French postcard in the Entr'acte series by Éditions Asphodèle. Mâcon, no. 001/03. Gregory Peck and Karl Struss on the set of The Macomber Affair/Without Honor (Zoltan Korda, 1947). Caption: Low angle on Gregory Peck, on camera Karl Struss (middle).

 

American actor Gregory Peck (1916-2003) was one of the most popular film stars from the 1940s to the 1960s. Peck received five nominations for Academy Award for Best Actor and won once – for his performance as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962). He almost always played courageous, nobly heroic good guys who saw injustice and fought it. Among his best known films are Spellbound (1945), The Yearling (1946), Gentleman's Agreement (1947), Roman Holiday (1953), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Cape Fear (1962).

 

Eldred Gregory Peck was born in 1916 in La Jolla, California (now in San Diego). His parents were Bernice Mary (Ayres) and Gregory Pearl Peck, a chemist and druggist in San Diego. His parents divorced when he was five years old. An only child, he was sent to live with his grandmother. He never felt he had a stable childhood. His fondest memories are of his grandmother taking him to the cinema every week and of his dog, which followed him everywhere. Peck's father encouraged him to take up medicine. He studied pre-med at UC-Berkeley and, while there, got bitten by the acting bug and decided to change the focus of his studies. He enrolled in the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York and debuted on Broadway after graduation. His debut was in Emlyn Williams' play 'The Morning Star' (1942). By 1943, he was in Hollywood, where he debuted in the RKO film Days of Glory (Jacques Tourneur, 1944). Stardom came with his next film, The Keys of the Kingdom (John M. Stahl, 1944), for which he was nominated for an Oscar. Tony Fontana at IMDb: "Peck's screen presence displayed the qualities for which he became well known. He was tall, rugged and heroic, with a basic decency that transcended his roles." He appeared opposite Ingrid Bergman in Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound (1945) as an amnesia victim accused of murder. In The Yearling (Clarence Brown, 1946), he was again nominated for an Oscar and won the Golden Globe. He was especially effective in Westerns and appeared in such varied fare as David O. Selznick's critically blasted Duel in the Sun (King Vidor, 1946), the somewhat better received Yellow Sky (William A. Wellman, 1948) and the acclaimed The Gunfighter (Henry King, 1950). He was nominated again for the Academy Award for his roles in Gentleman's Agreement (Elia Kazan, 1947), which dealt with anti-Semitism, and Twelve O'Clock High (Henry King, 1949), a story of high-level stress in an Air Force bomber unit in World War II. In 1947, Peck, along with Dorothy McGuire, David O'Selznick and Mel Ferrer, founded the La Jolla Playhouse, located in his hometown, and produced many of the classics there. Due to film commitments, he could not return to Broadway but whet his appetite for live theatre on occasion at the Playhouse, keeping it firmly established with a strong, reputable name over the years.

 

With a string of hits to his credit, Gregory Peck made the decision to only work in films that interested him. He continued to appear as the heroic, larger-than-life figures in such films as Captain Horatio Hornblower (Raoul Walsh, 1951) with Virginia Mayo, and Moby Dick (John Huston, 1956) with Richard Basehart. He worked with Audrey Hepburn in her debut film, Roman Holiday (William Wyler, 1953). While filming The Bravados (Henry King, 1958), he decided to become a cowboy in real life, so he purchased a vast working ranch near Santa Barbara, California - already stocked with 600 head of prize cattle. In the early 1960s, he gave a powerful performance as Captain Keith Mallory in The Guns of Navarone (J. Lee Thompson, 1961) opposite David Niven and Anthony Quinn. The film was one of the biggest box-office hits of that year. Peck finally won the Oscar, after four nominations, for his performance as lawyer Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (Robert Mulligan, 1962). He also appeared in two darker films than he usually made, Cape Fear (J. Lee Thompson, 1962) opposite Robert Mitchum, and Captain Newman, M.D. (David Miller, 1963) with Tony Curtis, which dealt with the way people live. The financial failure of Cape Fear (1962) ended his company, Melville Productions. After making Arabesque (Stanley Donen, 1966) with Sophia Loren, Peck withdrew from acting for three years in order to concentrate on various humanitarian causes, including the American Cancer Society. In the early 1970s, he produced two films, The Trial of the Catonsville Nine (Gordon Davidson, 1972) and The Dove (Charles Jarrott, 1974), when his film career stalled. He made a comeback playing, somewhat woodenly, Ambassador Robert Thorn in the horror film The Omen (Richard Donner, 1976) with Lee Remick. After that, he returned to the bigger-than-life roles he was best known for, such as MacArthur (Joseph Sargent, 1977) and the infamous Nazi war criminal Dr. Josef Mengele in the huge hit The Boys from Brazil (Franklin J. Schaffner, 1978) with Laurence Olivier and James Mason. In the 1980s, he moved into television with the miniseries The Blue and the Gray (Andrew V. McLaglen, 1982) in which he played Abraham Lincoln, and The Scarlet and the Black (Jerry London, 1983) with Christopher Plummer and John Gielgud. In 1991, he appeared in the remake of his 1962 film, playing a different role, in Martin Scorsese's Cape Fear (1991). He was also cast as the progressive-thinking owner of a wire and cable business in Other People's Money (Norman Jewison, 1991), starring Danny DeVito. In 1967, Peck received the Academy's Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award. He was also been awarded the US Presidential Medal of Freedom. Always politically progressive, he was active in such causes as anti-war protests, workers' rights, and civil rights. In 2003, Peck's portrayal of Atticus Finch was named the greatest film hero of the past 100 years by the American Film Institute, only two weeks before his death. Atticus beat out Indiana Jones, who was placed second, and James Bond who came third. Gregory Peck died in 2003 in Los Angeles, California. He was 87. Peck was married twice. From 1942 till 1955, he was married to Greta Kukkonen. They had three children: Jonathan Peck (1944-1975), Stephen Peck (1946) and Carey Paul Peck (1949). His second wife was Veronique Passani, whom he met at the set of Roman Holliday. They married in 1955 and had two children: Tony Peck (1956) and Cecilia Peck (1958). The couple remained together till his death.

 

Sources: Tony Fontana (IMDb), and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

[Twitter] -- [Website] -- [Facebook] -- [Blog] *NEW*

 

Canon 5DmkII + Canon 17-40mm f/4.0L USM + HOYA NDx400 + Cokin P.121s

 

Crazy Crazy Crazy.... Had some awesome times this morning. We arrived at the wreck early, about 4am, and managed to get off a shot or two before it started to pelt down rain. Lucky the pktWeather app on the iPhone provided me with some BOM RADAR images so I was forewarned enough to be prepared for the event. Then when that stopped, it was back out to continue shooting.

 

About a half hour before sunrise Simon Diete wandered down to the beach to join us. And not too long after that, some pretty rude people came down to completely ruin the photographic experience.

 

Walking in front of the camera, walking all about the wreck, mucking up the pristine sand, no asking "hey man, mind if we just quickly jump in front of you to grab a shot."

 

It was entirely unnecessary, entirely unprofessional, and just plain ruined the morning for everyone. It really does just put you off visiting places like this if people can't have some common sense and decency to make sure other people are enjoying themselves too, and not making them want to punch you in the head.

 

Yeah, it made me a little angry...

 

Anyway, I've had the 5DmkII for a week now, check out my thoughts on it.

is sad and sorry for the tragic killings in his country these past days. He's sad and sorry for the victims, and sad and sorry because he is beginning to realize what it would have been like to live in Germany in the 1930's, and he knows nothing is going to change now until new leaders are elected, and, even then not much may change, but just maybe, some of his country's policies may regain some decency and common sense. Photo by Frank.

www.thelivingmoon.com/49ufo_files/03files2/Black_Knight_S...

"Black Knight" Satellite

What is the "Black Knight" satellite? It is a mysterious satellite, of unknown origin, discovered in 1960 which shadowed Sputnik. It is believed to have been of extraterrestrial origin, and signaled back old radio waves from the 1920s and 1930s before it disappeared. In short wave patterns analyzed by astronomer Duncan Lunan, it revealed its origin as Epsilon Boötes (or the star system as it was 13,000 years ago).

In "Disneyland of the Gods", by John Keel, he reports in depth on this satellite:

"In February 1960 the US detected an unknown object in polar orbit, a feat that neither they or the USSR had been able to accomplish. As if that wasn't enough, it apparently was several sizes larger than anything either country would have been able to get off the ground.

And then, the oddness began. HAM operators began to receive strange coded messages. One person in particular said he managed to decode one of the transmissions, and it corresponded to a star chart. A star chart which would have been plotted from earth 13,000 years ago, and focused on the Epsilon Bostes star system.

On September 3, 1960, seven months after the satellite was first detected by radar, a tracking camera at Grumman Aircraft Corporation's Long Island factory took a photograph of it. People on the ground had been occasionally seeing it for about two weeks at that point. Viewers would make it out as a red glowing object moving in an east-to-west orbit. Most satellites of the time, according to what little material I've been able to find on the black knight satellite, moved from west-to-east. It's speed was also about three times normal. A committee was formed to examine it, but nothing more was ever made public.

Three years later, Gordon Cooper was launched into space for a 22 orbit mission. On his final orbit, he reported seeing a glowing green shape ahead of his capsule, and heading in his direction. It's said that the Muchea tracking station, in Australia, which Cooper reported this too was also able to pick it up on radar traveling in an east-to-west orbit. This event was reported by NBC, but reporters were forbidden to ask Cooper about the event on his landing. The official explanation is that an electrical malfunction in the capsule had caused high levels of carbon dioxide, which induced hallucinations.[1]"

Now, I [webmaster] haven't been able to find reports on this satellite from any news source, but given the recently discovered photos from Russian satellite footage and the stories regarding unknown objects that the early US astronauts saw, I'm inclined to believe this satellite existed. However, the question is its origin- was it a secret US military project, an artifact from earlier in history, or extraterrestrial? The evidence is insufficient to determine the answer.

Call of The Black Knight

By TheAllSeeingI | Published: August 10, 2010

"Our home is Epsilon Boötis, which is a double star. We live on the sixth planet of seven—check that, the sixth of seven—counting outwards from the sun, which is the larger of the two stars. Our sixth planet has one moon. Our fourth planet has three. Our first and third planet each have one. Our probe is in the orbit of your moon."

–signal translation originating from ‘The Black Knight’ Satellite, Time Magazine April 9, 1973

In 1953, four years before the U.S.S.R. launched Sputnik I, an object of unknown origin was sighted by Dr Lincoln La Paz of the University of New Mexico orbiting the earth. As more reports of sightings trickled in from around the world, the U.S. Department of Defense appointed distinguished astronomer Clyde W. Tombaugh (best known for his discovery of the dwarf ‘planet’ of Pluto in 1930) to run a search for the mystery object. The blip became known as "Black Knight".

The Pentagon never formally released the results of Dr Tombaugh’s study. No more was heard about the object until December, 1957, when Dr Luis Corralos of the Communications Ministry in Venezuela photographed it. The first modern satellites, Sputnik I & 2, had been launched just a few months earlier. Dr Corralos was taking pictures of the second of these modern marvels as it passed over Caracas, and his photos caught the unknown object shadowing the Russian craft.

"Black Knight" was observed once again in 1960, this time by one of the stations that formed the Northern American Air Defense System. The object was in a polar orbit, something that neither the Americans or Soviets were capable of at the time. Several times larger and heavier than anything capable of being launched with 1960 rockets, it shouldn’t have been there, but it was. The observance sent panic through the U.S. military. Not only did the intelligence agencies have no idea that the USSR had launched a new satellite, nothing in their reports on Soviet space activity suggested they had the capacity to place an object into a polar orbit, or to launch something that was estimated to be in excess of 15 tons. The military scientists were horrified, since they were at least four years away from achieving polar orbits and getting payloads that large into space.

Similar waves of shock and anxiety were spreading through the Soviet ranks. They had not launched the satellite and knew they were years away from being able to accomplish such a feat, they also knew that the Americans could not do it either. No one knew where it came from, but it was definitely there.

Three years later Mercury astronaut Gordon Cooper was launched into space on his 22 orbit mission in the Faith 7 capsule. On his final orbit, he reported seeing a glowing green shape ahead of his capsule, and heading in his direction. The Muchea tracking station, in Australia, which Cooper reported this too was also able to pick it up on radar traveling in an east-to-west orbit. This event was reported by NBC, but reporters were forbidden to ask Cooper about the event on his landing. The official explanation is that an electrical malfunction in the capsule had caused high levels of carbon dioxide, which induced hallucinations.

If this weren’t enough, Ham radio operators worldwide had been receiving messages from Black Knight. Perhaps the strangest phenomenon associated with the Black Knight was the Long Delay Echo (LDE). The effect observed was that radio or television signals sent into space bounce back seconds (or even days) later, as if recorded and retransmitted by a satellite. First indentified over 30 years earlier by Norwegian geophysicist Carl Stormer and a Dutch collaborator Balthasar van der Pol, the duo discovered that short wave radio messages were followed by mysterious echoes that were picked up at indiscriminate intervals after the original transmissions. Indeed, the delays were so long that they could not be readily attributed to atmospheric quirks, magnetic storms or other natural phenomena. To this day, scientists have been unable to solve the mystery of the echoes.

Scottish Astronomer and science writer Duncan Lunan, in a paper presented to the British Interplanetary Society in 1973, noticed a correspondence between the LDE effect and the periodic appearances of Black Knight. To go further, he claimed that these "echoes" carried messages and star map which he had decoded. Lunan theorized the messages may have been relayed to earth by a robot spacecraft from a highly advanced civilization far beyond the solar system. More astonishing, Lunan added, the automatic vehicle may have been circling the moon for thousands of years, waiting patiently for earthlings to acquire the necessary know-how to contact it.

In 1960 Radio Astronomer Ronald Bracewell of Stanford University speculated on life elsewhere in the galaxy. An article published in Nature offered the theory that an advanced civilization might not necessarily use long-range radio signals to communicate with other intelligent beings. Such signals would be considerably weakened over interstellar distances. Instead, Bracewell said, those far-off beings might employ robot space probes as their message bearers. Sent to a promising nearby star, such a vehicle could swing into an orbit around it at approximately the right distance to encounter a planet with life-supporting temperatures. If it picked up telltale radio signals, the probe might then bounce them back to advertise its presence, thereby producing an effect like the echoes of the 1920s. Finally, as its first message, the robot might transmit a picture of the area of the heavens from which it came.

images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=A0PDoKiAolxSoC...

The Black Knight Satellite that could be thousands of years old

Posted by prayingforoneday on October 8, 2013

nasa ufo black night

An interesting video on the history of the Black Knight. A satellite that was located in space in the 1960. It neither belonged to the Russians or the Americans.. Some people think it spans back to a previous civilisation on earth and some think it is an alien craft.

In 1899 Tesla discovered an electronic signal that he believed was coming from space. Signal where later picked up in the 1920s by HAM radio enthusiasts, it was coming from 400/600 feet up they eventually found out after at first thought it was coming from Mars. So to start, this thing is 100% in orbit, it’s transmitting, so it can’t be a lost piece of NASA tools or covers etc ok, we clear, agree? ok……

1960 North American System Listening Station picked up a radar echo. They had detected an unknown satellite in orbit. R.Johnson director of the Adler Planetarium was involved, Google him, why was he involved? The object does not even have the decency to maintain a regular schedule like any other heavenly body or man made object we have ever seen. It appears some nights and some nights it does not.

The satellite was in a polar orbit. It was further revealed that this could not have been the work of either Russia or the USA as they could not achieve polar orbit at the time. The USA named the satellite the Black Knight. A special committee was formed to gather information on the mysterious satellite.. An article was put into time magazine about it. The satellite was photographed on 3rd September 1960 Long Island and Some seven months after it first appeared on radar image. On 1963 it was seen by an astronaut going into space.

On December 1998 The space craft endeavour was making a journey to the Space Station it recorded several images that many people think to be the Black Knight. The links to the images are on the video.

The object is still believed to be in Orbit to this day. NASA explanation to what the object is has changed several times. and that is a “Conspiracy” They are not all fake, some are true, below I don’t believe too much said by Nostradamus, but here is one of his quatrains (Small visions) What you think?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=lT4Vq32zlDs#t=12

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlkV1ybBnHI#t=45

prayingforoneday.wordpress.com/2013/10/08/the-black-knigh...

www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=sEuDK...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGKtlB9cYV0

www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=V7t6o...

video.search.yahoo.com/video/play;_ylt=A2KLqIWhrFxS3ksA5I...

www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=M3kXl...

www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=if7FA...

This piece of art will be lost on most people of Dundee

 

A truism is a claim that is so obvious or self-evident as to be hardly worth mentioning, except as a reminder or as a rhetorical or literary device.

