Friday, March 18, 2011

No one laughed at Stalin's mother behind her back

There are close to 600 comments at Anne Althouse's blog, many of them dealing with an anarcho-loser in Wisconsin blogger who wrote a moronic threat against Althouse and her husband because of Althouse and husband detailing unionist activities in Madison, Wisconsin over the course of the past long nine weeks while as public service unionists and fellow arseholes try to intimidate the elected government and the general voter/state resident/tax-payer. The threatener linked below decided to make his feelings known about his hatred toward those who stand up against the unionists, and he wrote a silly, if threatening, letter, which Althouse published. Now the guy is known. He's a goofy loser.

This is the threatening letter link:

http://www.scribd.com/doc/50869881/Op-countertroll-Vs-Althouse-and-Meade

And here is a link to comments at Althouse:

http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6329595&postID=7552181848478388306

The man in question is, it seems, Jim Shankman. Photos, links, and info here;

http://theundergroundconservative.wordpress.com/2011/03/17/what-a-cheap-two-bit-thug-looks-like/

At the Althouse link, commenter Jane,
3/17/11 8:01 PM, writes: "The letter writer's mother is the Dean of the College at Benedictine College."

Her son, the letter writer, is now crying about being picked on. You can follow as you like. The point I hope to make is that this fellow, Jim Shankman, is a goofy loser who has suddenly become known in certain circles as a -- goofy looser. What about his mother? How must she feel? She's obviously successful at her career, which must be some compensation for having a goofy loser of a kid.

Benedictine College is a Roman Catholic liberal arts school that provides instruction to nearly 1,200 students. It offers bachelor's degrees in nearly 40 major fields, as well as three graduate degree programs. The school's Atchison, Kansas campus overlooks the Missouri River. The college, which opened its doors in 1859, is sponsored by brothers and sisters of the Benedictine monastic order.

Officers:

[....]

VP and Dean of the College: Kimberly C. Shankman


Read more: http://www.answers.com/topic/benedictine-college-1#ixzz1Gw8stq7D

But I feel sorry for this lady. If I had a mother, I'd want her to feel something other than humiliation at my antics. I'd feel better if she could hold up her head when she went to work at the salt mine, everyone knowing she's the mother of the worst "mother" in the world, someone no one laughs at. I'd feel better if my mother were the Mother of Stalin. I'd be kind of sick of myself if I were just a goofy loser. But, as I note, I don't have a mother, so it could well be that I won't make the extra effort to redeem myself in anyone's eyes. Even so, I would hope never to be such a goof as this guy above.

I like to think that in some small way this is helpful.

More on the goofy Wisconsin loser who threatened blogger Althouse.

Exclusive Interview With Jim Shankman, the Man Behind the Ann Althouse Threat

by Dan Riehl

Shankman is currently unemployed, claims to not be a member of a union and says he most often works as a dishwasher when employed. He insists that he does not advocate for violence and in some ways sought to distance himself from his “manifesto,” while also acknowledging authorship. He says he’s done with the issue and was simply giving voice to thoughts and rhetoric he “regularly hears in the street.”


http://biggovernment.com/driehl/2011/03/18/exclusive-interview-with-jim-shankman-the-man-behind-the-ann-althouse-threat/

Up-date with some comments from Althouse:

William said... As slackers go, he [Shankman] sets new depths for underachievement. Pressing thirty and a dilettante dishwasher....


3/18/11 11:11 AM

Seven Machos said...

So this poor dude self-reportedly sits around watching FOX News, arousing himself to a constant state of agitation over its reporting.

Sad.

I recommend more porn sites for this man immediately.

3/18/11 11:14 AM

Monday, March 14, 2011

Book writing


The gentle reader here must by now wonder just wtf I do all the time if I can't seem to post anything here more than once or twice a week, or less! I am not sitting at Tim Horton's having my fix of vitamins C and D, believe me. I am writing, in long-hand, more notes for volume three of my magnum opus, A Genealogy of Left Dhimmi Fascism: Oikos I, "Earth and Man." Yes, it is obviously about ecology. I'm down to the final 12 books to read for material, and then I think I don't really have 12 more to come. Like the past three or four times I thought I only had a dozen more books to read, I could be wrong about this. Or I could be just about sick of it and ready to move on to do some typing at last.

Three Canadians come to mind straight off the top, Kathy Shaidle, Howard Rotberg, and Jonathon Narvey, and I am hopeful of taking a page out of their book, as it were, by publishing my own books. I hope to do this in relatively short order. The two volumes I hope to have out are culled from this blog and Covenant Zone. It will make me rich and famous while I slave away in the tropics typing the rest of the oeuvre. Till then, thanks for your patience.

Saturday, March 05, 2011

The Harmonious Interests of Mad Max

Adhering to bourgeois values is what has created and is what sustains Modern culture. Boiled down, I call it all "Privacy." One owns ones own life as ones own private property, and from there, one can and may own things other, given the restriction that one cannot violate another's privacy. We co-operate. We have exchanges that more or less mutually benefit. We don't rob and rape and murder for gain, as a rule. We try to live harmoniously. We aren't mad in the head. We have rules to live by, and they allow us to prosper. Some people really hate that.

