The Great Reset: The Deep State vs the Great Awakening [2020)

Something is afoot.

If you’re not curious whether there was election fraud in the U.S. during this recent election, then you’re not paying very much attention.

It has been 22 days since the U.S. election.

For the American mass “news” media, everything is all wrapped up with a bow in a tidy little package.

They pull from here and there.

Yesterday it was Paul Ryan.

Since when did Democrats OR Republicans give a fuck about Paul Ryan?!?

Since pretty much never.

The U.S. “news” media trots out Mitt Romney.

Liz Cheney.

The criminal organization which is attempting to illegitimately install Joe Biden as our next President is DESPERATE to seal the deal.

Which makes it infinitely-interesting that President Trump retweeted a Lin Wood tweet.

The surface layer of content in Lin Wood’s tweet was this:

https://themarshallreport.wordpress.com/2020/11/22/sidney-powells-kraken-is-dod-cyber-warfare-program-we-are-at-war/

But the golden nugget embedded in the article was this:

How long will Alphabet Inc. leave it up?

You have the title.

The Wayback Machine has no working records of the YouTube video.

I would archive it, but I’m sick of fucking signing up for shit and being tracked.

So fuck it.

You can track it down.

And we’re gonna do a little oral transmission here.

Spoiler alert:

this film review will be strictly spoilers and nothing but.

Not my usual m.o..

I’m not selling anything.

I don’t generate income by you clicking on this story.

I have no link to any content creator above.

I write very strange film reviews.

It’s called free fucking speech.

I also write music.

All my music is free to stream and download.

And I’m not gonna post a link.

Go find it.

The purpose of this article is strictly to get information out.

I am a conservative.

The same kind of conservative Donald Trump is.

Like it, or leave it.

I belive in Jesus.

I love God.

If you don’t like my foul mouth, then you can leave now.

I curse because I’m angry.

And I curse because I will not be told what I can and cannot say.

This is my website.

I’m using my free speech.

I’m gonna walk until they make me run.

So I’m here today to tell you about what I think is going on.

I scour the internet every day (especially these past 22 days) in an effort to avail myself of actionable intelligence.

I have a thirst for knowledge.

But more than that, I have a thirst for truth.

I support QAnon.

I support Trump.

I love my country:  the United States of America.

I support our military.

I support our law enforcement officers.

And now I’m going to get around to the fucking point.

I watched this entire one hour, eight minute, and 44 second video – – – – – – so that you don’t have to.

But I still recommend you watch it.

And archive it (if at all possible).

Wayback Machine is my jam.

I’ve never been asked to “log in” until today.

Whatever…

Fuck it.

You can work a little too.

Here’s the beef.

This whole video is good.

All of the guests are good.

But there is one particular guest (the first one) who drops what I find to be some new and illuminating information.

The guest is Major Jeffrey Prather.

It should be noted that several of the six guests (including Maj. Prather) appear to be forthcoming content creators for this new outlet:  American Media Periscope.

I’ve never heard of this outlet.

I get the impression that they have only been around a couple of weeks.

AND ALREADY TWEETED OUT BY THE PRESIDENT!

Which brings me back to my point.

Something in here MUST be salient.

And my guess is that it is the first guest:  Major Prather.

If you haven’t heard of Sidney Powell by now, you have been living under a rock.

While most of America is being blasted with “Sidney Powell is even too crazy for Trump” blah blah bullshit, those who know (Trump voters) are well aware that Ms. Powell is an accomplished lawyer.

Her most recent claim to notoriety is successfully defending General Michael Flynn from the petty bitterness of sore losers.

Update:  if you’re just waking up, the Flynn case has been dismissed (within the past 24 hours).  This according to a tweet by one of Flynn’s brothers.  Go find it yourself.  I.e., Flynn’s not gonna need a pardon.

We’ve known this for awhile.

The government has no case when the government has no prosecutor.

Judge Emmet Sullivan is a really atrocious example of a judicial activist.

An activist.

Not a judge.

Sullivan dragged out the case another three months…after the Department of Justice withdrew its case.

But I digress…

It does not take a fucking genius to imagine that the exceedingly-persecuted Michael Flynn might be very grateful indeed for the legal services of Sidney Powell.

Flynn fought hard for Trump in 2016.

Flynn was unfairly targeted by Obama’s illegal Crossfire Hurricane program (run by the FBI).

Flynn’s life has been ruined (in a worldly sense).

But he has survived.

I believe the man had to sell his home to pay his legal fees.

Thirty years in the U.S. Army and that’s the treatment he got from Obama, Comey, McCabe, Strzok, Lisa Page, Loretta Lynch, Susan Rice, Bruce Ohr, Rod Rosenstein, John Brennan, James Clapper, and (last but not least) Joe Biden.

So Michael Flynn has some scores to settle.

Because of his ongoing case, he was essentially precluded by the judge from publicly speaking for the past four years.

What a illegal travesty!

So now we come to what should be obvious to any thinking individual as the massively-fraudulent election of 2020.

We have been waiting three years for any of those aforementioned people to get in trouble…FOR ANYTHING!

We would have been happy if Hillary Clinton had gotten a fucking parking ticket, but she didn’t.

We have waited through:

-Jeff Sessions

-John Huber

-John Bash?

-Bill Barr

and

-John Durham.

We have been built up by a bunch of tick-tock bullshit.

Maybe it had a purpose.

Surely it did.

But what I am about to report casts it in a slightly different light.

You can decide for yourself whether what I convey seems plausible.

I belive Q is legit.

But it is a HIGHLY, HIGHLY complex and nuanced PSYOP.

I do not believe it is a fucking LARP.

And if it’s a LARP, then so what?

It has been effective.

WILDLY-effective.

It is a part of world history.

It has gotten people DIGGING like never before.

Me and a few other people tried to expose 9/11 as an inside job/false-flag stand down/what have you.

We didn’t really prevail.

We were ignored.

Maybe we were completely wrong to doubt the official story of 9/11.

But I don’t think so.

I researched that event like my life depended on it.

BECAUSE IT CHANGED THE WORLD…FOR THE WORSE.

We didn’t need to go to war in Afghanistan.

And we didn’t need to stay there 20 years.

We didn’t need to go to Iraq.

Again.

Correct me if I’m wrong (and I’m sure you will), but I think we could have arrested Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld and a few others and called it a day.

Which brings us to the current times.

There wasn’t enough of a GREAT AWAKENING to reach critical mass.

But that was 19 years ago.

I can’t really recall Q ever having talked about 9/11.

That’s alright.

Maybe Q will tell us that 9/11 was actually the work of 19 beardy guys with boxcutters working out of a cave in Afghanistan.

