Das Boot [1981)

Here we sit at the bottom of the ocean.

280 meters below Gibraltar.

On a high place.

In a film which (throughout) performs the strange trick of forcing us through cinematic language to sympathize with a boat full of Nazis.

Funny trick, that.

I challenge you to watch this film and see if you don’t also end up pulling for the Nazi U-boat crew.

There is no shame in it.

For Das Boot is itself a propaganda film.

But to what end?

It seems, more than anything, like an intellectual exercise.

And it is precisely because it eschews convention that it is an enjoyable and riveting film.

Indeed, it comes close to being a masterpiece.

It is also a case study in personalities.

Nothing magnifies personality clashes like a claustrophobic metal tube.

I guess we all have to pay our dues.

And sometimes we have to pay them again.

Perhaps we are always paying dues.

Until we are dead.

The stress can drive you crazy.

And there are always people floating in the water.

Which is to say, life is war.

A war to feed ourselves.

To retain shelter.

To ward off the tax man.

To warm our bones.

To stay dry and clothed against the elements.

Urgent need to let some rest.

In need of medical attention.

Eating an orange like a scurvied maniac.

In which you root for the Nazis.

Like Godard as a boy in Switzerland.

In this strange, strange film.

And then the Allied hammer comes down.

And you are shown your sins.

You realize you have been rooting for the Nazis.

And as you watch them die, you are sad.

Because they were the stars of a good story.

And you became emotionally invested in them.

Even though they were (in reality) scumbags.

Or maybe they were just doing their jobs.

This isn’t sympathy for concentration camp guards.

This is a portrait of the poor schmucks who were floating on (and beneath) the sea.

And if I remember correctly, 75% of the 40,000 U-boat submariners in WWII died.

These guys had a very slim chance of surviving this ordeal.

Hard to tell if this is a great film (elegant simplicity) or a shit film (clunky ending).

It’s worth watching, though.

 

-PD

택시운전사 [2017)

[A Taxi Driver (2017)]

Wow.

I was unfamiliar.

With this amazing film by Jang Hoon.

Not a perfect film, but very close!

A very moving picture.

Very much due to he extraordinary performance of Song Kang-ho.

And me.

I am learning Korean.

And seven other languages.

But I am lagging behind.

So we dive in further.

Kim Man-seob (Song Kang-ho) has a daughter in the film.

She is very important.

Played by Yoo Eun-mi.

But the big story is that of Gwangju.

South Korea’s sixth-largest city.

1980.

80.

Something about “hope”.

The “official story” is that “civilians raided armories and armed themselves”.

That’s what Wikipedia says.

So still you see that this movie is (whether true or untrue) at odds with mainline history.

None of the protesters are seen with guns.

Not one.

Indeed, no protester in this film does anything but peacefully protest.

So we are looking at (perhaps beautiful) propaganda.

Or, on the other side, FAKE NEWS.

Which is it?

I don’t know.

I am rather new to the subject at hand.

Modern Korean history.

But it begs a further question.

Why is an entire film dedicated to showing how bad the South Korean military coup government was in 1980 when the regime across the border (North Korea) is extraordinarily famous for their ruthlessness?

It is weird.

Who’s funding this?

It wasn’t the United States.

This is not American propaganda.

So who, then?

The most likely culprit is China.

Means, motive, and opportunity.

The idea would be to show the South Korean government as corrupt and (by extension) the American military as grotesque occupiers.

Funny enough.

In 1982 (two years after this incident took place), Gwangju was made a sister city with my hometown:  San Antonio.

Military city.

Hmmm…

Bringing it all back home, said Bob Dylan.

But, as Godard said (and I paraphrase), all propaganda can be beautiful.

i.e., it doesn’t matter if it’s true…it’s still a good story.

Jürgen “Peter” Hinzpeter is framed to make us unquestionably worship reporters.

That is the propaganda showing through.

Excellent story.

About the politeness and honor of Koreans.

Honor a favor.

Bow.

Multiple times.

Quickly.

And do not bring shame on your country by being greedy.

Stand up for your fellow countrymen.

Yes, of course.

Ahhh, those great balls of dough (?) in Honam.

Jeolla food.

I love Korean food!

Ugh!

Bibimbap.

So fucking good!!!

Before cell phones.

Left his 11-year-old daughter home alone in Seoul.

Because he’s a widower.

And now he can’t call to tell her he’s alright.

Because the military has cut all the phone lines to Gwangju.

All she has is him.

All he has is her.

Heartbreaking.

Nice acting by Yoo Hae-jin.

Taxi drivers.

Unite!

Like the ice factory workers in that Bruce Lee film.

The best Bruce Lee movie (probably).

The Big Boss.

Uprising.

Like in Hong Kong.

People take to the streets.

Very real threat of bodily harm.

Up against an immensely powerful military.

That doesn’t want to be embarrassed.

In a precarious position.

CIA uprising in Hong Kong.

This film goes a little overboard with the schmaltz.

A few too many string swells (and lifted Mussorgsky licks).

Sometime around this point we enter the world of BATHOS.

Like a Schindler’s List remake done in Korean.

Out to Suncheon.

Shoes.

Heartbreaking.

Food.

This really is a fine film.

Even with its excesses.

A LONG film.

It almost comes apart.

But hangs together like a Bruckner symphony.

The dramatic arc is there.

The film just gets wobbly for a bit.

Threatening to collapse beneath its own weight.

Some genuinely great cinematography here and there.

Thanks to Go Nak-seon.

Definitely a cautionary tale here.

Certainly a danger that military might can be abused.

When military becomes police.

Gets a little “buddy film” with a strange Fast and Furious meets Thelma & Louise sequence.

As ridiculous as “Gangnam Style”.

Yes, there may be some things lost in translation here.

I know not ALL South Korean films are like this, but are some of these mannerisms normal?