Bourgeois values are "mediocre." There is little or nothing aristocratic in shaving a penny. It's not noble to save ones pennies and build them into dollars. Such is greedy, grubby, and mean. It's a mean nation, as we hear from those who know. Who could be proud of such smallness? Only a bourgeois would like putting off for now in order to have more later. Where is the Grand Gesture? Where the heroism of Life? Muddling along and saving and working for tomorrow is petty. Who can love it? It's not only petty and greedy and myopic, it's anti-social to isolate ones gains from others. Why not share and be at one with others? Individuals are solitary. Like beasts. We should all be one. We don't really need all this stuff we gain from counting and saving and hiding away and amassing. Small, man, real small.

Look around at the world and you'll see The People are exploited and starving and enslaved by bourgeois values, i.e. by those who adhere to bourgeois values. If not for the selfishness of the few, then all of everyone could have enough, and the world would live as one. Muslims lived as one till America and Israel destroyed their culture through imperialism and phony borders creating nations that don't reflect the authentic boundaries of the natural groupings. The world's people used to live in a Golden Age of enough, a pleasant time of free fruit hanging from the trees for anyone to take, in harmony with animals and snail darter fish. Then along came a man with a tape measure who declared that the land was his alone, and now, thanks to bourgeois values, most people are starving and enslaved by him, the Capitalist. Driven by poverty, they have to use their very bodies as bombs to try to rectify the evils of the imposition of bourgeois values on The People. And ya ya....

Are those with bourgeois values really any better? Bourgeois values come from an understanding of power: that one has the power to live ones own life according to ones own best lights, in "pursuit of ones happiness." The gods might wreck the pursuit, but maybe not. And if they do, then one tries again, and again, and maybe in time, with luck and a good wind, one succeeds over-all. But regardless, one might try, and there is the power of the bourgeois, that he feels free to try at all. His attempts to control his own life might be mean and petty and silly, but they are his. So long as he doesn't outrage his neighbours, he is free, more or less, to do as he will. If he can do so and make a profit, well, next thing we know, we have flush toilets where before we had ankle deep sewage everywhere. It's not heroic. It's small. It's bourgeois, not aristocratic. It's not villainous; not the mind of a Romantic peasant at work. It's just getting along as well as one may. One is a "boor," as in bourgeois. Petty.

There are those with the aristocratic mind, those who feel entitled to the riches of the world, whose titles provide them with what it is to be a Big Man in the world of peasants. Appointments, sinecures, positions. They amass, however it's done, great fortunes, which they use to arrange appanage for the peasants, bread-payment for the docile and grateful. The court toadies, the bohemian intelligentsia lavish praise on their betters, and all is right with the world. Except for those petty bourgeois who have too much money for their stations. They are a mockery of aristocratic privilege. Their success in the world is an insult to the grandness of the aristocrats, an affront to the peasants, of whom the middle are but for the resented elevation within the bourgeois vision. What right do petty peasants have to succeed? Maddening.

They should, at least, be happy working class contributors to the whole, to the just price economy, to the moral economy in which most are poor but happy, and tended by Philosopher Kings. At best, they would be savages living in harmony with nature, dancing and smiling and performing native rituals for the amusement of the enlightened classes. Muslims will do. Angry and violent savages yearning to breathe slavery-- perfection in its authenticity. The well-to-do and undeservedly so middle class peasant must step aside and allow pride of authentic place to the savage, the truly noble being.

The middle muddle. They quietly pay off all whom they must. They pay off the Philosopher Kings and the peasants and the savages and they keep what there is left to keep. It's a penny-shaving life. It has value. Compromise, give in, sell out, back out and shame themselves, anything for a part of a penny. The bourgeois are rightly despised for their pettiness. Especially when it is grand. When it is America.

Those with bourgeois values have little grasp of the other sides of life, being involved in their own lives and aware otherwise only of the need to pay for peace. Rampaging Muslim savages committing murder by the hour around the world? Pay them off. Give them what they ask for, and we'll say we feel their pain, that in the hope they will feel better about us in time, if not now. Just don't rock any boats or burn any bridges or cross any streets without looking up and down. It's in everyone's interest to remain harmonious, trading a bit of this for a bit of that to everyone's mutual advantage.

And then there are the mad. They don't have so much love of the bourgeois values today as perhaps yesterday they did. Maybe it was one terror attack too many, one person brutalised too badly, one city destroyed by primitives, and then in the smoke and the flames and the scorching heat of battle the primitives don't look like they are worth paying in money for a worthless peace at all. One moves on, abandoning the mediocre middle to those who live it quietly. Is it good, friend?
Pappagallo: "You’re happy out there, are you? Eh? Wandering? One day blurring into another? You’re a scavenger, Max. You’re a maggot. Did you know that? You’re living off the corpse of the old world. Tell me your story, Max. C’mon. Tell me your story. What burned you out, huh? Kill one man too many? See too many people die? Lose some family? Oh, so that’s it, you lost your family? That makes you something special, does it?” George Miller, The Road Warrior. (1982)
If the general system of bourgeois values is to succeed, then most will have to give up to get, in the interest of all, particularly oneself. Mad men are not part of a delicate system of harmonies.