And maybe that’s the whole story.

But I don’t buy it.

I believe the CIA was involved.

So does Dr. Steve Pieczenik.

Do yourself a favor and buy his eBook American Warrior in Crises.

I get nothing for plugging that.

He’s not a friend of mine.

I’ve never spoken to or exchanged correspondence with him.

I just respect his work.

Immensely!

Is he always right?

Probably not.

But for my money, he’s as close as we get to truth in this day and age.

So here’s the rub.

Flynn has some scores to settle.

The other military people who saw Flynn become a political prisoner also have some scores to settle…ON HIS BEHALF.

You cannot fail to serve your country (like Obama) and then turn around and ruin a guy’s life who did (for 30 years!).

You shouldn’t prosecute a guy for a process crime and, in so doing, make him lose his house.

I think I donated 20 bucks to Flynn.

Damn right I did!

I worked at Starbucks.

And I was proud to give my hard-earned money to a MILITARY spy chief.

And there’s the rub.

I used to want to work in intelligence.

Maybe I still do.

But I’m old.

Washed up.

And, honestly, I’m a fucking musician.

So just call me Sherlock Holmes.

And a shabby one at that (perhaps).

But I take great pride in TRYING to know what’s going on.

Because, again, I LOVE MY COUNTRY!

And who taught me to truly love my country?

Donald Trump.

And who else?

Steve Pieczenik.

And who else?

Michael Flynn.

If you don’t think that Sidney Powell is privy to some very interesting information by way of representing General Flynn, then you are incredibly naive.

Which finally brings us to this YouTube video.

Major Prather.

Major Prather (according to his LinkedIn) worked at the Defense Intelligence Agency for 17 years…and in a very high position at that!

General Flynn headed the DIA.

It might be said that the DIA is the military rival in the U.S. to the civilian CIA.

That’s right:  the CIA is a civilian intelligence organization.

A weird thing.

Created in 1947.

The CIA’s predecessor was the OSS:  a military intelligence unit.

Although the OSS were a bit kooky (thanks to their head William J. Donovan), at least they were putting themselves in harm’s way.

But again I digress.

The CIA has lost a little more than 100 officers/operatives in the past 73 years.

That’s the official number.

And it sounds about right.

The DIA has officially lost 21.

That number makes less sense.

But it makes sense in that the DIA is sort of the cream of the crop for military intelligence in the United States.

The NSA may be thought of as being even more elite (and powerful as a unit) because of the unique types of intelligence gathering they do.

The NSA supplies intel to the CIA, FBI, DIA, etc.

The NSA is a military intelligence organization.

Back to these casualty numbers.

The CIA has officially lost 133 of its employees on the job…in 73 years.

The DIA has officially lost 21 of its employees on the job…in 59 years.

But that doesn’t really tell the true story.

Sure, the CIA has its paramilitary strike teams.

They used to be called SAD/SOG (Special Activities Division/Special Operations Group).

These officers were largely recruited from the military special operations units:  Army Delta Force, Navy SEALs, MARSOC, etc.

Other than these agents, the CIA is more pencil-pusher, wear a tie, James Bond shit.

And I do mean shit.

Once upon a time, the CIA used to help overthrow communist governments.

This might seem inhumane.

Until you live under communism.

In which case, you see just how humane it really is.

But the CIA has gotten away from that mission.

So much so that they ended up with a Director who had once voted for a communist for U.S. President.

That’s right:  John Brennan voted for Gus Hall.

It should have been a disqualifying factor by some estimations.

The CIA and FBI apparently share the same requirement upon beginning official employment:  you must pass a lie detector test…and one of the questions is something to the effect of “have you ever supported a group that has sought the overthrow of the U.S. government.”

John Brennan admittedly had a tough time answering that question.

But he might as well have answered:

“Not yet.”

To my eyes, John Brennan is clearly a traitor to the U.S.

Following closely behind him is Michael Hayden (who led both the CIA and NSA respectively).

But Michael Flynn is cut from a different cloth.

He’s a spymaster.

But he cut his teeth doing the real thing.

Serving in Army intelligence (INSCOM).

Putting himself in harm’s way.

The same cannot be said of John Brennan (and most of the CIA).

[Michael Hayden is a strange case of…well, I don’t know…I just have to assume he is corrupted and coopted to such an extraordinary level that he doesn’t even really love his country any more (if he ever did in the first place)–he loves himself…first and foremost]

So I give Major Jeffrey Prather (formerly of the DIA) a great deal of respect as a foregone conclusion.

[keep in mind…the DIA has had its share of bad eggs…James Clapper chiefly among them]

If you watch no other section of the video I posted above, watch the segment with Prather.

Akamai.

Where do they fit in to this election?

Which brings up 9/11.

And the incredibly strange/significant “death” of Daniel Lewin.

Yes, I know I put death in quotes.

I’m about as sure Daniel Lewin died on 9/11 as I am sure that Adam Lanza was a master with an assault rifle.

Which is to say, not very sure.

But the Electoral College will meet on my birthday:  December 14th.

Massachusetts.

Akamai.

Serbia.

Ok, we know about Dominion Voting Systems and all the programmers they have/had in Serbia.  A bit of a strange locale.  Wonder if the company memos are in Cyrillic?

China.

I don’t now why I wrote that down.

I’m going off notes.

Frankfurt.

Ok, yes.

Obviously.

Something appears to have happened there.

I’m not sure what Prather’s point was on this.

What was seized?

From Scytl?

From the CIA?

And seized by whom?

The U.S. Army?

I should take this opportunity to point out a strange assertion of Prather’s.

I find this one a little hard to believe, but I suppose it’s possible.

Prather asserts that the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, and Marines have all had their computer systems compromised.

Might this have something to do with the DoD contract with AWS?

Amazon Web Services.

The CIA uses them too.

Look it up, you lazy fucker!

It’s an article…in The Atlantic.

Dig!

There have been rumors that the votes in (for example) Michigan were sent by Dominion Voting Systems by way of AWS (which is to say, over the internet?  cloud???) to Europe in order for the votes to be tallied.

Giuliani has pointed out just how ludicrous this is.

And it is!

But what’s the exact chain?

We know there is a company called Scytl.

They are headquartered in Barcelona.

They are rumored to have a “back up” data site (servers) in Frankfurt.

There is good evidence that internet traffic in Frankfurt, Germany on the night of the U.S. election set records for that city.

Look it up.

Find it.

WikiLeaks exposed the fact that the U.S. Consulate in Frankfurt is a giant CIA hacking base.

This can be found in the Vault 7 materials from WikiLeaks.