Put plainly, there are some CHEESY film gestures which cheapen this movie unnecessarily.

I’d like to find them endearing (and I kinda do), but they are mostly annoying when encountered.

The Gwangju Uprising.

Minjung.

Heartwarming story.

That a mere taxi driver (a humble rung of society) could make a huge difference.

Very inspiring!!!

 

-PD

Fort Bliss [2014)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned growing up and living in San Antonio, it’s that I love the men and women of the U.S. military.

And here is a hell of a film.

It shows the sacrifice of deployment.

But more than that.

It digs deeper.

It gets at a very peculiar feeling.

Readjustment.

And redeployment.

Have you ever felt like you are unwanted?

It’s the weird things the brain does.

This film specifically deals with the trouble of deploying and leaving behind a young child.

If you go to Afghanistan (as in this movie), you can’t take your family.

Korea, yes.

Afghanistan, no.

Maggie Swann is gone for 15 months.

Her son is five when she comes back.

He doesn’t remember.

The brain is growing.

Changing rapidly.

It is traumatic.

Too much change.

Go live with mom now.

Not easy for a little kid.

Ah!

But I forgot one salient detail.

Maggie Swann is divorced.

And her ex-husband watches Paul while she’s gone.

But there’s another catch.

Another woman.

Who becomes like a mother.

And this is what tears at Maggie Swann.

While serving her country as an Army medic, 15 precious months disappear.

She has done the right thing for her country.

But her reward is a son who barely knows her.

She doesn’t have much to come back to in El Paso.

At Fort Bliss.

This is some real shit.

Whataburger on the roadside.

Strip club.

Gun store.

Base housing.

And finally…a house.

Temporarily.

Orders.

Claudia Myers did an excellent job here.

Don’t make propaganda.

Just tell the truth.

Well done.

Show what is not usually shown.

But this film equally needed the amazing acting talents of Michelle Monaghan.

Monaghan plays Staff Sergeant Swann.

Makes us think Proust.

Excellent performance.

Tour of duty.

Gut-wrenching.

Takes everything you’ve got.

Way to look at life.

Second tour of duty.

All of the actors do a great job here.

The thing I took away from this film is to have courage.

And also that it is so important to have someone back home to think of.

When in battle, it is so important to have someone to be fighting for.

 

-PD

National Lampoon’s Vacation [1983)

Hello, dear friends 🙂

Perhaps you thought I was dead?

I certainly FELT dead…off and on.

And so hopefully this is a true return.

Many months.

Stops and starts.

I was reminded just tonight of the appendectomy I had one year ago.

What a blessing to have received urgent medical care.

But I never would have known at that particular time (upon my first and only self-directed trip to an emergency room) that my appendix needed attention had it not been for my anxiety.

Horrible anxiety.

Debilitating.

I sought medical help for extraordinarily high anxiety.

And the prognosis?

“You need to have your appendix removed.” 🙂

Not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

But I made it through.

My first and only surgery.

Praise God.

And I powered through.

If you will remember, it was a mere three weeks before my graduation with an MBA.

Three more weeks I had to push.

Fresh out of the hospital.

I had to hunker down each day and research.

Study.

Write.

Churn out papers.

PowerPoint presentations.

Research solar power.

Water purification.

The Maghreb.

Sertão.

Sanhedrin.

Sahara.

MENA.

Middle East and North Africa.

Not to be confused with Mena, Arkansas (sniffy woe).

Presentations.

Transhumanism.

Ivan Raszl (well, not yet).

How Hillary ripped off her campaign insignia:

transhumanism

Neither here nor there.

But suffice to say Ray Kurzweil.  Jeremy Rifkin.  Zoltan Istvan.

Bad dudes.

And by this calculus a commodius vicus back to Elon Musk and environs.

Yes, I am back.

Back to that blabbering drivel.

That dithering dithyrambic style you know and love.

And I am fighting.

Not just anxiety, but drug addiction.

Prescription medicine.

It’s what happens when we max out our dosages.

We take as prescribed (more or less).

We take the right amount.

But the “as needed” turns into “needed all the time”.

And so I have been blessed to recently receive psychological help.

For anxiety.

Not my first time (big surprise), but the first time I’ve had a real counselor.

Someone who cares.

Someone who’s qualified.

Someone who gives a shit.

Someone with the chops to help me attack anxiety.

My cousin died.

It scared the shit out of me.

43.

Heart attack.

Three years older than me.

Fuck.

Yeah…

And then I magically was prescribed heart medicine.

On top of cholesterol medicine.

Real fucking fun.

All of this shit freaked me out pretty heavily.

The death of my cousin was a supremely shocking occurrence.

Was I next?

Was I going to wake up and find myself dead???

Well, fear not, dear friends.

Yes.

During the course of my therapy, my shrink deduced that I was indeed addicted to multiple medications.

I didn’t really realize my addiction for what it was.

I knew I was tethered to my medicines, but I had no perspective on the matter.

And so we started slow.

Hey.  How ’bout not taking that third of a sleeping pill to relax…hours before bedtime, fuckface?

Ok.

And hey.  How ’bout you get to bedtime and maybe you only take half a sleeping pill?

Sleep.

Sleep was the first fix.

You gotta have a bedtime.

Be your own army sergeant.

Pick your time.

A “lights out” time.

And stick to it.

Every damn night.

Midnight.

Lights out.

It took awhile.

I wanted to remain with the world.

Wanted to stay up-to-date.

On the off chance that some kind word would make my soul bloom.

And set an alarm, you lazy moron 🙂

8 a.m.

Ok.

Better than TWO P.M. 🙂

Set that fucking thing.

And WAKE UP.

You’re tired?

Too fucking bad.

Now what???

You stay awake for the next 16 hours, that’s what!

