Belgian postcard by Victoria Biscuits Chocolats, no. 19. Photo: M.G.M. Gene Kelly and June Allyson 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.

Ordered this and they send the wrong item!

 

Now that it's sold out I can't get my Kitty! And they want me to jump through hoops to get a refund? They do not even have the decency to reserve the fucking doll that I was supposed to receive!

 

FUCK YOU ASSHOLES!

Belgian postcard by Victoria Biscuits Chocolats, no. 14. Photo: M.G.M. Vincent Price 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.

The backstory: as a capstone to the redevelopment of Welfare Island, but outside of the UDC scheme, the city and state of New York pushed for the southern tip of the island to be redeveloped as a memorial park dedicated to Franklin Roosevelt. Louis Kahn was brought in to design, and his second scheme (1973) met with the approval of the project’s most powerful champions – Governor Nelson Rockefeller and Mayor John Lindsay. A year later, the scheme was totally adrift: Kahn was dead, Rockefeller had ascended to the Vice Presidency after Watergate, Lindsay had left office, and the city was beginning its slide towards the 1975 bankruptcy crisis. Nothing happened on-site. For many years afterwards, the project’s shepherds were Kahn associate Romaldo Giurgola and former UN Ambassador William vanden Heuvel. Improbably, in the mid-2000s, the project was re-started with a series of fundraising campaigns and exhibitions; seven years and some $54 million later, Kahn’s design was completed in 2012.

 

The statue of Roosevelt became a bust (presumably for cost reasons) and a few stairs became ramps to comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act - kind of obvious in hindsight given Roosevelt's paralysis. But otherwise, this is a Louis Kahn design and should be evaluated as such. In keeping with his poetic, quasi-Functionalist manner, Kahn broke the project down into two basic features: there’s the Garden and there’s the Room: one a broad green triangle framed with funereal trees, the other a tight square enclosed by enormous granite prisms (sized based on 1970s crane-loading limits) framing the city and the river. In addition to the bust and the carved recap of the “Four Freedoms” speech, allusions to Roosevelt include the riverfront site and the “ship’s prow” composition (Roosevelt was once the Secretary of the Navy), and the oblique view across to the headquarters of the United Nations (Roosevelt’s brainchild – and another Rockefeller pet project). As has been observed, Kahn’s own admiration of Roosevelt, whose New Deal housing programs kept Kahn employed during the Depression, may explain the shift here towards fairly literal symbolism versus Kahn’s usual reaches for abstractly monumental “timelessness.” Note that to reach the park one must pass the ruins of the Smallpox Hospital - a reminder of the incompleteness of government efforts to promote the general welfare before the New Deal.

 

With this in mind, it's interesting that the scheme bears at least a passing resemblence to Kahn's forgotten 1932 memorial to Lenin, as Michael J. Lewis points out. It may be that Kahn spent forty years waiting for a chance to stick a triangle in some water and terminate it with a Platonic figure. Alternately, perhaps he found some connection, at an emotional level, between the two figures being memorialized. Before the show trials, before the Hitler-Stalin pact, and indeed before the election of Roosevelt, it was not so uncommon for American progressives to express admiration for the Soviet system and its (purported) achievements in equality alongside nominal industrial growth in the Five-Year Plans. In the depths of the Depression, Communism perhaps represented hope of a return to sanity in the same way that the New Deal later would. Kahn may well have begun his design trying to remember how Roosevelt made him feel during his darkest professional hour.

 

More generally, the park develops on Roosevelt Island’s fundamental near-but-distant theme. It’s just far enough back from the city to turn the traffic and the bustle into a silent tableau of buildings against the river and sky, and Kahn’s design goes for silence above all else. The vast blankness of much of its square footage, especially the angled granite flanks of the “garden,” is a declaration against fussiness, against usefulness. The gaps between the granite blocks not only permit one to realize they are, indeed, solid blocks. They also give distorted, shimmering glimpses of the commercial forces that have been banished from this cenotaph: industrial production in Long Island City, commercial manipulation in Midtown. (Hilariously, the view dead ahead is of the unabashedly Kahnian Waterside Plaza, well underway when the park was designed.)

 

The severity of the park so clearly refuses monetization that even the few sops towards practical park operation (electric outlets, “don’t walk here” cordons, generic ground lights) stick out like sore thumbs. The park is designed to receive fifty million dollars into itself and never give it back, and by holding capital in suspension it gives the visitors a chance to exist without it – or, at least, to imagine that they do. Another Communist fantasy? Or just the chance of some damned peace and quiet, enhanced by the gentle approach through South Point Park and past the scenic ruin of the Smallpox Hospital? It’s often observed that New Yorkers love their city so much that their favorite places in the city are the ones that make you feel like you’ve completely escaped it; Kahn’s park belongs in this paradoxical canon. Not incidentally, this attempt to throw away both money and the prospect of making more has much in common with the United Nations building itself, if my reading is correct. Kahn's use of white stone here invites the comparison in any case.

 

Of course, all this comes at the expense of other things. If Kahn began by asking things what they wanted to be, here he seems to have been chatting with a mausoleum and not a park. As a funereal monument, it's excellent. As a “park” on an unmistakably spectacular site, the design seems to fail for the exact reasons it succeeds as a memorial. There’s nothing to do but think deep thoughts and maybe have a picnic. In particular there’s no way to get to the water, which is a cardinal sin in today’s landscape architectural discourse. There might have been some way to activate the flanking paths without robbing the park of its silence; perhaps some kind of stepped seating could have been integrated into the great retaining walls, angled in some way as to hide it from the northern approach, but still allow a good spot from which to view the city (or clamber down to the riprap at water’s edge). Could this have been done without undermining the very silence and decency Kahn was shooting for?

 

To be fair to Kahn, the Clean Water Act had only been passed the year before this design was completed, and the idea of “getting in touch with the river” would probably have seemed absurd. Today, an enthusiastic team works to develop a swimming pool that will float suspended in the river not far away (see Kickstarter to get your name on a pool tile, should it be built). But in the Seventies, the site of the Kahn memorial was splashed by a kitschy “geyser” that raised ire from East Siders convinced it was fumigating their neighborhood with aerosolized sewage. (In the Eighties, the water also killed off a grove of trees recently planted on the site by island beautification organizers, but this was due simply to erosion.) To retrofit the Kahn design reflecting today’s realities and landscape ambitions would be anachronistic.

 

One might then ask, as seier did a few months ago, why we should feel ruled by the master’s design at all? Why not have a new competition for a design that addresses the contemporary conditions of the island and the city? If one sets aside the hero-worship arguments (Kahn was great, he has very few buildings, etc.), it has to come down either to the quality of the design – which is very good though not sacrosanct – or the money. Inevitably, what enables this anti-commercial temple is the aforementioned fifty million bucks, and that kind of donation money is not going to manifest itself without a good hook. “Unfinished masterpiece” has a nice ring to it and I suspect this was more important in getting the building completed than the appeal of any particular design features. In a way, one wishes the project had been less completely designed at the time of Kahn’s death; it would have offered an opportunity for its stewards to constructively challenge the design, as José Oubrerie did with Corbusier at Firminy.

 

Ultimately, though, I’m pleased with this result. Roosevelt Island has plenty of parks, playgrounds, and gardens. It can afford one temple.

 

A footnote: Kahn’s design bears a slightly more than superficial resemblance to a 1970 proposal by the Classical architect John Barrington Bayley to construct a “Museum of Man” on the same site. According to Bayley, this was in response to a Met competition, but I haven’t yet been able to track that down. The Bayley project has a similar terminal square courtyard or plaza, reached through a Classical temple (rather than a ‘garden’) scrunched into the ship’s prow triangle. Kahn’s project could almost be imagined as the “ruined” version of the Bayley scheme, which would be a fun way to design something. I bring this up not because I think it really changes anything about the Kahn scheme, but because it seems to have gone oddly under-reported in the coverage.

 

Also, you'll note that the photos here jump around quite a bit in season and time of day. I've made five or six visits to the site since the park opened in October, each time apparently getting not quite the complete set of images. Frankly, I think the wintry evening images "get" the park better than the others; at the same time, the place is beautiful and extremely pleasant on a summer afternoon, with river breezes blowing past and the trees kissed with golden light.

 

And...that's it for Roosevelt Island! Thanks for reading along. If you missed any of it, the overview post is back here. Eventually I hope to reformat all of this for an offsite illustrated blog post, possibly with drawings, etc. For now I'm ready to move on to some other things I've been saving up...

Tombstone of Dave Broadfoot and his wife. He was best known as a comedian. Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto, Canada. Spring afternoon, 2021. Pentax K1 II.

 

A summing up of Dave Broadfoot's life by Brad Wheeler in The Globe and Mail:

 

Published November 11, 2016

Updated November 11, 2016

 

Dave Broadfoot, an earnest and bespectacled humourist whose uber-Canadian characters gave the country a folksy, lampoonable sense of identity, who doggedly blazed a new trail of stand-up venues across the nation, and whose sharper-than-you-think satire was presented with a smirk and not a snarl, died on Nov. 1. He was 90.

 

He knew about people, and he knew about Canada. And if one listened to him, one could learn.

 

"Whether you're a comedian or not, if you've had misfortune and laughed at yourself," Mr. Broadfoot told The Globe and Mail in 1966, "you've known the highest form of comedy there is."

 

In the same interview, Mr. Broadfoot, who began his performing career in 1947 when he joined the North Vancouver Community Players, spoke about the evolution of Canadian audiences when it came to comedy. "We have achieved, to some degree, the ability to laugh at ourselves."

 

Mr. Broadfoot seized on the collective self-deprecation and furthered it. He became nationally prominent from his stint with the CBC radio and television comedy troupe the Royal Canadian Air Farce from 1973 to 1988.

 

To the Farce he brought with him three memorable comedic characters, each maple-blooded and often confused: Big Bobby Clobber, the ineloquent hockey player; Sergeant Renfrew of the RCMP, who never got his man; and the Honourable Member for Kicking Horse Pass, a rambling politician who had a passionate way with nonsense. "How many of you are sitting here tonight with no arms because of Canadian sharks," Mr. Broadfoot ranted, as the well-meaning but distracted parliamentarian, in 2002. "How many? Let's have a show of hands."

 

Among his peers, Mr. Broadfoot was appreciated not just for his comic gifts, but for his professionalism, his humanity and his sociability. "He was a great dinner companion," Don Ferguson, a fellow farceur with the Royal Canadian Air Farce, told The Globe. "He had a great sense of what I call 'the human comedy,' which was an appreciation for how absurd life could be and how silly people could look and how ridiculous they could behave in the normal course of events. These were things you wouldn't notice yourself, but when Dave would point them out, you'd think, 'He's absolutely right.' "

 

Mr. Broadfoot worked with a high level of topicality, cleverness and human decency – he avidly argued for gender equality and women's rights, for example – that contributed to his authority and relevancy. "He believed comedy should be about something," said Mr. Ferguson. "He hated the kind of dirty-joke comedy that a lot of people did. He believed comedy should have some redeeming social value."

 

In his 1966 interview with The Globe, Mr. Broadfoot, in the heat of the civil rights movement in the United States, took a swipe at the "ultra-hip" comedians who used a derogatory word for African-Americans in their jokes. "They're forgetting the cost of that word in human life."

 

Paul Soles, the veteran actor and television personality, cited Mr. Broadfoot's astuteness and propriety. "He worked clean. I don't ever recall him saying a blue word," said Mr. Soles, longtime co-host of the CBC television program Take 30. "He had a lovely, mature arc of wisdom that allowed us to be amused with [people in] positions of importance, whether it was a member of Parliament or an RCMP officer."

 

A then-fledgling Canadian comedian Ron James first met Mr. Broadfoot some 20 years ago at a comedy festival in Gravenhurst, in Ontario's cottage country. "I watched this man do an hour and a half," Mr. James told The Globe. "He was almost 70, and he was pugnacious and he was preaching, brother. He used the whole stage. The cat was 6-foot-2 and he engaged the audience."

 

Mr. James watched gobsmacked from the wings, where sneering members of a hot Toronto comedy troupe also took in Mr. Broadfoot's act. "They were passing judgment," Mr. James remembered. "I turned to them and told them that if they could do that at 70, they will have won."