So, did the CIA hack our election?

Seems to me like a high probability.

Indeed, Prather outlines this dichotomy:  the civil war in the U.S. has already started…and the SO/LIC confrontation can so far best be described as DIA vs. CIA (or, perhaps more accurately, military vs. CIA).

I believe this is probably accurate.

It is borne out by all the intelligence I have personally gathered (OSINT) over the past few years.

The CIA has lost its way.

I once applied there.

Thank God I didn’t get the job.

I also once tried to sell my soul to the Devil (true story), but that tale can wait…

I am saved by the grace of Jesus Christ.

I am the worst among sinners.

Which is why I need the grace of Jesus more than anyone.

I also applied for Air Force Intelligence once.

Didn’t get it.

Maybe because I have a fucking music degree and an MBA.

Not exactly what’s commonly thought needed to assess China’s answer to the F-35.

Which brings us to Prather’s point.

According to Major Prather, only the U.S. Air Force and the newly created Space Force have retained the security of their computer networks.

This is a bold claim.

I don’t have anything to really gauge it on.

Except that I have a soft spot for INSCOM (because of Q and Flynn) and a soft spot for the 4th POG (because they followed me on Twitter for some odd reason [before Jack Dorsey squashed me like a bug]).

Prather then pivots to his concerns.

He talked about possibly-imminent “interdictions” against Iran.

We have heard Q talk about Iran.

I love Iranian psychedelic music from the ’60s.

Before the Islamic revolutionaries fucked everything up.

I have nothing against Muslims.

I love them.

I have nothing against Iranians.

I love them.

I LOVE Kiarostami [RIP].

But let’s take stock for a moment here.

Joe Biden “won”.

Netanyahu pretty fucking quickly called to congratulate Joe.

And THEN…YESTERDAY Netanyahu calls to congratulate Jonathan Pollard on his release.

What in the actual fuck?!?

How pro-Israeli does a President [Trump] have to be in order to get a little respect from Israel?

Ok, ok.

I know.

Maybe Netanyahu is working with Trump behind the scenes.

Entirely possible.

Maybe we should have a sort of FVEY agreement with Israel.

But probably not.

Because, you know, remember the U.S.S. Liberty (you fuckers!).

Back to 9/11.

I have no idea if the Israelis were involved.

There was definitely some suspicious shit.

Zim-American Israeli Shipping.

Vacating the WTC right before the attacks.

And the moving truck company [Dominick Suter].

Mossad had some strange presence in and around NYC leading up to 9/11.

I don’t know what they were doing there.

And then there were the Mossad “art students” (which Pieczenik has attested to from personal experience).

All I know is this.

9/11 could not have gone undetected (and undeterred) by our military.

To the list of Rumsfeld and Cheney (Liz’s dad), we should add Ralph Eberhart, Richard Myers, etc.  And almost certainly Paul Wolfowitz, Douglas Perle, etc.

Keep in mind, nobody ever got in trouble.

The two tallest buildings in America fell down (were blown up) and all we did was waterboard KSM 183 times.

Perhaps Flynn and Anthony Shaffer could set me straight on some stuff.

I get the general gist of Able Danger.

But it still doesn’t explain a lot of things.

I’m gonna have to side with Pieczenik on this one:  we’ve seen one long procession of (unpunished) false-flags since 9/11.

Now comes the pain.

Pieczenik seemed really sure about those watermarks on the ballots.

And I believe him.

Shaffer seemed to corroborate their likelihood.

But I was of the understanding that DHS was running this election sting.

After watching this YouTube video, it has dawned on me just how suspicious Chad Wolf has been acting.

See something, say something, right?

Why wouldn’t he fire Chris Krebs?

Even more importantly, what in the actual fuck was CISA doing on the night of the election?

Alexandra Bruce brings up some pretty excellent points in this video.

If I understand her correctly, she seems to be saying that cisa WAS IN ON THE WHOLE THING!

[Which would make sense in the same way that NORAD was doubtless in on 9/11]

But here is perhaps the most intriguing bit of information which Major Prather dropped.

It is his assertion that Ezra Cohen-Watnick is, in fact, Q.

Or rather, he says something to the effect that there is a [and I paraphrase] “very high likelihood” of this.

Call me dumb, but I never even thought of that possibility.

I know who ECW is (not personally, of course).

Thomas Wictor drew attention to this personage years ago.

Said there were no pictures of him because he’s military intelligence.

It’s all starting to click.

I find the ECW theory highly-plausible.

But then Prather throws a massive curveball.

Maj. Prather asserts that Bill Barr is getting ready to indict Ezra Cohen-Watnick (!).

For what?

For being Q??

A final bit of potentially disheartening information from Prather is that “Durham has done nothing” (paraphrase).

I.e., John Durham has not, and will not, bring any of the Crossfire Hurricane [coup #1] traitors to justice.

Sure, we got Clinesmith, but give me a fucking break…

I’d still rather see Hillary get a parking ticket.

So there you have it.

The other guests in the video are all quite good.

They all have some rather harrowing predictions for the coming days/weeks/months.

All seem to agree that Trump will probably prevail and be elected to a 2nd term.

But it could get really ugly.

Ms. Burke brings up the specter of military tribunals.

I see her point.

It may be necessary.

I also highly recommend the PSYOP officer.

And the big fat guy with the beautiful brain.

-PD

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo [2011)

Elections have consequences.

Thyssen.

Krupp.

IG Farben.

Klangfarbenmelodie.

Serial killers

Schönberg.

4th Reich.

In disguise as what?

Wolves in sheep’s clothing?

Liberalism.

Degenerate art.

Hasselblad.

Von Braun.

Badminton.

Les Fleurs du mal.

A hunch.

Proof.

Bobby Fischer.

Kurt Vonnegut.

Sous rature.

Frozen ink

François Villon.

JFK.

Epstein.

Ruby.

Rebecca.

Hitchcock.

The soul of a policeman.

Michael Ruppert.

Cui bono?

Reee!!!

Henry Cowell.

The banshee.

Charles Ives

Bucolic.

Kids in cages.

But which kids?

Which cages?

U.S. news media only wants to talk about pictures of illegal-immigrant children “in cages” (separated from their families [or those who trafficked them, posing as their respective families]) at the border–photos which positively date to the Obama era.

U.S. news media is passionate to suppress and preemptively debunk children in cages that come up in relation to pizzagate, QAnon, etc..

Why is that?

Is it the wind, or the wail of children?

George Crumb.

Ancient voices of children.

Kindertotenlieder.

Lux aeterna lucent eis, Domine,

cum santis tuis in aeternum,

quia pius es.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Happy meal.