Harmony of Interests

With a proper understanding of one's interests, it can be seen that there is a harmony of interests between rational men. That we benefit enormously from positive interactions with others. This benefit comes in the form of the abundance of wealth made possible by a Capitalism, to the continuing increase of knowledge available to mankind. It comes in the form of friendships, romantic love, and the support of one's family. The harmony of interests bring men together in peaceful cooperation to benefit their lives. This is the bedrock of society. It is why people choose to live in a society.


Although the desires of men may be opposed, their interests are not. Living in a peaceful society is of incalculable benefit to man. Any possible advantage gain from living outside of a peaceful society is insignificant compared to the loss. For instance, living in a wilderness may bring you more peace and quiet, but it is at the expense of friendships and the enormous material wealth possible in a society.

The harmony of interests only exists between rational men. Irrational men and the use of force are not in the interests of other men. Men's interests are only in harmony with peaceful, voluntary interactions. Only when men live by the Trader Principle do their interests unite. Only when men accept persuasion and trade do they become a benefit to other men.
http://www.importanceofphilosophy.com/Ethics_HarmonyOfInterests.html. Accessed 5 March 2011.

Our Modern world is rational, and our rational people know it is cheaper to pay off the primitives than to wage war against them. We know, too, that we cannot always buy them off, and that we must have a rational military force to defend us against the primitives who would otherwise attack and devour such a fat and tasty beast as the Modern world. But we mostly use our militaries today to do the paying off. Organised, efficient, petty in its aims and methods, not heroic, not grand, not interesting. Our military is petty and bourgeois. It is a multitude of penny parts accumulated into one massive machine that more or less works most often in an imperfect world. There are few warriors among the soldiers of our Modern world. Most soldiers want to get along by going along. It is a harmony of interests at work. "Living in a peaceful society is of incalculable benefit to man. Any possible advantage gain from living outside of a peaceful society is insignificant compared to the loss."

It is a fundamental bourgeois value, methinks, to leave political power to the aristocrats and the peasants of the Modern world. The bourgeois is satisfied with paying the bills and plodding along as best he can, pinched and harassed as he might be by each other side. It's the price of doing business. It is an act of rational harmony to interact.

But there are those few who don't have the same bourgeois values. Post-bourgeois, we might say. Road Warriors, to push the point. Those who are as savage as the savage; as pitiless as the aristocratic; as mad as Max. What possible advantage is there in such madness? The bourgeois shakes his head and offers money and a place to count it within the sphere of normal. Rejecting bourgeois values for those post, one is seen as "Just as bad as they are!" The bourgeois is angered and incensed by the betrayal of the rational man who rejects the bourgeois value of passivity in the face of violence. The man post-bourgeois is a a traitor, "No better than they are!" Not a man to build and lay up and save and store, the mad man is alone. One cannot deal with him as a moral being. He is a betrayer of bourgeois values. Where is the harmony of interests? Reject. We cannot trade with such a man. What does he want? Nothing.
Max: "I'm just here for the gasoline."

A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Had we but world enough and crack

I was buying fruit and veggies at the market in Chinatown a while ago, the sidewalk crowded with shoppers, the cement slick with stuff fallen and trampled, making the way a chore in itself, making it a matter of caution just passing. I wasn't paying attention till I spotted a young woman and her decrepit mother. The young one was attractive, so I looked. Cabbage, even red and on sale, only goes so far, even at my age. I checked her out, and I saw her mother, looking much less attractive than cabbage on a bad day. The babe asked her mom what she would like. When I heard I kind of lost interest in the whole day. Old lady said: "I want a dick."

It was then, in a flash, that I saw that the old lady was the young woman's younger sister.

Look:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/41786945/ns/health-addictions/

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Perish or Parish

The expression "Publish or perish" doesn't make a lot of sense. Wikipedia's entry: "The phrase is thought to have originated around 1950 with Kimball C. Atwood...." It refers to academia, that one publishes or has no great career. I think it makes more sense in the expression, "Publish or Parish." The trained and credentialed intellectual goes on, in the Victorian era and previous, to a career at a state- or church-supported university or one goes to some poor rural place and survives on donations from the parish peasants. Wikipedia trumps my poor guess. Who am I to counter Wikipedia? I'm just some guy with an opinion. That's the position most of us face when it comes to power within the current make-up of our intelligentsia. The Left, as a rule, comprise such, and outside that, no one is very seriously considered these days. Successful writers are Leftists, as a rule. Until they aren't. The rest of us just aren't. What is it that makes a successful leftard writer? Or makes one fail? And what about our success? What concerns us? Perish or Parish?