 

Born in North Vancouver on Dec. 5, 1925, young Dave was raised in a home where religion was the centre of life and where "fun was not a priority." His upbringing was a strictly Protestant one. His three older sisters would all end up as missionaries, one in Thailand, one in Bolivia and one in Malaysia. Speaking about them later, when he was a professional comedian and a self-described humanist, Mr. Broadfoot cracked that his scripture-following siblings had "better writers."

 

In an interview with The Globe in 1999, Mr. Broadfoot described his childhood as "very strange." On Sundays, he went to church three times. "It took me a long time to rebel and it was why I had so much difficulty at school. I was separated culturally."

 

Young Dave wanted to go to the movies and attend dances and parties, but, not wishing to displease his family, he refrained.

 

A failure academically, he quit school at 16, lied about his age and joined the merchant marine.

 

He spent the war years evading German U-boat fire. He was in Sydney, Australia, when the Japanese surrendered. (Mr. Broadfoot later would entertain Canadian troops in Japan, Korea, the Middle East, Germany and the Balkans, and was named an officer of the Order of Canada.)

 

Upon his return home, Mr. Broadfoot eventually found a job at a Woodward's department store. One night he went to see a talent contest at Vancouver's since-demolished Denman Auditorium, where a neighbour performed a soliloquy from Richard III. "It was so impressive," Mr. Broadfoot told The Globe. "The audience was completely silent. I thought if he could do it, maybe I could, too."

 

It took a year for him to work up the courage to join a theatre company, and he always remembered the laughs he got on his first stage entrance. "It was an amazing experience. I felt like I had come home. For the first time in my life, I did not feel like a misfit." Soon he was acting in three companies simultaneously. "Unconsciously," he said, "I was making up for lost time."

 

Mr. Broadfoot decided he wanted to be the best English-speaking comedian in the country. "I never thought about New York or Los Angeles at all," he wrote in his 2002 autobiography Old Enough to Say What I Want. "My focus was Canada."

 

In early September, 1952, he boarded a bus with $100 in his pocket and headed east. Four days he later, he landed in Toronto, where he found a "gloomy room" near the bus terminal. "What have I done?" he asked himself.

 

Mr. Broadfoot had done the right thing. He arrived in Toronto mere days before CBC television first went to air. He took a job selling suits at another department store, Simpson's, and started hanging around at the CBC buildings. Eventually, he earned an audition for producer Mavor Moore, who cast him in Spring Thaw, an annual stage revue of dance, satirical songs and topical comedic skits, predominantly on Canadian subjects.

 

He was on his way, and he never stopped.

 

After a nerve-racking (but well-received) appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1955, Mr. Broadfoot began landing spots on The Wayne and Shuster Show. In 1959, he married the vivacious comedian Jean Templeton. For a time, they performed as comedy duo, on a radio show and on their own daily children's television show (Junior Roundup). In the evenings, it was banquets, conventions and the sketch show Well Rehearsed Ad Libs in a room above the popular Italian restaurant Old Angelo's.

 

That show included a satirical solo piece, involving Mr. Broadfoot as an aboriginal public relations man. "As the revelations of injustices toward native peoples mounted," he wrote in his autobiography, "I wondered how a comedian could comment on the situation."

 

Wearing a headband and stuffing a peace pipe with tobacco, the character would speak to the audience, calling them "you white people." The bit ended with a native rhythm and a variation of a Woody Guthrie song:

 

This land was my land

 

And now it's your land

 

This land they stole

 

For you, from me

 

Mr. Broadfoot's marriage broke down when his wife moved to New York to further her career. He would later marry Diane Simard, a CBC producer he met in Montreal. The couple had a daughter, Valérie, born in 1970.

 

Over the rest of his career, Mr. Broadfoot took various incarnations of his shows across the country and around the world. He once performed for Queen Elizabeth II, who asked him "Where do you get your ideas?"

 

He got them by observing. Once during a break while taping at the CBC theatre, in a sketchy downtown area of Toronto, Mr. Broadfoot came upon a conversation in a nearby convenience store. A customer, the comedian wrote in his autobiography, was upset because the store was out of Aqua-Velva aftershave. When the clerk told him all he had left was Mennen, the customer sneered, "I wouldn't drink that stuff if you paid me."

 

When Mr. Broadfoot began, there was no established Canadian circuit for comedians. "He carved a trail, long before any Canadian had a clue what a stand-up comedian was," said Mr. James, winner of the Dave Broadfoot Comedic Genius Award. "And he had to do it one kilometre at a time."

 

Mr. James saw Mr. Broadfoot not long ago, at a taping of the topical CBC Radio comedy show Because News. "He was still interested," Mr. James said. "He was still a student of the form."

 

Indeed, at his 90th birthday party, Mr. Broadfoot was more interested in telling new jokes than he was in blowing out candles. "He was still writing every day, on current events," Mr. Ferguson said.

 

Long before he reached the end of his life, Mr. Broadfoot's decision to concentrate on a made-in-Canada career paid off for him. He offered a national perspective; he embraced people and place.

 

"He changed something here," Mr. James said. "He brought his words to the paying public, on the cold winter nights. And trust me, when you pull into a theatre in a blizzard on a Tuesday night in February, a thousand people laughing sounds exactly the same here as it does in Los Angeles."

 

Dave Broadfoot leaves his wife, Diane Simard Broadfoot, and daughter, Valérie.

 

Globe and Mail Obituary of Diane Simard Broadfoot:

 

Diane Simard Broadfoot, O Ont

 

'Ma chère Diane, c'est à ton tour, de te laisser parler d'amour'

 

Peacefully at Toronto Western Hospital on Wednesday, January 18, 2017 at the age of 75. Predeceased by her treasured husband Dave Broadfoot. Cherished mother of Valérie Broadfoot, mother-in-law of Joe Macdonald, sister of Lorraine Tracy and adored friend of many.

 

Originally from her beloved Québec, Diane was a bright, feisty, caring, loyal and funny person. She was a proud feminist and an advocate for gay rights and women's legal equality. As a longtime Torontonian, she continued to embrace her Québecois heritage. She loved classical, Québecois and French music, travel, theatre, good food and wine. She was a renowned hostess - Diane and Dave's home was always a hive of social activity.

 

In the earlier part of her life, Diane had a successful career in television as a producer and director. It was through this work that she met Dave, her husband and best friend of almost 50 years. While managing Dave's career, she also devoted herself to volunteer service to the community, both at the grass roots and board level. Her volunteer work covered many areas of need, from services to adults and children with mental challenges, health services to persons with HIV and AIDS, to support for the arts. She was a member of the Order of Ontario, recipient of the Queen's Golden and Diamond Jubilee medals, as well as numerous other awards from the many organizations she served.

 

Diane's family and friends thank the staff of 9A at Toronto Western Hospital for taking special care of her. Immense thanks to Diane's private personal support team of Annie, Leah, Cyril and Iresh.

 

A celebration of life reception will be held in Toronto at the Mount Pleasant Funeral Centre from 5:00 to 7:00 pm on Saturday, February 25, 2017. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Women's Legal Education and Action Fund (LEAF), Eden Community Homes, Alzheimer Society of Canada or the Arthritis Society.

 

To Plant Memorial Trees in memory, please visit our Sympathy Store.

Published in The Globe and Mail from Jan. 23 to Jan. 28, 2017.

near London Bridge, London, UK

 

1 Timothy 2:9

I also want the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes,

Well, the other day I wasn't going to go running... and then at about 9.30 I started to get really restless, so I went anyway! So this is a rural area, no street lights, I am running through the woods and in reference to the light levels the phrase ‘pitch’ springs to mind! No surprise then that 15 minutes later I was viciously assaulted by a tree root, bursting forth from the path at the very moment that I should run past in order to wrestle me to the ground and have its wicked way with me ‘Army of Darkness’ style! As a homage to David Beckham, I swiftly employed my left foot to hold back the assailant, but alas my football tackling days are far behind me and as was often the case then, it was foretold that I was to end up a crumpled mess on the floor. The big toe on my left foot lost part of its nail, which also has a nice little rose colored blister beneath it, and a reasonable amount of swelling. Also, as I flew brick like through the air I rotated left (left foot caught remember) and landed on my hip, resulting in the bruise you see before you.

 

Don’t worry, it wasn’t a full moon, so no werewolves, and the vampires don’t like it around here, too much water and the graveyard is on the other side of town. Funnily enough, the track from the wood emerges by a local estate; I startled an octogenarian sneaking a quick rollup whilst walking his canine accomplice, his words drifted after me as I ran (limped) up the street ‘you must be mad!’

 

*note, the incident was also accompanied by a large amount of swearing and angry intonations directed at several of the lesser known gods. In the interest of decency, I have opted to leave them out!

 

Don't mess with nature, it will kick your... hip :)

 

Is Is Writexxxxx The Other Left 2 Capture & Frame A Private Activity?

.

 

So As U Contemplate... THIS is 4 U!

 

Is there not something disrespectful by acting as a voyeur...

 

But how many times has one looked out of a window across a street at night as one is closing the curtains... only to see a scene...

 

From time to time U No Who has grabbed his cam... to capture the scene...

 

Is it an invasion of: privacy... a common decency?

 

au.youtube.com/watch?v=zCMyhs-XUcc&feature

 

But then there are those who clearly do it on purpose... NYC is a well known venue...

 

Never The Less... @ Flickr... it is a pleasure 2 see Creativity+i.e.MSP

Manly is a Northern suburb of Sydney, Australia, and is located 17 km from Sydney's Central Business District. Well-known for its fine beaches and strong surf, Manly is popular with both tourists and locals. The 30 minute ferry-ride from Circular Quay to Manly Wharf is a Sydney Classic. Depicted is 'The Corso', Manly's most commerical and bustling street with many shops and restaurants. This street runs from Manly Wharf all the way to Manly beach, at the Tasman Sea.

 

The name 'Manly' was given by the first Governor of New South Wales, Captain Arthur Phillip, for the indigenous people living there, "their confidence and manly behaviour made me give the name of Manly Cove to this place".

 

Also noteworthy is that Manly beach was the place where William Gocher challenged the restriction on sea bathing during daylight hours, something that until then (1902) was forbidden for reasons of public decency. A year later, after mounting pressure, the authorities permitted sea bathing during daylight, but only if a bathing suit from neck to knee was worn. How the times have changed!

French postcard by Cinémagazine Edition, no. 188. photo: Atelier Böhm.

 

French actor Georges Charlia (1894 – 1984) played in 22 silent and sound films. He worked with such famous directors of the French avant-garde cinema as Germaine Dulac, Jean Epstein and Alberto Cavalcanti.

 

Georges Charlia was born as Georges Charliat in Paris, France in 1894. He made his film debut in Germaine Dulac’s silent film Gossette (1923) with Régine Bouet. Then followed a part in another classic of the silent cinema, La belle Nivernaise/The Beauty from Nivernais (1924, Jean Epstein) with Blanche Montel. He played the lead in Epstein’s La goutte de sang/The drop of blood (1924). The film was started by Jean Epstein, but Maurice Mariaud took it over and modified the project. In the Guy de Maupassant adaptation Pierre et Jean/Pierre and Jean (1924, Donatien), he appeared with Lucienne Legrand. Le train sans yeux/Train Without Eyes (1927, Alberto Cavalcanti) was a Louis Delluc adaptation in which he co-starred with Hans Mierendorf, Gina Manès and Hanni Weisse. He also appeared in Cavalcanti’s drama En rade/Sea Fever (1928, Alberto Cavalcanti). At Rovi, Hal Erickson reviews: “Catherine Hessling, better known to film enthusiasts for her work in the early Jean Renoir silents, stars as a seaport barmaid who falls in love with sweet-natured sailor Georges Charlia. When Charlia unaccountably disappears one day, Hessling is plunged into the depths of melancholia. Her sad story is counterpointed with the bizarre behavior of the local laundress' lazy, near-moronic son (Philippe Heriat), who dreams of a life at sea. Although well photographed on genuine locations, Sea Fever proved confusing to many non-French filmgoers.” Charlia starred in a few German films, including Ritter der nacht/Knights of the Night (1928, Max Reichmann) co-starring La Jana. In that same year he also played in the drama L'équipage/Last Flight (1928, Maurice Tourneur) starring Charles Vanel. One of his last silent films was Prix de beauté/Beauty Prize (1930, Augusto Genina) in which he was the lover and murderer of Louise Brooks.