Weiner.

Hunter.

This is about revenge.

9/11.

5:5?

φ.

Regular Pentagon.

Call me Satie.

Wishing to be Debussy.

FDR.

Middle.

My biggest blessing in life was not being hired by the CIA.

A sign of divine synchronicity.

Nice to meet you.

Beethoven had no attachments.

9 incoming.

I got the message.

Check your inbox.

What did he know?

Toys.

There are no accidents, James Bond.

I found a better employer.

I receive no money.

They don’t even know I work for them.

Most of them.

But they got to me first.

They knew.

[Dorsey].

Checking up.

Group assignment.

Mother Jones.

The flowers of evil.

How many times have I been rejected?

This is a divine matrix.

To unravel Satan.

Aquino checks up.

Set theory.

01234689.

Quartermaster.

Ampico.

Don’t run like James Bond.

It’s so fucking sexy that you want to take down the New World Order.

Because they are not elected.

Yet they wield more power than elected governments.

One by one.

Own each agent.

Special.

Own each reporter.

Silenced.

Own each vote.

Legislative.

It’s a pleasure.

You’ve never heard of my agency.

It has no Wikipedia.

No structural chart.

Isaiah 53.

Stieg Larsson was killed.

It goes higher than Sweden.

The network.

Franz Kline.

Strindberg’s paintings.

You thought you could destroy her spirit.

Purell.

The pandemic was planned.

Coronariots.

A science of a 1000 details.

What’s the least-creepy song we can destroy?

Enya.

Orinoco Flow.

Musical warfare shall yet have its day.

It is a science requiring an immense knowledge of clever mechanics.

And each harmonical has a point of its own.

Timbres.

Up-to-and-including acoustical physics.

Not the blunt force of Skinny Puppy.

But a more insidious control of mind and emotions.

Which is as primal as Rorschach Crayolas.

Ghost rider.

Rocket USA.

Frankie Teardrop.

Johnsburg, Illinois.

Never interrupt your enemies…

Victor Sjöström.

-PD

The Spy Who Dumped Me [2018)

Texts.

Lessons.

Spying.

Why does our world persist?

Spy spoof in the mode of The Brothers Grimsby.

And while this film is nowhere near as good as Sacha Baron Cohen’s underrated triumph, it is still quite a good film.

There are some really great action sequences here which rival the Bond franchise.

Which brings up a point.

As there are very few Bond movies, these spoofs must be what the top talent do when they’re not making a legit Bond film.

Justin Theroux is good when he punches into a wall.

He’s also good at the jukebox.

But he’s not Mulholland Drive good.

More importantly, Mila Kunis apparently works at Trader Joe’s.

Which gets to tiki root strata.

And she’s Ukrainian.

Which is doubly or triply weird.

Interesting van work.

Like WarGames.

Biden.

Similar shootout to Tosca.

Great car sequence with Kunis and Kate McKinnon.

And the methed-up driver.

One of the highlights.

An actual “what if” of spy films invading on the real world.

More actual gagging.

The difficulty of hiding a thumb drive.

Suffused with Ukrainian connections.

Ivanna Sakhno is truly excellent in this film.

Funny as fuck…trying to find two dumb American girls in Europe.

Great scene through scope.

I’m really tired of seeing Gillian Anderson in these kind of roles.

What the fuck.

Johnny English Reborn (good film…bad role) and How To Lose Friends & Alienate People.

The bit with Snowden is pretty genius.

Ska!

McKinnon in Cirque du Soleil is a little retarded.

Scene in Tokyo also excessive (literally) and pointless (likewise).

But I really enjoyed this film.

Sam Heughan is decent.

The writing is good.

Good job by director Susanna Fogel.

 

-PD

The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu [1980)

Again we come back.

Revitalized?

Perhaps.

Definitely living with chemistry.

Better living ahead?

Maybe.

But death followed for Peter Sellers.

This was his final film.

And so it is spooky (in a way).

It came out two weeks after his death.

I must admit.

I had a hard time watching this one at first.

On first view, it wasn’t that funny to me.

Indeed, it is a rather strange comedy.

But let’s get really strange.

The executive producer was Hugh Hefner.

Follow the white rabbit.

And now we shall come to QAnon in full force.

Is it real?

Is it bullshit?

Fred Manchu.

Call me Fred.

Who is QAnon?

They don’t mention much about rabbits anymore, do they?

And like me, they are fond of taking inordinately-long pauses between bursts of communication.

Transient random-noise bursts with announcements.

My brain is coming back.

Watch out, world!

Fred Manchu did laundry at Eton.

Eton blue or shelduck blue.

Sid Caesar or Cyd Charisse.

Caesar’s Palace or…

Down to brass tacks.

Tax?

This film is in parallel to (believe it or not) Live and Let Die.

Jane Seymour (Bond) and Helen Mirren (Sellers).

And Sellers in Casino Royale of 1967.

Not to be confused with the best Bond film made thus far:  Casino Royale of 2006.

Seymour (OBE)

born Joyce Penelope Wilhelmina Frankenberg

Mirren (DBE)

born Helen Lydia Mironoff

Live and Let Die (1973) was really the breakout performance of young Seymour’s early career.

There is juxtaposition…because you might know Seymour best as Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman (1993-1998).

Sultry “Solitaire” (Seymour) is hardly recognizable next to her twenty-year-senior “Dr. Quinn”.

But sex sells.

And it just goes to show that HARDLY ANYONE gets to start off classy.

Stay classy.

In our film, the promiscuous Alice Rage (Mirren) ironically (?) gets an undercover job as a double for the Queen of England.  She then falls for the black-fingernailed Fu Manchu and becomes the 166-year-old (?) villain’s wife.

For those who only know Mirren as The Queen (2006), it is worth revisiting her early years for a jolt of WTF.

Though Mirren had been working in film seven times as long as Seymour when she took this role of Alice Rage in The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu, it was still something of a feather in her cap (one might imagine).

And though we might suspect this was the depth of her crappy early roles, it wasn’t.

The previous year, Mirren had been in the infamous film Caligula (produced by Penthouse magazine).

[as noted earlier, our film was a Playboy Productions venture with Hugh Hefner acting as executive producer]

Further, Mirren played a prostitute in the contemporaneous Hussy of 1980.

If you only know Mirren from American Treasure:  Book of Secrets, I can imagine your shock.

BTW…don’t make the easily-forgivable mistake of confusing Mirren for Judi Dench (the “M” of the Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig-era Bond films).

Which brings us back to Q.

Is QAnon legit?

Where is Q?

Why hasn’t Steve Pieczenik commented on Q?