So when midnight rolls around again, you’re pretty tired.

But you get a second wind.

So you push it.

And you gradually rack up weeks of 6 hours.

6 1/2 hours.

On average.

But the goal is 8.

Not 7.  Not 9.

8.

After WEEKS of this shit, this finally settled into a cradle.

A groove.

The string settled on the nut.

Or the bridge.

Notch.

Sleep.  Nutrition.  Exercise.

The “holy trinity” of psychological health.

I had been an insomniac for decades.

A pro musician.

Starting gigs at 1 a.m. in New Orleans.

Fucking crazy.

But now I have an MBA.

And I need to straighten the fuck up.

Sleep came.

Slowly.

Tired as fuck.

Torturous.

But you gotta FORCE YOURSELF to stay awake.

Every damn day.

Finally, these past few days I am getting 8 hours.

Was it a month of sleep deprivation?

Six weeks?

Probably.

But it was worth it.

A hard-earned victory.

Nutrition.

Fine.

Eat boring.

Eat country vittles.

Be good.

Eat your fruits and vegetables.

Don’t go for the dozen glazed donuts.

Or raspberry jelly donuts.

I know you can eat a whole dozen glazed by yourself.

But don’t fucking do it.

It’s nasty.

Disgusting.

You don’t need to be in that mindset.

And exercise.

First thing in the morning.

Walk.

Hey.  How ’bout you double your exercise amount, dipshit?

Ok.

Walk in the evening too.

Twice a day.

And how ’bout STANDING UP when you feel a panic attack coming on.

Yeah, that’s right:  get out of bed.

Get on your feet.

Don’t ball up into the fetal position.

Don’t hide your head under the covers.

Don’t wait for the panic attack to pass.

No more being a bitch to benzodiazepines.

Time to breathe.

Big breath in.

Throw back those shoulders.

Chest out.

Tighten the butt.

Lower back.

Stand up straight.

Hold it.

For God.  For country.

Like a Marine.

Salute.

At attention.

Pop that breastbone.

Tension.

Pops sternum.

I’m not dead.

I’m a crazy motherfucker, but I’m not dead.

And my crazy?  A lust for life.

A return.

“You can always come back/but you can’t come back all the way”

Yeah.

It is sheer folly to try.

But it is “life or no life”.

I am blowing the harp.

I am singing.

I am playing the country blues.

I become real acquainted with Robert Johnson.

‘Cept I already tried to sell my soul.

Years ago.

And God forgave me.

Because Jesus short-circuits the wrath of God.

So now I am onto an opioid drawdown.

Tapering.

Returning to a dosage I last mastered 7 years ago (and no time since).

So it soothed my brain to go back to this movie.

A sheer masterpiece:

National Lampoon’s Vacation.

Dana Barron makes me happy 🙂

Reminds me of love.

When we were in high school.

And the rare God miracle of falling in love with a girl from a couple streets over.

That miracle.

Those tie-dyed times.

Long since dusty and moth-eaten.

Let’s start with the aw-kward Family Truckster.

Metallic pea 🙂

The green latrine.

Not an auspicious start.

vacation1

“You’re gonna see a sign that says, ‘Rib Tips'” 🙂

This was Trump era.

Think Melania.

Christie Brinkley.

But nothing is better than Randy Quaid as Cousin Eddie 🙂

Quaid owns this role.

Drives it into the ground.

Slam dunks it.

The laconic redneck.

Piss-perfect.

“Vicki, can I help you with that Kool-Aid…please.”

“REAL…tomato ketchup, Eddie???”

And the white shoes which act as time machine and talisman.

Future past.

From another century.

Something that’s crossed over.

Houellebecq.

But I got new respect for law enforcement.

And I got huge respect for American military.

Military City USA.

San Antonio.

Here we are.

And these crazy times of FBI.

Las Vegas.

What do you want to believe?

I have turned off the medium which slapped me daily with the message.

I don’t give a fuck about the FBI.

I don’t give a fuck about the CIA.

A useful bit of wisdom at times.

Nay, I am not even really following politics at the moment.

Fuck it.

Fuck these people.

A bunch of losers.

But, regardless:  I don’t have the extra capacity…the patience.

I gotta get myself healthy.

So fuck it.

FBI, do your job.

CIA, stop being such bastards.

I don’t know.

Is that fair?

Which is to say, I’m a nobody.  A nothing.

But at least I know that.

And I can crawl from beneath my rock and give thanks to God.

I can give thanks that nobody has whacked me.

“50 yards…”

Aunt Edna on the roof 🙂

In the fucking rain.

Yep.

That is a rich scenario.

“I thought you were going to tell me your were in the CIA.”

“What, me???  No…not anymore.  A long time ago.  I don’t really like to talk about it.”

Beverly D’Angelo is really good.

Anthony Michael Hall is solid.

But Chevy Chase really ties the room together 🙂

AND RANDY QUAID.

God…

Harold Ramis directed a rather perfect picture here.

No shame.

This is fine filmmaking indeed.

 

-PD

 

Beynelmilel [2006)

Wow 🙂

What a beautiful and perfect movie!

The International.

Yes, we are back to Turkey.

But this film is very much about the passions of youthful revolution.

Is Trump a revolutionary?

Of course.

Was George Washington a revolutionary?

Of course.

But the strain of revolutionary verve in this film is that of communism.

I don’t hate communism.

I don’t hate anything.

But I think some things are not so good.

With communism, I mainly criticize it on an economic level.

Have I read Marx?

Not very much.

But I’ve read enough Debord to get the late-60s version of Marxism.

I would argue that Debord, one of my three favorite writers, was at his best when he was NOT talking about Marxism.

When he goes off on Marxist tangents, he loses me.

I find it boring.

And, as I’ve said, I object to it on economic grounds.

I have a college degree in music.