 

George Charlia made the transition to sound film with Vacances (1931, Robert Boudrioz) with Florelle and Lucien Gallas. He reunited with Gina Manès to co-star in L'ensorcellement de Séville/The Charm of Seville (1931, Benito Perojo), Pax (1932, Francisco Elías) and L'amour qu'il faut aux femmes/The love which is necessary to women (1933, Adolf Trotz). In Germany, Charlia played a supporting part in the classic anti-war drama Kameradschaft/Comradeship (1931, Georg Wilhelm Pabst). Hal Erickson at Rovi: “Kameradschaft is set in a mining community on the French/German frontier, where several French miners are trapped in a cave-in. Their only hope for rescue lies in a long-abandoned underground tunnel, buried since the First World War. Ignoring the ethnic and political differences that have long separated the two countries, a group of German miners pick their way through the old tunnel to save the entombed Frenchmen. (…) Ironically, the German public, whose decency and humanity is celebrated in Kameradschaft, tended to avoid the film.” His last films were the Belgian-Dutch coproduction Jeunes filles en liberté/Young Girls in Freedom (1933, Fritz Kramp), and L'enfant de ma soeur/The Child of my Sister (1933, Henry Wulschleger). Why his film career stopped then after only ten years is not clear. Wasn’t his voice sound proof? Did he loose his interest for the cinema after the silent avant-garde cinema had dwindled away? We only know that Georges Charlia died in 1984, in his hometown Paris.

 

Sources: James Travers (Films de France), Wikipedia, and IMDb.

Catching up on some back shots from the beginning of the year

 

On a walk around the Addington Cemetery with a wonderful Flickr friend. February 13, 2016 Christchurch New Zealand.

 

There is so much damaged in the cemetery because of the earthquake we have had. It is such a pity as I don' think it will ever be fully repaired.

 

The Addington Cemetery was established in 1858 when the Scottish Presbyterians of St Andrew’s Church purchased land for a cemetery in Selwyn Street. Although not the first cemetery in Christchurch, Addington was in fact the first “public” cemetery, “being open to all persons of any religious community” and allowing the performance of any religious service “not contrary to public decency”.

 

The first burial took place on the 10th of November 1858. The cemetery has several persons of note buried within its grounds including activist Kate Sheppard, Christchurch Mayor Tommy Taylor and members of the pioneer family, the Deans.

For More Info:http://my.christchurchcitylibraries.com/addington-cemetery/

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

File #4

 

Six months after Joker had been admitted to the Asylum the GCPD happened upon his contingency plan. A bomb built into a newly constructed wall beneath the Gotham cathedral. Analysis of the wall found that there was no way to remove the bomb without dismantling the wall which would bring the whole cathedral down. Thus there was only one option. Disarm the bomb before it could detonate. Joker had left the bomb on a timer that had been counting down from over the last six months and was due to detonate the next day.

 

In order to disarm the bomb a code was needed. Checking the keypad for prints yielded nothing, evidently Joker had the pad wiped clean after he activated the timer. That means the only way to disarm the bomb is to get him to hand over the timer. Needless to say, after the events in the tunnel of love, Jim was keen to keep me as far away from Joker as possible. As such it fell to Warden Quincy Sharp to convince Joker to hand over the code. Given how Arkham is regarded as a psychiatric hospital the guards aren’t allowed to use unconventional interrogation techniques so warden Sharp appealing to Joker’s human decency didn’t go down well.

 

Attachment: Warden Office CCTV – September 22nd 14:30

 

”Quincy old boy how are things? Still balding I see.”

 

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?”

 

”You’re finally retiring?”

 

“The bomb.”

 

”What bomb? That record Cash made?”

 

“The one under Gotham cathedral.”

 

”Bombing a church? That sounds more like Riddler’s MO. You know how much he loves insulting religion.”

 

“We know it’s yours.”

 

”I resent that! I’m not the only clown in Gotham with a love of explosives. Why’s it got to be me?”

 

“Probably because you signed the scene.”

 

”Oh yeah haha.”

 

“Give us the code.”

 

”Or what Sharpy? You gonna give me a stern talking to? Make me feel bad about myself?”

 

“You know this is wrong Jack.”

 

”WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?”

 

Joker charges forward at the Warden’s desk in anger, stopped only by Cash managing to grab hold of him.

 

”WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

 

“Tell me the code Jack. No-one needs to get hurt.”

 

”If you want my help then you know who I’ll talk to!”

 

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

 

”Then boom! Hahahaha.”

 

“Take him back to his cell, and get me Gordon on the line.”

 

End of attachment.

 

Ever since we first crossed paths after he murdered Loeb, Joker’s always had a case of waring personalities between two personas. Jack Napier, a wannabe comedian and the Joker, a clown trying to make the world smile by causing misery to others. After we faced off against one another the Joker persona has slowly but surely begun to dominate Jack to the point where I’m not entirely sure if Jack’s in there anymore. That was cemented after that night in ACE Chemicals. Joker was trying to gather the components necessary to mass produce a new variant of the Joker toxin. Thanks to an analysis of the toxin I was able to piece together that the only place he could gather the compounds necessary on such a large scale was ACE Chemicals.

 

With that foreknowledge I had the GCPD set a trap for Joker and his men. It all went exactly as I had hoped. All of Joker’s men were arrested by the GCPD but Joker seemingly escaped. What Jim and I didn’t know was that Joker ended up falling into a vat of chemicals during the firefight. He wouldn’t be discovered until the ACE Chemicals workers emptied the vat the following morning. Many believe that’s the straw that broke the camel’s back.

 

Since then there’s been no reports of the Jack persona being exhibited by Joker. I fear it can be speculated that my hopes of purging the Joker persona from Jack ended up merely cementing his presence.

 

Alfred’s always speculated that Jason’s murder was Jack lashing out for what I did to him. Maybe he’s right, but I like to think otherwise. Perhaps that’s just me being desperate and hoping that deep down I didn’t end up killing Jack Napier. Either way, I now have to deal primarily with the Joker persona, and I had to deal with him in order to get the code to disarm the bomb under Gotham cathedral.

 

Attachment: Therapy Session Recording – Joker #2

 

“Therapy session 2. Patient’s name: J……”

 

There’s a long pause on the tape. Without a video feed it’s difficult to tell what’s making her hesitate but it’s implied that Joker was staring at her rather intensly.

 

”Joker. Acting physician, Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Date of session 22nd of September. Previous session was cut short so this session is designed to make up the remaining time from the previous session.”

 

”Cash can be so rude interrupting our one on one time like that.”

 

”From what I hear it was the Warden who cut out session short.”

 

”Word travels fast around here.”

 

”Well it’s not everyday a patient gets called up to the Warden’s office. You must have done something serious.”

 

”I just gave him some advice on how to stop his head from balding.”

 

”Warden Sharp is balding?”

 

”I think he’s considering wearing a wig.”

 

”Really?”

 

”Yeah the silly old fool.”

 

”So, Joker….”

 

”Yes Doctor?”

 

”Going back to our conversation. Why do you find yourself obsessed with the Batman?”

 

”Why do you find yourself obsessed with me?”

 

”I ask the questions here.”

 

”You’re hoping that if you can understand me that you will be able to understand him.”

 

”Perhaps.”

 

”Tell me, what’s the market at the moment for a book about the mind of the Batman?”

 

There’s a long pause. Evidently Dr. Quinzel was shocked that Joker knew she was just using him to write a book.

 

”Must be pretty good if you’re willing to talk to one of Gotham’s grade A crazies.”

 

”You think of yourself as crazy?”

 

”You don’t?”

 

”…”

 

”The world’s a funny old place Doctor. It’ll do all it can to break you. The only thing that separates us from the animals is how we let the world break us. Some give up. Some fight back. Some go mad.”

 

”Is that what happened to you? The world tried to break you?”

 

”Of course.”

 

”Which action did you take?”

 

”What do you think?”

 

”…”

 

”You think I went mad.”

 

”You don’t?”

 

”Oh goodness no. I know I went mad. But unlike most, I accept it.”

 

”Who do you know that doesn’t?”

 

”Who do you think?”

 

”The Batman?”

 

”I couldn’t possibly say.”

 

”You think he’s mad?”

 

”Nooooooo……..I don’t think a man dressing up as a bat is mad the same way I don’t think a man dressing as a clown is mad.”

 

”Of course.”

 

”I suppose….”

 

”Suppose…?”

 

”In many ways you’re right.”

 

”How so?”

 

”He and I are alike.”

 

”Why do you say that?”

 

”I know it. He’s yet to accept it, but deep down he knows it as well.”

 

”You think Batman knows he’s crazy?”

 

”Maybe. Or perhaps he’s crazier than me?”

 

”I’m not sure many people would agree on that.”

 

”Probably not. But I at least know I’m crazy. If anything he’s mad to think he’s sane.”

 

”Maybe he is. But why do you think you’re mad?”

 

”Probably thanks to dear old daddy.”

 

”The one who hit you?”

 

”Do you know another?”

 

”So you think he’s the one responsible for who made you into this?”

 

”Goodness no. Sure daddy dearest didn’t help the situation but he didn’t make me.”

 

”Then what did?” The Batman?”

 

”Nope. All it took to break was one simple thing. One bad day.”

 

”What happened on that day?”

 

”Life destroyed my world.”

 

”What happened?”

 

”I…I…..”

 

”You can tell J. You can trust me.”

 

”I saw my wife murdered in front of my eyes.”

 

”….I didn’t know you were married…”

 

”I prefer it that way.”

 

”When was she killed?”

 

”Five years ago.”

 

”Just before you killed Commissioner Loeb.”

 

”It was that long ago? It feels like it was yesterday.”

 

”You feel remorseful?”

 

”I always do.”

 

”Then why do you keep killing more people if you don’t want to?”

 

”How else am I supposed to drown out the voices?”

 

”Voices?”

 

”Their screams.”

 

”You hear their screams?”

 

”Everytime I close my eyes. Sniff I just want to make them stop.”

 

”Hey hey it’s alright. It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

 

“Time’s up Doc.”

 

”Alright. Thanks Cash.”

 

“Are you crying clown?”

 

”Go to hell Cash.”

 

”We’ll be just a minute Cash. Session terminated at 16:30. Dr Quinzel signing off.”

 

Harley didn’t know it then, but Joker didn’t actually feel any remorse for his victims. In fact, he’s often taken pleasure from making them suffer slowly, but Harley didn’t know that and though she couldn’t tell, Joker had already set his claws into her.

 

I don't know if my wife deserved to be put into handcuffs and arrested there in that cold and dark parking lot that night.

 

I'll leave that judgement to the people who know the truth.

 

Over time it would become obvious to me that the truth in many ways was hidden from me... obliterated by design or obscured by the events of chance...

 

Still, I did what any husband would do.

 

What any father would do.

 

I rushed to the scene to defend the woman that I married.

 

I raced there to protect my children.

 

I must've hit a hundred on the way... blowing through red lights and everything.

 

My brother's words on the phone echoed in my head.

 

'You better get up here fast' he said 'they're arresting your wife and they're taking your kid.'

 

He was breathless.

 

And he sounded really serious.

 

He never sounded that way.

 

The last thing he said before he hung up was 'you'd better get up here right away man... they're gonna take your kid away.'

 

The way that he emphasized the word 'gonna' made me floor the truck.

 

They were words that chilled me to the core.

 

I could hear yelling and screaming in the background when he went to hang up the phone.

 

I could hear crying.

 

I could hear them threatening to arrest my brother too.

 

It was pretty obvious that the scene was out of control and that tempers had already flared.

 

What was happening to my wife and children right now?

 

Why was it happening?

 

It sounded like chaos.

 

It sounded like the soundtrack to 'Dante's Inferno' if 'Dante's Inferno' had only had a soundtrack.

 

It was the sound of agony and anger all mixed together to create some squealing and blood curdling satanic sounding melody... it was the sound of pure evil being done.

 

It is an awful music that I would wish on the ears of no one.

 

Only minutes before I'd sat there in my office overcome with the warmest of feelings... wonderfully proud of my kids for what they'd done... completely content with where life had put me... overwhelmingly satisfied with my family being safe, warm and together...

 

Norman Rockwell couldn't have painted a truer picture of what'd just happened in my office.

 

A moment ago things were so perfect.

 

Everyone was warm... they were all safe... we were together...

 

Now it was beginning to feel pretty much like I'd teletransported smack dab into the middle of some third world country.