Is Q a “flypaper coup” (to quote Wayne Madsen re: Turkey’s failed coup)?

Hard to say.

For me.

One thing is for sure:  Mirren and Dench both appeared in 1968’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Burt Kwouk makes a brief appearance early in our film…as he drops the MacGuffin (after drenching his burning sleeve with it).

Look to Stonehenge.

Moreover, Steve Franken (the butler from The Party) plays Sid Caesar’s FBI partner here.

Franken was disgraced Minnesota Senator Al Franken’s cousin.

Let’s see if Q has posted anything.

Nope.

Weird.

 

-PD

 

Murderers’ Row [1966)

Why do we watch bad movies?

Why do some films relax us?

What makes a flick watchable, yet vacuous [or vice versa]?

Panic in D.C.

World government as bogeyman.

Rightly so.

And sovereignty reasserts as to be valued.

Though we are still trying to get to the bottom of 9/11, we ask again:  is #QAnon real?

You only live thrice.

And solar terror.

Karl Malden plays the bad guy.

 

-PD

The grey suit in NXNW [1959/2017)

Maybe.

After many long years.

I finally got a decent suit.

But the pinnacle is still Cary Grant in North by Northwest.

Perhaps more important than Dorothy’s slippers.

The grey suit.

Gray?  Grey.

Because Archibald Leach (Grant’s real name) was from Bristol.

Now.

The debate rages on.

Was it Norton & Sons (Savile Row) or Quintino (Beverly Hills)?

And this is a very important matter.

Basis in fact.

Innocent lives are at stake here.

Vanity Fair (at least they employed Tosches for a time) contends it was a British suit.

http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2008/03/behindthescenes200803

But The Independent counters that it was an American (Beverly Hills) tailor.

My first thought is always The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (novel 1955, film 1956).

1959.

Something in the air.

Advertising.

Madison.

Shopping.

5th.

Whatever you do, don’t buy a property at 666 5th Avenue.

Mr. Kushner made that mistake.

Can you change an address?

Can we inch the building over a bit?

666 1/2?

But finally, that eternal quote of Mike Ruppert:

“The CIA is Wall Street.  Wall Street is the CIA.”

What could all this mean?

What could ANY of this mean?

It’s well-known.

But the real danger is Finnegans Wake.

Is it unpredictability?

The real danger is changing stripes.

Spots.

Markings.

Camouflage.

A mask.

My daily trousers are sweatpants.

And then we must bring in Erik Satie.

As dangerous (harmless) a man as ever lived.

The “Velvet Gentleman”.

Seven gray velvet suits.  All identical.  One for each day of the week.

A revolution in simplicity.

But there are many, many hours of piano music to wade through.

Through which.

It’s not just the Gymnopédies.

Or even the Gnossiennes.

SS.

It’s a veritable Voynich manuscript of eccentricity.

Quixotic.

Mercurial.

Bizarre!

But with Magritte we got the grey bowler.

And Max Ernst:  “The hat makes the man.”

But did he say it in English?

Not bloody likely!

And so rail-thin Cary Grant, almost certainly homosexual, looks stunning…dapper…a paragon of class in North by Northwest.

And it is a rare time where I (and many other men) say:  “Wow…I want that business suit!”

Because I didn’t grow up rich.

And it took me till age 40 to get a passable sack.

Brooks Brothers was expensive.

Still is.

I’m low-rent.

High-brow.

A conundrum.

I don’t want to sell oil.

I’m a city boy.

They won’t take me on the farm.

So what am I?

Do I ride around on a horse?

Do I spit tobacco into a cuspidor?

[not anymore]

We must go away.  To come back.  And see for the first time.

What was Jia Zhangke talking about?

Or from?

The I Ching?

Or some Zen text?

Advertising.

Memetics.

Messaging.

COMMUNICATIONS

We are drawn to the suit.

The breezy ease with which Cary Grant negotiates New York sidewalk traffic.

Every remark quick.

Never at a loss for words.

And the characters all pay attention.

From Martin Landau to Eva Marie Saint:  menswear.

Three buttons.

[a detail I missed…too late]

Buttons on cuffs.

Cufflinks.

Two-piece.

The most remarkable aspect, though, might be the “grey suit with grey tie” effect.

I mean, “what the fuck”?!?

It is slightly “off”.

Not the color-matching.

That’s fine.

But the concept.

Or this hypothetical exchange:

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Gray.”

“Gray?”

“Yeah, I don’t know…I just like gray.”

“What about it do you like?”

“I don’t know…it’s sorta mysterious?”

“Ok…but, I mean, it seems sorta drab, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m not in the market for a gray bikini…”

Ah!

There’s the gender.

Men.

Do men fancy grey?

Is it one of the colors they’ve been “given”?

And women.

Do they really fancy pink?

I suppose some diabolical seamstress has plotted the complementary colors of all the world’s hetero couples.

Grey and pink.

Pink and green.

Orange and blue.

Red and green.

Purple and yellow.

Ad absurdum.

All I can say is this.

I feel spectacular in my new gray suit.

I’m a little closer to Daniel Craig, though mostly in the Cary Grant body type.

Or, put differently, I’m an extremely-poor-man’s Daniel Craig 🙂

I, too, would look scrawny next to James Bond.

Which segues nicely into the 007 franchise.

Suits…again.

Whether in Jamaica or parts unknown.

The sartorial fastidiousness would play a major role in framing Bond as “not just another guy”.

Taste.

An eye for detail.

Quality.

And personality, though understated.

The grey suit.

It the biggest weapon in my fashion arsenal (as of today).

And thus we turn towards commerce.

Another run, perhaps, of job searching.

Selling myself.

But at a certain point you just gotta say, “Fuck it!”

I’m a cool person.

I ain’t out to hurt nobody.

I read books.

Big fucking books.

About math and shit like that.

I’m a nerd to the nth power.

I know that.

And I’m fine with that.

Because I see the value in that.

So now I may have to bludgeon the HR receptors with a whole new level of qualifications.

Can I do it?

Can I be a lawyer?

Can I be a PhD?

[notably, perhaps, in advertising]

And beyond.

Because life has led me to this impasse.

We worry about bread on the table.

And some milk to stay healthy.

Heat in the winter.

Cooling in the summer.

Most of all…in all this mess of writing…I am thankful.

Thankful for a chance.  A chance to do the right things.

And thankful for family.  Thankful for time.

Thankful for intuition.

And thankful for failure.

Have your cake.  Or eat it.

Thank you, my friends…for your support.

I am happy today.  Hard day, as always.

And I pray the good happenings for each of you…in your lives…

-PD

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory [2005)

I was very apprehensive.

