
Barry observed today that of course the White House knows neither Republicans nor Democrats want this thing, and it will never make it through Congress, but Bush hopes to use its political capital in November.
[thanks to Yahoo! and ucomics, and especially to Pat Oliphant]
drake, just beyond Dragonfly Preserve

Central Park, 2 pm, December 6, 2004
old art
Except that it isn’t old at all.
We went to the Metropolitan today to visit El Greco’s work. This awesome unfinished late masterpiece was there:

El Greco, The Opening of the Fifth Seal of the Apocalypse (1608-1614)
This much earlier very provocative youth, unaccountably (except perhaps for its need of restoration) was not:

El Greco, St. Sebastian (1580)
Except for a very sweet and human Virgin, a Magdalen, and a few other ancient saints, there are virtually no portraits of women among his works, although there are a great number of beautiful ecstatic saintly males and contemporary handsome men of all ages, described as his intellectual friends. El Greco never married, although he lived in the Spain of the Counter-Reformation. He is said to have had one illegitimate child, Jorge Manuel, who is represented by his father as a beautiful aristocratic artist in a painting which is part of this wonderful show.
[the first image from Princeton, the second from romansonline]
fallen angels

New York City firefighter Robert Walsh has been on a respirator in a medically-induced coma in a Staten Island hospital since Thursday. Today he still lies heavily sedated, suffering the consequences of severe facial fractures and a partly severed nose.
Walsh was assaulted with a metal chair on New Years Eve by fellow firefighter Michael R. Silvestri, in the borough firehouse where they shared duties.
It seems that Silvestri had called Walsh a [faggot/fairy/queer/homo – we have to use our imaginations here, since as usual the NYTimes isn’t specific], and Walsh had answered back by charging that Silvestri had gamed the system, taking advantage of his fellows to earn extra pay.
Their comrades initially tried to cover up the facts, obstructing investigation by representing Walsh’s injuries as the result of an accidental fall. He was cleaned up, his clothes changed, and driven to the hospital. No ambulance, no police.
The story may have legs, and it certainly should, for the elements of homophobia and obstruction of justice. My outrage is for what I think are even more fundamental, societal reasons.
Michelle O’Donnell’s Times article yesterday quoted a retired deputy chief, Vincent Dunn, on the subject of “busting chops”, as the paper’s editorial calls it today.
“Everybody verbally abuses young firefighters,” [Walsh is 40, Silvestri 41] said Vincent Dunn, a retired deputy chief, who added that even longtime firefighters do not outgrow the sport of razzing. “Nobody wants physical violence that’s a no-no. But there’s a lot of verbal abuse. It’s like society.” [my italics]
Umm . . . I don’t think so. [Still, if it were true, it would help explain something about how Americans treat each other and the rest of the world, and why we have only buffoons and bullies running the country.]
But can our hometown “heroes” really only relate to each other through violence, real or implied?
By the way, the Times editorial finally brings up the subject of departmental racism and male chauvinism, even if it only alludes indirectly to its effective and very illegal homophobia.
The firehouse culture of taunting may violate anti-discrimination law, and may be one reason white men make up about 91 percent of the department, which has only one woman in its current probationary class of 304.
Now that Tom Ryan has retired, there now may actually be no out gay New York City firemen, and perhaps only one woman, at least as far as I have been able to determine, Michele Fitzsimmons. It seems that with the exception of Tom and Michele, you might be gay when you retire, if you’re very courageous, but not before. But in this area it’s really the civil cowardice of their straight comrades that stands out.
New York should not have to put up with such nonsense, but above all neither the country nor the world should have to accept the “society” of American straight male violence, verbal or physical.
racism? it’s very patriotic right now