[which will be very important in reviewing this film]

But I have an advanced degree (above and beyond that) in business.

Am I a genius of economics?  No.

But I questioned.  I was skeptical.  I studied Marx.

And I found the capitalist system to be the best system.

It is, by no means, perfect.

And so why, then, do I like Guy Debord?

Perhaps no one in history hated capitalism more than Guy Debord 🙂

I respect Debord because he was a brilliant social critic.

I do not agree with his economic assumptions.

I do not agree with his Marxist assumptions.

But when it comes to a critique of capitalism (which is the underpinning of globalism), no one has found the flaws like Debord.

No one has completely dismantled the matrix in which we live (the “spectacle”) quite like Debord.

And so his book The Society of the Spectacle is essential reading in my opinion.

At least the first few chapters.

As I said, Debord gets a bit bogged down in Marxism and loses his poetic divining power concomitantly.

But let’s discuss this film.

This is, by far, the best Turkish film I’ve ever seen.

Granted, I think this is only the fourth I’ve ever watched 🙂

But this is really a special movie!

Wikipedia says that it is set in a small town near Adana.

For that, I will say hi to the American soldiers at Incirlik Air Base 🙂

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for representing the United States.  Thank you for your service.  We love you and we pray for your safety and happiness!

It is true.

I love our American troops.

Most of my life I did not appreciate these wonderful people.

I took it for granted…

“Somebody will do that job…”

But in my older age, I respect these soldiers very much.

But let us shift back to this film.

First, let us thank the two directors:  Sırrı Süreyya Önder and Muharrem Gülmez.

They have made an almost perfect movie.

Really, this film is so, so good!

But you must be warned, my dear friends:  it is simple.

It you are looking for a complex, confusing film, then you will be disappointed.

Such that, you must be like a child–like a youth to appreciate the naïveté of this masterwork.

So I would say this:  it’s a bit like a Turkish version of Cinema Paradiso.

Do you see what I am getting at?

It is poetic.

The mise-en-scène is a bit like what we might expect from Claude Monet (were he still alive).

It is loving.

Large swaths of color.

And, perhaps most quintessential, it is unassuming.

Down to earth.

There’s no condescension in this film.

Come as you are.

First movie you’ve ever seen?

No problem 🙂

It is that sort of loving masterpiece!

It is set in Turkey in 1982.

Cassettes 🙂

80s-style clothing.  The Turkish version 🙂

A junta is in place.  A military government.  Martial law.

And one band of musicians gets rooked into being a “marching band” (of sorts).

But these are folk musicians 🙂

They don’t play brass instruments.  They don’t play the sousaphone.

So it is a very steep learning curve (which sounds a lot like Charles Ives in its beginning stages) 🙂

But let’s get to the most important point.

“I fell in love with the actress/She was playing a part that I could understand”

[Neil Young]

Yes.

Özgü Namal.

Just two years younger than me.

She is the star of this film.

Amazing facility as an actress.

But really just a glow–a vibrance in her every gesture.

Here is someone who is glad to be alive 🙂

And it made me glad to be alive!!!

But let me tell you the other star:  Cezmi Baskın!

This man!

He has no Wikipedia page in English, but he is a wiseman.

A humanist.

A saint of an actor.

A craftsman.

He plays the bandleader.

And his daughter in the film is Özgü Namal.

Umut Kurt does a very good job as the young communist.

And, hence, the title of the film:  The International.

“L’Internationale” 🙂

The most famous of communist anthems.

Yes, dear friends, it is that melody written in 1888 by Pierre De Geyter which is the MacGuffin of this film.

The whole plot hinges on it.

Derrida would call it the brisure (if film were a text).

To deconstruct.

The hinge.

I will say this:  the struggles in this film are very real to this day for the people of Turkey.

I would say our communist character would probably today be a member of the CHP party in Turkey:  Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi.

The Republican People’s Party 🙂

Which is funny because in the U.S., the Republicans (whom I support…more or less) are conservative or “right wing”.

So, yes:  the CHP is “left wing”.

But as I say, this is a very fine film.

It shows very much the love which a father can have for his daughter.

It shows the sacrifices which parents make for their children.

Parents will even die to save their children.

This is a funny movie, but it has this tone of seriousness as well.

Actually, the whole film is like a brilliant joke 🙂

It starts very serious…

But the it becomes festive and ridiculous!

Most of all, there are so many poetic camera shots of Turkish life.

Little things which we don’t see in America.

So an American can learn some of another culture.

But also, we see that people all around the world have similar worries and dreams as us.

Well, I don’t want to tell you too much.

I will just say that this is well-worth watching.

It is a bit long, but I watched it in two installments.

And the subtitles are good 🙂

Anyway, it is on Netflix streaming in the U.S. currently as Beynelmilel.

I am so glad I found this film 🙂

Güle güle

 

-PD

President Trump’s Speech to Congress, February 28 [2017)

Dear friends…

it has been a little while.

And I have been immersed in a strange dual-study regimen focused on the LSAT and the GRE.

For my international readers, the LSAT is the Law School Admission Test and the GRE is the Graduate Record Examination.

The second test would be required should I choose (or be so lucky as) to go on to PhD studies.

Quite frankly, my MBA has not been sufficient to wow the employers out to which I have reached.

And so life presents us with little conundrums.

I have a bachelor’s degree in music theory/composition and a master’s degree in business.

Long ago, my bachelor’s degree wasn’t enough to gain me employment at places like 7-Eleven and Wendy’s.  That’s right.  Five years of higher education and a diploma above and beyond the high school level was not enough to overcome the nepotistic morass which dominates the distribution of unskilled labor jobs in the U.S.

I’m guessing this situation might (for obvious reasons) be particularly mark-ed in the American Southwest (where I am located).

So I thought a master’s degree in business would really distinguish me.

