’s lovers exalted his talent for cunnilingus (he was a trumpet player, after all), Baker’s sexual technique drifted far from traditional notions of romantic love. He had no interest in foreplay, didn’t like to kiss and basically wanted to have missionary position sex as quickly and harshly as possible. The sensual experience of being next to Baker also lacked a certain erotic appeal. Hygiene didn’t come high on Baker’s list of priorities. He didn’t like to bathe, wash his hair or brush his teeth—when he had teeth. He rarely changed his clothes or washed them. By the mid-1960s, he walked around in sandals, because his feet were swollen from repeated injections, his untrimmed toenails curling like a Chinese empress. Nearly all of Baker’s long-time lovers became heroin addicts, after they encountered Chet.
Baker was a beater. He would berate and slap and punch his wives and girlfriends, often in public. His wife Carol was repeatedly seen sporting a pair of black eyes. He tried to strangle his longtime girlfriend Ruth Young with a telephone cord and later broke into her apartment, looted the place and sold her grand piano to pay for drugs.
Yeah, a real dream beau, the picture of kew-el.
I doubt Stupy knows any of this, he like most middle-brow non-jazz listeners knows "My Funny Valentine" and the young Chet's biggest hits most of all the hit with non-jazz fans, "Chet Sings" from the early years of his recording career which is a better demonstration of the consequences of Housman's athlete not dying young but lingering on into a degenerate early adulthood and middle age. Baker didn't die too soon at the age of 58, he died way too late. I say that noting how many of his many girlfriends and wives he beat up, cheated, robbed, got addicted to drugs, etc. The world would have been better off if he'd done what he finally did before he took so many down with him. Oh, yeah, and his crooning on that, probably his most famous disc, read about that at the end of the article.
Also read the accurate description of Baker's crappy musicianship. I would suspect that his drug use was partly if not muchly due to his insecurity because he knew he was a very limited musician. Some musicians had said the same thing contributed to the alcoholic downfall of that far better candidate for coolness in a white Jazz man, Bix Beiderbeck. I once wished I could have gone back and taught the poor guy how to read music and to have encouraged him to stop drinking, though that second one is a hell of a lot harder. Beiderbeck was a true genius, Baker wasn't. As you can read in the rest of the article.
I do think you should note what drugs did to a true musical wonder, Charlie Parker and how even his advocacy for the young Chet Baker was a symptom of the tragic degeneration of that genius as drugs took him down. It didn't make much of an impression on Baker. He was many things, cool wasn't one of them.
Simps is always telling me he's the only person who reads this stuff, maybe he's right. Why would I bother to edit for him? All of what I write here comes pretty much in the form of automatic typing, except when I have to look up something for accuracy sake. He's not worth careful editing. If I keep the Simp busy looking for typos and misspellings he's not busily lying about something of marginal importance. Though, now that I think of it, his time spent here isn't time spent annoying the regular buffalo butts at Duncan's. Maybe I'm too kind to them.
Tell Do Do
It would be nice if I could find the take-down of William Safire's and Edwin Newman's language meter-maid bullshit that Jim Sleeper wrote sometime in the 80s or 90s, exposing the fraud of pseudo-grammarians and stylists that arose in that fecund pile of horseshit that generates such bullshit to impress the mid-brow and slightly higher and lower who are too lazy to actually learn about grammar and writing, the NYC area media.
But the paper copy of The Nation that appeared in is long gone into the recycling stream and they don't appear to care to share their long archive with the non-paying public. Unlike the "paper of record" (they really do call it that) the Nation probably really can't afford it.
As I recall he quoted Safire and one of his old-fogy media figure admirers whooping it up over someone using the word "moot" as a verb. Sleeper looked it up in the Oxford Dictionary and found, if memory serves, it was first used as a verb in English well back into the medieval period, proving only one thing, you can write shit in the august Great Gray Drab, the NY Times without the minimal amount of fact checking. As I recall, and my recall is usually rather accurate, Sleeper noted that Safire of the New York Times may have gained the record by declaring "to moot" a distasteful neologism, when it may have been the oldest word to be declared one in the history of such popular amateur pedantic language scolding.