Caroline Glick writes about the loss of status and position on the Left of "a radical leftist reporter named Nir Rosen." In the full essay she gives a clear account of "Why." My interest here is not in the why a leftist would lose his job and status among fellow leftists; my concern is about those of us who are not going to lose anything among the Left because we have nothing positive in the first place. There is just about nothing the Left can take from us, being banned, as we are, from the "Mainstream media" as it's called, and banned more or less from the Academy, and banned from (fill in the blank). There is a matter of that genuinely necessary "bourgeois virtue," as D. McCloskey calls it, of Prudence. Leftists have it in abundance, strange to say. Prudence means, in our time and place, saying and writing, communicating at all times, adherence to lies and bigotries and outright evils. One gets along by going along. It is prudent. Today one must be anti-American, pro-terrorist, anti-Modern, pro-barbarian, anti-Semitic, pro-Islam, and so on. That's how one gets along in the society we live in if one works in the mainstream intelligentsia. Glick writes of a conformist to the mainstream Left norm who got canned for moving too far from the Left's narrative, indulging in what Lenin terms the "infantile Left." It can happen. It did happen. It's rare that one is so far left of the Left that one is fired for it and banished from Left company. For the rest of us, we don't get in unless at best we forever keep our mouths shut up about what we believe. Its prudent. Having a job requires one to play by the rules, like them or not. That is one of the prime bourgeois virtues. It's what makes the world go round. I'm my personal idiocy, I term this the work of "Conformity Hippies." You would soon notice in knowing me that I do not have a legitimate position in today's society. I am imprudent. I don't get along well in society. I can't seem to shut up myself. But, this is not, I will argue below, a necessarily bad thing that will leave us all standing in line at the soup kitchen, our wives bitter at our failure to provide the basics of life in a competitive world, our children dressed in rags, Rocco and Vinnie searching to break our legs for missing our payments on desperate loans. No, there is another way to be prudent and honest in the Left world today without being broke and miserable. One can even be successful in a world of the Left domination. It means being prudent in a different way.

Below is Glick's take on what a successful leftard is, though in this case, one who went too far and is now not successful. Glick explains what went wrong for this fellow. What interests us is what went right so long for this creature of the Left intelligentsia. After suffering through that, let's look at how we can thrive at the normal end of this mess.

On Tuesday, [Nir] Rosen wrote defamatory attacks against [Lara] Logan on his Twitter account. He mocked her suffering and bemoaned the fame the attack would win her.

[....]

Rosen's writings reveal him as an anti-Semite and an anti- American. Rosen has written prolifically about his hope to see Israel destroyed. His war reporting from Afghanistan and Iraq unfailingly takes the side of America's enemies. He was an embedded reporter with the Taliban and is an outspoken champion of Hezbollah, Hamas and the Taliban.

Rosen's hateful politics have brought him book contracts, prestigious fellowships, interviews on influential television shows and even a request to give testimony before the US Senate. His work has been published in elite magazines and newspapers.

No one batted a lash when he called for Israel to be destroyed or supported the Taliban - whose treatment of women and girls is among the most brutal in history. But for attacking Logan, he was excommunicated from polite society.

[....]

THE STORY of the media at Tahrir Square exposes those rules for all to see. The bravery of the journalists on the scene, the media's determination to ignore Islamic misogyny, and their expulsion of Rosen from polite society all tell us that what drives the international media is not a quest for truth. It is a quest to advance the ideology of identity politics.

[....]

When we understand the rules of reportage as dictated by adherents to identity politics, we understand why Rosen was excommunicated when he mocked Logan and not when he called for Israel's destruction, condemned the commemoration of the September 11 attacks, or sided with the Taliban and the Iraqi insurgents killing Americans. In those cases, he followed the rules - preferring the cause of "victims" over the lives of "perpetrators."

Nir Rosen was not expelled from the Left for being a scum-bag. That scumminess is what allowed him to rise to the top of the Left. He was the paradigm of conformity to the Left narrative. We ain't gonna make it there as we are if we are as we are. We have to remain silent. Or we don't have to play the success in the Left game at all. If being a success on the Left means having to do what Rosen did, most of us would rather turn to other occupations than those within the intelligentsia. Thus, I argue that we should abandon the intelligentsia, if we haven't done so already, or if, as is as likely, we are already banned and burned. There is the intelligentsia, controlling the vast machine of the normative and "successful" in our competitive world; and then there is what I will call the counter-intelligentsia. Consider this:

Avenging Apostate writes:

[I] think I am long way off from publishing material. That's what I think. Plus as I said, the stuff that I am capable of writing, I don't see it getting published by a mainstream publisher. I might be wrong about all of this though. I don't know, I am going to work on finishing my book ... and then see if any literary agents or publishers are interested in it or not.

http://ibloga.blogspot.com/2011/02/religion-of-peace-mob-in-cairo-to-logan.html#8991899964025213601

Who gets the book contracts? Who do publishers call up out of the blue and beg to submit copy for huge advances? Who loves you, baby? Well, till a few days ago we could have said Nir Rosen was one of those on the A List of writers favoured by the publishing world. To be successful, one thing we could do, and this is prudent, is to write about our lovely time spent with the Taliban, of how much we hate Israel, America, capitalism, Sarah Palin, and the Jooos, and so on. There's a clear formula to follow to be a successful Conformity Hippie. It's how prudent people of our intelligentsia get along in our world. For those of us who can't quite stomach it, there are alternatives, such as the soup kitchen.

