We Shall Show the Flame Affirming

Today is Wednesday, 31 December 2008.

I.

“For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
In the valley of its saying where executives
Would never want to tamper; it flows south
From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,
Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,
A way of happening, a mouth."

[Auden, “In Memory of W. B. Yeats”]

II.

News flash this day: Gov. Mark Sanford of South Carolina, white and wealthy from the “real estate finance” trade, and champion of limiting government aid, has relented, and will allow the state, with the 3rd highest unemployment rate in the nation, to apply for Federal unemployment funds, only hours before the state fund to support the unemployed would have run dry.

III.

Gov. Sanford, who is not unemployed, who lives on the exclusive enclave of Sullivan’s Island, in Charleston Harbor, population 98% white, and whose sole previous distinction, as a Congressman, was, to vote, along with self-avowed white supremacist and anti-Semite Congressman Ron Paul, against legislation to preserve sites of the Underground Railway, imagined the state agency charged with calculating the SC unemployment rate was corrupt in its calculation, and should be audited.

IV.

“All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie…”

[Auden, “1 September 1939”]

V.

“In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.”

[Auden, “Yeats”]

VI.



VII.

“We must love one another or die.
Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies:
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame."

[Yeats, “1 September]

VIII.

Thank you, dear friends of The Museum of the Bourgeois, for helping me to show an affirming flame in 2008.

IX.

One of my favourite high school teachers, sadly long deceased, wrote in my high school year book: "We, I think, have lit some candles".

X.



XI.

Comrades: we shall show the flame affirming in 2009!

Aryan Becomes Him

Today is Tuesday, 30 December 2008.

Yesterday, in The New York Times, the odious far-right flack (and former chief of staff to the comically odious Dan Quayle) William Kristol, wrote in his column: “Obama has selected Yale’s Elizabeth Alexander to compose and read a poem [at his inauguration]. I still remember watching Maya Angelou read “On the Pulse of Morning” at Bill Clinton’s inauguration in 1993 — and thinking that American culture really was in a state of irreversible decline, as she indulged in that multicultural cataloguing [my italics and bolding] of “the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, / The African and Native American, the Sioux, / The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek, / The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, / The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, / The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.””

Here’s that poem ‘signifying American culture’s irreversible decline’:

“On the Pulse of Morning”

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Precisely to which glorious, non-indulgent monoculture would Kristol betray us?

Aryan?

Poem for YY

Today is Saturday, 27 December 2008.

A Friend directed me today to this poem:

"In Passing"
by Ted Kooser

From a half block off I see you coming,
walking briskly along, carrying parcels,
furtively glancing up into the faces
of people approaching, looking for someone
you know, holding your smile in your mouth
like a pebble, keeping it moist and ready,
being careful not to swallow.

I know that hope so open on your face,
know how your heart would lift to see just one
among us who remembered. If only someone
would call out your name, would smile,
so happy to see you again. You shift
your heavy parcels, hunch up your shoulders,
and press ahead into the moment.

From a few feet away, you recognize me,
or think you do. I see you preparing your face,
getting your greeting ready. Do I know you?
Both of us wonder. Swiftly we meet and pass,
averting our eyes, close enough to touch,
but not touching. I could not let you know
that I've forgotten, and yet you know.


"In Passing" by Ted Kooser, from Weather Central. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 1994.

1.

And I think now of an old friend, whom i encountered by chance after many years of separation by the cruelties of history, and his sad and ravaged face, and i thought, "Do i know you?", for he was almost unrecognizable, and i wasn't sure, i said nothing, because i've known so many.

2.

Pondering, I passed by.

3.

I few days later, the obituary of his suicide in the local newspaper.

4.

I suspect, too many deaths in his family, with which to live.

5.

Big Trouble in Big China

Today is Friday, 26 December 2008.

One of the major problems of China has always been: too damn many people for one nation.

Consider: just to run in place, the Chinese economy must create something like 25,000,000 jobs next year. (That would be 12% of the USA population.)

For some years, the Chinese economy has needed to grow 8-10% per year, almost certainly closer to 10%, and the latest projections from the International Monetary Fund --- 5% in 2009.

Most estimates agree: during the past year, 50% of the jobs in the Chinese toy industry have disappeared. (Go to Wal-Mart and look at labels on toys. America coughs, and China chokes.)

For some years now, Americans have depended on cheap Chinese imports. America buys Chinese goods, Chinese government buys American government bonds, enabling Americans to buy more Chinese goods, and …..

Americans have been borrowing the savings of many Chinese, to finance an orgy of consumption, and a dot.com bubble, and a housing bubble …

And, on CNN, “business commentator” Lou Dobbs, when he’s not warning against the Brown Peril surging across the Rio Grande, is soiling himself about the YELLOW PERIL MILITARY THREAT. (This from a guy who lost "his" in the dot.com bust: such a genius of bidness!)

And the likes of Lou D would enjoy a plunging Chinese economy, and vast social disorder in the most populous nation on earth.

What's wrong with this picture?

Are chickens coming home to roost in your 'hood?

In Memory [pause!] : Harold Pinter

Today remains Thursday, 25 December 2008.

With the most profound sorrow, The Museum of the Bourgeois mourns the death of Harold Pinter.

If

Today is Thursday, 25 December 2008.



Happy holidays from all of us at The Museum of the Bourgeois.

War is over, if we want it.