I worked myself sick.

Almost to death.

Maintained a 4.00 GPA.

Not only have I had zero unsolicited interest in my skills, but I have received nothing save rejections.

Which is to say, I have not even been graced with an interview.

And so it was some days ago (about two weeks) that I decided I should have a contingency plan in place in case such conditions persist.

So perhaps I will find myself in law school in a few years.

Perhaps in a PhD program.

But I have been trying to better myself every day.

My focus, academically, has been on two areas:  logic and mathematics.

I have never been very keen on (or good at) math.

And logic is something in which I have had zero formal training.

The logic emphasis is, of course, pursuant to the law school possibility.

The math studies (currently algebra, but geometry and statistics to come) are in support of the PhD path.

In addition, I am happy to report that I am exercising (walking) every day.

And I have also added weight training in the most recent nights.

But today I took a day (and night) off from the rigors of autodidactic asceticism.

Yes, today only involved my ongoing survey of Ezra Pound’s Cantos.

Indeed, I suppose I really don’t know how to relax anymore 🙂

But I was very interested to hear Donald Trump’s “Address to Congress”.

This is, mind you, a once-a-year phenomenon in the U.S.

In his next three years (assuming no untimely cessation of his Presidency), these speeches will each be called (respectively) a “State of the Union” address.

Well, I won’t keep you in too much suspense.

If you have read me at all in the past year, you will know that I have become an ardent Trump supporter.

And I continue to be such.

So it is not without immense bias that I posit his speech tonight to have been rather excellent.

But Mr. Trump’s speech comes at a very important time.

And I have purposely raised my visibility as a Trump supporter because of this crucial time.

To wit, many forces have sought and are seeking to undermine the President (at the very least).

The proliferation of protests would truly be remarkable (if we didn’t know the general source and support network for these faux-demonstrations).

And so I haven’t written about a movie in some days, but there is no better viewing than our current President.

The Left tunes in to vomit, and the Right tunes in to cheer.

I am, and have been for only a short time, on the Right.

Conservative.

I will make no apologies about this.

In this past week I have had multiple people who call themselves my friends attack me as a “bigot” and worse.

That’s fine.

My response is no response.

It is beneath me to respond to such.

I have had people question my artfulness.

I, who gave my blood-sweat-and-tears for 15 years as an artist.

It is beneath me to qualify such attacks on my character with a response.

And finally, I have been the subject of surreptitious attacks which attempt to equate me with “misguided” artists of the past.

If Trump can be “packaged” (in marketing terms) by hacks like Mika Brzezinski as “Mussolini, Hitler, Lenin”, then I suppose the lesser Leftists are taking this cue to equate me with Nietzsche, Wagner, and certain American artists which shall remain nameless.

But again, my response is no response.

And it’s not because I can’t respond.

But I tire of these games…

I can destroy my enemies.

In some cases, quite easily.

In other cases, with immense effort.

But my friends have proven (over years…the ingrates…abandonment) to now be my enemies in deed.

And yet I consider them friends.

And I will consider them friends.

Until such time as this becomes impossible for my physical safety.

But all of this because I support Trump.

Shame on you, friends.

[N.B.  I doubt any of them are reading this.  These are “real world” friends.  And real pains in the ass(es).]

Indeed, I need more than one ass to put up with the crappy “friends” I have.

To a one, they are all liberal…every one of them.

And if they are conservative, they have not come to my aid in any significant way.

Except for one dear pen-pal.

And it was she who delineated the brilliance in Donald Trump’s message to me in the first place.

She knows who she is 🙂

MAGA!

But that one beautiful soul notwithstanding, “the world” has failed me.

And yet, the President of the United States has made me very proud indeed.

Verily, never before have I felt such immense pride in my country.

Pride in the men and women of our armed forces.

Pride in the men and women of law enforcement.

And so I could dissect what Donald Trump said tonight, but it is more important to analyze the gist.

I could fixate on the pathetic Democrats who applauded nothing…in their Kim Jong-Hillary white pantsuits.

Slobs like Al Franken.

His posture has its own closet…

Witches like Nancy Pelosi.

“Should I clap here?  Will it look good or bad if I clap?  Why does every mirror I look into shatter upon gaze?”

It’s really too easy.

But it does very little good.

Bernie…what could have been.

Except for that whole socialism thing…which is a crock of shit.

And so it didn’t matter that the Democrats were puerile, impotent faux-testers tonight.

Because Donald Trump has guts.

Yeah, his wife is hot as shit!

And so is his daughter.

That’s because they were MODELS.

But, even more so, because they have SCRUPLES.

They are good human beings.

They stand for something.

THAT’S why they’re really attractive.

To me.

But I know when I’ve met my better.

Ted Cruz?  Fuck you.

Paul Ryan?  I don’t fucking think so.

Mike Pence?  Meh.

But Donald Trump?  Yeah.  Big league!

I may have more formal education than the President of the United States (‘deed I do), but the current POTUS is the real deal.

He knows who is better than him.

Our soldiers.

He knows.

And he says it.

And he never presumes that his job is any harder than those who carry out their orders in godforsaken deserts and jungles.

Yes, Virginia, many of those orders have been COMPLETE BOLLOCKS.

But that’s not their job.

In general.

It’s the job of policymakers to get the policies right.

For a long, long (LONG) time, the policies have sucked.

And so maybe, MAYBE (maybe) we now have a President who is competent.

I know when I’ve met my better.

There are many skills in this world.

And Donald Trump has a priceless skill set.

He’s not a saint.

He’s not a god.

But compared to those who have preceded him over the past few decades in the job of POTUS, he sure seems like one or the other.

So thank you, Mr. Trump!

Your understanding of the USA is really remarkable.

We have been taught to hate our own country for so long.

Enough of that.

Fuck that!

We will love what is good about our past.