Or, there is the alternative that some follow that leads to sneering and jeering among the literati, the cool people, the "successful."

You can't keep a good man down, they say. You can't stop Robert Spencer, for example, from writing successful books. But what about Hugh Fitzgerald? One can see that he is not on the New York Times best seller list. Big publishers are not beating on his door to offer him contracts and advances. He is not part of the machine of the Left intelligentsia, and thus, he is not going to "make it." Nor is his colleague, Rebecca Bynum. Are those two stupid? Are they imprudent? Are they not good writers? Most of us know they are excellent in most ways; but we also know they are not marketable in today's culture the way Nir Rosen is, or was until recently. That is in our favour. Who wants to succeed at being a scum-bag? But there is an alternative, of course, to that kind of success. One must simply redefine success.

We would, for the most part, not like success if it meant we would have to do what Nir Rosen did to be successful. We couldn't, as a rule, figure it out, success being so alien in that sense as to be beyond our ken. And the shame would not be worth the effort if we could. If I were successful as a writer like Rosen, why, I'd feel compelled to hang anyone who liked my copy. It's the kind of principled man I am. I'd be ashamed of my readers and wouldn't want them associated with me. People like Bynum take this a step further and write principled work in the first place, appealing to those who are moral and decent. It's a concept I like. I call it success, though it defies the normative.

Bynum, like our friend Howard Rotberg recently, has published a 'no name' book, i.e. not through the corporate world of New York publishing. Prior to this, Mark Alexander, Fjordman, Moorthy Muthuswami, Ali Sina, and others have done the same. That's a quick glance at one of my book cases. There are others, and many others, who have by-passed the commercial route to publish work that is, according to us, worthy of consideration. Nir Rosen, successful as he might have been, is not successful to us. Yes, he had the big deals, the big bucks, the babes with big silicon-- the works, no doubt. But what a price to pay. Is he a better writer than those above? He might be. Is he a better thinker? There is no question that he is not. He got the deals; we get little to nothing. We win. It's not all about media appearances, book sales, and junkets to Afghanistan. At the end of the day, one must look at the bimbo one sleeps with. Or, in the case of a normal person, ones spouse. What is success here? OK, so I'm not the right guy to ask. Ask yourself.

All of this so far is about what it means for a writer to be a good person writing. Rosen et al are not good people, though it's impossible to argue that they are not prudent and therefore often successful in the public world of our intelligentsia. That kind of success is enough to make most of us gag. It seems to me akin to the porn star guy who never had children and died of AIDS. Most of us would prefer an honest if modest success in the world.

Nir Rosen is a porn star of Left writing. Now he has "died" in the market. The Left moves on, and his "work" is dead. Is the work of those above as good as Rosen's? I have my doubts, not having read Rosen but knowing the skills required to achieve the success he had. My guess is that he was successful in his milieu because he was talented. What does it mean?

No one writer carries the world on his shoulders. Some writers are stronger than others, and that is true of us as well as it is of the Left. It means we do not have to be super stars in our fields to compete successfully against those on the Left who are. We have to be good enough, and no more than that, to succeed in the marketplace of our own audience. Our own audience is as interested in ideas as the opposition, and we need writers to articulate our concerns and positions for us as well as do the Left need their writers and artists. No single person does it all for all of us. In the mosaic that is our mindscape, we need as well as the golden tesserae, the black spaces that give context to the brilliant. For every Robert Spencer among us, we also need a hundred Dag Walkers. We need infantry as well as Napoleons. Avenging Apostate writes that "the stuff that I am capable of writing, I don't see it getting published by a mainstream publisher." I too have concluded that my magnum opus, A Genealogy of Left Dhimmi Fascism (five volumes) is not going to hit the New York Times best seller list. In my case, I am simply misunderstood. Most others are excluded from the mainstream simply because they have the "wrong message." It doesn't mean we aren't smart enough, clever enough, talented enough to compete successfully in the marketplace of ideas. It means that we are not the in-crowd. That doesn't mean we have to stand aside and let them have all the fun. In fact, fuck 'em.

The mainstream media, the general intelligentsia, will seldom publish our work, even if we are Robert Spencer or Mark Steyn or whoever. They will not, as a rule, have us, no matter how good we are. We might not be as talented as Nir Rosen. We might have to be satisfied with our Nancy Dostoyevskys and Willard Tolstoys. My failed novels, otherwise excellent works, such as Harry Pottery and A Clockwork Orangejuice and Moby Dickhead, deserve fame, but this being the real world, I accept a limited audience of excellent readers rather than a flash in the pan fame and bimbos and other stuff that I couldn't care less about. Really. I mean it. No kidding.