   

a little knowledge can go a long way

 

a lot of professionals are crackpots

 

a man can't know what it is to be a mother

 

a name means a lot just by itself

 

a positive attitude means all the difference in the world

 

a relaxed man is not necessarily a better man

 

a sense of timing is the mark of genius

 

a sincere effort is all you can ask

 

a single event can have infinitely many interpretations

 

a solid home base builds a sense of self

 

a strong sense of duty imprisons you

 

absolute submission can be a form of freedom

 

abstraction is a type of decadence

 

abuse of power comes as no surprise

 

action causes more trouble than thought

 

alienation produces eccentrics or revolutionaries

 

all things are delicately interconnected

 

ambition is just as dangerous as complacency

 

ambivalence can ruin your life

 

an elite is inevitable

 

anger or hate can be a useful motivating force

 

animalism is perfectly healthy

 

any surplus is immoral

 

anything is a legitimate area of investigation

 

artificial desires are despoiling the earth

 

at times inactivity is preferable to mindless functioning

 

at times your unconsciousness is truer than your conscious mind

 

automation is deadly

 

awful punishment awaits really bad people

 

bad intentions can yield good results

 

being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular

 

being happy is more important than anything else

 

being judgmental is a sign of life

 

being sure of yourself means you're a fool

 

believing in rebirth is the same as admitting defeat

 

boredom makes you do crazy things

 

calm is more conductive to creativity than is anxiety

 

categorizing fear is calming

 

change is valuable when the oppressed become tyrants

 

chasing the new is dangerous to society

 

children are the most cruel of all

 

children are the hope of the future

 

class action is a nice idea with no substance

 

class structure is as artificial as plastic

 

confusing yourself is a way to stay honest

 

crime against property is relatively unimportant

 

decadence can be an end in itself

 

decency is a relative thing

 

dependence can be a meal ticket

 

description is more important than metaphor

 

deviants are sacrificed to increase group solidarity

 

disgust is the appropriate response to most situations

 

disorganization is a kind of anesthesia

 

don't place to much trust in experts

 

drama often obscures the real issues

 

dreaming while awake is a frightening contradiction

 

dying and coming back gives you considerable perspective

 

dying should be as easy as falling off a log

 

eating too much is criminal

 

elaboration is a form of pollution

 

emotional responses ar as valuable as intellectual responses

 

enjoy yourself because you can't change anything anyway

 

ensure that your life stays in flux

 

even your family can betray you

 

every achievement requires a sacrifice

 

everyone's work is equally important

 

everything that's interesting is new

 

exceptional people deserve special concessions

 

expiring for love is beautiful but stupid

 

expressing anger is necessary

 

extreme behavior has its basis in pathological psychology

 

extreme self-consciousness leads to perversion

 

faithfulness is a social not a biological law

 

fake or real indifference is a powerful personal weapon

 

fathers often use too much force

 

fear is the greatest incapacitator

 

freedom is a luxury not a necessity

 

giving free rein to your emotions is an honest way to live

 

go all out in romance and let the chips fall where they may

 

going with the flow is soothing but risky

 

good deeds eventually are rewarded

 

government is a burden on the people

 

grass roots agitation is the only hope

 

guilt and self-laceration are indulgences

 

habitual contempt doesn't reflect a finer sensibility

 

hiding your emotions is despicable

 

holding back protects your vital energies

 

humanism is obsolete

 

humor is a release

 

ideals are replaced by conventional goals at a certain age

 

if you aren't political your personal life should be exemplary

 

if you can't leave your mark give up

 

if you have many desires your life will be interesting

 

if you live simply there is nothing to worry about

 

ignoring enemies is the best way to fight

 

illness is a state of mind

 

imposing order is man's vocation for chaos is hell

 

in some instances it's better to die than to continue

 

inheritance must be abolished

 

it can be helpful to keep going no matter what

 

it is heroic to try to stop time

 

it is man's fate to outsmart himself

 

it is a gift to the world not to have babies

 

it's better to be a good person than a famous person

 

it's better to be lonely than to be with inferior people

 

it's better to be naive than jaded

 

it's better to study the living fact than to analyze history

 

it's crucial to have an active fantasy life

 

it's good to give extra money to charity

 

it's important to stay clean on all levels

 

it's just an accident that your parents are your parents

 

it's not good to hold too many absolutes

 

it's not good to operate on credit

 

it's vital to live in harmony with nature

 

just believing something can make it happen

 

keep something in reserve for emergencies

 

killing is unavoidable but nothing to be proud of

 

knowing yourself lets you understand others

 

knowledge should be advanced at all costs

 

labor is a life-destroying activity

 

lack of charisma can be fatal

 

leisure time is a gigantic smoke screen

 

listen when your body talks

 

looking back is the first sign of aging and decay

 

loving animals is a substitute activity

 

low expectations are good protection

 

manual labor can be refreshing and wholesome

 

men are not monogamous by nature

 

moderation kills the spirit

 

money creates taste

 

monomania is a prerequisite of success

 

morals are for little people

 

most people are not fit to rule themselves

 

mostly you should mind your own business

 

mothers shouldn't make too many sacrifices

 

much was decided before you were born

 

murder has its sexual side

 

myth can make reality more intelligible

 

noise can be hostile

 

nothing upsets the balance of good and evil

 

occasionally principles are more valuable than people

 

offer very little information about yourself

 

often you should act like you are sexless

 

old friends are better left in the past

 

opacity is an irresistible challenge

 

pain can be a very positive thing

 

people are boring unless they are extremists

 

people are nuts if they think they are important

 

people are responsible for what they do unless they are insane

 

people who don't work with their hands are parasites

 

people who go crazy are too sensitive

 

people won't behave if they have nothing to lose

 

physical culture is second best

 

planning for the future is escapism

 

playing it safe can cause a lot of damage in the long run

 

politics is used for personal gain

 

potential counts for nothing until it's realized

 

private property created crime

 

pursuing pleasure for the sake of pleasure will ruin you

 

push yourself to the limit as often as possible

 

raise boys and girls the same way

 

random mating is good for debunking sex myths

 

rechanneling destructive impulses is a sign of maturity

 

recluses always get weak

 

redistributing wealth is imperative

 

relativity is no boon to mankind

 

religion causes as many problems as it solves

 

remember you always have freedom of choice

 

repetition is the best way to learn

 

resolutions serve to ease our conscience

 

revolution begins with changes in the individual

 

romantic love was invented to manipulate women

 

routine is a link with the past

 

routine small excesses are worse than then the occasional debauch

 

sacrificing yourself for a bad cause is not a moral act

 

salvation can't be bought and sold

 

self-awareness can be crippling

 

self-contempt can do more harm than good

 

selfishness is the most basic motivation

 

selflessness is the highest achievement

 

separatism is the way to a new beginning

 

sex differences are here to stay

 

sin is a means of social control

 

slipping into madness is good for the sake of comparison

 

sloppy thinking gets worse over time

 

solitude is enriching

 

sometimes science advances faster than it should

 

sometimes things seem to happen of their own accord

 

spending too much time on self-improvement is antisocial

 

starvation is nature's way

 

stasis is a dream state

 

sterilization is a weapon of the rulers

 

strong emotional attachment stems from basic insecurity

 

stupid people shouldn't breed

 

survival of the fittest applies to men and animals

 

symbols are more meaningful than things themselves

 

taking a strong stand publicizes the opposite position

 

talking is used to hide one's inability to act

 

teasing people sexually can have ugly consequences

 

technology will make or break us

 

the cruelest disappointment is when you let yourself down

 

the desire to reproduce is a death wish

 

the family is living on borrowed time

 

the idea of revolution is an adolescent fantasy

 

the idea of transcendence is used to obscure oppression

 

the idiosyncratic has lost its authority

 

the most profound things are inexpressible

 

the mundane is to be cherished

 

the new is nothing but a restatement of the old

 

the only way to be pure is to stay by yourself

 

the sum of your actions determines what you are

 

the unattainable is invariable attractive

 

the world operates according to discoverable laws

 

there are too few immutable truths today

 

there's nothing except what you sense

 

there's nothing redeeming in toil

 

thinking too much can only cause problems

 

threatening someone sexually is a horrible act

 

timidity is laughable

 

to disagree presupposes moral integrity

 

to volunteer is reactionary

 

torture is barbaric

 

trading a life for a life is fair enough

 

true freedom is frightful

 

unique things must be the most valuable

 

unquestioning love demonstrates largesse of spirit

 

using force to stop force is absurd

 

violence is permissible even desirable occasionally

 

war is a purification rite

 

we must make sacrifices to maintain our quality of life

 

when something terrible happens people wake up

 

wishing things away is not effective

 

with perseverance you can discover any truth

 

words tend to be inadequate

 

worrying can help you prepare

 

you are a victim of the rules you live by

 

you are guileless in your dreams

 

you are responsible for constituting the meaning of things

 

you are the past present and future

 

you can live on through your descendants

 

you can't expect people to be something they're not

 

you can't fool others if you're fooling yourself

 

you don't know what's what until you support yourself

 

you have to hurt others to be extraordinary

 

you must be intimate with a token few

 

you must disagree with authority figures

 

you must have one grand passion

 

you must know where you stop and the world begins

 

you can understand someone of your sex only

 

you owe the world not the other way around

 

you should study as much as possible

 

your actions ae pointless if no one notices

 

your oldest fears are the worst ones

  

In the good old days the chavs had the decency to actually deface places with skill! Not like our lightweight modern counterparts!

 

Eeee the youth of today eh!

 

Bigger is better

  

-

Story written by Gaetano P. Matteazzi.

-

 

Most little boys dream of one day stepping inside their daddy’s shoes…and trying them on for size. Two of my all time favourite family photos are of David and Michael, when they were each 3 years old, standing in my shoes. I melt whenever I see those pictures.

I know when I was a little boy…I tried on my Papa’s shoes. They were too big for me. I always dreamed of one day fitting in them. But…even now…although my feet are actually larger than those of my father…Papa’s shoes are still too big…way too big…for me to ever fill. You see…

My father grew up during the depression and World War II in northern Italy. There was no time to play in my father’s youth…it was a time of poverty…a time of war…a time of struggling just to survive. He was 5 years old when he started to work on the farm, tending after cattle and ploughing the fields. He was 12 years old when war broke out…he was 18 when it ended. I have heard the atrocities that my poor father saw as a child…I will not repeat them here. Let me just say, no child should be exposed to what my father witnessed with his own eyes. Yet, to this day he never speaks with resentment as to how he was treated or what he saw. My dad taught me that war is horrible, that it brings out the worst in mankind, but one should forgive, work hard, help others, and judge a man not by his nationality, colour, or creed, but by his labour and integrity.

My father was a top student but a grade 4 education was all that was available at the time. He went no further. To this day, he can barely read or write English. But never assume he is stupid. My dad is very bright. I have 3 university degrees, but I have to be on my “A game” to even have a chance of beating him in a debate.

My father immigrated to Canada when he was 25 because there was no economic opportunity at the time. Like most immigrants, he dreamed of a better life for himself, and his future family. So, he packed a suitcase full of little more than wishes and aspirations and set sail for a new land – a land with a different set of languages, customs, and culture. It was also a land…without his beloved family or friends. My dad left for Canada…alone…knowing no English, no French and no one…at all.

My father was working on the rails in Alberta within a week of arriving in Canada. He worked there for 2 years and then moved to Ontario where he worked as a bricklayer and later in a factory. He sponsored and supported a brother, a sister and his future wife, to come to Canada, while sending a portion of his income to assist his family in Italy.

My father loved Canada…but he was often wounded by the racism that he encountered in those early years. Yet, he taught me not to fight back with fists…but with decency, reason and intellect.

My father has hands that are large, strong and rough…and some of his fingers are slightly twisted out of shape. That is the product of years of hard manual labour. I recall as a boy he would say to me, “See these hands?” “Don’t be like me…go to school…be better than me”. At the time, these comments did not always mean much. However, years later whenever I was tired or fed up with studying, I could hear my father’s voice saying “See these hands…don’t be like me…be better than me”. I would feel ashamed for having felt sorry for myself and would move on. The funny thing is, I could think of no one whom I would rather be like than my dad. I still can’t.

So you see…how could I…a man not worthy to even stand in my father’s shadow…ever be able…to stand in his shoes? Even if I could…I would never dream of it…for Papa never had his first pair of shoes…until he was 18.

   

June 2010.

  

-

On Explore - thanks all!

Sikhism originated in the 15th century, in the Punjab region by Guru Nanak, who preached ideas that were radical for his age: he denounced Hinduism's oppressive caste system and Islam's gender discrimination, preaching that all people can commune with the divine equally, without the intervention of rituals or priests. The Sikh faith is a monotheistic religion, meaning Sikhs worship one God. The three core pillars of Sikhism are: vaṇḍ chakkō (sharing with others, helping those in need, as well as participating as part of a community), kirat karō (earning/making a living honestly, without exploitation or fraud, and speaking the truth at all times) and naam japna (meditating on God’s name to live a life of decency and humility).

The temporary distractions of the material world are seen as an illusion. The qualities of ego, anger, greed, attachment and lust are known as the Five Thieves that rob a person of their ability to realize their oneness with God and creation. Sikhs work to counteract the temptations of these qualities through the values of service, equality, and seeking justice for all. Sikhs also believe that one’s form on Earth is only a temporary vessel for the eternal soul. Thus, the death of the physical body is a natural part of the life cycle, while the soul remains. Death is not an end, but merely the progression of the soul on its journey toward God.

Nine more gurus succeeded Guru Nanak (Angad, Amar Das, Ram Das, Arjan, Har Gobind, Har Rai, Har Krishan, Tegh Bahadur, and Gobind Singh), and continued to spread his teachings across the world.

The last guru, Guru Gobind Singh, named the Sikh sacred text, the Guru Granth Sahib, to be the eternal Guru that would guide the Sikhs going forward. It consists of 1,430 Anks, or pages, and 6,000 Sabads, or line compositions, all are written in poetic verse and are aligning to the rhythmic forms of ancient north Indian classical music. At the core of the Guru Granth Sahib is a yearning for a world governed by divine justice, without oppression of any kind.

The final living guru, Gobind Singh, also established the Khalsa, or order of Sikh soldier-saints. They are recognizable by "The 5 k's," their physical articles of faith: Kesh (unshorn hair and beard), Kirpan (ceremonial sword), Kangha (comb), Kara (steel bracelet) and Kachha (drawers). The Dastar, or turban, is considered a spiritual crown, a token of remembrance of the Sikh principles.

 

Subathu, Himachal Pradesh, India

© John C. Mejia, All rights reserved This is a copyrighted image with all rights reserved. Do NOT use this image on any website, blog, Facebook, Tumblr or ANY other type of media without my explicit written permission. Contact me...and let's talk. I'm a reasonable person.

 

We spottted this fellow perched in a tree on the opposite side of the Wenatchee River. Luckily, he stayed around long enough for us to turn around and get our gear out. It wasn't long before he took flight just as I got my focus locked in on him! He at least had the decency to finish his dump before taking off! :-)

 

If it were a perfect world, I would gladly leave my normally unobtrusive watermark off in a corner. But sadly, it is not. And so I am forced to now place it front & center to discourage dishonest people from image theft and cropping watermarks. My apologies to image loving fans everywhere...I trust you will understand. Help fight this by reporting such abuses immediately!

Americans have called on us to marshal the forces of decency and the forces of fairness. To marshal the forces of science and the forces of hope in the great battles of our time

Our Daily Challenge 9-15 July :Opposites

 

How times have changed! And now we are told to cover up, not for decency but safety concerns about cancers.

This image is copyright, all rights reserved, and not part of the public domain. Any use, linking to, or posting of this image is prohibited without my consent. If you want to use this image in any fashion, please have the common courtesy and decency to ask.

 

Indian Creek, Indian Beach, Ecola State Park, Cannon Beach, Oregon

 

I hope this 4 foot waterfall over a huge log along Indian Creek qualifies as a Waterfall Wednesday post? It was a fun day celebrating my 23rd (x2) birthday at the beach on a nice Spring day. After a visit to Indian Beach I went to the Ecola Park bluff and did about 3 hours of Whale watching. It was cool watching these big Grey Whales splashing around although even with my big lens they were far enough away that they still appeared tiny in the frame. To end the day I celebrated with a nice steak dinner topped only by blueberry pie and a waitress singing happy birthday to me. Just a really great day of relaxation and peacefulness.

 

Happy Waterfall Wednesday Everybody!

 

3-Stop ND filter stacked with my Polarizer to control the water from blowing out as well as slowing the exposure time and getting me that deep blue in the sky.

Fascism - The Rebirth of the Dark Phoenix - The Legacy by Daniel Arrhakis (2024)

 

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Beginning on May 10, 1933, Nazi-dominated student groups carried out public burnings of books they claimed were “un-German.” The book burnings took place in 34 university towns and cities. Works of prominent Jewish, liberal, and leftist writers ended up in the bonfires. The book burnings stood as a powerful symbol of Nazi intolerance and censorship.

 

Book burning refers to the ritual destruction by fire of books or other written materials. Usually carried out in a public context, the burning of books represents an element of censorship and usually proceeds from a cultural, religious, or political opposition to the materials in question.

 

These campaigns were essential to discredit any ideology that differed from the foundations of a "pure" national language and culture that the regime was trying to implement. Placards publicized propaganda, which attacked “Jewish intellectualism,” asserted the need to “purify” the German language and literature, and demanded that universities be centers of affirmation of traditional German values ​​- The German nationalism.

In Berlin, some 40,000 persons gathered in the Opernplatz to hear Joseph Goebbels deliver a fiery address: “No to decadence and moral corruption!” Goebbels took advantage of the crowd. “Yes to decency and morality in family and state! which in the case of Portugal took the meaning of God, Country and Family! - A motto that reflected the dignity of traditional values.

 

With the resurgence of the far right and fascist movements, intimidating and discriminatory techniques have returned again in recent years, once again raising the banners of Christian morality.