And not wallow in our transgressions.

And to the detractors around the globe, you can fuck right the fuck off.

Most of all, to the domestic detractors…especially my “friends”…

Thanks a fucking lot…for proving exactly why Donald Trump is right.

You’re all a bunch of liberal frauds…spewing platitudes while being horrible people.

So the biggest “fuck you” is for these “friends”.

Thanks for nothing, assholes!

-PD

Trump Press Conference, February 16 [2017)

The Trump Presidency officially has a new high-water mark.

And it came today.

The epic excoriation of Western media (and, in particular, the woeful American branch of that diseased tree).

I have largely refrained from treating political events for the past months.

This was for a variety of reasons.

But today’s Trump victory was a feature-length (*) reminder of why we elected this guy.

I didn’t see it live, but I watched the interview in its entirety later in the day.

With the utmost irony, I will be using and referring to the “official transcript” which has just recently been posted by The New York Times.

It’s only befitting that they continue to precipitate their own downfall.

Keep in mind that the NYT is getting their transcript from Federal News Service:  a subsidiary of The Economist Group.

As in The Economist.

As in, that spineless, globalist rag which completely forgoes bylines (à la Chatham House rules).

As in, the opposition.

Keeping that in mind, let’s see exactly what the hero of the free world had to say today.

First, President Trump bemoaned the treatment of his cabinet selections.

Indeed, the Democratic Party in the United States has become the embarrassment they wish to project upon Donald Trump.

The Democratic Party has, it seems, absolutely no cogent strategy whatsoever  at this point.

And so, indeed, the only real political chaos is within that camp.

To clarify…it’s not just a BAD strategy which the Democrats have adopted in an effort to keep their ragtag band of poseurs on political life-support, but rather A COMPLETE LACK OF STRATEGY which characterizes the sum of their pathetic tactics.

Yes, Mr. Trump:  “the people get it”.

Indeed.

We rednecks.  We of middle-America.

Many colors and creeds.

Yes, we fucking get it.

You are the man!

As a student of (and holder of an advanced degree in) business, I bloody well understand why the world of commerce is welcoming Trump.

It’s those trite words which are pounded into every MBA’s head.

Value creation.

Or.

Value.

Yeah…

There’s no Bernie-Sanders-ing our way out of the current quagmire.

AND…

Only a leader with tremendous cojones could even have a shot at successfully pulling off the rebuilding of America.

Because we have squandered our position in the world.

At the expense of truth, we have fallen down a muddy chute.

And the free-fall (while not apparent to all) has been going on for some time.

So we are, indeed, putting a great deal of faith in Mr. Trump to right the ship.

Really, we’re like the goddamned Titanic over here.

But business has to work.

There’s no willy-nilly socialism which is going to patch up our death-wound which is bleeding money.

No sir.

There’s no value creation in that.

Try it out.

War-game it.

It doesn’t work.

Which isn’t to say that rapacious monopoly capitalism is the answer.

But we are a capitalist country.

And China’s ascent has not been due to some new interpretation of Marx.

Fuck no!

President Trump:

“I’m making this presentation directly to the American people, with the media present, which is an honor to have you. This morning, because many of our nation’s reporters and folks will not tell you the truth, and will not treat the wonderful people of our country with the respect that they deserve.”

A-fucking-men!

Yes, dear friends…the election of Donald Trump was a referendum AGAINST THE CORPORATE MASS MEDIA.

[first and foremost]

And this same media is still living in denial.

Their allies are reprobates.

And they reach out their desperate tentacles for shadier and shadier sustenance.

And so, though it be hard to fathom, the mass media in the U.S. is actually GETTING WORSE.

That’s because it is dying.

Death throes.

Donald Trump is no idiot.

His assessment of The New York Times as being a terminally-failing (publically-traded) company is business analysis.

And it’s unequivocal.

But you know what?

The media hated Trump all along.

The old media.

And he didn’t, as it turned out, need to curry favor with them after all.

He spoke to the crowd.

He went around.

He outflanked the biggest, most puffed-up hegemony in the world.

So we’re giving Israel a chance.

We’re giving Trump a chance.

I’m not a Republican.

I’m just a schmuck who voted for Trump.

You can make the call as to whether I’m erudite enough to have such a privilege.

But Donald Trump has taught me to have pride in my country.

To have pride in the United States of America.

To be grateful for those who serve in the military.

To be grateful for those who serve as police officers.

That’s the positivity I get from Donald Trump.

It’s probably the Norman Vincent Peale in him.

But I also see a very strong leader.

A person who doesn’t take any shit from anyone.

Had Bernie Sanders such a spine, the protests would have gone for broke at the Democratic National Convention.

But too bad.

Sorry, people.

You had your chance to dethrone your greatest foe.

And she was in your own camp.

You know, I actually feel sorry for the Democratic Party…

No political party should have ever been represented by such a lousy candidate as Hillary Clinton.

But that was the “now-or-never” moment.

It passed.

And we who embraced the market system which rewards hard work…we won.

[and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why]

Complaining after the fact doesn’t cut it.

Get out and vote.

Campaign.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

If you lose, you lose.

But if you half-ass it, probability is not in your favor.

We Trump supporters took immense heat.

Shellacking.

We’re “racist”.  “Bigots”.

Blah blah frickety blah.

But it doesn’t matter what you pathetic losers think.

Because, believe it or not, we actually want prosperity for you too.

Because maybe someday you’ll thank us that we still have a country left.

But I’ll just leave you with one zinger which sums up our entire Zeitgeist.

You wanna know Donald Trump’s take on the media…in one pithy jab?

“The press — the public doesn’t believe you people anymore.”

That’s it.

That carried the day.

The anti-Trump media (which is at least 80% of the American airwaves and newsstands) needs to go back to their Sun Tzu, their Machiavelli, their Clausewitz, and their Jomini.