So, if we are not the cool gang and on the top of the mainstream love list, let's consider what we can do instead to do what we can do.

We can publish our own damned books. Do we have to be as good as Nir Rosen? Yes, in some ways we must do a good job of a good task; but no, we do not have to conform to the ugliness of mainstream fads. Honesty and decency will take us far further in the long term. That's where we will find ourselves winners. There is no good reason for us to shy away from presenting our best work to the public just because the mainstream media won't publish our work. Self publishing has zero status in the world, as a rule, but it is not for the status that we must publish our work: it is for our own selves, to build a mass of counter-thought to the Left hegemony of the current intelligentsia that makes us work for our own good. No one man or woman is going to do all of our work for us. We need a mass of writing, a book here or there that appeals to a few here or there, till we cover the whole spectrum of our audiences. We have worth as individual writers, and if we as individuals are not super stars, it means little. It means we won't necessarily appeal to a horde of screaming Leftists, perhaps, but only to a small group of normal people. I'd call that prudent. I'd call that success. Being part of the parish is a good thing.

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

"Review. A History of the Middle Eastside" or "Jewish Gangsters. Reviewing A History of the Middle Eastside"

English literature has a long tradition of fable, allegory, and, perhaps most English of all genres, the roman a clef, the novel of historical characters presented as fictional, ranging from Everyman, c. late 15th century, and John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, (1678), to that well-know work by Aldous Huxley, Brave New World. Recently, Vancouver writer Jonathon Narvey has added to the canon with his novel, A History of the Middle Eastside.

European and Middle Eastern history is presented in novel form in Narvey's work, beginning with what I take to be the Dreyfuss Affair of 1894, as witnessed by Theodore Herzl, founder of Zionism. Moving through the novel's presentation of events set in fictional Manhattan gangwars, we see tough guy Gruber, (known to us not as Adolph Schicklegruber but as Adolph Hitler,) defeated; his rivals François, Big Ben, and Ivan, with the dedicated help of Washington, then vying for turf; Polanski, (whom I take to be Ze'ev Jabotinsky,) a refugee from the wars, showing up in the traditional Jewish ghetto of Manhattan's Lower Eastside, here as The Middle Eastside, 1948. Thus begin the gangwars of survival "The Yids" must win-- over and over again. Even over a century later, the wars wound down, a celebration in full swing, the war comes to the homes of "The Yids." There is no end to the wars. Such is not fiction.

In the Morality Play of Everyman, the main character is a happy fellow beckoned by Death. Everyman's companions in life cheer and offer to go with him on this last journey: Good-looks, Fame, Fortune, & c. "Everyman, I will go with thee," each exclaims; and then, one by one, they fall away, leaving Everyman to accompany Death alone, but for one who remains. In Narvey's work, death comes to "The Yids" in the midst of hope, and he who remains standing is The Fighting Jew. It comes to mind: "Everyjooo, I will go with thee."

This pilgrim's progress to a brave new world is not so much different from any other moral tale of the gangs who struggle. The trick of it all is to join the right team and struggle for The Good rather than to follow the local leader into crime. Can one transcend ones vanity and see beyond the local hatreds and opportunities for easy gain at the expense of others? Can one rise above the turf wars and the gangleader's charisma? Mostly, probably no. The wars will continue because man is always man, and place is always place. If we fight the gangs, does it make us as bad as they are? One might hope that ones Vanity will not follow one to the grave. Good Deeds? I ain't counting on it. But some few will follow Everyjooos just because it's right. Is it a Good Deed? I don't think so. I think it is instead just The Good. To my unsophisticated mind, it matters not a bit the quality of the man who does The Good. It's not about the man, no more than Narvey's books is about gangsters in Manhattan.

Narvey's book is 250 pages of what should be light reading, an amusing account of a terrible story of Man. It's an evening's light reading except that those of us who get hung up on the story beyond the story don't find any of this amusing. Even a roman a clef presented with a wry humour and a deft fictional touch is enough for some to become enraged in the reading. For the more sober-minded reader, it's light and fun. Narvey's Yiddishisms tossed into the dialogue evoke afternoons of childhood spent watching strange old men talking to each other in English that makes no sense, mother suddenly clutching ones small arm and hauling away the boy, admonishing, "Those are the Jooos." It should be funny. But there are among us some who know, even from too young an age, that right is right and evil is hatred and murder. Any twelve year old should be able to sort fact from fiction, but when fact is fictionalised, this eleven year old has trouble with it.