 

In an instant my family's existence had gone from one straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting to something more like Pablo Picasso's 'Bombing of Guernica.'

 

I was shocked, I was absolutely stunned and mostly I was just confused.

 

My family had set out to do a good thing.

 

For Godsakes they were going on a little outing to donate money to charity!

 

In a little golden basket!

 

What the hell was going on?

 

What the fuck could have happened in the few minutes that went by since they left my office that my wife was now under arrest and the police had taken my daughter?

 

And what about my other daughters?

 

Where were they?

 

The phone rang again right after I'd hung it up.

 

It was my wife this time.

 

She was crying and she sounded pretty incoherent.

 

I could barely understand a word that she was saying.

 

She said she'd been arrested... that they took our kid away.

 

She said something about parking in the firelane.

 

'Don't say another word to the police' I told her adamantly... 'I'll be right there baby... I'm on my way.'

 

I hurriedly parked my truck right in front of our station wagon which was parked right in front of the entrance to the Super Store.

 

Right under the sign that said 'Satisfaction Guaranteed.'

 

My wife and my older daughters were nowhere to be seen.

 

My two year old daughter was sleeping soundly in the car seat right where I'd put her just a few minutes before.

 

There were two police cruisers and a jeep parked together some distance behind the station wagon with their mars lights on.

 

I knew that being cool, calm and collected was going to be the only way to approach the situation or I was gonna end up in handcuffs myself.

 

Suppressing the anger that was welling up inside of me was a survival necessity for the sake of my family.

 

Somebody had to have a 'level head' here.

 

My brain was racing in overdrive trying to piece together the puzzle and figure out what'd happened.

 

I needed to talk to someone who knew what the hell was going on.

 

I approached one of the police cars... there was a woman in a police uniform talking to another officer in the car.

 

I could see another officer standing in the parking lot talking on his cell phone.

 

When I got up to the car I asked who was in charge.

 

And I asked pretty nicely.

 

The guy in the car said he was.

 

And he didn't say it nicely at all.

 

Just then I saw my wife in the back seat of the other police car.

 

She was bawling her brains out and you could tell that she was in handcuffs.

 

The pieces were all starting to come together now.

 

'Listen' I said... and I said it in a really 'buddy to buddy' kind of way... 'that's my wife you've got in the back of the cop car there and that''s my daughter sleeping in the station wagon.'

 

I'd figured it out.

 

When she went to take the kids to donate the money my youngest daughter had fallen asleep in her car seat.

 

So my wife parked the car a couple of car lengths away from where the bellringer was taking donations.

 

She left the two year old in the car while her and my older daughters went and dumped the change into the Salvation Army bellringer's bucket and took a few pictures.

 

They could have been out of the car for just a couple of minutes and the doors were still locked.

 

The kid was still sleeping.

 

The officer inside of the cop car poked his bony finger into my solar plexus and he said to me 'your wife is under arrest and your child is now in state custody. We've called DCFS... they're on their way.'

 

They had arrested my wife for child endangerment.

 

I could see that logic wasn't gonna be a part of the conversation that night but I tried anyway...

 

'Why don't you just write her a ticket for parking in the fire lane and we'll all call it a night and go home' I said it nicely again in that same 'buddy to buddy' kind of way.

 

With a glaring look of contempt, maybe even anger, the officer looked at me and said 'your wife is going to jail and DCFS is going to come and pick up the kid.'

 

I couldn't believe this... 'why wouldn't they give my kid back to me' I wondered... 'it wasn't like I left her locked up in a parked car' I thought.

 

I didn't do anything wrong.

 

Neither did my daughter.

 

Why were they coming down on us like this?

 

I was starting to get angry... I didn't want my daughter leaving there to spend the night with strangers... I wanted her to go home with me.

 

I wouldn't let them do this.

 

It wasn't right.

 

It was beyond fucking wrong.

 

It felt like a Goddamned kidnapping by the state.

 

I pointed my finger at him and I said 'I can't believe you're doing this... I am going to make a really big deal out of this... I am going to make a really, really big deal about this.'

 

'Go right the fuck ahead' he said.

 

'Look around man' I said... not so nicely this time... 'there are video cameras everywhere... did you guys even go inside and look at the video to see what happened?'

 

'We don't have to' he replied in a really sarcastic and condescending kind of way... 'Your wife is under arrest and we're taking your kid.'

 

It was easier to just tear my family to pieces and throw my wife in jail than to actually investigate and try to see what happened... to see if reality matched up with the story that my wife gave them.

 

It seemed like a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality.

 

It was an absolute nightmare... it was surreal and it was insane.

 

And it was happening to my family, right in front of me... and there was nothing that I could do to make it stop.

 

Those sworn to 'serve and protect' were mercilessly tearing my family to pieces while I stood there completely powerless to disrupt their abuse of the authority that the people had given them.

 

And this they did because they could.

 

They did this because they had the power to do it.

 

It was more 'violate and neglect' than 'serve and protect.'

 

And it seemed so unbelievably malicious.

 

I could see that 'Mr. Nice Guy' wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

 

I walked over to the squad car my wife was locked in and I tried to talk to her through the window.

 

I told her it was gonna be alright... not to say another word... that I loved her and that I'd figure all of this out.

 

Her face was wet with tears and red from crying and it was tough to see her in handcuffs like that.

 

Right in front of me my family was shattered and their destiny at that moment was completely out of my control as a father.

 

It was like watching someone you love being raped... in agonizingly slow motion.

 

This was like something you'd hear out of Sadaam Hussein's Iraq.

 

It wasn't the way it was supposed to be in America.

 

I looked over at the other police vehicle expecting to see my other two daughters in the back seat and I didn't.

 

'Where's the girls' I tried to ask my wife.

 

Just then an officer approached me... he told me if I didn't back away from the cop car that he'd arrest me for obstruction of justice.

 

'Jesus' I thought 'this place really has turned into a third world country.'

 

The cop opened the door and he rolled the window all the way up... then he slammed the door on her.

 

My wife just collapsed in sobs and tears.

 

I'll never forget the way that she looked at me then.

 

You've never seen a woman in pain like that until you've looked into the eyes of a woman in handcuffs who's just had her baby taken away from her.

 

By some cops who could care less about justice, decency or the welfare of children.

 

'Where's my other kids' I asked the cop.

 

He only gave me a dumb look... it was quizzical almost.

 

It was clear that he had no idea what I was talking about.

 

I walked back over to the officer in charge's car and I asked him the same thing.

 

'Where are my other children?'

 

He just gave me this stupid look too.

 

'Aw fuck' I thought as the bottom fell out of my stomach.

 

In the irony of all ironies, they had arrested my wife for child endangerment and they had lost my other children in that cold, dark and busy parking lot.

 

The same parking lot that they'd arrested my wife in for leaving our two year old locked in a parked car only a few steps away from her.

 

The parking lot that they pointed out was dangerous.

 

'Anything could happen' they said.

 

And now no one knew where my eight and nine year old daughters were.

 

My family was never in any danger that day... until the Deadwood Police came on the scene.

 

That's the most danger my family would ever find themselves in... when the state decided to look after my two year old's welfare.

 

The iceberg had hit the Titanic and my little family's world had just been turned upside down.

 

I promised myself those children would see justice one day.

 

Once I found them.

     

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

What an amazing place this is. It used to be a thermal bath house. It was built in the 19th century and what beautifully decorated. It will soon be converted into a posh hotel.

When we entered early morning we were the first explorers setting up our gear. Within an hour the place was crowded with explorers from all over Europe and it was hard to take a decent picture.

Apparently it is hard for other people to wait until others who were there earlier are done. I gave them a hard time by just standing in 'their' way while taking a shot. Have some decency people and be patient!

 

Please visit www.preciousdecay.com for more pictures and follow me on Facebook on www.facebook.com/Preciousdecay.urbex

I don't know the name of this butterfly that we saw yesterday at the San Diego Botanic Garden, but that certainly didn't stop me from exploiting it. It had the decency to stay on top of a flower long enough for me to focus on it.

 

Other pictures that I've taken of butterflies are in my Butterflies and Dragonflies set.

www.flickr.com/photos/9422878@N08/sets/72157626745277518/

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

After the shock of Donald Trump’s inauguration day, when millions of Americans (and visiting foreigners like me) felt understandably distraught, bereft, dismayed, as the grotesque, narcissistic, predatory, corrupt fraud that is Donald Trump delivered a bleak and graceless inauguration speech, it was nothing short of a delight on Saturday, Jan. 21, Day 2 of the aberrant Trump presidency, when, across the country and around the world, millions of women (plus large numbers of supportive men) marched in protest against Trump and all he and his administration stand for — his disdain for women, his racism, his xenophobia, his adherence to intolerant white Christian fundamentalism, and, last but not least, his opaque, but very obviously corrupt business practices. Two US academics have estimated that between 3.3m and 4.6m people marched in total across the US, with New York’s turnout estimated at between 400,000 and 500,000 people.

Stepping out of Grand Central Station into a river of protest, with more clever, witty and insightful handmade posters than you could imagine, and with chants and cheers punctuating the general hubbub at regular intervals was to feel that perhaps this dystopian vision of America can indeed be overthrown before it wreaks untold havoc at home and abroad. And with no beginning or end of the protest in sight, it was easy to believe that the number marching was much larger than even the academics’ estimate.

It will take more than one day, of course, as the people of America need to unite like never before — everyone who didn’t vote for Trump, everyone threatened by Trump, everyone appalled by Trump, including, of course, those who voted for him but might already be having second thoughts. This could be a disastrous presidency, or it could be even worse than that, but people need to put aside any notions of complacency, and work out how to resist. This was a great start, and a historic moment that everyone there will remember, but now there needs to be much more action and organizing.

As you look at these photos, however, I hope they are a reminder of a day of hope across the US and around the world, when ordinary people demonstrated that fundamental decency will not be silenced, and that a tolerant, multi-racial society, featuring, at its heart, equality between women and men, and between people whatever their race, creed or color, has humour, intelligence and compassion that throw into even sharper relief how troublingly miserable, negative and ungenerous Donald Trump and his advisors are.

For an article by US Uncut about the numbers attending the protests, see: usuncut.com/news/womens-march-largest-protest-us-history/

For the turnout estimates, see: docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1xa0iLqYKz8x9Yc_rfhtmSOJQ2...

For an article in New York Daily News, which ran a front page devoted to the protests, under the headline, “See them roar,” see: www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/women-march-washington-...

For my website, see: www.andyworthington.co.uk

For my Facebook posts after Trump’s inauguration, see:

www.facebook.com/andyworthingtonUK/posts/1015497574252380...

www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10154975238073804&set...

For my most interesting photos, see: www.flickriver.com/photos/andyworthington/popular-interes...

 

French postcard by E.D.U.G., offered by Corvisart, Epinal, no. 264. Photo: Sam Lévin.

 

French actress Brigitte Bardot (1934) died on 28 December 2025, at the age of 91. In the 1950s, she was the sex kitten of the European film industry. BB starred in 48 films, performed in numerous musical shows, and recorded 80 songs. After her retirement in 1973, she became an animal rights activist. In the coming weeks, we will continue to post a BB postcard every day to remember her as she once was.

 

Brigitte Bardot was born in Paris in 1934. Her father, Louis Bardot, had an engineering degree and worked with his father in the family business. Her mother, Ann-Marie Mucel, was 14 years younger than Brigitte's father, and they married in 1933. Brigitte's mother encouraged her daughter to take up music and dance. At the age of 13, she entered the Conservatoire Nationale de Danse to study ballet. By the time she was 15, Brigitte was trying to launch a modelling career and found herself on the cover of the French magazine Elle in May 1949. Her incredible beauty was readily apparent, and Brigitte was noticed by Roger Vadim, then an assistant to the film director Marc Allegrét. Vadim was infatuated with Bardot and encouraged her to start working as a film actress. BB was 18 when she debuted in the comedy Le Trou Normand / Crazy for Love (Jean Boyer, 1952). In the same year, she married Vadim. Brigitte wanted to marry him when she was 17, but her parents quashed any marriage plans until she turned 18. In April 1953, she attended the Cannes Film Festival, where she received massive media attention. She soon was every man's idea of the girl he'd like to meet in Paris. From 1952 to 1956, she appeared in seventeen films. Her films were generally lightweight romantic dramas in which she was cast as an ingénue or siren, often with an element of undress. In 1953, she made her first US production, Un acte d'amour / Act of Love (Anatole Litvak, 1953) with Kirk Douglas, but she continued to make films in France.