Because they’re losing this fucking war.

The decimation is more laughable than honorable.

Unlock your little brains, liberals.

Come out and play.

And leave the deck-chair-rearranging to Schumers.

“…lightweights…”

🙂

-PD

Salinger [2013)

I read every book J.D. Salinger ever wrote.

This was, of course, due to The Catcher in the Rye.

If my memory serves me, it was the first book I ever enjoyed reading.

The first book that ever made me laugh.

[what a concept!]

And so I made it through the other three books published during the author’s lifetime.

None of them made the same impression upon me as had Catcher, yet I knew this was a special, special writer.

One story did, however, stick with me for unrelated reasons.

That story was “A Perfect Day for Bananafish”.

And the connection was Richard Manuel (of The Band)…who died in a similar way (and in Florida, near enough in my mind…city notwithstanding) to the protagonist of that haunting little tale.

But I am not obsessed with J.D. Salinger.

Indeed, I had not given thought to him in quite some time.

His writing affected me deeply, but it was not the kind of stuff that I wished to revisit.

Once was enough.

But still…

Perhaps his greatest work…was his strange, mysterious life.

THAT is what fascinated me!

Long after the books ended.

In my literary pantheon, there is one very small category which holds but two authors:  Salinger and Pynchon.

The recluses.

And so, in the final estimation, Salinger was the consummate artist.

A genius of public relations as much as a weaver of phrases.

Well, dear friends…if you relate to any of the above, then you absolutely must see the documentary Salinger.

What is particularly fascinating is that our author was in counterintelligence.

Yes, by this I mean to infer that Salinger’s self-imposed exile was very much a calculated move from the mind of a trained spook (for lack of a better word).

But there’s more to the story…

Salinger likewise was a soldier.

World War II.

Voluntary.

From D-Day through V-E Day.

299 days (as director Shane Salerno makes wonderfully clear).

But if this has not piqued your curiosity about this mammoth of 20th-century literature, consider the pithy, icy story of how Salinger was jilted, while at war (!), to the benefit of an Englishman [wait for it] living in America…

Yes, his girlfriend married Charlie Chaplin.

While J.D. was seeing men die in France and Germany to push back and defeat the Nazis.

And the cherry on top of that bitter sundae?

His erstwhile girlfriend was the daughter of America’s only Nobel-prize-winning dramatist:  Eugene O’Neill.

This is the kind of stuff any documentarian would drool over.

But likewise, portraying the delicate enigma of Salinger is a task which could have resulted in crumbling failure with any faux pas (in its literal sense).

Shane Salerno (any relation to Nadja…Sonnenberg?) crafted a thoroughly engrossing document of Salinger’s richly-fabriced life.

But the coup comes at the end (and it is not too much of a spoiler to reveal this).

Salinger appears to be the primary source (if Wikipedia is to be even marginally trusted) concerning the forthcoming publication of Salinger’s fruits of reclusion.

We have a timetable:  2015-2020.

40% has come and gone.

You know, I never thought I’d live to see the day when a “new” Salinger book hit the shelves.

And I won’t believe it till I see it.

But one thing is for sure:  I’m buying.

Finally, I owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Salinger.

He passed away in 2010.

What a special gift he had!

What joy he shared with the world!!

It was the real thing.

The masses, after all, CAN (in the final estimation) tell the difference between shit and Shinola.

And to all the critics who ever panned J.D. out of jealousy, a big “Fuck you” is in order.

One more thing…

This review is dedicated to all those who travelled up to Cornish, New Hampshire hoping to catch a glimpse of the man…

All those who left a note…

All those whose pleas fell on deaf ears…

I know your dedication.

My hero is Jean-Luc Godard.

I know.

I know letters.

I know the long-distance call.

My Cornish, New Hampshire just happens to be Rolle, Switzerland.

But I know.

And I want to make this very clear.

You are not dupes.

You had the open hearts to dream.

And you let an author into your lives.

Perhaps J.D. Salinger was incapable of expressing his gratitude for all of you.

Perhaps out of some kind of self-hate.

But I’m bold enough to speak for the man.

He loves you.

Always did.

Always will.

Else, he never would have given you Holden in the first place.

-PD

Citizenfour [2014)

Four days till the US election.

OK, three.

But we must take a look at things as they seem.

And analyze what they might be.

I have always written about Edward Snowden glowingly.

But this film is an enigma.

If you know the history of film, you realize that certain filmmakers (particularly Robert Flaherty) presented staged events as if they were documentaries.

This is known as docufiction.

And if you have followed my take on the two US Presidential candidates (Johnson and Stein can suck it…though Stein has true credibility), you’ll know that my assessment of Trump and Clinton has been mainly through the lens of film.

What we (I) look for is credibility.

Having watched all three Presidential debates (in addition to extensive supplemental research), it has been a no-brainer to conclude that Hillary Clinton has ZERO credibility while Donald Trump has immense credibility.

The differentiation could not be more mark-ed.

[Docu-fiction]

But what about Edward Snowden?

Let me start off by saying that Mr. Snowden does not come off as a wholly believable whistleblower in this film.

Perhaps Laura Poitras’ inexperience as a filmmaker is to blame.

Perhaps it is indeed because Edward Snowden is no actor.

But Mr. Snowden is completely inscrutable and opaque in this documentary.

HOWEVER…

there is something about his ostensible North Carolina drawl which rings true.

And so there are two major possibilities…

  1. Edward Snowden is an extremely brave individual who succeeded in “defecting to the side of the public” (to paraphrase)
  2. Edward Snowden is a superspy

I had read of Snowden.  In studying what he had leaked, his credibility seemed beyond a shadow of a doubt.  Such a damaging agent could not possibly have been a Trojan horse operation (so I thought).