greetings!
the full Yahoo! caption reads:
Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security Tom Ridge (L) speaks with airline passenger Gloria Quevedo (R) of Chile as she is fingerprinted by Customs and Border Protection Officer Mary Armbrust at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta on January 5, 2004. The United States began fingerprinting and photographing visitors from most countries on Monday in a controversial program to try to prevent potential terrorists from slipping in through the borders. REUTERS/Tami Chappell
So patriotic that it trumps the administration’s disdain for “old Europe”, even its hatred for the French.
Today the U.S. began taking mugshots and fingerprinting all visitors coming into and leaving the fatherland, although an exception is being made for citizens of European countries and Canada. Mexicans are also excepted, for now but since we have always made “special” arrangements for what we think of as the permanent threat of the darker people from the areas to our south, I’m sure we will continue to address the problem of those immediately below our border with the seriousness we think it deserves.
Basically, if you’re not a white European, we just don’t trust you and you just better watch out.
But does anyone trust the people in charge to make Americans safe? Tom Ridge, like virtually every member of this administration, wouldn’t even have a passport if his current job didn’t require it, and that kind of provinciality and just plain incuriosity shows in the disastrous policies which this government pursues.
untitled

the New Year in balloons

West 23rd Street, January 1, 2004
Woke up late this morning. This is the first thing I saw outside the parlor windows. Not a bad start for a new year.
Wishing all a happier one than any of us can even imagine from where we are right now!
chauvinism co-opting an ancient holiday

we own it

but there’s a big problem
I know it’s been pretty quiet on this site for a while, but both Barry and I have been down with bad colds. I can say for myself that I haven’t felt like posting any war/political items, since they’re inevitably even more depressing than a sinus infection, and my joy in art postings is equally compromised by my indisposition.
Thank the gods for an apartment filled with books, music – and food and wine.
Ah, the eve and the first day of the new year have always been my favorite holidays, largely because they are what you make them and because they are so totally secular in origin and celebration. No one seems to own New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. (Even the Catholic Church can’t get its votaries excited about thinking of January 1st as the anniversary of Jesus’s brist rather than the lustful and immemorial celebration of time and hope that it truly is.)
Until last night.
We had finished a light celebratory supper when we headed for the television cabinet to check out the madness in Times Square. We sat down just in time to hear a few live corporate commerical plugs (not paid advertising, but as part of the programming!), short interviews with a uniformed marine corporal and a navy chief, and then a truly heartwarming rendition of “God Bless the U.S.A.” – the entire piece, every word – broadcast to the checkpointed multitudes gathered in the police pens below the sharpshooters and the armed helicopters.
Cause the flag still stands for freedom and they cant take that away.
And Im proud to be an American where as least I know Im free.
I was watching a fascist rally.
Regardless of the mindset of at least some of the people standing in the street last night, the real point of the program viewed all across the world didn’t have anything to do with a happy new year. What was really being screamed went something like, aren’t we Americans just so uniquely worthy – and truly holy?
Next year the television stays behind closed doors – unless they resurrect Guy Lombardo.
[two images from Times Square at approximately 12:00:01 this morning (both AP, the first credited to Diane Bondareff) from Yahoo! News]
serendipitous, evanescent, now published
image of part of Joe Ovelman’s installation, “Two Walls”
The picture is big. It runs across one page and onto the other. I’m credited for the casual image captured by my tiny digital camera, but it was just for the record. No, it was an act of love.
It’s only because of the surprise element and the ephemeral nature of the artist’s September 13 Chelsea wall installations that in Wayne Norcross’s review of Joe Ovelman’s “Two Walls” in the Jan/Feb issue of Genre my own photograph dominates the magazine’s two-page spread. At the time I thought of the picture as a modest documentation of something I would not see again. Except for the images in my head it was all I could take home with me that day if I wasn’t going to rip the color zeroxes off the plywood wall.
For more images of details from the wall on 10th Avenue, and the remnants of the wall on 25th Street, see the “gallery” links on two earlier posts.
“The Rural Life”
At rest with the flu, in a room at the top of an old farmhouse in the rural American Northeast [an excerpt from a short piece in the NYTimes]:
I was raised to believe that sleep is a sovereign remedy for everything but death itself, so I drift between waking and sleeping, visited mostly by one of the cats, who likes the third floor a converted attic as much as I do. I wake just long enough to see the snow falling, and to judge how sick I feel, before drifting off again. The pleasure of it waking only long enough to know you’re dozing confirms something one of Ishmael’s shipmates said in “Moby-Dick”: “Damn me, it’s worth a fellow’s while to be born into the world, if only to fall right asleep.”
This is for those, like myself, lucky enough to be able to share memories like his but also for those who can only enjoy such beauty through another’s account. This is one of Verlyn Klinkenborg’s gentle evocations of the place where man meets the rest of nature.