 

Roger Vadim was not content with the light fare his wife was offered. He felt Brigitte Bardot was being undersold. Looking for something more like an art film to push her as a serious actress, he showcased her in Et Dieu créa la femme / ...And God Created Woman (Roger Vadim, 1956). This film, about an immoral teenager in a respectable small-town setting, was a smash success on both sides of the Atlantic. Craig Butler at AllMovie: "It's easy enough to say that ...And God Created Woman is much more important for its historical significance than for its actual quality as a film, and that's true to an extent. The immense popularity, due to its willingness to directly embrace an exploration of sex as well as its willingness to show a degree of nudity that was remarkably daring for its day, demonstrated that audiences were willing to view subject matter that was considered too racy for the average moviegoer. This had both positive (freedom to explore, especially for the French filmmakers of the time) and negative (freedom to exploit) consequences, but its impact is undeniable. It's also true that Woman is not a great work of art, not with a story that is ultimately rather thin, some painful dialogue, and an attitude toward its characters and their sexuality that is unclear and inconsistent. Yet Woman is still fascinating, due in no small part to the presence of Brigitte Bardot in the role that made her an international star and sex symbol. She's not demonstrating great acting here, although her performance is actually good and much better than necessary, and her legendary mambo scene at the climax is nothing short of sensational." During the shooting of Et Dieu créa la femme / And God Created Woman (Roger Vadim, 1956), directed by her husband, Brigitte Bardot had an affair with her co-star Jean-Louis Trintignant, who at that time was married to French actress Stéphane Audran. Her divorce from Vadim followed, but they remained friends and collaborated in later work.

 

Et Dieu créa la femme / ...And God Created Woman (Roger Vadim, 1956) helped Brigitte Bardot's international status. The film took the USA by storm, her explosive sexuality being unlike anything seen in the States since the days of the 'flapper' in the 1920s. It gave rise to the phrase 'sex kitten', and fascination with her in America consisted of magazine photographs and dubbed over French films - good, bad or indifferent, her films drew audiences - mainly men - into theatres like lemmings. BB appeared in light comedies like Doctor at Large (Ralph Thomas, 1957) - the third of the British 'Doctor' series starring Dirk Bogarde - and Une Parisienne / La Parisienne (Michel Boisrond, 1957), which suited her acting skills best. However, she was a sensation in the crime drama En cas de malheur / Love is My Profession (Claude Autant-Lara, 1958). Hal Erickson at AllMovie: "This Brigitte Bardot vehicle ran into stiff opposition from the Catholic Legion of Decency, severely limiting its U.S. distribution. Bardot plays a nubile small-time thief named Yvette, who becomes the mistress of influential defence attorney Andre (Jean Gabin). Though Andre can shower Yvette with jewels and furs, he cannot "buy" her heart, and thus it is that it belongs to handsome young student Mazzetti (Franco Interlenghi). Alas, Yvette is no judge of human nature: attractive though Mazzetti can be, he has a dangerous and deadly side. En Cas de Malheur contains a nude scene that has since been reprinted in freeze-frame form innumerable times by both film-history books and girlie magazines." Photographer Sam Lévin's photos contributed considerably to her image of sensuality and slight immorality. One of Lévin's pictures shows Brigitte, dressed in a white corset. It is said that around 1960, postcards with this photograph outsold in Paris those of the Eiffel Tower.

 

Brigitte Bardot divorced Vadim in 1957, and in 1959 she married actor Jacques Charrier, with whom she starred in Babette s'en va-t-en guerre / Babette Goes to War (Christian-Jaque, 1959). The paparazzi preyed upon her marriage, while she and her husband clashed over the direction of her career

Her films became more substantial, but this brought a heavy pressure of dual celebrity as she sought critical acclaim while remaining a glamour model for most of the world. Vie privée / Private Life (1962), directed by Louis Malle, has more than an element of autobiography in it. James Travers at French Films: "Brigitte Bardot hadn’t quite reached the high point of her career when she agreed to make this film with high-profile New Wave film director Louis Malle. Even so, the pressure of being a living icon was obviously beginning to get to France’s sex goddess, and Vie privée is as much an attempt by Bardot to come to terms with her celebrity as anything else. Malle is clearly fascinated by Bardot, and the documentary approach he adopts for this film reinforces the impression that it is more a biography of the actress than a work of fiction. Of course, it’s not entirely biographical, but the story is remarkably close to Bardot’s own life and comes pretty close to predicting how her career would end." The scene in which, returning to her apartment, Bardot's character is harangued in the elevator by a middle-aged cleaning lady calling her offensive names was based on an actual incident, and is a resonant image of celebrity in the mid-20th century. Soon afterwards, Bardot withdrew to the seclusion of Southern France.

 

Brigitte Bardot's other husbands were German millionaire Playboy Gunter Sachs and right-wing politician Bernard d'Ormale. She is reputed to have had relationships with many other men, including Samy Frey, her co-star in La Vérité / The Truth (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1960), and musicians Serge Gainsbourg and Sacha Distel. In 1963, Brigitte Bardot starred in Jean-Luc Godard's critically acclaimed film Le Mépris / Contempt (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963) opposite Michel Piccoli. She was also featured along with such notable actors as Alain Delon in Amours célèbres / Famous Love Affairs (Michel Boisrond, 1961) and Histoires extraordinaires /Tales of Mystery (Louis Malle, 1968), Jeanne Moreau in Viva Maria! (Louis Malle, 1965), Sean Connery in Shalako (Edward Dmytryk, 1968), and Claudia Cardinale in Les Pétroleuses / Petroleum Girls (Christian-Jaque, 1971). She participated in various musical shows and recorded many popular songs in the 1960s and 1970s, mostly in collaboration with Serge Gainsbourg, Bob Zagury and Sacha Distel, including 'Harley Davidson', 'Le Soleil De Ma Vie' (the cover of Stevie Wonder's 'You Are the Sunshine of My Life') and the notorious 'Je t'aime... moi non plus'.

 

Brigitte Bardot’s film career showed a steady decline in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In 1973, just before her fortieth birthday, she announced her retirement. She chose to use her fame to promote animal rights. In 1976, she established the Brigitte Bardot Foundation for the Welfare and Protection of Animals. She became a vegetarian and raised three million French francs to fund the foundation by auctioning off jewellery and many personal belongings. For this work, she was awarded the Légion d’honneur in 1984. During the 1990s, she was also outspoken in her criticism of immigration, interracial relationships, Islam in France and homosexuality. Her husband Bernard d'Ormal was a former adviser of the far-right Front National party. Bardot has been convicted five times for 'inciting racial hatred'. More fun is that Bardot is recognised for popularising bikini swimwear, in such early films as Manina / Woman without a Veil (Willy Rozier, 1952), in her appearances at Cannes and in many photo shoots. Bardot also brought into fashion the 'choucroute' ('Sauerkraut') hairstyle (a sort of beehive hairstyle) and gingham clothes after wearing a checkered pink dress, designed by Jacques Esterel, at her wedding to Charrier. The fashions of the 1960s looked effortlessly right and spontaneous on her. Time Magazine: "She is the princess of pout, the countess of come hither. Brigitte Bardot exuded a carefree, naïve sexuality that brought a whole new audience to French films."

 

Sources: Denny Jackson (IMDb), Hal Erickson (AllMovie), Craig Butler (AllMovie), James Travers (French Films), French Films, Wikipedia and IMDb.

 

And please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

There was never really a final draft of the script, the source novel was a little complicated, and playing the hero require the film's star, Michael Caine, to hide his mug behind a pair of thick spectacles (not Skeleon Knaggs- thick, but thick enough). Not a recipe for a surefire hit, but the damn thing worked and then some. Harry Palmer, an Army sergeant bailed out of Detention Barracks (he'd been scamming the German Army, who was even less amused than Queen Victoria) and forced to work in Intelligence, is assigned to replace an agent murdered during the kidnapping of a government scientist. This plunges him into the middle of a story involving brainwashing and a double agent, and his enemies always seem to be two steps ahead . . .

 

So why did it work? Partly, it was the great film-noir atmosphere courtesy of director Sidney Furie and cinematographer Otto Heller. This film is set in a stylized but recognizable London of small apartments, smoky skies, and lots of rain. Secondly, Caine's performance is witty and appealing, and he projects believable intelligence, along with an underhanded sort of decency. Finally, and most importantly, screenwriters Bill Canaway and James Doran, although they made changes to the plot to simplify it a bit, kept the cynical tone of Len Deighton's original book. Not the outraged-public-school-boy cynicism of John LeCarre, still trying to recover from the shock of discovering that his beloved headmaster fixed the big cricket match, but the cold, matter-of-fact recognition that almost nothing human beings do is morally pure, and that a lot of it is a great deal worse than that. There is also a great supporting cast; Nigel Green as the hero's new boss, whose pompous-ass front covers a mass of roiling resentments and insecurities, Guy Doleman as the big boss, who may secretly respect his most obstreperous agent, but hardly has a good word for him, and, in the nothing role of the heroine, Sue Lloyd, who has a smart, easy chemistry with Caine and has the kind of acting chops to make you resent how her character is left hanging around the sidelines.

[2014/01/10 19:14:00] Cody McLane (codymclane): /me decides that she likes the woman's position well-enough for now, no danger of any spewage causing her to choke. Moving to both knees, she loosens what clothing she can and than bends over to the woman's ear. Patting her cheek, she continues in a softer voice; "Lady, are you OK? You've got help here but I need you to talk to me. You're safe, nobody is gonna hurt you here." Cody manages to make her voice both soothing and commanding, something she'd learned by treating scared and badly injured soldiers who needed to co-operate with threatment for their own sake. Stroking the womans hair, she continues to speak soothingly, pretty sure by now that she wasn't gonna have to apply the anti-Zeke innoculation - and glad of it.

  

[2014/01/10 19:17:08] Tara Lynn (tarlyn.dagger): /me watched both women with the same amount of intent, the collapsed and the one looking her over. A lift of her brow then glance over at the others quickly in turn before taking another sniff, the empty cup still in her hand, pondering. The other hand motioning towards the passed-out one, Tara'd shake her head, "She's not dead. And she's not ..." fading off as the others chime in, her brows furrowed and shaking her head again just watching the one talking to her before turning on her toes and heading back to the bar to refill the glass and take a drink for herself this time, just leaning on the pillar again, unconcerned. A glance to Tre, and shrug of her shoulder sending a message in and of itself to her sister.

  

[2014/01/10 19:18:25] Evelyn (Kol): /me slowly became aware of a throbbing coming from the side of her head and let out a low, gravelly moan, hands twitching slightly as her sense started to wake once more. She will her heavy lids to open but the refused to cooperate just yet.

  

[2014/01/10 19:20:01] Amelia (isanaplacida): /me 's lips tugged down in a worried frown as she looked from Cody and the fallen woman and on back to Tre. A small, and obviously reluctant nod was offered after a long pause,"Yeah, fine" She finally said in reply. Mouse got an approving nod then, apparently a willingness to bash in strangers heads earned points in her opinion. Leaning over to the bar, she placed her bowl of now congealed taters onto the bar before straightening back up as she let her gaze fall back onto Cody and the fallen woman. Her arms crossing over her waist as she carefully took another small step back, just to be sure. Despite Tara's assurances that the woman wasn't a walker, or on her way to being one for that matter, she was still more than a little worried.

  

[2014/01/10 19:21:17] Tre (tre.marjeta): /me noted that Tara was not arsed over the girl so she'd relax ...lots. Her toe tapped on the wood and she crossed her arms under her breasts,still holding the empty water tankard. "Well I tell ya, if Jason wasn't off nursing his kicked shin, he'd be all for stripping her down, but apparently we've not too many worries in this group. Everyone calm down and let's see what Cody there can do. Shit, I may have to feed her for free after this, just so she doesn't pass out again." As she spoke,she slowly siddled her way back behind the bar, not cause she was scared the woman was going to leap up and start biting, of course not, but cause she ...liked it behind the bar.