Indeed, the most believable part of this film is the last 10 minutes or so.

Sadly, my “copy” of the movie switched to a German overdub for this final segment.

Which is to say, I was more focused on images in the finale.

Every once in a while I was able to make out the beginning of a phrase from William Binney or Glenn Greenwald.

At all other times during this last portion, the German superimposed upon the English made the latter an almost palimpsest.

My German is that bad.

Entschuldigung.

But here are my reservations concerning hypothesis #1 (from above).

A).  Glenn Greenwald’s earliest interview after the leak was clearly shot with the skyline of Hong Kong in the background.  It is somewhat inconceivable that the NSA in conjunction with the CIA (and possibly the FBI or DIA) did not immediately follow Greenwald’s every move from that point forward (courtesy of operatives under the Hong Kong station chief of the CIA).

B).  Glenn Greenwald is a little too smooth to be believable (the same going for Snowden).  Greenwald’s sheer fluency in Portuguese (a bizarre choice for a second language) seems particularly suspect.  The credulous me wants to believe that Greenwald is simply brilliant.  The incredulous me sees Greenwald as just as much a CIA operative as Snowden.

Indeed, hypothesis #2 would be that Edward Snowden is in fact a CIA operative.  His complete calm at The Mira hotel in Hong Kong does not harmonize with a computer geek who just lifted the largest cache of the most top-secret files in world history.  Instead, his mannerisms almost all point to someone who has been hardened and trained at Camp Peary rather than someone who grew up so conveniently close to NSA headquarters.

Snowden is admittedly a former employee of the CIA.

But what could the purpose of such a Trojan horse exercise possibly be?

One strong possibility comes to mind.

As we learn in Dr. Strangelove, there’s no purpose in having a “doomsday machine” if the enemy doesn’t know about it.

In fact, we don’t even need cinema to illustrate this.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki were demonstrations as much as they were mass-murder war crimes.

Weapons are “tested” often as much for the power of display as for the exercise of weapon efficacy.

But the world has always been a weird place.

And it is indeed possible that Edward Snowden is an idealistic, independent party in this affair.

The esteemed Dr. Steve Pieczenik (of whom I have spoken much recently) has lately called Snowden “no hero”.

I’m not exactly sure what he means by that.

Possibly Pieczenik knows the Snowden affair to positively be an intel operation.

Possibly Dr. Pieczenik (whom I respect deeply) merely sees Snowden as of no great bravery when compared to the men and women (both military and intelligence employees) who risk their lives on battlefields across the world…by direct order through the US chain of command.

But Dr. Pieczenik has also pointed out that some orders must be disobeyed.

That is part of the responsibility of defending the Constitution “against all enemies foreign and domestic”.

So we have a very interesting case here.

And it directly parallels our current election choices.

What SEEMS to be?

What is patriotism?

At what point must standard operating procedures be put aside?

What constitutes peaceful protest?

Who among us has the duty and privilege to spearhead a countercoup?

I’ve often thought to myself that I would be a horrible NSA employee because I would have a framed picture of Snowden on my desk.

Suffice it to say, I’m sure that is strictly NOT ALLOWED.

But this film makes me doubt the Snowden story.

As a further instructive detail, why does Snowden (in this film) feel so confident in his ability to withstand torture (!) as a means of coercing from him his password(s)?

Again, that does not sound like a standard ability of an “infrastructure analyst”.

Snowden does not admit in this film to ever having been a field operative.

Indeed, it almost feels like Louisiana Story or Tabu:  A Story of the South Seas when Snowden drapes a red article of cloth over his head and torso to ostensibly prevent Greenwald and Poitras from visually seeing his keystrokes.

It is overly dramatic.

These are thoughts.

No doubt, someone knows much more than me about the truth in this strange tale.

And so the film is, in turns, shockingly brilliant and daftly mediocre.

In a strange way, it is just as suspect as James Bamford’s books on the NSA (which I have long suspected were really NSA propaganda pieces).

One of the keys to propaganda and social engineering is gaining the trust of your targets.

In a large-scale psychological operation, the entire world (more or less) is the target.

Back to cinema, we need look no further than Eva Marie Saint “shooting” Cary Grant in North by Northwest.

Yes, Body of Secrets (Bamford) was damaging to the Joint Chiefs of Staff and US military in general (the revelation of Operation Northwoods) while also exposing Israel as a craven “ally” (the USS Liberty “incident”).

But if we are not careful, we are taken in by these juicy bits of “truth” (in all likelihood, very much true) on our way to accepting the whole book as an accurate exposé.

And this is what makes the world of intelligence so tricky.

Like a chess game in which you are blindsided by a brilliant move.

It takes years (perhaps decades) or an innate brilliance (perhaps both) to discern the organic from the synthetic in the shifting sands of this relativistic world of espionage.

I can only guess and gut.

 

-PD

Twin Peaks “Variations on Relations” [1991)

The war is not won by logic alone.

Nor solely by florid creativity.

Weaponized love.

Crowbar.

Hearing “where dead voices gather”.

I believe it came out as “oenophiliac”.

Footprints.

Monograph on cigarette butts.

Woody?

No, not really…

With hints of pencil lead.

My favorite.

Carrots for cigars.

King of flowers.

Anecdotal Guam.

A puzzle box.

Die Büchse.

Symbology and petroglyph.

The moral actions of extremely intelligent military personnel.

To prevent loss of life.

The birth of conscience.

Extreme frankness borne of Boy Scout precision.

And yet tact.

Of course.

Gentlemanly.

Palimpsests in cache.

No erasure.

Sous rature.

Under the paving stones, the beach.

Ian Buchanan comes to the fore.

All Cary Grant through and through.

Dear friends, exhaustion.

I beg of you, patience.

This is my therapy.

To watch.

And write for pleasure.

Thank you.

 

-PD