It would also be nice if I could track down where the idiotic practice of declaring that any common locution you choose on any occasion is "a tell," the indefinite term then being used to mean whatever the stylish liar chooses it to mean. I've had "I believe," "I suspect," "I would guess," and many other common locutions declared to expose a number of uncomplimentary things about me by an avid follower of the Safire style of pseudo-authority as read in that shit-rag he wrote for and other such venues of New Yorkian pseudo-lazy-assed erudition. Perhaps (one of the words declared to be such a "tell") I may get around to looking it up and seeing if I can figure out the source of that load of horseshit. It is a sure bet that it came from one of those phonies inspired by the like of Strunk-White, probably the origin of most of the current crop of such frauds. I don't think that Strunk-White being a book of few pages and words being today's such oracle of mid-brow authority is unrelated to it being an easy read and an even easier skim. Ours is not an age of careful scholarship on that level of popularity, though out best scholars are, actually, probably some of the best and most careful in history.
If it were not too hot to bother and too thankless a task, I'd go search the archive of Power-Pop the blog the idiot maintains or that of his host Duncan Black to find out what such terms declared to be "tells" that they have used. I'm sure they've used some of them. While it might be hard to figure out what kind of deception they might occur in - it's a safe bet that much of what Simps says is dishonest, as that is pretty much his only consistent stylistic inclination. If Duncan has used them it's probably out of his typical laziness. Duncan isn't dishonest, he's lazy. Simps is.
* I don't remember but I think Sleeper also wrote the hilarious review of Norman Mailer's Ancient Evenings. I recall after posting a long passage in which what I assume was supposed to be the female lead waxes hysterical in a sort of combination Henry Miller-Anias Nin way about anal sex for a whole paragraph the reviewer said, "Molly Bloom she ain't." It was one of the few times I laughed out loud for a sustained period while reading a book review.
But the paper copy of The Nation that appeared in is long gone into the recycling stream and they don't appear to care to share their long archive with the non-paying public. Unlike the "paper of record" (they really do call it that) the Nation probably really can't afford it.
As I recall he quoted Safire and one of his old-fogy media figure admirers whooping it up over someone using the word "moot" as a verb. Sleeper looked it up in the Oxford Dictionary and found, if memory serves, it was first used as a verb in English well back into the medieval period, proving only one thing, you can write shit in the august Great Gray Drab, the NY Times without the minimal amount of fact checking. As I recall, and my recall is usually rather accurate, Sleeper noted that Safire of the New York Times may have gained the record by declaring "to moot" a distasteful neologism, when it may have been the oldest word to be declared one in the history of such popular amateur pedantic language scolding.
It would also be nice if I could track down where the idiotic practice of declaring that any common locution you choose on any occasion is "a tell," the indefinite term then being used to mean whatever the stylish liar chooses it to mean. I've had "I believe," "I suspect," "I would guess," and many other common locutions declared to expose a number of uncomplimentary things about me by an avid follower of the Safire style of pseudo-authority as read in that shit-rag he wrote for and other such venues of New Yorkian pseudo-lazy-assed erudition. Perhaps (one of the words declared to be such a "tell") I may get around to looking it up and seeing if I can figure out the source of that load of horseshit. It is a sure bet that it came from one of those phonies inspired by the like of Strunk-White, probably the origin of most of the current crop of such frauds. I don't think that Strunk-White being a book of few pages and words being today's such oracle of mid-brow authority is unrelated to it being an easy read and an even easier skim. Ours is not an age of careful scholarship on that level of popularity, though out best scholars are, actually, probably some of the best and most careful in history.
If it were not too hot to bother and too thankless a task, I'd go search the archive of Power-Pop the blog the idiot maintains or that of his host Duncan Black to find out what such terms declared to be "tells" that they have used. I'm sure they've used some of them. While it might be hard to figure out what kind of deception they might occur in - it's a safe bet that much of what Simps says is dishonest, as that is pretty much his only consistent stylistic inclination. If Duncan has used them it's probably out of his typical laziness. Duncan isn't dishonest, he's lazy. Simps is.
* I don't remember but I think Sleeper also wrote the hilarious review of Norman Mailer's Ancient Evenings. I recall after posting a long passage in which what I assume was supposed to be the female lead waxes hysterical in a sort of combination Henry Miller-Anias Nin way about anal sex for a whole paragraph the reviewer said, "Molly Bloom she ain't." It was one of the few times I laughed out loud for a sustained period while reading a book review.