  

[2014/01/10 19:21:51] Cody McLane (codymclane): /me look up at the onlookers; "I think she just fainted. Can someone get me a rag soaked in water? I need to check where she hit the floor..." Cody feels the woman stirring and continues speaking to her; "You're gonna be OK, I don't think you hurt the floor much an' I don't think you're turning Zeke on us. My name is Cody, and I'll be your medic for this evening. I'm really pretty good at this stuff, and if I mess up - you'll never complain. So come on and show us those pretty eyes so we can all breathe a little easier..."

  

[2014/01/10 19:23:10] Sheri Bailey: /me sees the body start to twitch and jumps back, putting both hands tightly around her bat. "Drag it into the street, we can burn it before it goes all bitey!" She motions to Amy to grab one foot, and lets go of her bat with one hand, intending to grab the other.

  

[2014/01/10 19:27:27] Evelyn (Kol): /me 's eyes finally roll somewhat open though she still can't quite focus her vision. "Where am I?" She grumbled. "Who are you?" It was coming back to her in foggy pieces but not enough to make sense of. She tried to left her head but winced and inhaled a hiss, feeling the throbbing ache worse when she did, opting to gingerly lay her head back down.

  

[2014/01/10 19:28:02] Tara Lynn (tarlyn.dagger): /me just smiled over at Tre, offering a lift of her glass then returned her gaze to the fallen girl, a soft 'tsk' under her breath and as the comment of 'strip search' hit her mind again, she'd linger over the girl's appearance, consideringly. Lots to... take under advisement. Mouse's comments bringing another shake of her head, her voice lifted only enough to carry tot he seemingly panicked girl. "Let Cody there handle it for now, she seems to have a way with things..." Catching the name mention from Tre.

  

[2014/01/10 19:32:04] Cody McLane (codymclane): /me slips her hand gently to Evelyn's temples, helping to cushion her a bit while inspecting her skull for crepitation and depression spots. "Rest easy lady, I'm Cody and I've had some medic training. You just kinda dropped, and we were all scared shitless. Whats the last thing you had to eat or drink?" Cody continues to assess the woman as she begins to collect the basics of a History on her. Glancing over her shoulder at the bar, she asks again; "How about that wet rag?" Seeing that people are positioning themseves closer, she moves her torso over the woman, effectively shielding her with her body until everyone agrees that she's not Trning.

  

[2014/01/10 19:33:06] Amelia (isanaplacida): /me 's faint frown returned as she watched Tre head back behind the bar. She seemed confident in her sisters opinion, which might have relaxed her more if she knew her sister enough to share said confidence. So far, she was just a woman she'd waved at. The medic though, well her opinion helped a tiny bit, though she was still fully prepared to help mouse turn the womans head into a pinata. At Cody's request, she gave a small shrug as if to say 'sure', before turning back towards the bar as she opened her mouth to ask Tre for just that. The words never got out, however, as she heard Mouse yell about burning and bitey. Whipping back around, and fully expecting to see the woman trying to eat something, all she could do was blink and stare when she heard her speak,"Huh." She said after a moment, seeming a bit surprised to see that the woman was not, in fact, hungry for human flesh,"I think the barbecue will have to wait a bit" She added, this last bit directed at Mouse,"Yeah, guess not" She said with a nod, and

[2014/01/10 19:33:06] Amelia (isanaplacida): a shrug, to Cody before glancing back to Tre.

  

[2014/01/10 19:33:16] Sheri Bailey: /me slumps as the downed woman speaks and shoots her a disgusted look. Okay, fine, no zombie. "She could still get the fever, you know," she whispers hopefully.

  

[2014/01/10 19:34:20] Tre (tre.marjeta): /me turned and took a towel, not really a whole one, as most of her stuff was rags, but clean rags, as clean as she could keep them. She wet it in the lukewarm water, squeezing it out so she didn't drop all over the wood, and moved to take it over to Cody. She'd grin at Tara, totally relaxed now since it appeared it wasn't a walker in their midst, and the cloth would be offered. "I've an office upstairs, but nothing ot sit on or lay on yet. As she waited for the cloth to be taken, she sighed. "There'll be no lighting anyone on fire in the street, sheesh, you do that shit in the lower regions,let's keep this part clean as we can.." Yea, Tre was a lil bossy over the upper regions, but she'd lived her long enough to be a bit overly protective and bitchy about the street in front of her bar.

  

[2014/01/10 19:36:59] Sheri Bailey: /me had the decency to look a little bit ashamed at least, as she fixed her eyes on the floor, and scuffed her toe. "Just tryin' to be safe..." she muttered.

  

[19:39:18] Cody McLane (codymclane) takes the cloth greatfully with a mouthed "thanks" in Tre's direction bfore setting back to work. Gently, almost tenderly, she wipes down the womans face and then rolls the rag up before placing it as a compress on the back of her neck. "Sweetie, you're gonan be OK. You're down at the local bar...diner...something. You'd just walked in when you seemed like you's in distress and you fainted. " Cody leans back and looks her over; "Any better?"

  

[19:39:51] Tara Lynn (tarlyn.dagger) just shook her head, her lips parting to murmur "Why do you look disappointed that she's -not-turning? I'm rather pleased she's ok..." subsiding to quiet again, watching as Tre took the towel over to Cody, her eyes flicking about to watch the various reactions "I'm far more concerned about making sure she stays that way."

This jetty is just outside of Queenstown on Lake Wakatipu and to me, the Glenorchy/Paradise area is an absolute must see.

 

To keep a long story short, after photographing the landscape and a lot of running around and excuse-making, I finally jumped in. It was fall at the time in New Zealand and pretty windy, so needless the say the glacial water was a little chilly and the few people who were standing on the jetty who watched my whole ordeal pretty much all thought I was crazy. But a few had the decency to give me a cheer when I shivered my way out. =)

This image is made with Midjourney. When I tried to read the image back into Midjourney for use as character and style reference, it refused the image "due to image filters", meaning the nude elements in the picture do not pass Midjourney's standards on decency. This not only makes clear that Midjourney applies rigid, hopelessly outdated 19th, even 18th, century morals. But also that it applies double standards ("we output it for you, but we won't let you use it on our platform"). Not that I am so eager to output nudity, but it makes me wonder if I should look for another AI-platform. Any suggestions?

Today was a lovely trip out to see some old family friends of Laura's.

 

Her mum has known this couple since god was a boy, and more convivial and generous hosts you could not hope to find.

 

They live up in central Finland far north of Helsinki, and they are on a lakeside bordering a Finnish national park.

 

One of the treats today was a spell in a proper wood fired sauna. The one at home is ok, and the one in Laura's mum's building is much bigger and nicer, but this was the real deal.

 

To complete the authentic experience, one sits and sweats in the sauna, and then immediately hops into the lake. This seems utterly nonsensical until you actually try it, when everything crystallises into sense. I still wouldn't do it in January though!

 

On the grounds of moral decency however, I resisted a self portrait of my lithe and sculptured figure slipping bollock naked into a big lake. Instead, I offer you a shot from the day's end, just catching a beautiful silhouette of the family rowing boat. A lovely day indeed.

I took this photo during the protests last March. A lot has changed since then. The thugs have spoken.

 

What Scott Walker never understood was that when you threaten librarians, you don't just threaten librarians; you threaten their families, their friends and neighbors,and all the people who respect and rely on them for the services they provide. When you threaten teachers, you don't just threaten teachers and their families; you threaten the children they teach, their parents and grandparents and their friends. When you threaten other public employees, you don't just threaten them; you threaten the entire community. When you bust unions, you threaten all workers. And when you threaten to cut medical care for the poor and their children, you threaten the fabric of decency that holds our scoeity together.

 

It all adds up to a lot of people -- far more than the million who signed the recall petitions. Scott Walker takes comfort from the fact that (slightly) more people voted for him than signed the petitions. He shouldn't. After all, far more people voted for California Gov. Gray Davis than signed petitions to recall him, but he lost the recall election to Arnold Schwarzenegger nevertheless.

 

Scott Walker still doesn't understand, but he will eventually. There are just too many thugs.

I fly at speeds that make multi-billion dollar fighter jets look useless. At speeds like this, a jump across town should be a joke. Yet this wasn't enough. By the time I was on scene, the damage had been done. I saw the small white car, it's entire front completely unrecognizable from whatever it used to look like. The worst part though had to be the interior. It wasn't how it looked, it was what was inside it. A body, bloodied and devoid of a beating heart. This poor man never had a chance. A look to my left showed me why he was doomed from the start. This giant, hideous SUV in the middle of the road, the only noticeable damage to it being a lost headlight. And even then this rolling offense to decency was nothing compared to the "man" driving it. He wore a sleeveless leather jacket and cargo shorts hanging low. And all he could do was look at the $100 worth of damage on his car, paying no mind to the fact that he just outright murdered a man. Any sense of urgency, concern or distress wasn't aimed to the man in the slightest. Disgusted, I asked him if he ANY pity whatsoever. All he did was yell at me for not being here sooner. Hearing sirens in the distance, I decided I had enough. I flew off to the only place on this planet were I have any peace...

Elliot (blushes): “Err… I’ve got Sybil. And weren’t you in love with that Anissa? I bet you can’t wait to get a chance to work with her again in a photo shoot you drag me into with you again.” (shows his tongue to Ben)

 

Ben (laughingly puts his bass guitar down): “Ha-hah! I still am interested in her. (face goes serious) You don’t wanna do any more jewelry photo shoots then?”

 

Elliot (shakes his head): “No.”

 

Ben (staidly): “I totally understand. I mean, it pays so little that it doesn’t even cover a subway ticket to the scene. And it’s so difficult to pose still for a few seconds, isn’t it? I got cramps and blisters, and you ran off ‘cause they hadn’t given you any toilet breaks all day. And especially with your face and body… Nah, you’d better stick to singing. I’m glad you at least had the decency to wear a loose T-shirt and a big sweater to yesterday’s photo shoot – you’re so fat and ugly. Who would buy anything looking at that?” (stares at Elliot’s tight muscles astonished)

 

Elliot: “Are you jealous? (grumpily) Don’t. You wouldn’t wanna swap bodies with me, trust me.”

 

Ben: “See, I’ve got these big hands and feet, fat around my body and a face like a grizzly bear’s. You have nothing extra. Zero! On the contrary, I think you’ve lost weight lately… You have cheekbones to cut glass and a head full of hair…“

 

Elliot (interrupting): “That’s just looks that fade and can be deceptive.” (shrugs)

 

Ben: “And you’ve got a poster on your wall of naked Kumi Callaghan-West that quotes her saying something like, ‘use it before you lose it,’ referring to her looks. You gotta make the most of it, dude. Seriously, you look like a brunette version of James Dean! Chicks fall down at your feet! You would make a fine model, you know. And I say this as a straight man… Which reminds me, I actually asked Anissa for a date last night. We’re going to the movies tonight, and I’ll let her pick the film… It’s probably gonna be some brainless chick-flick, but I don’t care for as long as the back row is empty, if you know what I mean…” (raises eyebrows up smiling goofily)

 

Elliot (rolls eyes): “Good for you… until I tell her what you just said about Abigail.”

 

Ben (smiles smugly): “Hah! It doesn’t matter since I don’t actually date her yet. And I don’t even know yet if it will become serious between me and her. Going for a date with her doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate other kind of beauty around me. I’m a free agent, me. But you, dude, you’re under Sybil’s strict supervision. How does it feel to be on the leash?”

 

Elliot (rolls eyes again): “You’re such a kid…”

 

Ben (grins): “Maybe. I’m a fat and ugly kid, but at least I’m not on anybody’s leash.“

 

Elliot (smirks slightly): “You ain’t ugly. I don’t call you Boniface for nothin’. Gym helps if you wanna lose weight. Not sure if it would fix your sarcy attitude, though.”

 

G-Print. Impossible to copy.

Since 1975.

 

1975. Bell-bottoms, disco, seaweed wallpaper in shades of brown, hair, a lot of hair, afros on every- body and voluptuous sideburns, roller-skates, Led Zeppelin. Coffee and oil is very expensive. The first disposable razor. Ali beats Frazier in the “Thrilla in Manilla”, The King is alive and kicking in Vegas and the king of Sweden is yet to be married. Gerald Ford is president in the USA, Brezhnev in the USSR. It’s the year when General Franco dies and Angelina Jolie and Tiger Woods are born.

 

Despite an oil crisis and prolonged recession, 1975 was a carefree time with more solutions than problems. A dualistic era where the colourful visions from the 60’s still lived but popular culture interpreted those visions in darker Kodachromatic tones. It was decency and decadence. It was the birth of the peace- and environmentalist movements, amidst a full-blown cold war.