Because I loved the original so much.

1971.

Trying to remake one of the best films ever.

An unenviable task.

But Tim Burton was bringing it all back home.

1964.  Roald Dahl.

But let’s take a step further back.

Camp X.  Ontario.

“Established” December 6, 1941.

Yes.  You read that right.

The day before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

It was established by the “real” James Bond:  a Canadian by the name of William Stephenson.

His codename?  Intrepid.

He oversaw British intelligence, MI6, for the entire Western hemisphere during WWII.

(!)

Roald Dahl, the author of the children’s book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, was one of the men trained at Camp X (today known as Intrepid Park).

So it should go without saying that we are not dealing with just any children’s author.

And herein lies the secret of Tim Burton’s success.

He reimagined.

I fully expected full-on ball-tripping excess in homage to Mel Stuart’s “wondrous boat ride” of 1971, but Burton managed to restrain himself.

Indeed, the psychedelia of this film (and weirdness in general) is evident throughout almost every part of the film…EXCEPT THERE.

And so I must hesitantly call 2005’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory a masterpiece.

Against all odds.

It’s only fitting that the lead child actor who plays Charlie Bucket (Freddie Highmore) was born on Valentine’s Day.

Yes Virginia, perhaps some things are fated.

Highmore is fantastic in a role created by Peter Ostrum.

And though we miss Diana Sowle and her priceless rendition of “Cheer Up, Charlie”, Helena Bonham Carter is quite magnificent in her limited scenes as the cabbage-cutting Mrs. Bucket.

But Tim Burton updates our story considerably to make it more relatable to the Harry Potter generation (and the service-industry pipe dream known as the “third industrial revolution”…for the “adults” in the crowd).

Yes, we needs must only revisit Eliyahu Goldratt’s “business novel” The Goal to remember the shortsighted “local efficiencies” which factory robots can produce.

By the way:  there’s a father Bucket.  And he runs into a patch of robot trouble.

Updated.

But Tim Burton does not stop there.  Whereas the original film focused tentatively on child  spies (remember the purloined Everlasting Gobstopper?), the film under review seems to situate itself amidst the full-scale industrial espionage (and, in particular, intellectual property theft) which the United States attributes to China.

But let us pay our respects here.

David Kelly was fantastic as Grandpa Joe.  Truly a wonderful performance!  And we are sad to have lost his talents in 2012.

Reading from back to front:

-our Augustus Gloop is somewhat forgettable (save for his Lowera Bowie hair tint)

-AnnaSophia Robb is appropriately snotty as the overachieving brat Violet Beauregarde  [How did Tarantino not hire this girl for his next refried kung-fu film?!?]

-Julia Winter (who strangely has no Wikipedia page) is really special as the mouthy tart Veruca Salt

-and Jordan Fry plays Mike Teevee (though they might as well have gone with “Hacker” Mike Xbox or some such first-person shooter sobriquet).

And that leaves us with the big dog himself:  Johnny Depp.

Stepping into some very big shoes.

Gene Wilder.  Taken from us just months ago.  A truly magical being.

And so Depp and Burton needed a strategy.

And it appears it was something like, “Ok, let’s make him weirder.  Like, lots weirder.  Remember those sunglasses Keith Richards wore on Between the Buttons?  And the hair like Brian Jones.  Prim.  Proper.  Rocker.  Ok, ok…but we want the Salinger recluse thing with some Prince or Michael Jackson oddity.  Purple velvet.  Ok, yes…we’re getting somewhere.”

Most striking, however, is Depp’s accent.  Very Ned Flanders…but possessed by the thoughts of Salvador Dalí.

But the Burton touch shows through.  That macabre glee.

A little cannibalism joke here.  “Which half of your child would you prefer?”

Oddities.

Though tempered by quick-tongued childlike wonder, Depp is still a rather darker Wonka than Wilder’s fatherly archetype.

Yes, Depp could fit fairly well into Kraftwerk (especially germane had Augustus from Düsseldorf won the grand prize).

Johnny and his purple latex gloves.

Not a touchy-feely Wonka.

Doesn’t even bother to learn the kids names.  [there’s only five]

Totally off his rocker.

Makes Gene Wilder’s Wonka seem like Mister Rogers in comparison.

But this is mostly secondary to the success of this film.

Tim Burton evidently didn’t feel making a true family film was beneath him.

And so, perhaps with a bit of inspiration from Wes Anderson, he made an immensely touching picture here.

Charlie Bucket is the kid we need in the world.

The chosen one.

The needle in the haystack.

And it is Wonka’s quest to find such a unique child.

Charlie almost gives up the ticket (sells it) to help his desperately poor family, but one of his four bedridden grandparents must have read Hunter S. Thompson at some point.  And so Charlie is convinced to “buy the ticket, take the ride” so to speak.

It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Enter Deep Roy (Mohinder Purba) as ALL (and I mean all) of the Oompa-Loompas.

It is in the short (!) song sequences where Burton’s debt to David Lynch emerges.

Kind of like Danny Elfman’s debt to Tom Waits.

Comes and goes.

Burton, being the mischievous connoisseur of all things dark, manages to make Veruca’s exit an homage to Hitchcock and Tippi Hedren (albeit with squirrels).

Very inventive!

Sure, there’s some crap CGI in this film (not to be confused with the even more insidious Clinton Global Initiative), but it is generally restrained.

At a few points, it gets off the rails and threatens to damage an otherwise fine film.

But I tell you this…there are plot twists here which for someone who has merely seen the first film (like myself) truly baffle and surprise.

And they are touching.

So it is with no reservations that I call this a family film.

Sure, some of the jokes are a bit obtuse.

But the framing story (the Bucket family’s existence) is indescribably magical.

It is then, only fitting, that Christopher Lee be the one to welcome the prodigal oddball Depp.

Which is to say, this film has a sort of false ending…which is inexplicable…and genius.

It is at that moment where the film finds its soul.

Family.

Love.

Humility.

Sacrifice.

Happily, Burton gives us a fairy tale ending in which the young mind can work with the eccentric master…and the eccentric master can once again know what home is like.

Home.

Wow…

-PD

Spies Like Us [1985)

Hulu lost me.

Hello Netflix.

Hulu is like an inept intelligence agency.

They had the goods.

The Criterion Collection.

But as that oeuvre was surreptitiously phased out, Hulu was unable to offer any value whatsoever to the thinking person.

And so perhaps it is ironic that my Netflix relationship (no chilling here) starts with a spy spoof of sorts, but make no mistake (as the woeful Barack Obama is wont to say):  this is a very intelligent film.