 

Personalities and institutions from the world of culture in Spain warned of "the return of censorship that attacks freedom of expression" in municipalities governed by the right and extreme right, namely VOX. Among these personalities are the film director Pedro Almodóvar, the actresses Alba Flores and Leonor Watling or the musician Joan Manuel Serrat, who in July 2023 spread a manifesto, through social media, following news of cancellations of theatrical or screening of films in several municipalities, which the city councils in question justified with "budgetary issues". This was the case with the cancellation of a theater performance based on the work "Orlando", by Virginia Woolf, in Valdemorillo town hall, in the Madrid region.

 

In Portugal, the persecution of authors of LGBTI books as well as the interruption of literary presentations or vandalization of exhibitions has been mainly linked to the Habeas Corpus Group of Former Judge Rui Fonseca e Castro as well as other groups.

 

In Évora in June 2023 Three men vandalized the work of the exhibition about the LGBT+ community on the eve of the march (Pride) in Évora. The suspects took the city hall employee who was there hostage, verbally attacking him. - "Practically everything was destroyed. Few pieces survived. It was an open attempt to scare us and cause fear through hatred" - One of the organizers lamented.

 

But pressure has also been applied to publishers, educational establishments and even city halls.

Children's book writer Mariana Jones filed a complaint with the PSP against "threats and intimidation" that she has been the target of since October 2023, because of the book "O Pedro Gosta do Afonso" ( in English "Peter Likes Afonso"); the case is already in the hands of the Public Prosecutor's Office.

The case took on more frightening proportions for the author when, on June 1, 2024, Children's Day, Mariana Jones was at the Lisbon Book Fair presenting another book about Rui Nabeiro, entitled "O avô Rui. O Senhor do Café" (In English “Grandpa Rui” about Rui Nabeiro in a book for Children) , published by Don Quixote, and was directly questioned by members of Habeas Corpus, filming her "an inch" from her face and shouting her name, calling her a "promoter of child homosexuality and pedophilia".

 

Ana Rita Almeida, author of the book "Mamã, I want to be a boy" will file a complaint against members of the Habeas Corpus association, after they invaded a book presentation at the Centro Cultural Raiano, in Idanha-a-Nova in August 2024.

 

Following these developments also in Portugal, against "intimidation", Culture entities asked the Government for "urgent" measures to stop attacks from the extreme right. Around fifty entities signed the letter “for the freedom to write, to publish, to read”, where the Portuguese Ministers of Justice and Internal Administration are asked to take “urgent measures to prevent the continuation” of extreme attacks right to authors and librarians.

 

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Fascismo - O Renascimento da Fênix Negra - O Legado by Daniel Arrhakis (2024)

 

Começando em 10 de maio de 1933, grupos estudantis dominados pelos nazistas realizaram queimadas públicas de livros que eles alegaram serem "não alemães". As queimadas de livros ocorreram em 34 cidades universitárias. Obras de escritores judeus, liberais e esquerdistas proeminentes acabaram nas fogueiras. As queimadas de livros permaneceram como um símbolo poderoso da intolerância e censura nazistas.

 

A queima de livros referia-se à destruição ritual pelo fogo de livros ou outros materiais escritos. Geralmente realizada em um contexto público, a queima de livros representa um elemento de censura e geralmente procede de uma oposição cultural, religiosa ou política aos materiais em questão.

 

Essas campanhas foram essenciais para desacreditar qualquer ideologia que diferisse dos fundamentos de uma língua e cultura nacional "pura" que o regime estava tentando implementar. Cartazes divulgavam propaganda, que atacava o “intelectualismo judaico”, afirmava a necessidade de “purificar” a língua e a literatura alemãs e exigia que as universidades fossem centros de afirmação dos valores tradicionais alemães - O Nacionalismo Alemão.

Em Berlim, cerca de 40.000 pessoas se reuniram na Opernplatz para ouvir Joseph Goebbels fazer um discurso inflamado: “Não à decadência e à corrupção moral!” Goebbels aproveitou a presença da multidão - “Sim à decência e à moral na família e no estado!" ; que no caso de Portugal assumiu o significado de Deus, Pátria e Família! - Um lema que refletia a "dignidade" dos valores tradicionais.

 

Com o resurgimento da extema direita e dos movimentos fascistas, as tecnicas intimidatórias e discriminatórias voltaram outra vez nos últimos anos levantando de novo as bandeiras da moralidade cristã

 

Personalidades e instituições do mundo da cultura na Espanha alertaram para “o retorno da censura que ataca a liberdade de expressão” em municípios governados pela direita e extrema direita, nomeadamente o VOX. Entre essas personalidades estão o cineasta Pedro Almodóvar, as atrizes Alba Flores e Leonor Watling ou o músico Joan Manuel Serrat, que em julho de 2023 divulgaram um manifesto, através das redes sociais, na sequência de notícias de cancelamentos de espetáculos teatrais ou de exibição de filmes em vários municípios, que as câmaras municipais em causa justificaram com "questões orçamentais". Foi o caso do cancelamento de um espetáculo teatral baseado na obra "Orlando", de Virginia Woolf, na Câmara Municipal de Valdemorillo, na região de Madrid.

 

Em Portugal, a perseguição a autores de livros LGBTI, bem como a interrupção de apresentações literárias ou a vandalização de exposições tem estado principalmente ligada ao Grupo de Habeas Corpus do ex-juiz Rui Fonseca e Castro, bem como a outros grupos.

 

Em Évora, em junho de 2023, três homens vandalizaram a obra da exposição sobre a comunidade LGBT+ na véspera da marcha (Orgulho Gay) em Évora. Os suspeitos fizeram refém o funcionário da Câmara Municipal que ali se encontrava, agredindo-o verbalmente. - "Praticamente tudo foi destruído. Poucos pedaços sobreviveram. Foi uma tentativa aberta de nos assustar e causar medo através do ódio" - lamentou um dos organizadores.

 

Mas a pressão também tem sido aplicada a editoras, estabelecimentos de ensino e até câmaras municipais.

A escritora de livros infantis Mariana Jones apresentou queixa na PSP contra "ameaças e intimidações" de que tem sido alvo desde outubro de 2023, por causa do livro "O Pedro Gosta do Afonso", estando o caso já está nas mãos do Ministério Público.

O caso ganhou proporções mais assustadoras para a autora quando, no dia 1 de junho de 2024, Dia da Criança, Mariana Jones esteve na Feira do Livro de Lisboa a apresentar mais um livro sobre Rui Nabeiro, intitulado "O avô Rui. O Senhor do Café", publicado pela Dom Quixote, e foi diretamente questionada por membros do Habeas Corpus, que a filmaram "a um centímetro" do seu rosto e gritaram o seu nome, chamando-a de "promotora da homossexualidade infantil e da pedofilia".

 

Ana Rita Almeida, autora do livro "Mamã, eu quero ser menino" vai apresentar queixa contra membros da associação Habeas Corpus, após estes terem invadido uma apresentação de livro no Centro Cultural Raiano, em Idanha-a-Nova, em agosto de 2024.

 

Na sequência destes desenvolvimentos também em Portugal, contra a "intimidação", as entidades da Cultura pediram ao Governo medidas "urgentes" para travar os ataques da extrema-direita. Cerca de cinquenta entidades assinaram a carta “pela liberdade de escrever, de publicar, de ler”, onde se pede aos ministros da Justiça e da Administração Interna portugueses que tomem “medidas urgentes para impedir a continuação” dos ataques extremos ao direito dos autores e bibliotecários.

  

________________________________________________________________

  

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I don't even really like this photo, but my hard drive is full (again) and until I get some more DVD's I can't really shoot anything new. (This should be remedied in a day or 2.) I wanted to upload something anyway because I have something to rant about a little bit.

 

Some of you (my contacts) will know what sparked this little rant, and some of you will know and understand why my ranting about this has multiple reasons behind it.

 

It's recently been brought to my attention that someone out there in the Flickr world has been copying other people's photos without giving any credit to the originals. I'm not going to name names here.. because I'm not trying to start a big debate about this particular person on my photostream. (Also, any comments mentioning specific people will be deleted.) I am only bringing it up because it is one of my biggest "pet peeves" - if one could call it that.

 

It's true that there are few truly 'original' ideas out there... pretty much everything has already been done. So, in a way we are all influenced by what we have seen, whether we know it, or it be subconscious. I think it's important to be aware of our influences though, and when drawing from a specific source, it's only common decency to let people know about that source. In other words, if you're going to copy/interpret/be inspired by someone else's photo/song/poem, etc... give that person some credit instead of letting people assume you thought of it all on your own.

 

I don't want anyone to go getting paranoid and think that I'm accusing anyone of copying me... that isn't what this is about. All I'm saying is that if you see a photo of mine (or anyones!) and decide that you want to do something similar because of it... give me (or that person) some credit for the idea. It takes all of 10 seconds to say "oh, by the way.. I got this idea from _____" or "this photo was inspired by ____". It's only fair, and believe me when I say that it is flattering to be the source of someone's inspiration... but that feeling of "flattery" turns into 'annoyance' if someone doesn't give proper credit. ((Many people have been inspired by photos of mine, and have provided a link to my page, and I think that is wonderful!! xo))

 

Once again, I want to reiterate that this isn't solely about me - this goes for everyone out there. When I am inspired by someone else's work or a specific photo, I always provide a link to that person. When I use textures, I link to the creators of those textures (unless they specifically say there is no need to credit them.) Hell, I link to people even if I didn't think of one of their photos until after I took it.

 

As photographers, as artists, we're all in this together. We have to look out for each other, ya know?

 

Just a little rant to remind everyone out there to please please please remember to credit your inspiration when it applies. xo

 

Thanks for reading this!

  

Album: www.flickr.com/photos/125866625@N08/albums/72157678426806791

 

Theme: Eternal Lullaby

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKpu-wwFEAk

 

“Nadine, run! NOW!”

 

There are a dozen of them at least, all clad in guardsman armor. The emperor’s goons, a bunch of crooked, low-life bastards who suckle the emperor’s teats while treading on the less fortunate.

 

One of the fools takes a swing at me- his arm shatters on my knee. Another bolts for the back door- after Nadine. I throw the blade of his comrade into his back. Still got it.

 

How did they find us? That piece of shit, Gerot, I bet it was him. Perhaps if his son had any decency, I wouldn’t have had to crack the brat’s jaw. Getting his friends to beat on Nadine like that- he’s lucky she didn’t tear out his spine- if he had one.

 

Two more descend upon me. I manage to dodge their strikes, but two more join the fray. One of their blades grazes my shoulder- my sword splits his skull.

 

“C’mon! Is that… the best you shitheads can do!?”

 

The three charge me again- their blood now stains the walls. My breath is growing shallow- my age catching up to me.

 

“Don’t… disappoint… this old lady. What would those whores… Nezrith pays to be your wives think if… they found you lost to a bag of bones like me?!”

 

That did it. They’re all upon me now. One after the other, the blows come, and one after the other, they fall. I can barely breath now, and my sword grows heavy. Sweat stings my eyes, and my vision blurs. Yet I fight on.

 

A sharp pain… across my back. It’s done.

 

The sand is warm against my cheek. It grows damp and red- my blood.

 

“N-Nadine…”

 

I remember when I first found her. I must look mighty like her- dying in the sand. Poor thing- she’s been through so much. I know she’ll survive. She’ll… make that bastard- make Nezrith- pay. He’ll suffer- for her father, for all he has oppressed, for… the wretched things he did to Nadine. She… doesn’t deserve this. All for that… damn treasure. Despite all… of… this, it’s… it’s been… great… Nadine-

 

“Live.”

  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  

The sun hangs low on the horizon. The girl stumbles through the ocean of sand, stained orange with the evening light. Her breath narrowly escaped her lips- her lungs burning with fatigue. Nevertheless, she persists, knowing her pursuers are not far behind. A singular thought consumes her mind: survive.

 

The sky is dark- the sea silver with lunar light. The girl shuffles through the sand, towards the Guiding Star, her body burdened from her escape. The faint echoes of her pursuers permeate the air, hanging on the faint breeze. Exhaustion overtakes her- she collapses. Her mind returns to the day she had met the one she came to call Grandma- an eerie sense of déjà vu. A tear rolls down her cheek.

 

There is no Grandma to save her now.

 

The tear glistens as a blue light illuminates her face- the glow originating from a pouch on Nadine’s belt. She manages to reach in, pulling out an azure orb- her family treasure. Before her weary eyes, a mound of sand rises, giving way to reveal a statue bearing a golden mask. With her remaining strength, she reaches for the mask.

 

“Father… this is…”

 

Placing the mask upon her face, the echoes of her pursuers are quickly drowned in the howls of wind. The waves of sand take to the skies, swirling above the broken girl. The sand beneath her parts as the spiraling grains begin to converge upon her. Renewed strength is found as she begins to panic, attempting to wrestle herself free. It is not enough. Sinking into the sand, the girl reaches to the sky- towards the Guiding Star.

 

“No! I can save them!"

 

You are not yet ready.

 

"I-I have the strength! Please!”

 

I’m sorry, so sorry.

 

or will it? — Did the rejection of the McCain/Palin ticket open the door for a more gradual continuing slide on the slippery slope toward fascism in America?

 

This is How Fascism Comes: Reflections on the Cost of Silence

 

from the article: "If fascism comes it will be interviewed, lovingly, on talk radio, by hosts whose cerebral inadequacies are more than made up for by their bellicosity, their bombast, their willingness to shout down those with whom they cannot argue, for argument requires knowledge, and this is a commodity with which they have not even a passing familiarity."

 

Here's the whole article [linked above]:

 

by Tim Wise

 

October 11, 2008, 7:26 pm

 

For those who have seen the ugliness and heard the vitriol emanating from the mouths of persons attending McCain/Palin rallies this past week--what with their demands to kill Barack Obama, slurs that he is a terrorist and a traitor, and paranoid delusions about his crypto-Muslim designs on America--please know this: This is how fascism comes to an ostensible democracy.

 

If it comes--and if those whose poisonous, unhinged verbiage has been so ubiquitous this week have any say over it, it surely will--this is how it will happen: not with tanks and jackbooted storm troopers, but carried in the hearts of men and women dressed in comfortable shoes, with baseball caps, and What Would Jesus Do? wristbands. It will be heralded by up-dos, designer glasses, you-betcha folksiness and a disdain for big words or hard consonants.

 

If fascism comes, it will spring from the soil of middle America, from people known as values voters but whose values are toxic, from simple folk whose simplicity, far from being admirable, is better labeled ignorance, from "all-American" types whose patriotism is a dagger pointed at the very heart of the national interest, for it so forsakes all the best principles upon which the republic was founded, choosing instead to elevate and ratify the narrow-mindedness, the bigotry, and the intolerance that also marked our country's origins.

 

If fascism comes, it will be ushered in by tailgaters at the big football game, by Joe Six Pack, who, upon finishing his sixth beer and belching forth the stench of a mediocre life lived, will gladly announce its arrival, so long as it comes with a steady supply of Pabst Blue Ribbon and hot dogs on the grill, and giant foam hands with a "We're Number 1" finger, some Mardi Gras beads and a good titty bar.

 

If fascism comes it will dress like a hockey mom, or a NASCAR dad. It will believe Toby Keith to be an artist, Larry the Cable Guy to be a comic, and that the world was made in six literal days less than 6000 years ago.

 

If fascism comes it will come from the small towns; the ones Sarah Palin, quoting a famous racist and Jew-hater, said "grow good people," and which occasionally do, but which, just as often grow provincial, isolated, fearful and superstitious ones.

 

If fascism comes it will come from faux populism, from anti-immigrant hysteria, from persons who have more guns in their homes than books, or whose books, when they have them, are principally volumes of the Left Behind series, several different copies of the Bible, and a plethora of romance novels.

 

If fascism comes it will be welcomed, lock stock and barrel by persons who pray at every meal to a God they visualize as white, whose son they also think was white, and who they believe is going to rapture them all into the sky upon the blowing of some heavenly trumpet, after which point all those who don't think as they think will be burned in an eternal lake of fire. Their vision and version of God is itself fascistic--to love a God who would do such a thing is to love an abusive, sadistic and evil deity after all--so it should come as little surprise that their conception of the state would be equally authoritarian or worse.

 

If fascism comes it will be at the behest of those who hold a contempt for what they call "book learnin," who prefer Presidents who mispronounce basic words because they make them feel smarter, and who are looking for nothing so much as a commander-in-chief with whom they would enjoy having a beer, or two, or twelve at some backyard barbecue.

 

If fascism comes it will be interviewed, lovingly, on talk radio, by hosts whose cerebral inadequacies are more than made up for by their bellicosity, their bombast, their willingness to shout down those with whom they cannot argue, for argument requires knowledge, and this is a commodity with which they have not even a passing familiarity.

 

If fascism comes it will come wrapped in red,white and blue, carrying a crucifix and a shotgun, projecting its own sexual confusion and insecurity onto others, substituting volume for veracity and rage for reason, and landing on the New York Times best-seller list as a result.

 

If fascism comes it will have a pajama party at Ann Coulter's house, pop pills with Rush Limbaugh, and go gay-bashing with Michael Savage, all in the same weekend. And it will refuse to learn another language or get a passport, because doing either of those would make one cosmopolitan--which is just another word for "faggot."

 

If fascism comes it will come because a lot of people who aren't like the folks I'm talking about here, won't stand up to the ones who are. Because we're too busy, don't want to make waves, don't want to lose friends, or alienate family. It will come, in other words, because those who know better are cowards, more concerned with getting along, making nice, and being liked than with telling the truth, calling out evil and saving their country.