Also, in 1975 a new paper is born – G-Print.

 

Since then, for 35 years, G-Print’s been loved for its overall quality and consistency by merchants and printers alike. And most importantly there’s been no significant changes in paper properties over all those years. This equals 35 years of perfection for a paper and a paper production process that is, “Impossible to copy”.

 

In this boxed DM, distributed to 20.000 paper clients all over Europe, Arctic Paper, the owner of G-Print, push the “Impossible to copy” message via an anachronistic box including mini examples of paper applications. A mini DM, a mini cookbook, a mini Magazine and a mini Poster and Map. All showcasing classics from 1975. Not very incidentally, just like G-Print.

 

WALMART WORKERS, TAXPAYERS ARRESTED CALLING FOR WALMART OWNERS TO STOP ROBBING AMERICA

 

Group calls on Walton family to stop taking advantage of taxpayer programs to support low-wage model & instead, pay workers $15 an hour and provide full-time work

 

If the Waltons fail to respond, protestors promise to return to Walmart stores on Black Friday

 

New York and Washington, DC – Forty-two Walmart workers and their supporters were arrested today calling on Walmart’s owners to stop robbing workers a fair wage and passing the bill on to taxpayers. Without a public commitment from the Waltons to raise pay at Walmart, the group refused to disperse, shutting down Park Avenue in front of Alice Walton’s new penthouse in New York and K Street in front of the Walton Family Foundation in DC. Last year, Walmart’s former CEO confirmed that the majority of Walmart workers are paid less than $25,000 a year.

 

“My grandkids go hungry because of low pay at Walmart,” said Sandra Sok, a Walmart worker in Phoenix. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make these billionaires and Walmart see what they’re doing to our families.”

 

“We are tired of seeing the Waltons enjoy every luxury this world can offer while the workers that build their wealth are unable to pay their bills,” said Interfaith Worker Justice Executive Director Kim Bobo. “Income inequality will only be addressed when the Waltons and Walmart provide fair pay and regular hours to their workers. I’m here today taking a stand for Walmart workers, and I’ll be back on Black Friday with thousands of others who have had enough of Walmart’s destruction of the American Dream.”

 

Before the arrests, the group delivered a petition signed by workers from 1,710 of Walmart stores in all 50 states. The petition calls on Walmart to publicly commit raise pay to $15 an hour and provide consistent, full-time hours. The actions today follow protests yesterday in Phoenix, AZ, where Walmart associates and community members delivered the petition to Walmart chair Rob Walton.

 

“The Waltons have made it impossible for me to get ahead and make sure my daughter goes to bed in a warm home,” said Fatmata Jabbie,a Walmart worker who delivered the petition to the Walton Family Foundation in Washington, DC. “The Waltons can choose to turn things around and stop robbing working Americans like me who just want to raise our families. We need $15 an hour and consistent full-time work—now.”

 

The Walton family, which controls the Walmart empire, is the richest family in the U.S.—with the wealth of 43% of American families combined. While many Walmart workers are unable to feed and clothe their families on their pay of less than $25,000 a year, the Walton family takes in $8.6 million a day in Walmart dividends alone to build on its $150 billion in wealth. Walmart brings in $16 billion in annual profits.

 

“Right now, corporate profits are at an all-time high while wages are lower than any time since 1948,” said Rep. Grijalva. “Walmart alone rakes in $16 billion a year while enjoying $8 billion in tax breaks and subsidies, but refuses to pay employees enough to put food on the table or clothes on their back. Many of their employees are forced to rely on taxpayer-funded programs, meaning the American taxpayers are paying for the Walton family’s refusal to pay a decent wage. It’s time to end this scam, and ensure all workers have the decency of a livable wage and full-time work.”

 

Walmart workers depend on food stamps and other taxpayer-supported programs to support their families. Walmart—the standard-setter for jobs in the retail industry—has created a norm of erratic, part-time scheduling that is keeping workers from getting the hours they need, holding down second jobs, arranging child care, going to school or managing health conditions.

 

The protests today come at a time when OUR Walmart members have made significant strides creating change at the country’s largest employer. OUR Walmart member Richard Reynoso, who sent a letter to Walmart about the new dress code policy, not only pushed the company to live up to its Buy America commitment with the new vests; his manager gave him full-time hours in response to his concerns about affording new clothing on his low pay. OUR Walmart members have had similar hours victories—through petitions and meetings with managers—in the San Francisco Bay Area, Dallas, Florida, Southern California, Louisiana and Chicago. Walmart improved its pregnancy policy recently after OUR Walmart members, who are also shareholders, submitted a resolution to the company about its pregnancy policy. And, responding to OUR Walmart members’ growing calls on the retailer to improve access to hours, Walmart rolled out a new system nationwide that allows workers to sign up for open shifts in their stores online.

 

Background

 

A report released earlier this year by Americans for Tax Fairness showed that by dodging taxes, exploiting loopholes and taking advantage of taxpayer subsidies, Walmart and the Waltons received an estimated $7.8 billion in tax breaks and subsidies in 2013. And while many taxpayers struggle to stretch paychecks, the richest family in the country has avoided an estimated $3 billion in taxes by using specialized trusts to dodge estate taxes.

 

National public policy organization Demos released a report this year showing low-pay and erratic scheduling keep millions of hard-working Americans—particularly women—near poverty. The report finds that establishing a new wage floor equivalent to $25,000 per year for fulltime, year round work at retail companies employing at least 1,000 workers would improve the lives of more than 3.2 million female retail workers and lift 900,000 women and their families directly out of poverty or near poverty.

 

###

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: UFCW and OUR Walmart have the purpose of helping Wal-Mart employees as individuals or groups in their dealings with Wal-Mart over labor rights and standards and their efforts to have Wal-Mart publically commit to adhering to labor rights and standards. UFCW and OUR Walmart have no intent to have Walmart recognize or bargain with UFCW or OUR Walmart as the representative of Walmart employees.

 

Restoring some modicum of decency to her Photostream, we see a fully clothed Joni pausing to strike a pose before heading out on Friday evening for a second evening at the Savoy Lounge. This purple paisley dress seemed to engender a number of favorable comments during this series of photos documenting Joni's week in Orlando, so back by popular demand is Joni in her purple paisley dress! . . . It's one of her favorites!

A couple (Dick Van Dyke, Debbie Reynolds), on the doorstep of middle-age and the ground floor of the upper-middle class, suddenly find that their once-sturdy marriage seems to be crumbling for reasons they can't quite understand. Friends and marriage counselors, most of them with the best of intentions, offer advice, but their attempts to follow it only make things worse, and before you know it, they're getting divorced.

 

There are some genuinely sharp moments in the script by Norman Lear (based on a story by Robert Kaufman), and plenty of funny ones, but there is also Lear's tendency to underline everything three times and then have the actors yell so he can be sure you got the point. His partner, Bud Yorkin, had the same tendencies as a director, so even some genuinely witty ideas are stretched out beyond their shelf life.

 

As was usual with Lear/Yorkin productions, what saves things are the cast. Van Dyke and Reynolds weren't shattering their "nice" images in this film, they were playing nice people in the sort of messy situations that nice people find themselves in out in the real world, and one of the pleasant surprises is that they convince you of the bone-deep decency of the characters they're playing. And the supporting cast is equally good; Jason Robards and Jean Simmons as a divorced couple looking to get her married off so she can live the good life on someone's money besides his, Van Johnson as a good-hearted but terminally dull car dealer that Reynolds dates after the break-up, and Joe Flynn and Emmaline Henry as the Best Friends who unintentionally contribute to the break-up. Special mention also for Shelley Berman and Dick Gautier as the divorce lawyers who couldn't really care less about their respective clients, Lee Grant as a tart-tongued call-girl, and Tim Matheson and Gary Goetzman as the couple's sons, who seem to take their parents divorce much more in stride than their mom and dad . . .

 

There was a lot of great talent behind the camera as well; Conrad Hall's photography is rich and subtle (I'm rather more impressed with his work on this film than his flashier lensing of In Cold Blood the same year). Edward Stephenson's sets and Bob Mackie's costumes beautifully fix the socio-economic status of the characters (prosperous but not rich, reasonably stylish but hardly cutting-edge) without any attempts to skewer them. Ferris Webster's editing helps smooth out the bumps in the director's faulty sense of timing, and Dave Grusin's score incorporates a lot of classic and jazz influences and deploys them with a reasonable amount of comic skill.

 

Certainly, there are elements of this film that seem dated now ( a few years later, California, like many states thereafter, adopted no-fault divorce laws that, among other things, speeded up the process of getting divorce considerably; no more waiting a year for the divorce to become final). What hasn't changed, though, are some of the things that push people to divorce, and the sense of sadness and desolation that can accompany even the most sensible breakups. That's not going to change as long as people still fall in love and get married . . .

10/06/2015, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Canary Islands, Spain.

 

Keel laid on 26/11/2002, launched on 21/02/2003, & completed on 31/03/2003, by Hyundai, Ulsan, South Korea (1450)

41,078 g.t., 48,923 dwt., & 3,607 teu,

launched as:

'Northern Decency', completed as:

'Potomac Bridge', to 2006,

'MSC Vienna' to 2016, &

'Northern Decency' since.

I just found out today, that some of my pictures are used very widely in the internet, without linking back to the original. Some were even in commercial use, as in, for sale.

I really don't know how that makes me feel.. It makes me feel sick, gutted and quite frankly, mad.

Aye, they weren't able to get the large size photo and aye, most of them had still my signature visible on them. But some people had actually tried to remove my sig and were offering a "full size" picture upload of a very bad quality.

There's actually no reason to be happy about being explored, it just exposes your pictures to even wider range of thieves, those shitty little people who are not good enough to do their own photography and end stealing from others. I wish they get a rash! On their face!

There's no such thing as common courtesy in the internet, I know that. This is a no man's land and the laws of nothing rule here. And I guess it's totally futile to even hope, that people would have some honesty and decency.

Aye, I know, a long rant.. But it was shocking to see how much pilfering there is going on in the world of photography in the internet. I always knew it happens, but to this scale? I feel sorry for those who do really amazing work, they must be targeted so often like this. And I really started to feel for the musicians who are getting pirated regularly. Piracy is a crime, be it photos or music. Just so sad there's nothing one can really do about it, apart from quit internet all together...

/rant off

 

Try this with your own most popular shots:

www.google.com/insidesearch/features/images/searchbyimage...

“A seaside town in France is clamping down on tourists who venture beyond the sand in their swimsuits.

 

“A little restraint, please!” Yannick Moreau, the mayor of Les Sables d’Olonne, pleaded on social media last week to the flocks of mostly French tourists who visit each summer.

 

Mr. Moreau said in an interview that the behavior had become more prevalent in recent years: Visitors leave the beach and walk into the town’s markets, grocery stores and restaurants in their bathing suits. He has seen enough.

 

“If you go to a market to buy local food — fruits, vegetables, meat — you cannot be half-naked with hair falling onto vegetables,” he said, adding, “It’s a matter of decency.” NY Times

Ok, before I get into this, let me preface by saying it has been a long week. I am fairly worn out and as such perhaps a bit more grumpy and rant-prone than usual. ;-) But nonetheless, what I am about to rant about is behavior that has bugged me for a little while now, I generally just don't pay much attention to it. At the same time, it is behavior I don't understand, at least fully, so I am willing to hear counter arguments to my following rant. If you disagree, please speak up, argue your point, let us have a discussion. A side rant of mine is I tend to enjoy too little discussion on here, but that is beside the point.

 

One rant at a time. :-p

 

So here goes. What gives with photographers who believe they need to keep places all "secret"? I see this most often with landscape photographers. They will go off to a place, generally one that is hardly undiscovered, and come back from it with their photos which they will gladly share, and often boast of, but will make sure to mention that it is their "secret" location. Now, I am not talking about the habit of not including location data, I mean, I don't always post where a photo is. Generally this is because it is not anywhere specific or I don't know how to describe where it is. Such as with some of my photos of the Palouse. Sure I could get down the map and scour it for 30 minutes finding the exact coordinates of where I took that photo. But I don't. If someone asks, I will try to give them as good of directions as possible.

 

So I understand the lack of location data. Rather, what makes me scratch my head a bit is photographers who go out of their way to brag about how a location is secret and they are not telling.