As a professional reader, if not a particularly serious academic, I read critically and objectively. Sometimes. As a literary critic there is much I could write about Narvey's novel. The question of import for you, dear reader, is whether you would find your time well spent reading A History of the Middle Eastside. I think, "Yeah," most people will find this fun and interesting. Narvey writes well, and the dialogue is catchy enough to keep one interested in a story one might not know the whole of in depth in advance of. For most other casual readers this book is fun in itself, as coherent as anachronisms allow. This is not a book for those poor creatures who would spend a day, a week, a month, even a lifetime tearing apart libraries in search of that one obscure and elusive detail. It's a light read. It's not for the morbidly obsessed. I think "normal" people will enjoy this.

I think, too, that I'm going to sit at Max's Deli and position this book on the table in such a way that I casually show off the cover to those sitting nearby. I tried something similar with Jonah Goldberg's Liberal Fascism, placing the book carefully so the babes would see it and know they should be all over me. That was a bomb, sorry to say. I've never seen so many women with such steely self-control. Each babe who passed by somehow resisted me and the book. I'm thinking folks at Max's Deli will be a lot more open. We can talk about this Vancouver writer, Jonathon Narvey, and his new novel. I'll sit with The Jooos in some state of minor blessedness and have coffee and cheese blintzes and be happy I have a place in such a world as this. Death will come, maybe not so soon, and when it does, off I'll go. My guess is I'll go alone. Till then, I hope to hang around and continue to make friends and enjoy their company. We can talk Narvey. For now, I gotta go.

The Jooos? Everyjooos, I will go with thee. I hope I can take a book along for the trip.

A History of the Middle Eastside.

Canadian blogger Blazing Cat Fur posted a link to this review and headlined it with an improvisation from a supposed line by the Jewish-American movie star, Tony Curtis, in his 1952 Son of Ali Baba: "Yonda lies da castle of my fadda-- da Caliph."


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Friday, February 04, 2011

Morrow on Narvey.

Walker Morrow reviews Jonathon Narvey's book below. I must be one of the world's most reticent reviewers, so I'll leave it to Walker to do it.

Review: A History of the Middle Eastside, by Jonathon Narvey

by Walker Morrow - 04/02/2011

A History of the Middle Eastside, written by Jonathan Narvey and published late last year, follows a long line of books exploring complicated political issues through satire. And it does it well.

Basically, History is a crime noir allegory for the history of Israel, starting with the influx of European Jews into Israel ( then known as Palestine ) in the late 1940's in the wake of the Second World War, and the Israelis' battle for independence following the withdrawal of the British from the Mandate of Palestine and the UN's creation of the Partition Plan for Palestine.
Review here: http://www.libertaspost.com/blog/2011/02/review-history-middle-eastside-jonathon-narvey.

I hope that in the spirit of good neighbourliness people will read books by our neighbours and friends in this field. Jonathon Narvey is one such friend, as is Walker Morrow. Anything else is a bonus. Narvey is a clever guy and a good writer. I haven't read the book above but my expectation is that he's done a fine job. Please let us know if you agree, and feel free to review this book as well. I might even do so myself if I can bring myself to write a review.

A Man on Fire: A Religious Tragedy

I love spaghetti western movies, particularly Sergio Leone movies with Clint Eastwood starring, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, for example. Other good movies, Sam Peckinpah, like The Wild Bunch. I like what I can relate to, which is Western movies. So, somehow a movie about a Black guy who used to work as an assassin for the CIA and who is now a washed-up alcoholic taking on a job as a low-rent body guard for a Mexican businessman's little kid is not what I would have thought to be my cup of cerveza. A Man of Fire isn't promising to me on its face. But I've lived in Mexico City off and on for a number of years and I thought that if nothing else I might like to see some familiar scenery. The plot? Oh, well.

"In Mexico City, a former assassin swears vengeance on those who committed an unspeakable act against the family he was hired to protect."

We've all seen this type of movie many times before, a revenge flick.

A wave of kidnappings has swept through Mexico, feeding a growing sense of panic among its wealthier citizens, especially parents. In one six-day period, there were twenty-four abductions, leading many to hire bodyguards for their children. Into this world enters John Creasy, a burned-out ex-CIA operative/assassin, who has given up on life. Creasy's friend Rayburn brings him to Mexico City to be a bodyguard to nine-year-old Pita Ramos, daughter of industrialist Samuel Ramos and his wife Lisa. Creasy is not interested in being a bodyguard, especially to a youngster, but for lack of something better to do, he accepts the assignment. Creasy barely tolerates the precocious child and her pestering questions about him and his life. But slowly, she chips away at his seemingly impenetrable exterior, his defenses drop, and he opens up to her. Creasy's new-found purpose in life is shattered when Pita is kidnapped...

Let me wreck this for you if you're one who is interested in "suspense."

The body guard is protecting a little girl from the possibility of kidnapping. We know she's going to be kidnapped. There's no suspense there. It's what the movie is about. We know too that there is not one sane man on Earth who will invest a red, white and blue cent in a movie project in which a cute kid is murdered by Mexican gangsters because a Black movie star couldn't do his job properly. I would be so fucking outraged at the thought of such a movie that I might set the theatre on fire if ever I encountered such a vile thing on screen. And no, none of that is going to happen this side of Nazi Germany or North Korea. Hollywood won't do that to an audience. We know the girl is going to survive and return to her mom. There is no suspense here. But there is something that I found excellent in this story. I find it beautiful and fine for the soul. And we're talking a Hollywood movie here.