 

If fascism comes it will come because of the silence, and thus, collaboration of those who think themselves good, and certainly superior to the knuckle-draggers they can see on YouTube at the McCain rallies, but who in the end are no better and in some ways worse than they: after all, at least fascists stand up for what they believe in. They are telling us, in no uncertain terms what kind of United States they want and are willing to fight for, and maybe even to kill for. But many "progressives," many liberals, many of the so-called enlightened are doing nothing at all.

 

If fascism comes it will come because those liberals thought voting for Barack Obama was all they needed to do; it will come because they allowed themselves to believe that politics is what a person does every four years, but not at work, and not in the neighborhood, and not at the dinner table. Meanwhile, know-nothings filled with hate, nurtured on racial and religious bigotry and who have overdosed on the kind of hypernationalism that has always proved fatal to those places foolish or craven enough to allow it a foothold, talk of their visions for America at every opportunity. They raise their kids on that sickness, they build churches whose very foundation is rooted in that cancerous rot, and they will think nothing of steamrolling those who get in their way.

 

So when, exactly, do we fight back? When do we say enough? When do we stand up to our relative or friend who sends us the e-mail about Obama being a Manchurian Candidate or al-Qaeda sympathizer, or the one about the decency of Midwestern flood victims as opposed to those stranded after Katrina, or about how God was punishing New Orleans because of its tolerance of homosexuality, and tell them what we think: namely, that they are a bunch of racist, heterosexist loons, whose friendship or familial connection we neither want nor intend to pursue unless they get help. When do we decide that we love our country and humanity too much to allow these people one more day of decent sleep, one more day of self-assured confidence in their craziness and the willingness of the rest of us to just take it? When do we decide that every irrational, Jeezoid, racist thing that comes from their mouths will be attacked, will be rebutted, until they can no longer take for granted the ability to say any of it in mixed company without being called out?

 

Why, in the face of the fascism they would surely introduce if given the chance, are we intent on being so nice? Why are we not more offended? Offended not merely at what such persons say about others--like Obama, or Latino immigrants, or whatever--but even about we who look like them? After all, their open exhortations of racism presuppose that they are speaking for us, and that this kind of brain-dead ventilation is something to which all white folks should aspire as though it were virtually the essence of enlightenment.

 

If fascism comes it will come because we did not see in their actions a sufficient threat, or because we allowed ourselves to believe that it couldn't come, that our institutions were too strong, our people too good, for that to happen. If it comes it will come because we allowed ourselves to believe the rosy and optimistic version of America spun by Obama, without tempering that optimism with a clear-headed appraisal of the way that (sadly) a still huge number of Americans actually think: because we allowed the vehicle of our hopes to outrun the headlights of truth; because we convinced ourselves that we actually lived in the country of our aspirations, rather than the nation we have at present.

 

And if fascism doesn't come--if, rather, democracy does--it will come because good people said no. It will come because we saw in this moment the opportunity to demand the full measure of our humanity and to pour it forth upon the national soil. It will be because we understood that democracy isn't what you have, it's what you do. But if we are to issue that demand, if we are to stand straight and fulfill the potential we possess to do justice, we had best exercise the option quickly, for the opponents of justice are on the move. They are preparing to enter on the winds of our silence and indifference, and complacency. Let them find no quarter here.

This image is copyright, all rights reserved, and not part of the public domain. Any use, linking to, or posting of this image is prohibited without my consent. If you want to use this image in any fashion, please have the common courtesy and decency to ask.

 

Multnomah Falls Trail, Columbia Gorge, Oregon

 

I thought I would add my name to the list of all the photographs of ice I've been seeing as of late. The leaf encased in a bubble of ice really caught my eye. It was real pretty!

Literally, a drink shared between men and women symbolizing friendship.

 

But, in my heart, it means a wish for simple human decency and kindness between people.

Gotham Meat Lockers. Kinda sad that out of all the businesses in Gotham, it's name is one of the most honest. Well, was one of the most honest. About 20 years ago it was the site of a violent triple homicide. This not only took the lives the three people, but the life of the business as well. No one's willing to go near the place anymore, so it just sits there on the street rotting away like an open wound. You can smell the old meat in the street. The place really is a pit. And Jackie's here...whoever took him and brought him here of all places, I swear I'll do them what I did them Black Mask times 10. Steph and I enter through the garage doors with the help of some C4. Sure, we could've snuck in all incognito, but we want them to know we're here. I mean, if they're giving us hints with maps and stuff, they obviously want us, right? Well, they got us. We walked into the slaughterhouse, and the smell was even worse. Flies and bones everywhere, giant steaks still on hooks. Nothing but a giant health hazard at this rate. I need to tell Bruce to pull some string to get this place demolished when this is all over. We continue deeper into the slaughterhouse and it just gets messier. Nothing but rotting death around us. The only signs of life are our footsteps and--

 

"Well, you figured out my little puzzle, huh Tim? You're as smart as they say you are."

 

That voice...oh god, no...of all the people to do this, of all the people we've gotta deal with...

 

"Slade?!"

 

"The one and only. I gotta congratulate you on figuring out that puzzle. Was a bit worried it was a bit too convoluted."

 

"First off, I solved your stupid puzzle. Second, Why did you take Jackie? What do want with us?"

 

"You solved it? Nice job Tim. Got yourself a sidekick that's actually useful."

 

"Sidekick!?"

 

"Slade, if you hurt Jackie I swear I'll--"

 

"Hurt a child? Please, Tim. I actually have some decency. He's just bait to reel in the big fish. You two."

 

"And just what good are we to you?"

 

"What good? Millions, that good."

 

"We're your contract? But who hired you?"

 

"C'mon, you solved the map puzzle so you should know! I gave you their homes and everything!"

 

"Widow and The Broker..."

 

"Two of the biggest idiots I've ever met. But their money's green, so why not? If they give you two trouble though, This won't be too fun."

 

"...Slade, you took Jackie from us. Made us think we lost him. I don't care what happens, I will make you eat those words one way or another. Every hour we were without him will be worth how many bones I'm gonna break!"

 

"Really? Get real Tim. I'm a metahuman! My skeleton's as strong as steel. But hey, if you wanna try then go ahead! Let's make this fun. Impress me the best y--"

 

He stops to catch a Batarang thrown by Steph, the only one here getting more sick of his voice than me. Before he could counter, the Batarang explodes with a loud bang and so bright light. A flash bang. Annoying from where I was standing, but Slade pretty much had that thing next to his head. Smart move, Steph. What wasn't was when she rushed him. Her swing was easily blocked by his sword. While he had Steph held off, he got his pistol up and started shooting at me. The Kevlar in my suit would do a good job deflecting small arms, but knowing Slade, those bullets aren't normal pistol rounds. Before he was able to get a those shots off my staff goes into shield mode and blocks the shots. The kick from the impact was pretty big. My arms are already kinda sore. Worse part of this has to be how close he is to Steph. She makes one wrong move in the 3 seconds I'm not fighting with are and Slade will murder her. I've got two loved ones to worry about now...

 

Belgian postcard by Nieuwe Merksemsche Chocolaterie S.P.R.L., Merksem (Anvers). Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM).

 

Johnny Sheffield (1931-2010) was one of Hollywood's most famous child stars. He was unforgettable as Tarzan's adopted son Boy in eight Tarzan films starring Johnny Weissmuller. Between 1949 and 1955, he starred in twelve Bomba films for Monogram Pictures.

 

Johnny Sheffield was born John Matthew Sheffield Cassan in 1931 in Pasadena, California, USA. His father was the actor Reginald Sheffield who began as a child star and later turned to character acting. In 1938, Sheffield became a child star after he was cast in the juvenile lead of a West Coast production of the highly successful Broadway play 'On Borrowed Time', which starred Dudley Digges and featured Victor Moore as Gramps. The seven-year-old Sheffield played the role of Pud, a long role for a child. He later went to New York as a replacement and performed the role on Broadway. That year he also played Napoleon's son in the short MGM film The Man on the Rock (Edward L. Cahn, 1938). When Maureen O'Sullivan wanted out of her Jane role in the Johnny Weissmuller Tarzan series, it was decided that she and Tarzan would adopt a son (they had to adopt, according to the Legion of Decency, because they weren't married) before she died. Weissmuller personally selected Sheffield from 300 boys for the part of Boy. The role was inspired by Bobby Nelson's portrayal in Tarzan the Mighty (Jack Nelson, Ray Taylor, 1928). Athletic by nature, little Johnny was taught to swim by swimming Olympian Weissmuller. Johnny Sheffield's feature debut in Tarzan Finds a Son! (Richard Thorpe, 1939) was such a success that MGM signed him to six more films as Tarzan's Boy. Sheffield played Boy in three Tarzan films at MGM, and in another five after Johnny Weissmuller, and production of the film series moved to RKO. Brenda Joyce played Jane in the last three Tarzan films in which Sheffield appeared.

 

In between the Tarzan films, Johnny Sheffield played supporting parts in other films. Sheffield appeared in the musical Babes in Arms (Busby Berkeley, 1939) with Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, classmates of his at the studio school. Johnny and his brother Billy Sheffield were both in Knute Rockne All American (Lloyd Bacon, 1940), playing football player and coach Knute Rockne at different ages. By the time of Tarzan and the Mermaids (Robert Florey, 1948), Johnny Sheffield was too big for the part of Boy. The film merely said he was away at school. When Monogram Studios learned Sheffield had been dropped, they picked him up for s series of B-films based on Roy Rockwood's adventure novel 'Bomba'. The first was Bomba: The Jungle Boy (Ford Beebe, 1949). Between 1949 and 1955, Sheffield made twelve Bomba films for "Poverty Row" studio Monogram Pictures. Sheffield retired from films at age 24 after starring in his twelfth Bomba film Lord of the Jungle (Ford Beebe, 1955). He then made a pilot for a television series, Bantu the Zebra Boy, which was created, produced, and directed by his father, Reginald Sheffield. Although the production values were high compared to other TV jungle shows of the day, a sponsor was not found and the show was not taken up as a weekly series. In his later years, Sheffield sold bootlegged copies of the pilot to collectors on videotape. After leaving show business, Sheffield completed a business degree at UCLA. Turning his attention to other fields, he involved himself variously in farming, real estate and construction. For a time, he was a representative for the Santa Monica Seafood Company importing lobsters from Baja California in Mexico. In 1959 he married his wife Patricia and they would have three children, Stewart, Regina and Patrick Sheffield. In 2010, Johnny suffered a fatal heart attack at his home in Chula Vista, California, four hours after he fell off a ladder while pruning a palm tree. Sheffield was 79. His brother Billy Sheffield died two months later.

 

Sources: Ed Stephan (IMDb), Find A Grave, Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

when Donna's timelord mind started to leak into her human consciousness, she thought she was going mad, so she separated with Shaun, to protect him. she even lied to him that she'd cheated, because she knew he'd never leave her otherwise. but now she's found out what it really was, she got Torchwood or UNIT (?) to help, and she's ok, she's got her memories back and the timelord consciousness isn't killing her human brain after all. but she can't find Shaun anywhere, and she's desperately worried that she's lost him for good.

 

not knowing where else to turn, she goes to find her best mate, but the Doctor is off on some errand of cosmic importance. the TARDIS lets her in, because she has the Doctor's mind, so she raids the kitchen while waiting. the Master smells food (and senses something like the Doctor's inner voice but with a different tone) and shows up. he ends up listening to her whole story, hoping he'll hear something useful about the Doctor or Torchwood or UNIT, but mainly all he finds out is how great Shaun Temple is.

 

pretty soon he will get so fed up that he'll end up helping her just to get her to shut up. and here he thought nobody could talk your ear off like Ten... he hadn't met DoctorDonna.

Belgian postcard by Victoria Biscuits Chocolats, no. 6. Photo: M.G.M. June Allyson and Gene Kelly in The Three Musketeers (George Sidney, 1948), based on the novel by Alexandre Dumas.

 

The Three Musketeers (George Sidney, 1948) is a classic Swashbuckler, starring Gene Kelly as D’Artagnan and Lana Turner as Milady De Winter. Other stars in the cast include Van Heflin, June Allyson, Gig Young, Angela Lansbury, and Vincent Price. It is one of the many, adaptations of the famous French book ‘Les trois mousquetaires’ by Alexandre Dumas père, and possibly the liveliest one, full of acrobatics, galloping horses, flapping cloaks, and sword fights with almost operatic intensity. Dumas’s story is followed quite faithfully, but the creative fantasy is in the theatrical way of depicting it.

 

As in the book: the story of The Three Musketeers (George Sidney, 1948) is set in 1625 in France. The young and inexperienced D'Artagnan (Gene Kelly) leaves his home village in Gascony to become a musketeer in Paris in the service of His Majesty King Louis XIII (Frank Morgan). In his pocket, he has the letter of recommendation from his father (silent film star Robert Warwick), a former musketeer and friend of the current captain of the musketeers, Treville (Reginald Owen). His father has taught him the art of fencing masterfully and gives him the good advice never to let himself be compromised with impunity. He is only too happy to follow this advice. Very soon, before he has even reached Paris, D'Artagnan gets into a confrontation with Rochefort (Ian Keith), Cardinal Richelieu's (Vincent Price) confidant, and his companion, the mysterious Lady de Winter (Lana Turner). At this first opportunity to preserve his honour in battle, he is unceremoniously struck down and robbed by Rochefort's henchmen, and his credentials are also taken from him. Once in Paris, he not only meets his new friends and comrades-in-arms Athos (Van Heflin), Porthos (Gig Young), and Aramis (Robert Coote), but also his landlord's niece, Constance Bonacieux (June Allyson), and falls in love. Many adventures and entanglements lie ahead and in the path of the brave hero D'Artagnan. Driven by his desire to become the king's musketeer and to prove himself in battle, he falls into the clutches of both the queen (Angela and the cardinal, experiences numerous dangerous situations and sometimes needs his new friends to get away at all. Nevertheless, he sets out to travel to England for the Queen's honour, to retrieve a jewellery box given away by the Queen's secret lover, Lord Buckingham (John Sutton), and to prevent Richelieu from plotting. To assist him, he is accompanied by Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, as well as his dull but loyal servant Planchet (Keenan Wynn). Shortly after D'Artagnan's return from England, Constance is kidnapped at the behest of Cardinal Richelieu. D'Artagnan makes a pass at Milady de Winter, discovers a delicate secret, and only just manages to save himself. Constance is freed and taken to safety in England, shortly after which war breaks out, and our four friends are drawn into it. They overhear a conspiratorial meeting between the Cardinal and Lady de Winter in an inn. The latter is to travel to England and kill Buckingham. Planchet also travels to England at D'Artagnan's behest to warn Buckingham. Lady de Winter is convicted and is to be executed. Constance is appointed her guardian. Milady de Winter, after a lengthy psychological duel, manages to take out Constance as well as a guard and Buckingham and then escapes. Athos and D'Artagnan, who wanted to help Constance, arrive too late; after Constance dies in D'Artagnan's arms, they themselves also have only escaped. Back in Paris, the four friends track down Lady de Winter, pronounce the death sentence on her, and have the prisoner executed. During their subsequent escape towards Spain, they are overpowered and arrested. Their fate seems to be sealed, but young D'Artagnan still has one trump card: the Countess's passport, personally sealed and signed by Cardinal Richelieu, with the note that everything the bearer of this letter undertakes will serve the good of the state. The king is not allowed to know the background of this letter - so Richelieu has to give in. Aramis receives permission to take up a clerical office. Porthos is allowed to marry richly, Athos gets his property back and D'Artagnan is to negotiate a peace offer with the enemy England on behalf of France.

 

Among the many American film versions of Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers are the 1914 Film Attractions Co. production, directed by Charles V. Henkel, the 1921 Douglas Fairbanks production, directed by Fred Niblo, the 1935 RKO Radio Pictures, Inc. production, directed by Rowland V. Lee and starring Walter Abel, Paul Lucas and Margot Grahame, Richard Lester's 1974 Twentieth Century-Fox production starring Michael York, Oliver Reed, Richard Chamberlain, and Raquel Welch; and the 1993 Buena Vista release, directed by Stephen Herek and starring Charlie Sheen, Kiefer Sutherland, Chris O'Donnell, and Rebecca de Mornay. This splashy 1948 MGM adaptation of The Three Musketeers was the third sound version and was also the first version in Technicolor. In 1947, a representative of the National Catholic Legion of Decency, an organisation that monitored the interests of the Church in motion pictures, objected to the characterisation of Cardinal Richelieu in the planned MGM adaptation of Dumas' story. In a letter to MGM producer Pandro S. Berman, the organisation stated its objection to the cardinal being portrayed as a "worldly and unscrupulous man" and urged the studio to remove the character from the film. Berman refused to remove the character from the film but promised he would use great caution in all sensitive matters pertaining to the story and in the film, Richelieu is never referred to as Cardinal Richelieu. Berman also indicated that Constance, the married mistress of D'Artagnan in the novel, would be unmarried in the film version. While early sound versions of Three Musketeers eliminated the deaths of Constance and Milady, this adaptation telescopes the novel's events to allow for these tragedies. According to AFI, screenwriter Robert Ardry was displeased with Sidney's irreverent approach to the Dumas story and objected to the spoof elements that were added to the film. A biography of Kelly noted that Belgian fencing champion Jean Heremans, who appears in the film as the cardinal's guard, taught Kelly how to fence. Kelly's biography also noted that during the filming of a bedroom scene, Kelly flung Turner onto a bed with such force that she fell to the ground and suffered a broken elbow. Hal Erickson at AllMovie: “True to form, MGM saw to it that Lana Turner, as Milady, was dressed to the nines and heavily bejeweled for her beheading sequence. Portions of the 1948 Three Musketeers, in black and white, showed up in the silent film-within-a-film in 1952's Singin' in the Rain, which of course also starred Gene Kelly.” The Three Musketeers opened to mostly favourable reviews, with several reviewers commenting on the film's unusual tongue-in-cheek approach. New York Times reviewer Bosley Crowther noted that "more glittering swordplay, more dazzling costumes, more colors or more of Miss Turner's chest have never been seen in a picture than are shown in this one." And added: “Completely fantastic, however, is Miss Turner as the villainess, the ambitious Lady de Winter who does the boudoir business for the boss. Loaded with blond hair and jewels, with twelve-gallon hats and ostrich plumes, and poured into her satin dresses with a good bit of Turner to spare, she walks through the palaces and salons with the air of a company-mannered Mae West.” In 1948, there was an Oscar nomination for Robert Planck in the category Best Cinematography/Colour. Hans J. Wollstein at AllMovie: “The Three Musketeers remains an outrageously entertaining yarn, the Southern California locales perfectly standing in for 17th Century France and England.” And finally, Yvette Banek at her blog In so many words: “Lana Turner is really quite superb in her evilness. So evil that she is even photographed without make-up. Well, as 'without make-up' as MGM got, at any rate. Even then, she is exquisitely beautiful - especially when praying.”