I suppose it would have been clearer if I'd typed it out "New York Cidiot" which means someone exhibiting the common mental debility so prominent in those living in the more affluent and controlling population of New York City who mistakenly believe themselves to be the height of cosmpoloitan sophistication when they are among the most narrowly ignorant, not only of life in the wider world but even that which lives a few streets away from them within the city. Alas, Simps is only typical of the type. I suppose it could be used for other such people who are so daddled with the reputation of the large city they live in, probably about one per country is the limit for that, I doubt those who live in LA or Chicago who occupy the same niche are unaware of life outside of their city to the same extent.
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Maybe I Should Keep It Up As An Undeserved Kindness To The Coot
Simps will never admit it but he taunts me because my response is the only kind of intellectual stimulation he has ever had. He's used to talking to his fellow maintainers of the common-received-"wisdom" and their counterpart in the alleged other-side of the discourse of the unintelligentsia, the unlightenment. He's never had the experience of talking with someone who is part of none of that who makes sure that before he says something on an important subject, that he knows what he's talking about. It would be like someone who never had gado-gado before tasting it for the first time. Only I suspect if it hadn't been written up in the Times supplement he'd figure it wasn't kollege-kredentialed- kew-el to approve of tasting it.
Me, I think a good part of the fucking mess we are in as a country flows right out of the New York Times feuilleton sections and their like in other venues of lower-mid-brow kulcha. The tempot in a tin-pot over Bari Weiss isn't even mildly interesting outside of that. That piece of shit has no moral center, she is exactly the kind of shit that floats to the top in it. The greater world doesn't give a shit about it. Simps doesn't even rate that.
Stupy gets so little chance to use his vestiges of mental capacity that this might be the last thing that keeps him from degenerating into full-blown dementia. He's not that far from it. As I said, I was not feeling well so I figured I should have a bit of fun with his continued taunting. None of it much troubles me. I mean, at first when he lied about me being an antisemite it was a bit of a concern because I know his fellow mid-brows would believe that kind of thing without ever checking to see if it were true - Duncan couldn't care less that he promotes slanders and libels and lies - but then I realized they are a pretty pathetic rump of what that place used to be so it wasn't worth being concerned with that. The only thing important about that is its dishonest use damages the force of the accusation of antisemtism just when that is most needed.
Me, I think a good part of the fucking mess we are in as a country flows right out of the New York Times feuilleton sections and their like in other venues of lower-mid-brow kulcha. The tempot in a tin-pot over Bari Weiss isn't even mildly interesting outside of that. That piece of shit has no moral center, she is exactly the kind of shit that floats to the top in it. The greater world doesn't give a shit about it. Simps doesn't even rate that.
Stupy gets so little chance to use his vestiges of mental capacity that this might be the last thing that keeps him from degenerating into full-blown dementia. He's not that far from it. As I said, I was not feeling well so I figured I should have a bit of fun with his continued taunting. None of it much troubles me. I mean, at first when he lied about me being an antisemite it was a bit of a concern because I know his fellow mid-brows would believe that kind of thing without ever checking to see if it were true - Duncan couldn't care less that he promotes slanders and libels and lies - but then I realized they are a pretty pathetic rump of what that place used to be so it wasn't worth being concerned with that. The only thing important about that is its dishonest use damages the force of the accusation of antisemtism just when that is most needed.
Friday, July 17, 2020
Thursday, July 16, 2020
I posted WE INSIST! to make two points, A. comedy is not as substantial as other kinds of content and so you should expect it to wear faster, B. even something as great as Max Roach's work, unless it is subjected to the art of jazz in its continued life can get old. If Reiner and Brooks hadn't changed The Two Thousand Year Old Man from the flash-frozen version of it that became a komedy-klassic, it would have been killed by fixing it on disc. The disc that my not owning or being able to quote like your girlfriend's obnoxious asshole little brother can do an entire George Carlin disc (I'm talking about a real person) was used to mean I knew nothing about comedy. I guess you'd have to be like that little asshole in order to believe that.
And to those you can add C. an intelligent listener will limit the number of times they listen to a great recording so it doesn't turn into mental wall paper for them.
Oh, yeah, the biggest reason for posting WE INSIST! is because it's great art with substance to it and not everyone has heard it.
Oh, yeah, the biggest reason for posting WE INSIST! is because it's great art with substance to it and not everyone has heard it.
Saturday, July 11, 2020
Straight Guys With Daddy Issues In Denial
I've updated this because idiots who skim instead of read usually don't see what they choose not to see.
WHO USES DADDY ISSUES?
Daddy issues is primarily used of women in colloquial speech and writing, both online and off, and mainly in the context of romance, dating, and sex.