It was a childhood favorite of mine.

Perhaps I was a strange child.

[no doubt]

But we all want to be James Bond to a certain extent, right?

Details disappear.

Even Putin had his cinema heroes.

Consider the film Щит и меч from 1968.

iMDB seems to fill in where Wikipedia fails.

Because these details tell so much.

To know one’s opponent.

But Vladimir Putin is not our opponent.

As long as our election stands.

Perhaps the answer is Stanislav Lyubshin.

Or was it Oleg Yankovsky?

The real answer is comedy.

Even spies need a laugh.

Spies are humans too.

Spy lives matter.

And so we get the provenance of the Pentagon basement meme.

A favorite of mine.

And this film.

Integral to who I am.

I had a cousin who worked in the Pentagon.

I don’t think she worked in the basement 🙂

But God rest her soul.

She is no longer with us.

And she was the most kind lady perhaps I ever knew.

She served her country.

I believe she did something in the health care field for veterans.

But yes…I identify extensively with Austin Millbarge.

In my own way.

Dan Aykroyd is stellar here as Mr. Millbarge.

And then there’s Emmett Fitz-Hume.

Chevy Chase is at his best in this film as Mr. Fitz-Hume.

Frank Oz is classic in his role as a test monitor.

Yes, Yoda and Miss Piggy were the same person.

How’s that for a mind fuck?

For young know-nothings like myself, this was a likely first exposure to the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA).

And it speaks volumes that the DIA “recently” fielded its own band of covert operatives (in direct competition with the CIA).

There is, it seems, a palpable mistrust between the CIA and the U.S. military.

Different cultures.  Actually, a class difference.

[Not to get all Marx here…]

But it’s real.

I can’t define the parameters other than those intuitive, nebulous sentiments just expressed.

It is (very) interesting to note that Dan Aykroyd’s wife Donna Dixon, who stars in this film, was born in Alexandria, Virginia…

Hmmm…

NoVA.

We get Pamir Mountains.

We get Tajikistan.

But before that, we get Pakistan…and Budweiser…and Old El Paso tortilla chips.

And the intel cutout Ace Tomato Co.

And while we’re on the subject of failed businesses (Hulu), we should note that we definitely shan’t be accepting Indra Nooyi’s invitation (“Why don’t you gentlemen have a Pepsi?”) any time soon.

No…we’d much prefer to look at B.B. King’s Jheri curl blowing in the Nevada breeze…or watch Bob Hope “play through” on the Road to Bali.

But let us get back to that old enigmatic chestnut of our youth:  the road to Dushanbe.

“It’s…’Soul Finger’…by…The Bar-Kays.”

“They must be having trouble getting gigs.”

God damn…best line ever!

“Doctor.  Doctor.  Doctor.  Doctor.  Aaaaand Doctor.  Did we miss anyone?”

So many lines in this film which hit just the right mark.

Rarely do I write about screenwriters (it’s the auteur theorist in me), but Dan Aykroyd and his cowriters Lowell Ganz and Babaloo (!) Mandel deserve major credit for the quality of Spies Like Us.

And yet, the direction of John Landis is fabulous as well!

Landis is no slouch.

I’ve previously written about the timelessness of Trading Places.

And I am sticking with that assessment.

But let’s take a break here…

Is there anything more lovely than seeing Vanessa Angel emerge from that tent?

Well, at least we get the cultural edification of some Lithuanian dancing to a boombox blasting Stax/Volt goodness around a Stolichnaya campfire 🙂

Back to the essential stand-down aspect of the false flag/stand down.

And for this we will always be indebted to Dr. Steve Pieczenik (and to a far lesser extent Roberta Wohlstetter).

We again refer to the FBI’s 1989 raid of Rocky Flats and the heavily-armed DoE agents guarding that facility.

Perhaps some U.S. Army Rangers are in Michael Chertoff’s not-too-distant future (to name but one grand conspirator).

“Ohh…I’m sorry Paul Wolfowitz!  The correct answer is ‘The Girl Can’t Help It’!!!”

 

-PD

 

 

Top Secret! [1984)

And so we come full-circle.

As in the olden days.

When we first started.

Writing about spy spoofs.

And this is a doozy!

Val Kilmer’s first film.

As Nick Rivers.

Very much Elvis, but equally Beach Boys (at least on the opening number “Skeet Surfing”).

I would call this style of filmmaking “kitchen sink”.

It was a particular type of American comedy in the 1980s.

Fast jokes.

Set pieces.

Elaborate puns.

General silliness.

The setting is East Germany.

In the time of Markus Wolf and the Stasi.

Wolf retired in 1986.

The year after this film (1985), Vladimir Putin started his KGB career in East Germany.

But let’s talk about more important stuff…like how beautiful Lucy Gutteridge is!

A girl and a gun, said Godard.

And for a sequel, another girl and another gun…

Said I.

Port Said.

Fuad II.

Yes, Ms. Gutteridge plays the stunning Hillary.

Which roughly translates to “she whose breasts defy gravity”.

That’s a direct paraphrase.

What?

We almost get the Lawrence Welk Orchestra doing “Sister Ray”, but Nick Rivers and “Tutti Frutti” is close enough to alienate the visiting Russian operatic singer and his caricature faux-Nazi patron.

General Streck.

Not to be confused with Colonel Sturm or Sergeant Drang.

Jim Abrahams and the Zucker brothers (David and Jerry) strung us along the whole time.

And they directed a fairly decent film here…the triumvirate.

The Nutcracker turns out to be a ballet of literal protrusions.

The prop room is equally literal.

It’s both Joycean and daft.

But I had some genuine chuckles during this film.

They execute a priest as a demonstration.

And his Latin is a knee-slapping litany.

A greatest hits of that dead language.

Legal.  Medical.  String it together.  Make it flow.

Pig Latin.  Cow Latin.  Pidgin Latin.

Yes Elvis.  Yes Beach Boys.  And yes Beatlemania.

Sullivan.  Hysteria.  Hip sway.  Swooning.

Is it a bit of Fritz Lang with the magnifying glass?

Certainly prefigures the backmasking of Twin Peaks.

Swedish as a backwards language.

Like those hidden messages on (back to the) Beatles records.

I want to live in that loft of that Swedish bookstore…

clutching a volume of Strindberg and holding a Ms. Gutteridge.

How could anyone dream of more than two fireplaces at the top of a firehouse pole?

Many references.  The Blue Lagoon.  When Brooke Shields was just 14.

Like the Podestas, we end up next in the script at a pizza restaurant.

(!)

“Straighten Out the Rug” pulls out all the stops…and all the rugs…like Pejman Nozad on vitamins.