 

Sources: Bosley Crowther (New York Times), Hal Erickson (AllMovie), Yvette Banek (In so many words), AFI, Wikipedia (Dutch, German), and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Dutch postcard. Photo: M.G.M. This card is a gift from Loek Coenraad from his mother's legacy. Many thanks, Loek!

 

American actor Gregory Peck (1916-2003) was one of the most popular film stars from the 1940s to the 1960s. Peck received five nominations for Academy Award for Best Actor and won once – for his performance as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962). He almost always played courageous, nobly heroic good guys who saw injustice and fought it. Among his best known films are Spellbound (1945), The Yearling (1946), Gentleman's Agreement(1947), Roman Holiday (1953), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Cape Fear (1962).

 

Eldred Gregory Peck was born in 1916 in La Jolla, California (now in San Diego). His parents were Bernice Mary (Ayres) and Gregory Pearl Peck, a chemist and druggist in San Diego. His parents divorced when he was five years old. An only child, he was sent to live with his grandmother. He never felt he had a stable childhood. His fondest memories are of his grandmother taking him to the cinema every week and of his dog, which followed him everywhere. Peck's father encouraged him to take up medicine. He studied pre-med at UC-Berkeley and, while there, got bitten by the acting bug and decided to change the focus of his studies. He enrolled in the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York and debuted on Broadway after graduation. His debut was in Emlyn Williams' play 'The Morning Star' (1942). By 1943, he was in Hollywood, where he debuted in the RKO film Days of Glory (Jacques Tourneur, 1944). Stardom came with his next film, The Keys of the Kingdom (John M. Stahl, 1944), for which he was nominated for an Oscar. Tony Fontana at IMDb: "Peck's screen presence displayed the qualities for which he became well known. He was tall, rugged and heroic, with a basic decency that transcended his roles." He appeared opposite Ingrid Bergman in Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound (1945) as an amnesia victim accused of murder. In The Yearling (Clarence Brown, 1946), he was again nominated for an Oscar and won the Golden Globe. He was especially effective in Westerns and appeared in such varied fare as David O. Selznick's critically blasted Duel in the Sun (King Vidor, 1946), the somewhat better received Yellow Sky (William A. Wellman, 1948) and the acclaimed The Gunfighter (Henry King, 1950). He was nominated again for the Academy Award for his roles in Gentleman's Agreement (Elia Kazan, 1947), which dealt with anti-Semitism, and Twelve O'Clock High (Henry King, 1949), a story of high-level stress in an Air Force bomber unit in World War II. In 1947, Peck, along with Dorothy McGuire, David O'Selznick and Mel Ferrer, founded the La Jolla Playhouse, located in his hometown, and produced many of the classics there. Due to film commitments, he could not return to Broadway but whet his appetite for live theatre on occasion at the Playhouse, keeping it firmly established with a strong, reputable name over the years.

 

With a string of hits to his credit, Gregory Peck made the decision to only work in films that interested him. He continued to appear as the heroic, larger-than-life figures in such films as Captain Horatio Hornblower (Raoul Walsh, 1951) with Virginia Mayo, and Moby Dick (John Huston, 1956) with Richard Basehart. He worked with Audrey Hepburn in her debut film, Roman Holiday (William Wyler, 1953). While filming The Bravados (Henry King, 1958), he decided to become a cowboy in real life, so he purchased a vast working ranch near Santa Barbara, California - already stocked with 600 head of prize cattle. In the early 1960s, he gave a powerful performance as Captain Keith Mallory in The Guns of Navarone (J. Lee Thompson, 1961) opposite David Niven and Anthony Quinn. The film was one of the biggest box-office hits of that year. Peck finally won the Oscar, after four nominations, for his performance as lawyer Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (Robert Mulligan, 1962). He also appeared in two darker films than he usually made, Cape Fear (J. Lee Thompson, 1962) opposite Robert Mitchum, and Captain Newman, M.D. (David Miller, 1963) with Tony Curtis, which dealt with the way people live. The financial failure of Cape Fear (1962) ended his company, Melville Productions. After making Arabesque (Stanley Donen, 1966) with Sophia Loren, Peck withdrew from acting for three years in order to concentrate on various humanitarian causes, including the American Cancer Society. In the early 1970s, he produced two films, The Trial of the Catonsville Nine (Gordon Davidson, 1972) and The Dove (Charles Jarrott, 1974), when his film career stalled. He made a comeback playing, somewhat woodenly, Ambassador Robert Thorn in the horror film The Omen (Richard Donner, 1976) with Lee Remick. After that, he returned to the bigger-than-life roles he was best known for, such as MacArthur (Joseph Sargent, 1977) and the infamous Nazi war criminal Dr. Josef Mengele in the huge hit The Boys from Brazil (Franklin J. Schaffner, 1978) with Laurence Olivier and James Mason. In the 1980s, he moved into television with the miniseries The Blue and the Gray (Andrew V. McLaglen, 1982) in which he played Abraham Lincoln, and The Scarlet and the Black (Jerry London, 1983) with Christopher Plummer and John Gielgud. In 1991, he appeared in the remake of his 1962 film, playing a different role, in Martin Scorsese's Cape Fear (1991). He was also cast as the progressive-thinking owner of a wire and cable business in Other People's Money (Norman Jewison, 1991), starring Danny DeVito. In 1967, Peck received the Academy's Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award. He was also been awarded the US Presidential Medal of Freedom. Always politically progressive, he was active in such causes as anti-war protests, workers' rights, and civil rights. In 2003, Peck's portrayal of Atticus Finch was named the greatest film hero of the past 100 years by the American Film Institute, only two weeks before his death. Atticus beat out Indiana Jones, who was placed second, and James Bond who came third. Gregory Peck died in 2003 in Los Angeles, California. He was 87. Peck was married twice. From 1942 till 1955, he was married to Greta Kukkonen. They had three children: Jonathan Peck (1944-1975), Stephen Peck (1946) and Carey Paul Peck (1949). His second wife was Veronique Passani, whom he met at the set of Roman Holliday. They married in 1955 and had two children: Tony Peck (1956) and Cecilia Peck (1958). The couple remained together till his death.

 

Sources: Tony Fontana (IMDb), and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Spanish postcard by Archivo Bermejo, Barcelona, no. 4046. Photo: M.G.M. Gregory Peck in The Yearling (Clarence Brown, 1946).

 

American actor Gregory Peck (1916-2003) was one of the most popular film stars from the 1940s to the 1960s. Peck received five nominations for Academy Award for Best Actor and won once – for his performance as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962). He almost always played courageous, nobly heroic good guys who saw injustice and fought it. Among his best known films are Spellbound (1945), The Yearling (1946), Gentleman's Agreement (1947), Roman Holiday (1953), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Cape Fear (1962).

 

Eldred Gregory Peck was born in 1916 in La Jolla, California (now in San Diego). His parents were Bernice Mary (Ayres) and Gregory Pearl Peck, a chemist, and druggist in San Diego. His parents divorced when he was five years old. An only child, he was sent to live with his grandmother. He never felt he had a stable childhood. His fondest memories are of his grandmother taking him to the cinema every week and of his dog, which followed him everywhere. Peck's father encouraged him to take up medicine. He studied pre-med at UC-Berkeley and, while there, got bitten by the acting bug and decided to change the focus of his studies. He enrolled in the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York and debuted on Broadway after graduation. His debut was in Emlyn Williams' play 'The Morning Star' (1942). By 1943, he was in Hollywood, where he debuted in the RKO film Days of Glory (Jacques Tourneur, 1944). Stardom came with his next film, The Keys of the Kingdom (John M. Stahl, 1944), for which he was nominated for an Oscar. Tony Fontana at IMDb: "Peck's screen presence displayed the qualities for which he became well known. He was tall, rugged and heroic, with a basic decency that transcended his roles." He appeared opposite Ingrid Bergman in Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound (1945) as an amnesia victim accused of murder. In The Yearling (Clarence Brown, 1946), he was again nominated for an Oscar and won the Golden Globe. He was especially effective in Westerns and appeared in such varied fare as David O. Selznick's critically blasted Duel in the Sun (King Vidor, 1946), the somewhat better received Yellow Sky (William A. Wellman, 1948), and the acclaimed The Gunfighter (Henry King, 1950). He was nominated again for the Academy Award for his roles in Gentleman's Agreement (Elia Kazan, 1947), which dealt with anti-Semitism, and Twelve O'Clock High (Henry King, 1949), a story of high-level stress in an Air Force bomber unit in World War II. In 1947, Peck, along with Dorothy McGuire, David O'Selznick, and Mel Ferrer, founded the La Jolla Playhouse, located in his hometown, and produced many of the classics there. Due to film commitments, he could not return to Broadway but whet his appetite for live theatre on occasion at the Playhouse, keeping it firmly established with a strong, reputable name over the years.

 

With a string of hits to his credit, Gregory Peck made the decision to only work in films that interested him. He continued to appear as the heroic, larger-than-life figures in such films as Captain Horatio Hornblower (Raoul Walsh, 1951) with Virginia Mayo, and Moby Dick (John Huston, 1956) with Richard Basehart. He worked with Audrey Hepburn in her debut film, Roman Holiday (William Wyler, 1953). While filming The Bravados (Henry King, 1958), he decided to become a cowboy in real life, so he purchased a vast working ranch near Santa Barbara, California - already stocked with 600 head of prize cattle. In the early 1960s, he gave a powerful performance as Captain Keith Mallory in The Guns of Navarone (J. Lee Thompson, 1961) opposite David Niven and Anthony Quinn. The film was one of the biggest box-office hits of that year. Peck finally won the Oscar, after four nominations, for his performance as lawyer Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (Robert Mulligan, 1962). He also appeared in two darker films than he usually made, Cape Fear (J. Lee Thompson, 1962) opposite Robert Mitchum, and Captain Newman, M.D. (David Miller, 1963) with Tony Curtis, which dealt with the way people live. The financial failure of Cape Fear (1962) ended his company, Melville Productions. After making Arabesque (Stanley Donen, 1966) with Sophia Loren, Peck withdrew from acting for three years in order to concentrate on various humanitarian causes, including the American Cancer Society. In the early 1970s, he produced two films, The Trial of the Catonsville Nine (Gordon Davidson, 1972) and The Dove (Charles Jarrott, 1974), when his film career stalled. He made a comeback playing, somewhat woodenly, Ambassador Robert Thorn in the horror film The Omen (Richard Donner, 1976) with Lee Remick. After that, he returned to the bigger-than-life roles he was best known for, such as MacArthur (Joseph Sargent, 1977) and the infamous Nazi war criminal Dr. Josef Mengele in the huge hit The Boys from Brazil (Franklin J. Schaffner, 1978) with Laurence Olivier and James Mason. In the 1980s, he moved into television with the miniseries The Blue and the Gray (Andrew V. McLaglen, 1982) in which he played Abraham Lincoln, and The Scarlet and the Black (Jerry London, 1983) with Christopher Plummer and John Gielgud. In 1991, he appeared in the remake of his 1962 film, playing a different role, in Martin Scorsese's Cape Fear (1991). He was also cast as the progressive-thinking owner of a wire and cable business in Other People's Money (Norman Jewison, 1991), starring Danny DeVito. In 1967, Peck received the Academy's Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award. He was also been awarded the US Presidential Medal of Freedom. Always politically progressive, he was active in such causes as anti-war protests, workers' rights, and civil rights. In 2003, Peck's portrayal of Atticus Finch was named the greatest film hero of the past 100 years by the American Film Institute, only two weeks before his death. Atticus beat out Indiana Jones, who was placed second, and James Bond who came third. Gregory Peck died in 2003 in Los Angeles, California. He was 87. Peck was married twice. From 1942 till 1955, he was married to Greta Kukkonen. They had three children: Jonathan Peck (1944-1975), Stephen Peck (1946), and Carey Paul Peck (1949). His second wife was Veronique Passani, whom he met at the set of Roman Holliday. They married in 1955 and had two children: Tony Peck (1956) and Cecilia Peck (1958). The couple remained together till his death.

 

Sources: Tony Fontana (IMDb), and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

En ce dimanche matin, la jeune fille décide de rester un peu dans son lit... Mais réveillée, le sommeil semble l'avoir définitivement quittée. Et la dernière lettre de ses parents, pas encore décachetée, semble annonciatrice de nouvelles peu réjouissantes ; le paquet étant plus épais qu'à l'accoutumée.

"Chère Pearl, mes lettres restent sans retour et c'est avec regret que j'observe cela. J'ose espérée que tu me lis malgré tout et continue de faire vivre la maison Honneycutt sur Paris. Tu trouveras ci-joint une invitation pour te rendre au domaine français des Handersen. Fais-nous honneur, rappelle toi chaque posture, discours mondains de bienséance, pas de danse et prône une image de femme distinguée. N'oublie pas que ta tenue devra correspondre au rang de notre petit noblesse, pas d'extravagance. Ne t'emporte pas sous quelque inspiration, élan du coeur, ma fille... Miss Honneycutt."

 

On this Sunday morning, the girl decides to stay a little in bed ... But awake, sleep seems to have left permanently. And the last letter from her parents, not yet opened, seems to announce unpleasant news; the package being thicker than usual.

"Dear Pearl, my letters remain without return and I regret that, I hope that you will read me anyway and continue to live the house Honneycutt in Paris.There will be enclosed an invitation for go to the French Handersen Manor. Make honor on our name, remember every posture, worldly speeches of decency, dance and preach a picture of distinguished woman. Do not forget that your outfit should match the rank of our little nobility, no extravagance, do not get carried away under some inspiration, so much for the heart, my daughter ... Miss Honneycutt. "

Another view of that castle with a dark history ,at Mullaghmore ,Co. Sligo

 

Viscount Palmerston, arrived by horse and carriage in 1808. He is best known as Lord Palmerston, who served two terms as Prime Minister of England. It was he who commissioned the building of Classiebawn Castle on a hill overlooking Mullaghmore with magnificent views of the surrounding villages, sea, lake and mountain. Palmerston died in 1865 leaving the completion of Classiebawn to his successor the First Lord Mount Temple. On completion of the building in 1874, succession then passed to the Ashleys.

 

Palmerston presided over Mullaghmore and North Sligo during the worst years of the Irish Holocaust, the great famine of the mid 19th century. His record during that period is shameful. During the summer and autumn of 1847, nine vessels, carrying over 2,000 persons left Sligo port with tenants evicted and “shovelled out” from his Sligo estates. They arrived in Canada half naked and totally destitute. The city of St. John in Quebec province had to take many of Palmerston’s evicted tenants into care and, outraged, sent a scathing letter to Palmerston expressing regret and fury that he or his agents, ‘should have exposed such a numerous and distressed portion of his tenantry to the severity and privation of a New Brunswick winter ......unprovided with the common means of support, with broken down constitutions and almost in a state of nudity ..... without regard to humanity or even common decency.’ The graves of many of these unfortunate victims can be seen today on the old quarantine station, now a museum, at Grosse Ille near Quebec .

 

Edwina Ashley, daughter of the above-mentioned Col. Wilfrid Ashley, married Lord Louis Mountbatten, great grandson of Queen Victoria, in 1922. In August 1979 this first Earl Mountbatten of Burma, last Viceroy of India and supreme Allied Commander in SE Asia during WW2 was assassinated when his boat was blown up off the coast of Mullaghmore by the IRA in August 1979. The castle and surrounding lands are now owned by Mr. Hugh Tunney, a retired businessman. He is the first Irish owner of the Classiebawn Castle and estate since the lands were confiscated from the O’Conor Sligo in the 17th century.

 

(For more information on the Mountbatten family history ,I found this on the net,

"In Europe: a History, by Norman Davies, 1996, ISBN 0-06-097468-0, page 809 :

"Married to Queen Victoria's favorite granddaughte, Victoria of Hesse, Count Louis Battenberg (1854-1921) was a cousin on the paternal side both to Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh and to Tsar Alexander III, and brother-in-law to empress Alix. Having joined the Royal Navy as a cadet, he worked his way up to be Admiral, Director of Naval Intelligence, and at the outbreak of war in 1914, Britain's first Sea Lord. Unfortunately as a German, he was immediately forced to retire. By then, his elder daughter had become Queen of Sweden and his younger daughter, Alice, a Princess of Greece. His niece was Queen of Spain. His younger son, Louis (1900-1979), known as "Dikie", later Earl of Burma, was to follow him into the British Admiralty. In July 1917 the family name was changed once again, this time from Battenberg to Mountbatten. Their Romanov relatives were under arrest, and their relatives in the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha-Hanover-Teck were hurriedly renaming themselves "Windsor". )

 

Listen to the following song to get the feeling of family break -up and heartache at the time of the great famine in Ireland,when a quarter of our population died or were forced to emigrate on "coffin-ships".