Not especially early in the film, some time after we've seen enough of the character to know enough about him to care, he sits alone in his room with a gun to his head and he pulls the trigger because he hates himself and wants to die. That, sorry to know too much about it, is pretty common. Suicide is easy once one makes up ones mind to do it. The character did, he pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. That's what we would expect from any director other than Hitchcock, who killed off Janet Leigh in Psycho in the first third of the film. So nothing happens. Fair enough. The movie can now continue to the point the little girl is kidnapped and the hero fails to protect her. I could have lived well without ever having sat through all that. I was mostly bored by the recovery in hospital and the obligatory scenes of the still wounded hero accumulating an arsenal to do combat with the bad guys. Far more to my liking was what philistines might descry as excessive violence, which I think is about impossible in a good movie. There were some excellent scenes of torture and torment that I completely loved. And then came the good part.

The man on fire was not any longer some typical vigilante out to avenge a wrongful death. He rises and becomes the Wrath of God in the flesh. This late stage of the film is when our hero becomes a Classical Hero, a Tragedy. This guy with guns and bombs and big attitude is going to murder everyone. This is all or nothing, and we know, this being Hollywood, it's going to be All. It stays Tragic in that the hero is dying as he fights, bleeding and fading and not going to make it; and he carries on like he must because he is-- and because life is-- Tragic. Those who did wrong must pay, and he who had no will to live will live long enough to redeem his worthlessness as he becomes a sacrifice to the Good. Why did he survive his suicide attempt? Simply because the bullet in the chamber at the time was a dud. It misfired. He lived just because of that. Stupid, random, arbitrary chance allowed him to continue his miserable life to the point he failed to save a little girl from harm. Maybe it's me and I don't understand the nature of drama, but I hate the man because he failed. I want him to die. He must die because he failed, and I will cheer.

The girl survives, of course, and is reunited with her mom. On the other side of the story, the father is the schemer who set up what was supposed to be a fake kidnapping that would bring him money to rescue his failing business. Our hero confronts him with this, and also presents him with the gun our hero used to attempt suicide. He gives father the bullet that misfired. He leaves father to do as he will. Of course the bullet this time, unlike the first time, does fire. It's good drama because it's good religion. Our hero does die as he must, as he sacrifices himself to save the little girl he failed first time round. Then we can love our hero. He was saved from his vanity to do some great thing. He is redeemed. We are safe in a just world. We witness a right reckoning.

When I read the usual comments by the usual kiddies about religion being the root of all evil I just shake. My head. It aches. Those who complain in imitation of Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins are more than banal and philistine. They got no sense of the movies. That's not tragedy, it's comedy. But it's not funny. A Man on Fire is tragedy in the best sense. It's religious. A Religious Tragedy.


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Thursday, February 03, 2011

You can't go home again.

I was recently commenting at Green Mountains Homestead that I get homesick badly sometimes, and that in spite of it, I can't see myself going home to a nation run by Obama. Then, moments later, I read this.

Thomas Lifson at American Thinker posts this excerpt about the state of our nation.

Mike Riggs of the Daily Caller reports:

During an exclusive dinner hosted Monday by the Alfalfa Club, Obama adviser Valerie Jarret ...was seated at the head table along with several other big-name politicians and a handful of high-ranking military officials. As an officer sporting several stars walked past Jarrett, she signaled for his attention and said, "I'd like another glass of wine."

Garçon!

White House economic adviser Austan Goolsbee, who was seated next to Jarret, began "cracking up nervously," our tipster said, but no one pointed out to Jarrett that the man sporting a chestful of medals was not her waiter.

"The guy dutifully went up and got her a glass of wine, and then came back and gave it to her and took a seat at the table," our tipster said. "Everyone is in tuxedos and gowns at this thing, but the military people are in full dress uniform."
For full story with comments please turn to:

http://www.americanthinker.com/blog/2011/02/valerie_jarretts_arrogance.html

I am ashamed. How could people vote for a government like this? Egyptians at least didn't have a choice in the scum-bags ruling them. We do. How did it come to this? What are we going to do?

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Rotberg on Egypt

Howard Rotberg, publisher of Jamie Glazov's latest work, available at www.mantuabooks.com., has a post up about Egypt that's worth reading. Here's the introduction:

Egypt: Freedom for Whom?

By Howard Rotberg, Lawyer and writer

One has a natural sympathy for the Egyptian protestors who bemoan the lack of freedom in Egypt under Mubarek. But the question must be asked: Is there any significant movement in Egypt to accept responsibility for developing a political culture based on liberal freedoms and constitutional democracy?

Please turn to the link below:

http://www.tolerance.ca/Article.aspx?ID=103687&L=en