Its connotation varies by context. When used by women of themselves, daddy issues can be earnest, used by women to explain recurrent behaviors in relationships, or humorous, used in lighthearted self-deprecation of those issues. When used by men of women, it can be dismissive or even misogynistic, diminishing undesirable traits in women. Dating advice websites for men, for example, may advise a man not to date a girl with daddy issues. In LGBTQ communities, daddy issues can be used in the context of a man in a relationship with an older man. . .
Given the negative connotation of daddy issues, psychologists generally label relationship challenges with fathers as a father complex, among other terms.
Dictionary.com
I'm not so polite. Daddy issues denied are daddy issues relayed. Anyone who is older than Duncan who calls him "Dad" or treats him as some kind of in loco parentis has got daddy issues and they are definitely loco.
WHO USES DADDY ISSUES?
Daddy issues is primarily used of women in colloquial speech and writing, both online and off, and mainly in the context of romance, dating, and sex.
Its connotation varies by context. When used by women of themselves, daddy issues can be earnest, used by women to explain recurrent behaviors in relationships, or humorous, used in lighthearted self-deprecation of those issues. When used by men of women, it can be dismissive or even misogynistic, diminishing undesirable traits in women. Dating advice websites for men, for example, may advise a man not to date a girl with daddy issues. In LGBTQ communities, daddy issues can be used in the context of a man in a relationship with an older man. . .
Given the negative connotation of daddy issues, psychologists generally label relationship challenges with fathers as a father complex, among other terms.
Dictionary.com
I'm not so polite. Daddy issues denied are daddy issues relayed. Anyone who is older than Duncan who calls him "Dad" or treats him as some kind of in loco parentis has got daddy issues and they are definitely loco.
What If They Gave A Fight And No One Noticed?
Couldn't get through that link of Simps and Freki going at it over the meaning of "rock 'n roll" . Whenever I read Simps on music the drifting attention span makes me wonder if that's what his version of dementia is like. Then I realize he's always been like that.
It may have amused me five years back or so to see Simps fighting with the Babes of Baby Blue but that was five years ago. Obama was president, things weren't going to hell quite as obviously.
Update: I looked around a bit at the wreckage that used to be the up-and-coming blog. I still see the regulars and, I'd imagine, Duncan PhD econ. Brown (a minor Ivy) still don't get the American system of government. The "Democratic establishment" can't do a goddamned thing with the Senate in Republican-fascist hands and the Supreme Court as well. To blame them for inaction means someone didn't know as much as a moron who watched those Saturday Morning info-spots about how a bill becomes law in the United States back in the 70s. I heard one once, it was right if probably not that effective. Still, the college-credentialed geezers and slackers of the "Brain Trust" (they really do call it that, I'm not making it up) don't get it. Not even their PhD'd bizarrely younger father-figure. I don't even want to speculate about their daddy issues that lead them to look on a younger codger that way.
It may have amused me five years back or so to see Simps fighting with the Babes of Baby Blue but that was five years ago. Obama was president, things weren't going to hell quite as obviously.
Update: I looked around a bit at the wreckage that used to be the up-and-coming blog. I still see the regulars and, I'd imagine, Duncan PhD econ. Brown (a minor Ivy) still don't get the American system of government. The "Democratic establishment" can't do a goddamned thing with the Senate in Republican-fascist hands and the Supreme Court as well. To blame them for inaction means someone didn't know as much as a moron who watched those Saturday Morning info-spots about how a bill becomes law in the United States back in the 70s. I heard one once, it was right if probably not that effective. Still, the college-credentialed geezers and slackers of the "Brain Trust" (they really do call it that, I'm not making it up) don't get it. Not even their PhD'd bizarrely younger father-figure. I don't even want to speculate about their daddy issues that lead them to look on a younger codger that way.
Friday, July 10, 2020
Yeah, I know, it's The Sorrow And The Pity all over again.
Simps is posing and eating up the scenery because in a hastily thrown off comment made in the heat of the day, I mixed up Ernie Kovacs death with, no doubt, some other show biz guy who died about the same time of a heart attack from eating your typical affluent American male diet of the early post-war years and smoking the cigars that Kovacs' wife peddled. I wonder which show biz figure I'm mixing up his untimely death with. But not very hard.
If I did that whenever Simps gets a detail wrong I'd have torn out all my hair in melodramatic acting style. Hey, maybe that's why Simps wears that stupid looking Groucho beret! Anything for attention, hey, Simps?