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9InnXP64To

"Walking In My Shoes"

 

I would tell you about the things

They put me through.

The pain I've been subjected to.

But the Lord himself would blush.

The countless feasts laid at my feet,

Forbidden fruits for me to eat.

But I think your pulse would start to rush.

 

Now I'm not looking for absolution,

Forgiveness for the things I do.

But before you come to any conclusions -

Try walking in my shoes,

Try walking in my shoes.

 

You'll stumble in my footsteps,

Keep the same appointments I kept.

If you try walking in my shoes.

If you try walking in my shoes.

 

Morality would frown upon,

Decency look down upon.

The scapegoat fate's made of me.

But I promise now, my judge and jurors,

My intentions couldn't have been purer.

My case is easy to see.

 

I'm not looking for a clearer conscience,

Peace of mind after what I've been through.

And before we talk of any repentance -

Try walking in my shoes.

Try walking in my shoes.

 

You'll stumble in my footsteps,

Keep the same appointments I kept.

If you try walking in my shoes.

If you try walking in my shoes.

Try walking in my shoes.

 

Now I'm not looking for absolution,

Forgiveness for the things I do.

But before you come to any conclusions -

Try walking in my shoes.

Try walking in my shoes.

 

You'll stumble in my footsteps,

Keep the same appointments I kept.

If you try walking in my shoes.

Try walking in my shoes.

If you try walking in my shoes.

Try walking in my shoes.

 

Written by: Martin Gore

Performed by: Depeche Mode

From: Touring the Angel: Live in Milan

"D'you know the Radstocks?" asked the foreman.

He was referring to the highly permutated group of bus services which then linked Bristol to the former Somerset mining towns of Radstock and Midsomer Norton.

"No", I said.

"Well here's your chance to learn", he replied, grimly and, I thought, with a touch of relish.

The foreman, a former wartime sergeant and a member of the Burma Star Asssociation, was an old sweat then nearing retirement. I was a new boy, then in my mid-20s but looking considerably younger, who had lately transferred to "country" services from a city depôt. To such a man I must have represented a new generation of young whipper-snappers who didn't know what the job was "all about". I had never been to Radstock and had only a very slight idea of where it was. That morning I was the bus station's 0430 Spare, whose function was to "cover" for any driver who overslept or reported sick. It was now 6am on a filthy February morning and the scratchy sound against the window-panes told me that the rain was lashing down in the empty streets outside.

Beyond Whitchurch (Black Lion) the sickly orange glare of the city's street lighting receded in the wing mirrors and I was in pitch blackness. The bus I was driving was a Bristol MW-type. As will be seen from the photo, these had a horizontally divided windscreen. The demisters, as they were fancifully known, consisted of two lengths of coiled reistance wire, like miniature electric fire elements, which ran across the bottom of the windscreen's upper section. Their effect was to clear about one inch of the base of the windscreen. In practice you used your sleeve. The wipers reciprocated sluggishly from side to side with a monotonous whirring sound. They had been cunningly positioned not to sweep that part of the windscreen which the driver looked through. The tiny wing mirrors, partially eclipsed on the nearside by the upper part of the folding entrance door, were fogged up and flecked with particles of mud drawn up from the road in the bus's slipstream. It was all seat-of-the-pants stuff. I hadn't a clue where I was supposed to be going and had not yet picked up any passenger whom I could ask. In any case I always felt embarrassed when I had to do this ...after all, I was supposed to be the driver. It looked so unprofessional. When uncertain of a route I preferred to run the slight risk of looking a complete fool if I took a wrong turning to the certainty of looking a partial fool if I turned around to ask for directions.

I cannot now remember the details, but I recall several panic-stricken reversals after I had shot past turnings, and the ommission of a peak-hour deviation from the normal route in Paulton. I also abandoned the attempt to do a school run, being unable even to find the terminus from which the route commenced. Subsequently there was a telephoned complaint from the headmaster. It was not my finest hour.

Yet, in time the "Radstocks" became favourites of mine. There were basically three services, with peak-hour, school and weekend variants. Usually buses worked out on one service and returned on one of the others. One took a certain pride in one's knowledge of the various permutations. I even came to love the MW-type, execrated by almost every bus driver for its heaviness, sluggishness and general recalcitrance.

Here one of these execrated vehicles makes its way into Bristol on the 365 service from Radstock via Midsomer Norton, High Littleton, Farmborough and Keynsham. Bath Road curves away into the distance under the heights of Totterdown. As extensively detailed in the Bentos photostream, the lower parts of Totterdown, in the middle distance of the photograph, had been destroyed in 1973 in readiness for a new road interchange. Only three years later the scheme has already been abandoned. Perhaps the City Council had enough vistigial decency to feel embarrassed, for the ruins which might have reminded passers-by that a lively and vigorous community once thrived here have been landscaped and seeded with grass. The steep valley-side site meant that the houses on the right-hand side of Bath Road had elevated front gardens, reached from the pavement by flights of steps. In the foreground one such flight of steps remains, together with railings and a flagged yard. Not a bad place to live and watch the world go by. The road is now about three times this width. The photo was taken Monday 5th April 1976.

"Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?"

-- Joseph Welch, chief counsel for the U.S. Army, to the evil Sen. Joe McCarthy at the Army-McCarthy Hearings

*****************************************************************

As they worked on their activity for the Martin Luther King Day event on Monday, Dora and Gemma interpreted the President's racist remarks--made, ironically the same day he recorded a message for the holiday--as his 'kick-off' of sorts to the holiday weekend.

 

His remarks are captured in the headline:

 

"Trump attacks protections for immigrants from ‘shithole’ countries"

 

"President Trump grew frustrated with lawmakers Thursday in the Oval Office when they...[discussed] a bipartisan immigration deal...

 

“Why are we having all these people from shithole countries come here?” Trump said..referring to African countries and Haiti. He then suggested that the United States should instead bring more people from countries like Norway, whose prime minister he met Wednesday.

 

The comments left lawmakers taken aback, according to people familiar with their reactions...."

 

--The Washington Post By Josh Dawsey January 11 2017

 

Gemma: "What a nightmare. He sounds like a bully in the fourth grade. If our dog Barkley were human, he wouldn't talk like that!"

 

Dora: "Still, we can make something positive out of this: to get people to reflect on what our basic values are and how, if we practice some of the ideas from Martin Luther King, we can make this world a better place."

 

The girls research led them to a criticism of the President's remarks from Republican Senator John McCain:

 

"Respect for the God-given dignity of every human being, no matter their race, ethnicity or other circumstances of their birth, is the essence of American patriotism. To believe otherwise is to oppose the very idea of America."

 

Dora decided that the end of their presentation would come from Dr. King--words that were a sort of rebuttal of the recent ignorance from the White House:

 

“The saving of our world from pending doom will come, not through the complacent adjustment of the conforming majority, but through the creative maladjustment of a nonconforming minority.”

with the contagious 'Turquoise Decency Strip' starting to spread haphazardly, somewhat dependent on proximity.

 

Appropriate social distancing recommended (See government guidelines).

Brody Dalle Homme, Spinnerette @ Santa Barbara, CA

 

p.s. if you are gonna post my copyrighted images elsewhere on the internet at least have the decency to credit me with them and link them back to here, or i'll probably stop posting them without big watermarks on them.

 

As the new decade is about to dawn on the Western hemisphere, here's my little summary of 2019.

 

It's not little, by the way, because it's me and I like to write a lot :D

 

Andrew’s Summary of 2019 - Flickr version

It was a year.

 

*This essay contains a Star Wars spoiler around two-thirds down.

 

Gather round, ye Flickr friends, and hear this year’s edition of “This is what Andrew did during the past year!” Because this year was full of ups and downs, I’ma just get right to it:

 

The most prominent event of 2019 for Ally and I was her father (Paul)’s fight against lung cancer, which he eventually lost on July 29th — 7 years to the day from when I first met him. Like last year, it’s no longer possible to consider my year separately from Ally’s experience of it, even though my year was certainly easier than hers. However, life goes on for those who continue living.

 

We must have stayed home on New Year’s Eve, since I don’t have any pictures hinting at an event, which is just as well because I have no interest in partying late anymore. Aging, what what!

 

The year started with me being worried about abdominal pain. After some tests, it turned out to be nothing concerning.

 

Throughout the winter, I (like many other Canadians) had to put up with the bullshite Polar Vortex again on quite a few days. There are pictures of my face completely covered, like some sort of militarized local cop, due to the cold. But yeah, climate change is a hoax from Tchaina! ChinaCHINAchinaCHAI-NAH!

 

I continued with my guitar lessons on Tuesdays, walking up the ***** Avenue hill to my lesson after my early-start day at work, and walking back again. Although I did learn some things in my lessons and became more proficient with my right-hand fingerstyle technique, I felt like my guitar teacher just wasn’t listening to my feedback. I found that I was coming home angry more often than not. That was definitely not the outcome I was going for when I signed up for lessons. I had my last lesson in June, and I decided not to go back.

 

On February 2nd, Ally and I went to the big fundraising gala with my main workplace, escorting a former client as the featured speaker. It was quite the fancy event. I won an Italian stovetop covfefe maker for Ally at the silent auction, which she uses on the regular.

 

On March 2nd, I bought my first (and thus far only) L-series lens; an old-design Canon EF 70-200mm f/4L USM model. The guy at the store suggested that it wouldn’t be much better than my 55-250, and that it’d be better to get the $1,500 IS version, but fudge that — I wasn’t about to spend $1,500 on a lens. Not yet anyway. The one I got was about $800. The guy was right; the image quality isn’t much better than the 55-250, but my motivation for buying the L was mainly for the prestige…feeling like after all these years as a photographer, I deserved it. And you know what? I do deserve it.

 

On March 7th, my 23andMe results came in! What would it say? Would it reveal what part of Greece my ancestors came from? Would it have any other really interesting results?

 

Well, first off, it showed that I’m very white. The results have updated a bit since they first came in, but as of this writing, I’m 99.8% European. Surprise surprise; I’m fully Shitlord! I’ve commented recently that for most of the last few hundred years, people in the Bestern world (the Western world) would have said “Oh thank god; I’m completely white!”, whereas now, white people are like “Oh…there’s nothing interesting here. I’m completely British.”

 

The breakdown as of December 27th, 2019 is:

• 51.6% British and Irish (only 51.6% eh? The fact that it’s barely more than half certainly makes me wonder where the rest of my ancestors came from!)

• 25.6% French and German (it’s all French; no German. But more importantly, who are these French ancestors?? 25.6% is way too high to be an error!)

• 4.3% Scandinavian

• 13.3% “Broadly Northwestern European”

• 0.7% Italian

• 0.2% Spanish and Portuguese

• 2.6% “Broadly Southern European” (Is this the only percentage of Greek in my ancestry???)

• 1.5% “Broadly European”

• 0.1% “Broadly Western Asian and North African”

• 0.1% “Unassigned”

 

The three most interesting aspects to me are:

• If only 52% of my ancestry is British/Irish, where does the rest come from?

• Who are the people who came from France?

• Do I actually have Greek ancestry?

• If so, why is it so distant?

• If not, why is my last name **********?

 

I haven’t really done much searching since getting the results, but it certainly provides just as many questions as answers.

 

Another question focused on a relative, whose relationship to me was hinted at being very different from what we thought. But another family member then took the test, and their results corrected that error. I’m obviously censoring this!

 

I also found out through my results that I’m more likely to get the adult-onset diabeets, so I need to be careful about weight gain, and making sure I exercise on the regular.

 

On March 13th, I went to my sister’s apartment and did two fluid art paintings; this time with silicone to get the bubbly effect. She has gotten quite good at that style.

 

At the end of March, we saw Ejaculate From Away (Come From Away), which was surprisingly good. As everyone knows, I hate musicals, but I was willing to give this one a chance because it was about two things I’m interested in — Newfoundland and September 11th. Although the accents weren’t all bang-on, it was very well-done.

 

On April 12th, we got on a flight and took our second trip to New York City. I had been jonesing to at least plan a trip for this year (since I love trip planning), but Ally was very reluctant due to Paul’s illness…which had only been diagnosed in November of 2018. But somehow, Ally was able to suggest going on a short trip to New York (yes, it was her suggestion). I was happy that she was willing to get away for a bit, so in February we started planning and buying advance tickets. New York has so much stuff to see, and so many ways to get around, so I was happy to figure that part out. We bought contingency-class plane tickets in case we had to fly back if Paul went downhill.

 

This time, we flew out of Pearson (taking the You-Urinate Express train to get there) and landed at LaGuardia. We stayed at an AirBnb in Brooklyn this time — a tiny little space tacked on to the back of an old house in between Green-Wood Cemetery and Prospect Park. It was about an 8-minute walk to Fort Hamilton Parkway station on the G train. Unlike mid-April in Toronto, it was Spring in New York, which was nice. Lots of trees were flowering.

 

On Ally’s birthday (an unseasonably warm day that peaked at 24 degrees), we walked through Prospect Park and saw the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, then walked under the Brooklyn Bridge, which was much bigger in person than I expected. We saw the World Trade Center memorial again the next day and went up in the new tower (which was still under construction when we went in 2013), and Ally demolished a huge plate of nachismo for mid-afternoon lunch. She said she should enter a nacho-eating contest. We also had various subway adventures, which I made sure to document in my trip journal. We didn’t plan as many things this time, and so we were able to have a somewhat slower pace compared to the 2013 trip. But of course, with me, things can only go so slowly. Unless I’m getting a shower — then it can be as slow as time crawls on a quiet night shift. Which I thankfully haven’t had to do in a few years.

 

When we came back from New York, we found out that Paul had been admitted to the hospital on the day we left for New York. We visited him in the hospital in Newmarket. He had responded badly to a new type of treatment, and was in the hospital for a few days.

 

The day after we came back from New York, I went and saw a counsellor to try and figure out how to mediate an ongoing conflict. I wasn’t really satisfied with the conversation, although I suppose it helped a little bit to talk about it.

 

Toward the end of April, my coworker Melinda resigned, moved to Napanee, and got married shortly afterward. I moved upstairs and took over her little office with two big windows, and I have to say, I’ve generally been a lot less annoyed at work. The floor I’m on now is much quieter, so I don’t hear my coworkers and the resident clients yelling at each other all day long, although I don’t think moving offices has improved my productivity. But it has definitely improved my mood, which is worth something.

 

On May 24th, we had a staff potluck at work, and I made delicious chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.

 

In early June, I started work on a blue painting of some black-and-white triangular figure. I haven’t finished it yet.

 

On June 11th, thanks to the influence of a friend who I collaborated with on some work-related projects, I started playing Pokémon GO again. My first catch was a Snover, which I thought looked like a Klansman. I was at level 27, and in the time since then, I’ve gotten up to level 36. I’ve met a lot of people playing Pokémon GO this year, who take it way more seriously than I do. I think the game is better than it was in 2016, in that people who aren’t level 40 can now stand a chance in gym battles, although the game is no longer hyped up the way it was. But it’s provided some entertainment and competition for me throughout the second half of 2019.

 

On July 12th, Ally started painting her Bell Box mural. On July 14th and 21st, I joined her in the painting, and took some videos throughout. One of those days was very hot, with little shade, but it was a nice way to spend time together and contribute to something relatively permanent in the city. Several people walked by and complimented Ally on her work. On July 22nd, I met Ally and Tina at the mural after work, and they had just finished it.

 

On July 13th, we went for a very flooded bike ride on Toronto Island with Andrew, Emily, Will, Agnes, and Agnes’s cousins. On July 15th, for our 7th dating anniversary, we went to Karma’s Kitchen for Indian food.

 

On July 18th, I painted a retirement card for Phil at Halton, as he was set to retire on July 20th and move to Cape Breton Island. He loved the card, and when I saw him at Halton around November, he said he loves living in Cape Breton, so I’m happy for him.

 

On a super-hot July 19th, Ally and I went on a summer boat cruise with my main job. We had lunch in an enclosed buffet with little air movement, but once we went up on deck, it was cooler. Overall a good time.

 

This summer had quite a few days that were too hot to be considered “normal” summer heat. However, it was less consistently super-hot than last summer.

 

Later in July, Paul moved into a hospice in Newmarket. On the evening of July 26th, Ally came home, and soon afterward got a message that she should go back to the hospice…so I drove up with her, and we stayed there overnight, with her mom and brother. I went to Cora’s for breakfast with Ally and her mom around 6:00am, and then we came back and drove home. It was the last time I saw Paul alive.

 

At some point, Ally went back up to the hospice, and stayed there with him and her mom on the night of July 28th. On the morning of July 29th, as I was getting ready to go to work, Ally texted me and told me that Paul had just passed away. That evening, when we were sitting on the bed at home, she said “I don’t have a dad anymore.” It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

 

On August 3rd, we went to the cemetery, and Paul’s ashes were buried, in a plot near Ally’s grandfather’s. It was sad, but Ally didn’t shed a tear. I think she had spent so much time thinking about it over the previous 8 months that she must have been ready for that moment; as ready as someone could be.