An incredibly detailed mock-up of the prison grounds complete with a toy train.

Bovine infiltration.

Eggs Benedict Arnold.

When instead of hollandaise, they’ve secretly replaced the sauce with Folger’s crystal gravy (on loan from the struggling PepsiCo).

While Trump protestors boycott every snack and cranny of this MNE.

But the dénouement is the underwater saloon brawl.

It is actually artful.  Postmodern.  High art in spite of itself.  Dodoism.

We must not forget the yeoman efforts of the great Omar Sharif in this film.

Sadly, Mr. Sharif passed away just this past year in his home country of Egypt.

At least he did not (presumably) need two hours of surgery to wipe the smile off his face.

“Who do you root for in the Virginia Slims tournament?”

“I always root against the heterosexual.”

“Do you know any good, white basketball players?”

“There are no good, white basketball players.”

All of this from the “Match?  Lighter.  Better still.” line which Robert Shaw sweated out of someone to fool his way into James Bond’s presence and trust for a short time…before he chose fish with red wine.

One wonders whether the East Berliners had the jelly-faced joy of seeing this arrogant Hollywood slap at the time of its release?

Most importantly, “kitchen sink” was the style of the ZAZ directors mentioned previously:  Zucker, Abrahams, and Zucker.

Kentucky Fried Movie.  Airplane!  The Naked Gun films (with the exception of the last).

This really is a cute film.

And while most of it would have pushed the envelope for 1984, it would almost be a G-rated movie by today’s standards.

Still, there are some jawdropping moments…such as The Anal Intruder (with the Cuisinart on the shelf [in the jailhouse now]).

Turns out the Christopher Atkins character (played by Christopher Villiers) had gotten all the joys of the Russian sailors who rescued him…including sodomy, Karl Marx, Lenin, L. Ron Hubbard, and one more bloke.

And so we wonder…couldn’t the Butthole Surfers have made it into this film?

Just barely.

Three years later they would drop the masterpiece Locust Abortion Technician.

Ah, the Reagan era…

 

-PD

The Imitation Game [2014)

When I started this site, I focused a considerable bit on “spy spoofs” (which I cheekily filed under “espionage”).

But now we return to espionage in a more serious tenor.

Cryptography, to be exact.

Keep in mind, signals must first be intercepted before they can be decrypted.

Encryption–>Key–>Decryption.

Cipher, rather than code.

[or something like that]

And this story of Alan Turing hits all the right settings of the heart.

Indeed, the seeming Asperger’s case Turing makes a particularly prescient observation in this film.

Namely, that deciphering secret messages is very much like linguistic deconstruction.

Or even like its predecessor, structural linguistics.

Finnegans Wake, by my reading, is largely a sensual text of transgression written in a sort of code language which can only be decoded by a sort of Freudian mechanism inherent in minds similarly repressed by circumstances such as censorship.

There were things which James Joyce could not just come right out and say.

Else he would have ended up like Oscar Wilde (or Alan Turing himself) [though Joyce was pretty evidently heterosexual in excelsis].

And so The Imitation Game is a very fine film indeed about Bletchley Park (and, by extension, its successor the GCHQ).

It makes one reconsider that great piece of British classical music the “Enigma Variations” by Elgar.

Perhaps it was Edward’s premonition.

That a homosexual savant would save many lives through dogged determination to solve what was arguably the ultimate puzzle of its time.

Enigma.  James Bond fans will know it as the Lektor Decoder (a sort of substitution…a cipher…le chiffre…a metonym if not a MacGuffin).

“the article appears to be genuine” [stop]

“go ahead with purchase” [stop]

Smooth jazz on the weather channel…heil Hitler.

It’s true.

In Nazi Germany one was to begin and end even every phone call with “Heil Hitler!”.

Stupidity has its drawbacks.

Donald Trump has been skewered roundly by nearly every globalist publication on the planet, but there is power in the words, “You’re fired.”

Turing very soon realized that breaking the Enigma code was not a job for linguists.

It was purely mathematics, applied with imagination.

One of the most crucial actors in this film, Alex Lawther, plays what might be referred to as Boy With Apple.

There is something befitting of the “agony columns” mentioned by Simon Singh in his tome The Code Book about Turing’s backstory.

In the grown-up Alan Turing, we see the affection that man can have for machine…much like a struggling record producer naming his tape machine.

In the rotors there is music…and plenty of calibration to be done.

But the machine must be allowed to work.

And we must help the machine along by giving it hints on those entities which are “safe to ignore” (a sort of semiotics of limiting the fried pursuit of completism).

Love, as it turns out, sinks the Nazis.

Because even among the rank-and-file (or, perhaps, especially among them) there was a humanity which was not snuffed out.

It’s not because Hitler was a vegetarian who loved his dog.

The machine becomes predictive.

Because we tread the same path daily.

In some way.

In most ways.

Few of us are psychogeographical drifters–few bebop our infinitely-unique situations.

And even Coltrane has some signature licks.

Some runs.

Mystical fingerings.  Scriabin arpeggiated.

Then come statistics.

And megadeath notebooks seem less cynical.

Its the same discipline which made W. Edwards Deming a saint in Japan as he resurrected their economy.

The blowback was the quality revolution.

The next in that manga pantheon perhaps Carlos Ghosn.

Yes, we Trump voters are morons.  No doubt.

You must hide the victories among losses.

Where the chess player comes in.

Hugh Alexander.

Twice.

“You could be my enemy/I guess there’s still time”

Or is it NME?

“I’ve got a pi-an-o/I can’t find the C”

Or is it sea?

I salute thee, old ocean.  A quote by Lautreamont.

Or is it Ducasse?

Perhaps it’s why Ezra Pound was institutionalized.

On the grounds of the future Department of Homeland Security?

St. Elizabeths.  Washington, D.C.

When he spilled the beans about the Federal Reserve “System” to Eustace Mullins.

Finnegans.

Benedict Cumberbatch and Keira Knightley share a truly touching moment of love.

A passion of minds.

Platonic.  Immortal.

But the breaking is IX.  “Nimrod”…

That austere moment of British greatness.

One of only a handful of UK classical strains which really matter.

Sinopoli does it nicely.  With the Philharmonia.

Only a moron like me would vote for Trump.

To suffer for one’s art.

To turn off the lights and watch the machine come to life.

A miracle of whirligigs and glowing vacuum tubes.

Director Morten Tyldum expresses this ineffable humming solitude in the seventh art.

Cinema.

This dedication.

Dedicated.

And this love.

Which leads both telegraph operator and polymath to tap out the letters of their beloved.

Forever.

 

-PD