Ernie Kovacs was an innovative comic actor and rather brilliant at coming up with sight gags based on TV and movie technology in the early years of TV. But if he just kept repeating the same old stuff over and over again - Simps got upset when I pointed out that once the novelty wears off something that is funny the first time it ceases to be funny - he'd have become the kind of hack that so many successful comedians have become. His death at the age of 42 may have ended what would have continued to be brilliant or it could have saved him from the typical later career of a comedian, going out of fashion due to a lack of innovation. Being funny is hard work, so that leaves Simps out, right there.
I would never accuse Simps of stealing his material from the best. He steals it from the ones who stole it from the best after the best were done with it. He knows it once worked and is respectfully mounted in the imaginary museum of jokes which means it's a dead specimen of what once was alive, mounted for display and to be treated with that thing most deadly to comedy, veneration.
Edie Adams had a hand in that with her late husband's material, the gal knew how to buy it up and market it, she's probably most responsible for why those who never were alive to see Ernie Kovacs on live TV even heard of him. But as they wear out his stuff, it's not funny anymore. Kovacs would have known that, or he'd have stopped being funny.
Update: This reminds me of a story the director Jonathan Miller once told of a production of The Merchant of Venice in which they got the just brilliant idea of hiring two actors from the Yiddish theater to play Shylock and Tubal. The story goes that those two actors whose theater practiced a high degree of improvisation were driven nuts by having to give only the same set lines over and over on stage and one night in the infamous conspiracy scene where Shylock tells his friend his plans for revenge Tubal started out in accented dialect, "So, Shylock, I hear your daughter ran off and married a gentile. What? She couldn't find some nice Yiddischer boy to marry?" and they went on with an improvised comedy schtick for 20 minutes that had the audience howling with laughter. According to Miller, they were told in notes not to do it again.
Apparently Simps lost out on that tradition that understands that. Happens when you value status above art, as is so typical of the mid-brow New Yorker, the kind of person who the great comic actor Margaret Dumont parodied with such brilliant comic timing. But, then, even Groucho apparently didn't appreciate her work as she set him up so well. I thought she was great.
Update 2: Oh, and in case anyone is worried about it, Unlike some, I've got a full head of very thick, very wavy silver gray hair. I've never had to cover a bald spot up with a hat and would never wear a stupid looking beret.
If I did that whenever Simps gets a detail wrong I'd have torn out all my hair in melodramatic acting style. Hey, maybe that's why Simps wears that stupid looking Groucho beret! Anything for attention, hey, Simps?
Ernie Kovacs was an innovative comic actor and rather brilliant at coming up with sight gags based on TV and movie technology in the early years of TV. But if he just kept repeating the same old stuff over and over again - Simps got upset when I pointed out that once the novelty wears off something that is funny the first time it ceases to be funny - he'd have become the kind of hack that so many successful comedians have become. His death at the age of 42 may have ended what would have continued to be brilliant or it could have saved him from the typical later career of a comedian, going out of fashion due to a lack of innovation. Being funny is hard work, so that leaves Simps out, right there.
I would never accuse Simps of stealing his material from the best. He steals it from the ones who stole it from the best after the best were done with it. He knows it once worked and is respectfully mounted in the imaginary museum of jokes which means it's a dead specimen of what once was alive, mounted for display and to be treated with that thing most deadly to comedy, veneration.
Edie Adams had a hand in that with her late husband's material, the gal knew how to buy it up and market it, she's probably most responsible for why those who never were alive to see Ernie Kovacs on live TV even heard of him. But as they wear out his stuff, it's not funny anymore. Kovacs would have known that, or he'd have stopped being funny.
Update: This reminds me of a story the director Jonathan Miller once told of a production of The Merchant of Venice in which they got the just brilliant idea of hiring two actors from the Yiddish theater to play Shylock and Tubal. The story goes that those two actors whose theater practiced a high degree of improvisation were driven nuts by having to give only the same set lines over and over on stage and one night in the infamous conspiracy scene where Shylock tells his friend his plans for revenge Tubal started out in accented dialect, "So, Shylock, I hear your daughter ran off and married a gentile. What? She couldn't find some nice Yiddischer boy to marry?" and they went on with an improvised comedy schtick for 20 minutes that had the audience howling with laughter. According to Miller, they were told in notes not to do it again.