 

On August 4th, we hopped on the VIA train and went to Montréal for another short vacation. I had booked a trip to Newfoundland with Mom, David, Heather, Matt, and Matt, in which we were going to go to the Regatta, see Nanny, and meet more of Mom’s birth family, but I cancelled it so that I could be physically present for Ally as Paul had moved closer to the end. Ally graciously granted us another trip, partly to replace the one I cancelled, and probably partly to just escape the stress of the home front for a few days.

 

I had never been on the VIA train before. It was more comfortable than a plane, and slightly faster than a car. I had loaded up on snacks at Bulk Barn, so that helped. On our three-day trip, we got some decent pictures; hiked up Mount Royal, saw the Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal; went on the Grand roue de Montréal, and did some walking around in the heat. This trip to Montréal was much better than my previous two trips, and so it improved my opinion of Montréal.

 

On August 9th, Ally and I went to my friend Rick’s Zoo Reunion in Pickering, which was a great time. We saw V-Ron, Little Andrew, Rick, Amanda, Sarah, J-Fox, Allen, Drew, and a few other people.

 

While we were driving home, Mom called and said that Heather’s boyfriend Matt’s mother had died — earlier that day. Heather started a GoFundMe page to help, and within a few days the cost of the funeral was covered.

 

On August 10th, Ally’s family hosted Paul’s celebration of life at the funeral home. Lots of people showed up, and some of Paul’s favorite baseball and shooting memorabilia were on display.

 

On August 17th, we went to Matt’s mom’s funeral in Burlington, and then went back to Toronto that night for our second KISS concert; this time at the former ACC. Gene Simmons screwed up by shouting “Montréal!” during one song, but otherwise it was a good show.

 

Between Ally’s dad, Matt’s mom, and my friend Sarah’s dad, the summer of 2019 was the Summer of Death.

 

On August 24th, Dad and Robin got married at the cottage. I was the official photographer, and I got some pretty good shots — not bad for my first-ever wedding photography gig. We went to their favorite restaurant for supper, and back to Dad’s house for the after-party.

 

On August 29th, we went to the Ex, and saw Séan Cullen do standup, which was funny. It was good to have a laugh after a heavy summer.

 

On September 8th, I took a “ten years later” picture of the Toronto skyline from Riverdale Park, since I had first done that in August of 2009. The skyline is a lot fuller now, with all the new condos. I’m glad I had the presence of mind to do a before-and-after shot.

 

Throughout the summer, Terrance ate almost an entire box.

 

On September 14th, we went to the McMichael art gallery with Susan and saw the Maud.Lewis exhibit, which inspired me to do a totally-unrelated painting, of a tree framed by little blue circles of sky.

 

We went to the Keg Mansion for my birthday, and Heather made me a Froot Loops cake.

 

In late August, I had noticed that my weight was down to the lowest it had been for a few years. I had it checked out and it seems to be nothing. Not a fascinating story, but it’s part of my year, so it go-eth here.

 

On September 24th, I got new glasses, after 5 years of the old Hack Them Optical pair. They were Ray-Bans, but the arms cut into the tops of my ears, so I took ‘em back and exchanged them for a pair of Ralph Laurens instead, which are much more comfortable.

 

On September 27th, Ally and I won tickets to a Thom Yorke concert through work. It was certainly different than his Radiohead stuff.

 

Also in late September, we all got wind of Justin Trudeau’s blackface controversy. I turned it into a bunch of dark jokes (pardon the pun) with coworkers, friends, and Ally. And thankfully, it didn’t seem to affect the election that much. The Liberals won the federal election again. I would have preferred the NDP to win, but better the Liberals than the Conservatives. Justin Trudeau hasn’t done a great job in the last 4 years, in my opinion, but a Liberal who says they’re gonna do fair, responsible things and then doesn’t do them is better than a Conservative who outright says they’re gonna do evil things and then goes and does them. Paying lip service to giving a shit about the environment is much better than saying “Durr, we like oil jerbs, so fuck the environment!”

 

Also in political fuckwaddery, the impeachment of Donald Trump. I don’t think he’ll be removed from office, but at least he’ll have another stain on his record. Unlike the cum stain on Bill Clinton’s record, Trump’s stain will be a total disregard for human decency, across the board. I hope Bernie crushes him in 2020…or whoever the Democrats nominate. I was wrong before…the planet can’t afford us (the righteous liberal majority) to be complacent a second time.

 

Also in ***censored until I figure out what’s happening with my job contract***

 

Also in political headshakery, Brexit. It seems dumb, but I haven’t taken the time to figure out what either side’s argument for leaving or staying actually is.

 

Going off topic a bit, I’ve seen a few “summary of the decade” articles recently, and while that’s beyond the scope of my 2019 summary, I will say that the last few years are characterized more and more by masses of people trying to avoid other people. My generation, it seems, is being defined by its utter discomfort with the concept of “waiting”. Of being seen unoccupied. Take a look around on any public transit vehicle, or at the bus stop, or in a waiting room — almost everyone whose hair isn’t totally grey will be looking at a cell phone. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: Due to the invention and proliferation of the smartphone, we can now conclude that there’s nothing people wanted more than the ability to insulate ourselves from face-to-face human contact while in the presence of strangers.

 

On October 10th, I brought home a hilarious kitchen floor mat of the Labrador ferry, as a joke on Ally. Her reaction was just as funny as I expected.

 

On November 3rd, Ally did the CN Tower stair climb. Not my story, but still exciting for her!

 

On November 10th, I finally took a trip to see the new subway stations on the Spadina extension. It was a chilly and dreary day, but I got good pics of the stations. Hopefully I’ll post them on the Internets (to paraphrase my previously-least-favorite American president). I’ve been so far behind on my posting now, it’s ridiculous. I’m still posting pics from my honeymoon, which was two years ago, and chronologically (in terms of my unposted iPhoto pics), I’m only caught up to the fall of 2012.

 

Also on November 10th, I baked Nanny’s chocolate chip cookies for the first time! They were a little off (probably because they were gluten-free), but overall they tasted pretty similar to the real thing.

 

On Remembrance Day, winter began. We had a week of brütal February weather that week, and then it went back to normal. Then it got cold again. The last week or two of December have been pretty mild, which is nice. We’ll see what the rest of the winter holds.

 

On November 22nd, Ally took me to the City and Color show. I wasn’t really interested in going, but I went, and it was alright. One guy in front of us was drunk when he got there, and in between arguments with his girlfriend, he’d shout “Save your fucking scissors!” They left early, and the band never did play “Save Your Scissors”.

 

On December 6th, Ally and I went to Medieval Times for my work’s Christmas party. It was reasonably entertaining, and the food was good.

 

On December 7th, Ally and I went to see A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood with her mom in Nieuwmarquet. It was a pretty sad story, but uplifting at the same time.

 

I took several days off work in the second half of December, and on December 20th we saw Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. As with the previous movie, there were a few moments of “Okay, yeah right”, like the Death Star and Palpatine partially surviving the massive explosion… (these are in the trailer, and so they are not spoilers) — but overall I was satisfied with

 

SPOILER BELOW! SPOILER BELOW!

 

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Rey killing Palpatine and choosing to become a Skywalker.

 

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END OF SPOILER

 

But I doubt the Skywalker saga is truly over. It’s too lucrative, amirite?

 

I’ve noticed in the last year or two that Star Wars is no longer relegated to being a “once every few years” thing — it’s an everyday thing now. Whenever I use “Explore” on Instagram, Star Wars memes pop up…although this year I’ve noticed fewer funny prequel memes about Anakin and Palpatine and more stupid “Star Wars Fact” memes, which are based on derivative works that didn’t have theatrical releases, and are therefore of questionable importance.

 

On December 21st, I unknowingly took my last ride on the old CLRV streetcar. I had been playing Pokémon with my friend Matt downtown, and took it along Queen Street from around University Avenue (that’s “Avenyou”, not “avenoo”, by the way) to Leslie Street. On December 29th, the TTC ran the CLRVs on their final jaunt before retiring them. I’m glad I’ve taken several good pictures of those old streetcars over the years, and that a few of them will be preserved at the Halton County Radial Railway.

 

On Christmas Eve, I made maple glazed carrots for the first time.

 

For Christmas, I got a Tupac (two-pack) of Zildjian low-volume cymbals (hi-hats and a crash-ride) from Ally, Mom and eHeather, which I had first seen in Cosmo(s) Music with Ally in Novembuary. I’m a long-time Sabian guy, but these admittedly sound a bit better than the Sabian equivalent, and they look better too. Plus I’m the only one who gives a shit what brand of cymbals I play. A few days later, I ordered a 16” crash to go with them, because I played them and realized that if I was recording (or just jamming) with actual drumsticks and hit my regular crash, it would be way too loud. So, I ordered the low-volume crash to kind of “complete” my low-volume set-up. Ally also got me a pair of socks with eTerrance’s face on them, which is pretty funny. Mom also brought me some old film pictures, including several of my Hawaii and Japan 2002 pictures that I thought were lost, so I’ll be uploading those in the future!

 

We went up to Dad’s house for supper, where I found my lost (and now cancelled) credit card, wedged in between the seat cushions where I expected it would be. After gorging ourselves on food, Elliot taught us how to play dreidel. Dad got me a Blue Yeti microphone, since I had discovered earlier in December that my iMac’s built-in microphone is beyond terrible — my old MacBook Pro’s mic was way better. Anyway, now I’ve got a big honking microphone to record music with, and the sound quality is great.

 

We drove to Susan’s house that evening and stayed there overnight. We had Boxing Day supper there, whence I ate a lot of cookies.

 

A few days later I recorded parts of “Saltwater Joys” and “If I Fell” — stuff that never woulda fit in with my old bands. Let’s see if I actually end up recording them completely, now that I have all the gear that’s needed, and the only barrier would be my own excuses.

 

It’s hard to believe that it’s been about 7 years since I was in an active band…Adam & Evil faded away in late 2012 (see my 2012 summary). Alex is still playing live music with newer friends in Oshawa, and I recently saw a pic of him playing my old drumset on stage, so I’m happy he’s been able to carry on playing shows, even if I only see him once or twice a year now.

 

On December 29th, I baked onion rings for the first time. They didn’t turn out great, but the concept worked, so I may try it again.

 

In terms of ongoing stuff, I continued working at my older job pretty much every other weekend, and passed the 7-year mark on December 14th. It’s now the job I’ve held the longest. At my main job, I continued becoming better at not getting stuck when helping my clients. We still aren’t seeing a huge number of new clients, but I was still able to do meaningful work with the many who keep coming back — similar to last year’s summary, I know! My work life in 2019 was pretty similar to 2018.

 

My average walking distance was nearly identical to last year’s. I didn’t ride my bike as much this year, which is disappointing, but it’s because I spent a lot of my outdoor free time playing Pokémon. In 2020, I’d like to ride my bike more and spend less outdoor time playing Pokémon.

 

We didn’t watch much TV during the first half of this year, but in the fall we finished The Pacific; watched the third season of The Crown, (which I liked for its development of Prince Charles’s character) and watched the first season of The Medichlorian, er, I mean The Baby Yoda Show, er, I mean The Mandalorian. I also streamed a fair bit of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, whose Donald Trump impression I’ve gained a reputation for nailing. Two of my other favorite videos of the year were both Trevor Noah’s: The one about Africans giving advice for when white people invade the Arctic, and of course the one about Mexicans stealing Trump’s wall, which truly is fucking hilarious.

 

As previously mentioned, I got a kick out of the Palpatine memes this year (especially “Mountain DEW IT”), and birb memes as well. I even bought Ally a @chickenthoughtsofficial t-shirt for Christmas!

 

Once again, I didn’t get into a whole lot of new music this year, but a few of my favorites included:

• “Crazy” by Patsy Cline

• “Please Please Me” by The Beatles

• “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues” by Elton John

• “String Quintet in E Major, Op 13: Minuet” by Luigi Boccherini/London Philharmonic Orchestra

• “Christmas Time in Hell” by “Satan the Dark Prince (South Park)

• “The Ballad of John and Yoko” by The Beatles

• “And I Love Her” by The Beatles/Fred Benedetti & Peter Pupping

• “Another Day in Paradise” by Phil Collins

• “Story” by Chon

• “Blackest Eyes” by Porcupine Tree

 

I also burned my 33rd Random Mix CD, after a year and a half of not making any due to not having a CD drive on my iMac. I used the old ManBearPig, which still works after almost ten years. There’s a purchase from which I definitely got my money’s worth!

 

In 2019, I read more books than any other recorded year. This is only a half-truth (or as Emperor Trump would call it, “Fake News”), because as a pre-teen, I’m certain there were years when I read more Goosebumps books than the total number of books in my 2019 list. But to be fair, back then, I didn’t have a cell phone or my own computer to compete for my time. So, here’s the list of books I read in 2019:

 

• Finished Undeniable: Evolution and the Science of Creation by Bill Nye

• Becoming by Michelle Obama

• The Day the World Came to Town by Jim Defede

• Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari

• A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking

• Canada by Mike Myers

• America Again: Re-Becoming the Greatness We Never Weren’t by Stephen Colbert

• Man’s Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl

• Fear: Trump in the White House by Bob Woodward

• Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life: A Sortabiography by Eric Idle

• Bernie by Ted Rall

• Star Talk with Neil DeGrasse Tyson (a library book! I never read those!)

• Freedom is a Constant Struggle by Angela Davis

• Started Inside Rehab by Anne Fletcher

 

What do I want to do in 2020?

• Go on a big trip (two weeks or more).

• Join a gym (yeah; me and 100 million other people!)

• Spend less outdoor time playing Pokémon and more outdoor time riding my bike.

• Post more pictures on Flickr.

• Eat less chocolate and more vegetables (I’m deliberately leaving this undefined so that I can’t hold myself accountable).

• Record more music with my new microphone and drum gear.

 

And so, my friends, thanks for taking the time. I don’t know what 2020 holds for me, or the planet. My job contract is set to expire in the spring, so we’ll see what happens with that. As for civilization as a whole, I’m encouraged by the level of dedication that lots of people are showing in fighting climate change and making more sustainable choices on an individual level, even if it sometimes feels like the pendulum has swung a bit too far. I’m still looking for an alternative to plastic cling wrap and Ziploc bags that are just as sanitary as factory-made plastic, but better for the environment. However, I am hopeful that even in the face of climate change denial by a small faction of losers, the correct people of the world will prevail. Even if the current American (and Ontario) governments won’t show leadership, the rest of the planet gives a shit. Nothing can stop the green revolution. The tide has turned — #sciencebepraised.

 

Happy New Year!

  

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IMG_1991ps

After a lot (never too much, actually) of Industrial Exploration I felt the need to feed my soul and regenerate myself a bit.

 

This is the H.C.Andersen museum in Rome (see map).

 

it's a small museum but is full (really packed) of beautiful bronze and plaster statues telling the skills of Mr. Andersen, a Norwegian architect, painter and sculptor.

 

The Building was Mr Andersen's home and workshop at the same time. Here a number of scale models for bigger statues and building are also displayed

 

The preferred subjects were dancers, athletes, singers and angels that he represented in the full beauty of the naked body

 

Some of the bronze statues could not be displayed publicly (at that time) because of "too much nudity" which was against the commons rules of decency at his time (around 1920)

The mad midnight run & tumble, smash & grab that ended the secretive process which produced the House version of the “tax reform” bill, resembled a Mack Sennet slapstick routine.

 

Their haste precluded the Republicans from actually reading the whole 500+ page bill, forcing them to skip ahead to the naughty bits if they read any of it at all. Democrats were not shown the bill, developed by Republicans alone behind locked doors, until the floor vote was due. Some of the legislation that passed was just penciled in at the last minute, barely legibly, at the margins. What a spectacle!

 

If they had read it, would members of the House have been able to see past their greed to notice that they had overstepped the bounds, not only of ethics, but also of Senate rules? Perhaps, though the glare of avarice can be blinding. The Senators' formalized sense of decency, recorded when cooler heads prevailed, made them strike a few of the most egregious House add-ons while appending a few of their own, forcing the bill back to the House for a re-vote after they had lavishly celebrated its 'final passage'. Nobody seemed particularly embarrassed.

 

Decorum was better in the Senate, but not the politics. The country’s biggest redistribution of wealth from the working class to the wealthy plutocratic elite, plus a depth charge to sink Obamacare and an invitation for private industry to despoil the Alaskan wilderness and the Atlantic continental shelf, were all rolled into a single bill, and passed on a party line vote. It has a built-in timer so we won’t feel the crunch until after the 2018 mid-term elections; the middle class benefits have a self-destruct mechanism which automatically blows them up after eight years, while the corporate provisions go on forever.

 

The funding for the Children's Health Insurance Program (CHIP), which pays for the essential care for children from families of low or modest income, ran out in the fall. It didn't get any from this bill. either. Sorry, Kids. Daddy Warbucks needs your dough.

 

So here they are, a bit winded but proud, still in their battle regalia, ready for a team photo followed by a victory lap. Huzzah.

 

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

 

“It Is What It Is!” And It Isn’t “Rounding The Corner” - IMRAN™

Yes, China was the place of origin of the Coronavirus. Yes, WHO didn’t have a proper hanfle on how COVID19 started & spread. Yes, the White House Chief of Staff did declare defeat in admitting this administration is not even trying to control the pandemic. And, yes, Trump is lying when he claims that the pandemic is rounding the corner.