Throw the Counters and Shuffle

To day remains.

Cheney:



And a song about the state in which i was born:



And:



And:

Holiday Cheer

Today is Tuesday, 23 December 2008.

Another coup in Africa (check the AP wire, kids), a blessing to imperialism (consider aluminum), and here's holiday cheer from Melanie:



And, lest we forget:



And, here's more on the Walter Benjamin theme:

In Memory: W. Mark Felt

Today is Friday, 19 December 2008.

The Museum of the [REDACTED] honours the memory of [REDACTED AND RESTRICTED], formerly of the FBI.

Wait one: [REDACTED], who played a key role as a source, in exposing the treasonous crimes of Richard Nixon in “Watergate”, has died.

Had Nixon, Ford, Reagan, Bush, and Bush and Cheney, had their ways, the truth would have been [RESTRICTED RESTRICTED RESTRICTED].

You have no need to know. Know means no.

Has not this become a funny old world: whomever would have thought that HH, of all persons, would memorialize an FBI official, and especially the day after mourning Majel R?

In Memory: Majel Barret

Today remains Thursday, 18 December 2008.

The Museum of the Bourgeois mourns the passing of Majel Barret.

Dear Curious

Today actually is Thursday, 18 December 2008.

One of my fav movies, go figure, is by John Ford, The Horse Soldiers.



And, not being one to take grudges and umbrage lightly, I'm still angry that the studio billed Wayne over Holden.

"Ding dong, ding dong".

Song

Today is Thursday, 18 December 20089.

The error, not intentional, works.

More Bells

Today is Wednesday, 17 December 2008.

Answer soon, but it is not a film in which one hears the sweet song, "Garry Owen", marching song of the 7th Cav.

http://www.contemplator.com/ireland/gowen.html

"Ding Dong, Ding Dong"

Today is Tuesday, 16 November 2008.

And, in what movie does William Holden say that?

W: Not a Shoe-In!

Today is Monday, 15 December 2008.

It was supposed to be another lush, pretzel-and-booze fueled, taxpayer-financed Air Farce One vacation junket to Iraq and Afghanistan.

W would grimace and gloat over the death and destruction he's caused.

And then:



Note how W, as during Vietnam, is a physical coward: "duck and cover", as the slogan of my childhood put it. While the Prime Minister of Iraq, a prick to be sure, stands tall and tries to deflect shoe # 2.

(I do object to the wide-spread cultural thing which views "dog" as an insult. I think I may safely declare that no canine has ever murdered hundreds of thousands for profit and pleasure.)

W seems to fancy himself quite the rock star. Herewith, The Museum of the Bourgeois awards W a theme tee-shirt: "Piss on the Dead and Wounded Tour 2008".

W. Bush Re-Segregates Washington

Today is Saturday, 13 December 2008.

Blair House, in Washington, D.C., is the official guest residence of The White House. Which is to say, Blair House is the property of the people of the US.

Though not currently.

The Obamas requested taking up residence there on 5 January 2009, to ease the transition of their daughters into school.

Sorry: it’s booked for going-away parties for Bush administration thugs. "Try back 15 January, boy".

In Fond Memory: Dorothy

Today still remains Thursday, 11 December 2008.

Today we mark and mourn the passing, on this date in 2000, of HH's mother-in-law, Dorothy.

A Warm Puppy Day, Take 2

Today remains Thursday, 11 December 2008.

The reference is, of course, to Charles Schulz: "Happiness is a warm puppy".

A slightly more ironic take:

A Warm Puppy Day

Today is Thursday, 11 December 2008.

I'm working on a column for tomorrow or the next day, regarding the crisis in the Chinese economy and possible political consequences, etc. Not pretty.

So, perhaps we need a Warm Puppy Day.

International Human Rights Day

Today is Wednesday, 10 December 2008.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted 60 years ago this date, and is still more honoured in the breach than in the observance. By happenstance, the MoB is marking the anniversary in a most symbolic way: the heating failed last night, it’s 28 degrees at noon, and the repair technician won’t arrive until late in the day.

Which puts me in mind of the billions, activists and ordinary persons, who suffered and continue to suffer, due to a lack of human and economic rights, extremities of cold and heat, malnutrition, deprivation of medical services, suppression of free expression, etc.

The citizens of the American Empire have a special responsibility to demand that the incoming Presidential administration strictly honour the UDHR.

International Human Rights Day

Today is Wednesday, 10 December 2008.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted 60 years ago this date, and is still more honoured in the breach than in the observance. By happenstance, the MoB is marking the anniversary in a most symbolic way: the heating failed last night, it’s 28 degrees at noon, and the repair technician won’t arrive until late in the day.

Which puts me in mind of the billions, activists and ordinary persons, who suffered and continue to suffer, due to a lack of human and economic rights, extremities of cold and heat, malnutrition, deprivation of medical services, suppression of free expression, etc.

The citizens of the American Empire have a special responsibility to demand that the incoming Presidential administration strictly honour the UDHR.

In Memory: Odetta

Today is Wednesday, 3 December 2008.

Fare thee well, friend.

In Memory

Today is Monday, 1 December 2008.

Today is World AIDS Day/Day Without Art, which The Museum of the Bourgeois memorializes by honouring all victims of AIDS, and those whom they loved and loved them.



[Ralph Vaughn Williams, "The Lark Ascending"]