Apparently Simps lost out on that tradition that understands that. Happens when you value status above art, as is so typical of the mid-brow New Yorker, the kind of person who the great comic actor Margaret Dumont parodied with such brilliant comic timing. But, then, even Groucho apparently didn't appreciate her work as she set him up so well. I thought she was great.
Update 2: Oh, and in case anyone is worried about it, Unlike some, I've got a full head of very thick, very wavy silver gray hair. I've never had to cover a bald spot up with a hat and would never wear a stupid looking beret.
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
Canned Scrambled Eggs An Even Stupider Idea Than Canned Water
Attention getting is mostly what Eschaton blog is, after its very brief glory days that ended c. 2005. I realized that when I started noticing how often the geezers vied for attention by bragging about what they ate for lunch or dinner AS IF ANYONE IN THE WORLD CARED. Someone reminds me today that they're still doing it, some numbnutz going on about how great his Reuben with Russian dressing is. Hope he still thinks so when the angel of the coronary comes a callin'.
Simps does the same thing with what movie and theater audiences he sat in, what movies he's watched on TV, what album he bought. As if sitting in a friggin' audience was a major artistic accomplishment.
See Below: Simps trying to call me out because he figured I never owned a friggin' COMEDY ALBUM! The most lame of lame media for the dissemination and rapid wearing out of a comedy gag, a disc of it. As I've said elsewhere, that's the equivalent of putting scrambled eggs in a can AND MR MEDIA, HIMSELF THINKS ITS SOME KIND OF A FRIGGIN' STATUS SYMBOL TO HAVE ONE!
Simps does the same thing with what movie and theater audiences he sat in, what movies he's watched on TV, what album he bought. As if sitting in a friggin' audience was a major artistic accomplishment.
See Below: Simps trying to call me out because he figured I never owned a friggin' COMEDY ALBUM! The most lame of lame media for the dissemination and rapid wearing out of a comedy gag, a disc of it. As I've said elsewhere, that's the equivalent of putting scrambled eggs in a can AND MR MEDIA, HIMSELF THINKS ITS SOME KIND OF A FRIGGIN' STATUS SYMBOL TO HAVE ONE!
Ennio Morricone. Nah, not interested in movie composers, the only kind that Simps thinks are worth anything. I don't think I've ever heard any stand-alone concert music by him and the movies almost inevitably and invariably suck. The funny thing is, Simps' audience at Eschtaton never heard his name till Simps put on his mourning drag and went through his attention-getting act he does whenever a 91-year-old minor celebrity with a Hollywood tie in trips and unsurprisingly dies. It had nothing to do with that movie hackoser, it had to do with Simps getting attention.
Tuesday, July 7, 2020
Monday, July 6, 2020
Simps, Eschatots, You Don't Have Even Enough Substance To Retain Interest As An Antiquity
I'm ready to get past your same-old, same-old. I already knew that the past-it geezers who constitute the rump of the old Eschaton blog community, which reached pretty much its high point around 2005, are a bunch of bored, jaded, lazy buffalo butts. I don't need to keep dealing with that.
You've long since gotten old. Duncan can't even retain an interest in producing material there. He's as repetitious as you are. A middle-aged geezer, himself.
Simps, this is a lot less diverting than I thought it would be. I might discontinue it again unless you come up with something new. I'll give you by Wednesday to do it or I'm moving on.
The few who are a bit more than that have already reached the occasional drop-in stage at Eschaton. They'll drop it more and more as they move on, too. Then it will just be you and Grandmere and those BBs who consider you a pest.
You've long since gotten old. Duncan can't even retain an interest in producing material there. He's as repetitious as you are. A middle-aged geezer, himself.
Simps, this is a lot less diverting than I thought it would be. I might discontinue it again unless you come up with something new. I'll give you by Wednesday to do it or I'm moving on.
The few who are a bit more than that have already reached the occasional drop-in stage at Eschaton. They'll drop it more and more as they move on, too. Then it will just be you and Grandmere and those BBs who consider you a pest.
Thursday, July 2, 2020
Look, Simps, A Joke To Steal
Simps, Eschatots, assorted "friends" of Simps," I'm taking the long 4th weekend off starting today.
Why are you here? Shouldn't you be practicing your Kegels? Better get to those. If geezers don't use it, you lose it.
Why are you here? Shouldn't you be practicing your Kegels? Better get to those. If geezers don't use it, you lose it.
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I'll bet you do. Given that you don't get most jokes generally, and probably never got ANY of Corey's.