See for yourself. Do you want your family to be a dot on one of these rising curves? The number of cases & deaths and even the rates are actually going up, not down. The only thing going flat... hundreds of Americans flatlining every day.

It didn’t have to be this way. A competent & serious response, based on science and simple decency, could have saved many of the nearly one-quarter million Americans who died from it. Many more will.

Several other countries have gotten a grip on the pandemic even while the disease isn’t cured. We can too. There’s still time. Vote for science. Vote for a competent response in USA.

 

© 2020 IMRAN™

 

#Coronavirus #COVID19 #pandemic #politics #elections #TrumpVirus #facts The New York Times

Callie is known locally as 'black jesus' - he is kind, a deep thinker, ridiculously easy company.

 

Six days a week, his long gangly legs and endless ropey arms make their way around the island by bicycle, (often balancing a variety of fruits and coconuts on his handlebars to sell), easily traversing 20km-30km a day.

 

On this day, he told me that he had recently had a stroke and that he had some paralysis down his right side. The doctor told Callie that it was a good thing that he took one of his epic bicycle rides shortly after the stroke had hit, because doing so had minimised the lasting affect of the heart-event on his limbs.

 

Before the portraits, I showed Callie the images I had taken of his sister Anna - he got emotional: there she is...there she is'...

 

Callie, and ordinary men and women like him, make you feel part of something that matters. That a world of decency, respect, hard work, honesty and self-sufficiency, can and does still exist.

 

Whenever I speak to Callie or see one of his enormous hands lift from a handlebar to waive as I pass him, his give-everything smile beaming, I realise that 'god is one of us' and that our blessings are too many to count.

"Speaking as someone born in the last years of a dictatorship, you Americans are already several steps in one.

 

Ferdinand Marcos' greatest trick was convincing people all protesters were communist animals, so when they went missing, few cared. Even after bodies were discovered.

These white people & journalists talking about being civil? These were the rich people, the Fil-Chinese, the mestizos in the Philippines who knew they won't be affected by many of Marcos' policies, and therefore could ignore them even as the killings started.

Marcos was also adept at convincing regular Filipinos that "as long as you don't commit crimes I won't come for you. I'm only getting rid of the 'filth'." He lied, of course. He jailed his most vocal opponents, people whose businesses he wanted to confiscate for his use.

But Filipinos have always been susceptible to strongman personality cults, just like your Republicans.

 

(Yeah don't @ me on this one, Repubs still singing Reagan's praises despite the fact he was FRIENDS with Marcos and helped him retain power, making it 1000x worse for us.)

White people, journalists who insist on civility- you seem to think civility is a common ground you share with opponents like Trump et al. Here's a clue - whenever you offer these assholes middle ground, they will invade that space & then claim you never gave them ground at all.

Marcos kept pushing. First it was all protesters were communists. All student protesters. Then it was the free press. Then it was the people with businesses he coveted. And then it was anyone who looked at Imelda Marcos or his daughter, Imee, wrong. Arrested, raped, murdered.

And every step of the way there were the same kind of fuckwits here twittering on about how people should be civil, SURELY Marcos wouldn't go that far, the economy is flourishing surely it can't be THAT bad.

 

"It didn't happen to ME, so it must not be bad." up till Martial Law.

White people asking for performative civility do the same thing they did, for the same reason - they're afraid. You've never been raised to fear discrimination or prejudice against a system that has always been built in your favor for centuries.

Your argument for civility is a terrified lashing out against an uncertain future that your ancestors / fellow white people have subjected people of color to for centuries. It's built in POC culture to learn how to cope with this. You've had none, because you've never needed to.

Because regardless of whether you want it or not, status quo benefits white people best. In any upheaval, white people have the least casualties. That makes them the last demographic wanting to rock the boat, even if the boat is full of Nazis steering it straight into Auschwitz.

Because you know Auschwitz isn't going to be for you. It's gonna be Auschwitz for a lot of people in that same boat you're on, but you know that's not for you. And that's why you can afford to be compliant.

And here's the kicker: YOU KNOW THEY'RE NOT CIVIL. That's why it's the liberals you keep appealing to for decorum and politeness. You know you're not going to get most Trumpsters on board anything amounting to basic decency.

So you shift the goalposts, and you enable the gaslighting, even if inadvertently. "Maybe if YOU hadn't been so rude they wouldn't have done that."

 

Bullshit. You KNOW they'll do it anyway because again, your goddamn status quo.

People invested in putting kids in cages don't want your civility. They don't want you to extend them the same courtesy they never had - and never wanted - from you. What they want is for you to retreat.

And every ground you grudgingly give, hoping that they'll construe that as some good faith on your part, is only an incentive for them to push harder until you have no ground left.

 

Then they're going to tell you they've owned the land all along.

"So much for the tolerant left." This is why they say this all the fucking time. This is the bait they expect you to fall for. Your required "tolerance" for the things they do, even as they do the exact opposite to you.

The first requirement when approaching any discussion with civility is that both sides must come to the table with it. The side that advocates putting kids in cages and are now thinking of stripping citizenship from legal green card holders, never had that to begin with.

Now: if you are REALLY invested in still keeping civil after this, there are countless unaffiliated Red Hen places in the US (+one in Canada) being egged, getting death threats, etc.

 

Try discussing "civility" with those people this time, & see how well that works out for you."

 

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meglio visto su sfondo nero (Clicca sull'immagine)

best seen on black background (click on image)

 

foto a mano libera.

Freehand picture.

 

Teatro Municipale (Reggio Emilia)

Capienza

1.150 posti

 

Realizzazione

 

Costruzione

1852-1857

Architetto

Cesare Costa

 

Il Teatro Municipale di Reggio Emilia, intitolato oggi a Romolo Valli, sorge su una delle più importanti piazze cittadine, sulla quale si affacciano l'altro teatro cittadino, il Teatro Ariosto, la Galleria San Rocco e i Giardini Pubblici. Il Teatro Municipale è un teatro d'opera e concerti.

 

L'edificio teatrale è stato costruito negli anni 1852-1857. Fu ideato e condotto a termine dall'architetto Cesare Costa di Modena e i lavori furono diretti dall'ingegnere Antonio Tegani di Reggio. Presenta una facciata neoclassica su due ordini, in laterizio e marmo, con colonne tuscaniche al piano terra e paraste ioniche al primo piano. Sulla trabeazione sono poste statue allegoriche. La sala interna si presenta come un tradizionale teatro d'opera italiano, con pianta a ferro di cavallo e cinque ordini di palchi.

 

Il teatro fu inaugurato il 21 aprile 1857 con l'opera "Vittor Pisani" del musicista Achille Peri (1813-80). L'ampia costruzione, sorta su parte dell'area dell'antica cittadella, demolita all'inizio del XIX secolo, costò lire 1.683.000.

 

L'11 febbraio 1882 avvenne la première di "Il conte di Chatillon" di Nicolò Massa.

 

L'11 febbraio 1888 avvenne la première con successo di Asrael (opera) di Alberto Franchetti.

 

L'11 settembre 1983 avvennero le prime esecuzioni assolute di "Epitaph" di Edison Vasiljevich Denisov e di "Estremità" di Giacomo Manzoni.

 

Dimensioni

L'edificio ha pianta rettangolare di m 80x43.60 con aggiunte anteriormente due logge pure rettangolari di m 26,40 x 5,20. Copre un'area di m2 3763. La facciata misura m. 54. La sala aveva una capacità media di 1.609 spettatori (oggi ridotti a 1.150), e dopo le modifiche del 1907 (la cassa armonica fu collocata in trincea accorciando il palcoscenico) misura m. 22,60 per 18.40. II palcoscenico profondo m. 26,60, largo m. 31,20, ha 56 camerini per artisti e 16 sale per le masse. Il teatro conta anche una vasta sala superiore che è stata utilizzata come scuola di scenografia.

 

Esterno

Al piano inferiore il teatro presenta 19 colonne tuscaniche in granito.

Nei sette medaglioni fra le porte Paolo Aleotti scolpì i grandi autori del teatro greco, Menandro, Sofocle, Euripide, Aristofane. La parte superiore, terminata dal coronamento a mensole con attico, è scompartita da lesene ioniche anch'esse di granito con finestre e, al di sopra, bassorilievi allegorici. La decorazione e il coronamento proseguono sulle logge laterali formate da arcate a tutto sesto su pilastri.

 

Le statue dell'attico e delle logge furono scolpite da Prudenzio Lipeni, Ilario Bedotti, Giovanni Chierici, Antonio Giammai, Attilio Rabaglia. Quelle dell'attico, procedendo da sinistra a destra di chi osserva l'edificio, rappresentano: Moderazione, Pudore, Pittura, Suono, Commedia, Estro, Danza, Scherzo, Favola, Diletto, Istruzione, Lavoro, Virtù, Dramma, Gloria, Vizio, Tragedia, Rimorso, Curiosità, Silenzio. Sulla loggia a ponente partendo dalla fronte, si nota: Medea, Edipo, Achille, Marco Atilio Regolo. Sulla loggia a est: La Concionatrice, il Punitore di sé stesso, Prometeo, Dedalo.

 

Interno

L'interno fu decorato dal prof. Girolamo Magnani di Parma coadiuvato nel vestibolo e nell'atrio da Pasquale Zambini di Reggio. Nel vestibolo sono posti i busti di Cesare Costa e Achille Peri e due medaglie dello scultore Ilarioli raffiguranti Plauto e Terenzio. L'atrio ha forma di ottagono allungato, con colonne e decori, fra cui le dodici Baccanti della volta (opera di Giuseppe Ugolini) e medaglie con putti a chiaroscuro (Magnani). I busti ai lati dell'ingresso rappresentano Cesare Pariati, scrittore melodrammatico (m 1733) e Francesco Fontanesi, rinnovatore della scenografia. Al sommo dello scalone che conduce al ridotto (dove aveva sede la Società del Casino, ora in Palazzo Tirelli) è il busto di Ludovico Ariosto di Ilario Bedotti.

 

Nella sala che ha forma ellittica prevalgono il bianco e l'oro, vi sono quattro ordini con 106 palchetti, il palco reale e una loggia. I dipinti allegorici del soffitto, da cui pende il lampadario di cristallo, sono opera di Domenico Pellizzi, artista reggiano, con allegorie del melodramma (lato della porta), a sinistra la commedia, a destra la tragedia, e infine la coreografia.

 

Il sipario fu dipinto da Alfonso Chierici che vi espresse "II Genio delle Arti che loro addita i più chiari uomini d'Italia perché in essi si inspirino e risorgano". Nel cartone il pittore aveva alluso all'Italia, ma il duca, non apprezzando il riferimento risorgimentale, fece dipingere un genio con la fiaccola rivolta verso il basso. Il secondo sipario (comodino) rappresenta una gran veduta di paese ed è opera dell'artista Giovanni Fontanesi.

 

Il lato sinistro del palcoscenico ospita il pregevole organo Montesanti del 1815.

 

Eventi storici

Il 29 aprile 1961 debuttò nella lirica in questo teatro il grande tenore Luciano Pavarotti interpretando il ruolo di Rodolfo ne La bohème di Puccini, diretta da Francesco Molinari Pradelli.

 

Teatro Municipale (Reggio Emilia)

Capacity

1,150 seats

 

Realization

 

Construction

1852-1857

Architect

Cesare Costa

 

The municipal theatre of Reggio Emilia, titled today at Romolo Valli, stands on one of the most important squares of the city, on which overlook the other theatre, the Teatro Ariosto, Galleria San Rocco and the Giardini Pubblici. The municipal theatre is an opera house and concert.

 

The theatre building was built in the years 1852-1857. It was conceived and carried out by the architect Cesare Costa di Modena and the works were directed by the engineer Antonio Tegani of Reggio. Has a neoclassical façade on two orders, in brick and marble, with Tuscan columns on the ground floor and Ionic pilasters on the first floor. On the entablature are allegorical statues. The dining room looks like a traditional Italian opera, with horseshoe-shaped plant and five tiers of boxes.

 

The theatre was inaugurated on April 21, 1857 with the opera "Vittor Pisani" artist Achille Peri (1813-80). The large building, built on part of the area of the ancient Citadel, demolished in the early 19th century, cost $ 1,683,000.

 

The February 11, 1882 came the première of "Il conte di Chatillon" by Nicolò Massa.

 

The February 11, 1888 came the premiere of Asrael successfully (opera) by Alberto Franchetti.

 

The September 11, 1983 occurred the world premieres of "Epitaph" by Edison Denisov and Vasiljevich "Ends" by Giacomo Manzoni.

 

Dimensions

The building has a rectangular plan of m 80 43.60 with additions before two pure rectangular lodges 26.40 x 5.20 m. It covers an area of 3763 square meters. The measure m 54. The room had a capacity of 1,609 average viewers (now reduced to 1,150), and after changes in 1907 (the soundboard was placed in the trenches by shortening the stage) measure m. 22.60 to 18.40. II deep stage m. 26.60, 31.20 m wide, has 56 dressing rooms for artists and 16 rooms for the masses. The theatre has a wide upper room that was used as a school of design.

 

Exterior

Downstairs Theatre presents 19 Tuscan columns made of granite.

In seven of the ports medallions Paolo Aleotti sculpted the great authors of Greek theater, Menander, Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes. The upper part, terminated by the Crown to shelves with attic, is scompartita by ionic pilasters made of granite with Windows and, above, allegorical bas-reliefs. The decoration and the Crown are continuing on side lodges formed by round arches on pillars.

 

The statues of the attic and lodges were sculpted by Prudentius Lipeni, Ilario Bedotti, Giovanni Chierici, Antonio Never, Attilio Rabaglia. Those of the attic, progressing from left to right by those who observe the building represent: moderation, Decency, painting, sound, comedy, Creativity, dance, joke, Fable, Delight, education, work, virtue, drama, glory, Vice, tragedy, Remorse, Curiosity, Silence. On the loggia in the West starting from the forehead, you notice: Medea, Oedipus, Achilles, Marcus Atilius Regulus. The loggia on the East: The Concionatrice, the Punisher himself, Prometheus, Daedalus.

 

Inside

The Interior was decorated by prof. Girolamo Magnani of Parma assisted in the vestibule and lobby by Pasquale Zambini of Reggio. In the vestibule are the busts of Cesar Costa and Achille Peri and two medals of the sculptor Ilarioli of Plautus and Terence. The Atrium has the shape of an elongated Octagon, with columns and decorations, including the twelve Bacchantes della volta (opera by Giuseppe Ugolini) and medals with putti in chiaroscuro (Magnani). The busts on the sides of the entrance represent Caesar Pariati, melodramatic writer (died 1733) and Francesco Fontanesi, renewer of the scene. At the staircase leading to the reduced (where he established the company's Casino, now in Palazzo Tirelli) is a bust of Ludovico Ariosto of Ilario Bedotti.

 

In the Hall who has Elliptically prevail the white and gold, there are four orders with 106 boxes, the Royal box and a loggia. Allegorical paintings on the ceiling, from which hangs the crystal chandelier, are the work of Domenico Pellizzi, artist reggiano, with allegories of Opera (port side), left the play, the tragedy, and finally the choreography.

 

The curtain was painted by Alfonso Chierici that expressed "II Genio of arts that they would clear the men of Italy because they inspirino and arise". In the cartoon the painter had alluded to Italy, but the Duke, not appreciating the Risorgimento, made reference to paint a genius with the torch down. The second curtain (bedside table) represents a great view of the country and is the work of artist John Felix.

 

The left side of the stage is home to the fine organ Mamon of 1815.

 

Historical events

The April 29, 1961 debuted in Opera in this theatre the great tenor Luciano Pavarotti singing the role of Rodolfo in La bohème

 

Anyone who's been near a sandhill crane (Antigone canadensis) when it starts calling out can hear this photo! I took an early morning drive to McCoy Flat Reservoir a few miles from my Lassen County, California home. My mission was twofold: I wanted to check a trail camera I had out scouting for coyotes for a possible camera trap deployment, and I wanted to check in on these three in good light. The mission had a 50% success rate as I didn't get any coyote traffic on the trail cam, but these guys, who I'd seen a few times already, were still hanging around. On the 27-degree Fahrenheit April morning there was some nice fog coming off the water, and these beautiful wading birds had the decency to be hanging out in a pretty spot when they decided to break the silence and wake up half the state of California.

 

This image captures one of those unrepeatable wildlife moments — three sandhill cranes mid-call in a fog-draped wetland at first light, framed by mist-softened conifers and glassy water. The warm, golden tones of the birds against the cool atmospheric haze give it a painterly, almost ethereal quality that works beautifully as large-format wall art. It's a natural fit for nature lovers, birding enthusiasts, and wildlife collectors, as well as anyone drawn to the quiet drama of the American West at dawn. A perfect piece for residents of Lassen County or those with fond memories of the Northern California high country.

This image is copyright, all rights reserved, and not part of the public domain. Any use, linking to, or posting of this image is prohibited without my consent. If you want to use this image in any fashion, please have the common courtesy and decency to ask.

 

Tamanawas Falls, Mount Hood National Forest, Oregon

 

If you look closely, you can see a person in the frame which gives a nice scale to how big Tamanawas Falls is. This is Aaron whom I met at the falls. His family and he were on their last day of vacation and reside in Boise, Idaho. Aaron is a pretty tall guy, I'd guess about 6'3" and looks rather small against the waterfall behind him. If you look really close, you can see he's taking a picture of me with his phone while I'm taking his picture. Pretty nice guy.

 

Happy Watefall Wednesday Everybody!