 

I mean, why? Really?

 

In a sense it always makes me wonder if the photographer is a little insecure about their own abilities, isn't this generally why one boasts? Because they feel some need to impress others by letting everyone know how special they are? Ok, maybe I am being a bit harsh. Maybe. Told you I was feeling rant-prone.

 

Insecure or not, I think it is kind of bad form and etiquette. If you don't want to share where a place is, I guess that is your decision, but bragging about your secret spot is a bit over the top.

 

And then there are those photographers who make full use of places like Flickr or Photo.net to locate spots that others have shot, asking questions on where locations are and such, and then refuse to share that information themselves. Kind of self-serving and selfish. I had a customer in the store once who was talking about how foolish most Flickr photographers were to share so much information, that he did not post because he did not want people to know where his favorite spots were, but he did like to get on there now and then to see where everyone else was going and thought it a good use for that. He was a bit of an arrogant scumbag too. But perhaps that is beside the point.

 

So the question I keep coming back to is, why? What is the reasoning behind this behavior? Are they afraid others will get down there and steal their photos? Can you really steal a photo? If so then perhaps the problem doesn't lie with the availability of info on where that location is, but rather with your own ability to be creative. And I think that gets to one of the hearts of the matter. With so many landscape photographers out there, many areas get saturated in terms of how often they get photographed, and so the competitive nature (another silly piece of behavior) drives photographers to not only range farther afield to "new" areas but to try and hide that info from other photographers so they cannot get out there and make their own pictures.

 

I have two responses to that. First, I have a whole series of the St. Johns Bridge created over several years. I find that I take my best and most creative photos in the places I am most familiar with, that I have visited the most. Sure I get nice photos in new places too, but those pictures tend to be based on experience I have gained experimenting in those places familiar with me.

 

And second, I learn a lot more from seeing others photograph in a place I have been to, than I could hope to on my own. What I mean is, by seeing how others photograph the Palouse, or Painted Hills or the Alvord Desert I learn about other comps, conditions, techniques. Way more than I ever probably would have on my own. So in the long run it is a benefit to myself to share that info and encourage others to those spots to photograph their own perceptions. At least that is how I think about it.

 

Now to be fair I have heard a good argument or two for keeping locations secret, but these tend to be the incredibly small minority. One was a photographer who was taking pictures of a Mennonite community in New England. He did not want to share the location of this rural community because he did not want photographers bum-rushing out there to take photographic advantage of this quiet community of people. I can appreciate him trying to protect them while still trying share their experience with the world. The second good excuse involved the Boiler Bay headlands along the Oregon coast because the popular trail to the coast involved crossing private property, specifically someone's front yard. Most photographers will behave themselves, nonetheless I probably would not appreciate a flood of photographers sneaking across my front lawn all the time in the pre-dawn darkness. Now an alternate route has been laid out that avoids the property and respects these people's privacy much better.

 

But that is about it, at least that I can think of.

 

I dunno, I struggle with this one, because on one hand I really don't care much. To each their own, or such. But on the other hand, it also strikes me as bad etiquette which can lead to bad habits and the teaching of. But even more so than that, because I think allowing yourself to fall into that trap of location hoarding is not a healthy perspective for a good photographer. I think it is a symptom of some underlying problem. I am not a psychiatrist though. Imagine that though, photographic psychiatry!

 

Anyway, as I was saying, if you think the success of your photos relies on you hiding where you take them, then you probably are not a terribly good photographer. Perhaps competent, maybe even good, but probably not great. Because a great photographer isn't limited by his location, secret or not, he carries all the secrets of his or her success with them. They are called vision and imagination. Between those two things, they make secret locations irrelevant. In my opinion.

 

So my advice to all you location hoarders? Don't. It's ok. Share information, encourage those around you to go there and shoot. Help them get better because by doing so, they will help you get better too. It is not a contest, nor should you feel like you can be collecting these spots. And if you do insist on keeping your secret locations, don't show us photos of them. Keep them secret. It is mildly obnoxious to dangle them in front of us and not be willing to share where they are. Chances are, somebody else already knows anyway. You probably were not the first one there. In fact, that is almost certainly the case. And if you still insist on going this far, then at least have the decency to stop taking advantage of other photographers who are willing to share their information. Because that is just selfish and I am out of excuses for you at this point.

 

Ok, wow, that really was quite a rant. Have not done that in a while.

 

So to sum all this up, let me just say this one last thing, sort of as the icing on the cake. That is, I have a lot of serious thoughts on photography, but I try not to take any of them too seriously. Even this rant. Sure, it was worth the twenty minutes of typing to put it out there, but at the same time, it really is not that important because I am going to keep doing what I do, in a way that I feel good about doing it. And all the location-hoarders in the world cannot affect that.

 

This shot by the way was sunrise at a super ultra secret location called Hug Point along the Oregon Coast just south of Cannon Beach. Don't bother to ask me where it is, I'm not telling. :-P I visited here back in February with Aaron (who got really wet), Andrew (who makes awesome videos) and Danielle (whose pinhole is present in this frame if you look hard enough).

ROMA ARCHEOLOGICA & RESTAURO ARCHITETTURA 2022. Gualtieri finisce sul Nyt: L'eterna crisi dei rifiuti a Roma ha unito il declino urbano, con i cinghiali nel centro storico. Gualtieri poco o nessun progresso; in: NEW YORK TIMES & La Repubblica (29-30/08/2021) (testo integrale).Vedi anche: il sindaco Marino e il degrado di Roma; in: Nyt (22/07/2015). wp.me/pbMWvy-36x

 

________________

S.v.,

--- RARA 2022. Roberto Gualtieri - Sindaco di Roma / Er Monnezzaro = Disservizi + Immondizia + Degrado + Cinghiali + Incendio (21/10/2021 - 21/10/2022). Fonte: ROMATODAY (06/09/2022). www.romatoday.it/social/segnalazioni/degrado-urbano/

________________

 

Foto: LOCAL TEAM / YouTube (09/07/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52324893351

 

1). ROMA - Gualtieri finisce sul New York Times: "Mentre Roma brucia (o almeno i suoi rifiuti), un sindaco osa sognare."La Repubblica (30/08/2021).

 

Il quotiano statunitense dedica un articolo all'immondizia della capitale, all'Ama ma soprattutto al sindaco che vuole il termovalorizzatore, "sicuro che qualcosa cambierà"

 

Un sindaco a Roma "osa sognare". Così definisce gli incubi di Roberto Gualtieri un lungo articolo uscito New York Times di Jason Horowitz. Che pubblica online foto di e dei suoi cassonetti carbonizzati oltre alla foto del sindaco alla scrivania assorto a guardare i fogli del progetto sul termovalorizzatore.

 

Foto: Nyt (30/08/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52325323054

 

"Da anni ormai" si legge sul Nyt, "nulla simboleggia la caduta di Roma più della sua crisi dei rifiuti. Un serraglio di cinghiali, gabbiani violenti e ratti si riunisce per banchettare con i detriti della capitale". "E proprio quando sembrava che la puzza dei rifiuti di Roma non potesse peggiorare, una disputa sulla costruzione di un nuovo inceneritore per la città è emersa come motivo di un ammutinamento politico che ha fatto cadere il governo Draghi a luglio". Poche righe a riassumere l'effetto domino catastrofico.

 

Ma ecco che qui arriva Gualtieri: "Formalmente il motivo sono io", avrebbe dichiarato lasciando trapelare un tono sorpreso, ingenuo, al limite del compiaciuto.

 

Il quotidiano lo descrive come "un veterano della politica di sinistra", un uomo che "con l'autorità di accelerare la costruzione di un impianto di termovalorizzazione dei rifiuti per Roma da circa 600 milioni di euro, spera di avere successo dove altri hanno fallito". In fondo, avrebbe aggiunto il primo cittadino, "non si tratta di scienza missilistica. È solo spazzatura".

 

Foto: Nyt (30/08/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52325212963

 

Roma e New York svettano nella classifica delle città più sporche del mondo, un gemellaggio tossico. E se anche il Nyt dipinge il sindaco che osa sognare, lo fa su uno sfondo di rifiuti in fiamme, autobus che si auto-incendiano, buche "profonde come pozzi d'acqua, una "giungla dove mancano solo i boa costrittori" e una miriade di "altre indecenze". Come Malagrotta. Il sindaco, dice e non dice, che "c'è una cospirazione per fermare me" e il progetto.

 

L'articolo ricorda quindi che Gualtieri però "in qualità di ex ministro dell'Economia, ha contribuito personalmente a ottenere miliardi di euro di fondi dell'Unione Europea per l'Italia, con una fetta significativa per Roma. E ha già avuto successo nell'attrarre investitori privati per finanziare il nuovo inceneritore". Insomma, "il problema non è il denaro".

 

E mentre Roma è costretta a spedire i suoi rifiuti a costi elevati in impianti fuori città, "in quello che secondo Gualtieri è un salasso per le sue risorse, un contributo all'inquinamento e forse un favore agli interessi di elementi della malavita (...), la sfida più grande per ripulire Roma potrebbe essere la città stessa". Anche se i romani tendono ad avere "comportamenti non corretti" quando si tratta di buttare la spazzatura.

 

"I ristoranti spesso riempiono i bidoni riservati ai cittadini. I cittadini reagiscono mettendo in equilibrio i sacchetti dell'immondizia sopra i cassonetti come giocassero a Jenga".

 

Ed è qui che il sindaco sogna. Sogna una revisione dell'Ama e sogna che i rifiuti brucino in fiamme lecite. Sempre che i Cinque Stelle smettano di opporsi adducendo "motivi ambientali, e considerandolo un ipocrita". Perché "egli" sostiene che il termovalorizzatore "migliorerà Roma e sarà redditizio, un incentivo per gli investitori a entrare nel progetto. Una nuova età dell'oro". I sogni d'oro del sindaco di Roma.

 

Fonte / source:

--- La Repubblica (30/08/2021).

roma.repubblica.it/cronaca/2022/08/30/news/roma_rifiuti_n...

--------------

 

Foto: Gianluca Ferrara / Facebook (27/03/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52324089937

 

2). ROME - As Rome Burns (or at Least Its Garbage), a Mayor Dares to Dream. Could a solution to Rome’s perpetual trash crisis really be in sight? Mayor Roberto Gualtieri would like to think so. NEW YORK TIMES (29/08/2021).

 

ROME — For years now, nothing has symbolized the fall of Rome more than its garbage crisis. A trash menagerie of wild boars, violent sea gulls and rats convene to feast on the capital’s overflowing debris. Early this summer, a spate of suspicious blazes at garbage plants and scrapyards — literal dumpster fires — darkened the skies, choked the air, and raised the specter of arson and organized crime.

 

Then, when it seemed the stench of Rome’s garbage troubles could get no worse, a dispute over building a new incinerator for the city emerged as the stated reason for a political mutiny that brought down the national unity government of Prime Minister Mario Draghi in July.

 

On the day of the revolt, as he monitored the unfolding political drama from his office overlooking the Roman forum, Rome’s mayor, Roberto Gualtieri, seemed bemused by the role he and his city’s garbage problem had played in the government’s unexpected collapse. “Formally, the reason is me,” he said.

 

Foto: Il Messaggero (22/06/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52325323139

 

At least Mr. Gualtieri, a veteran of leftist politics, emerged from the wreckage with the authority to fast track the building of a roughly 600 million euro, or about $601 million, waste-to-energy plant for Rome, which he hopes will allow him to succeed where others had failed.

 

“It is not rocket science,” he said. “It’s garbage.”

 

But garbage, and the degradation of Rome that it symbolizes, is a force not to be taken lightly. Even in an oft-sacked city that has seen it all over the centuries, where people have more recently grown accustomed to self-immolating buses, potholes as deep as water wells and myriad other indignities, the garbage — pervasive, pungent and unrelenting — has become the true metric of Rome’s decline.

 

Since Rome closed its sprawling Malagrotta landfill, among Europe’s largest, as an environmental disaster in 2013, trash has overwhelmed two mayors, including Mr. Gualtieri’s predecessor, Virginia Raggi of the Five Star Movement, the party that touched off the rebellion that brought down the national government.

 

In 2018, prosecutors sequestered the landfill — owned by a businessman dubbed “er monnezzaro,” or King of Garbage — for failing to contain its toxic spillage. No actual garbage has been dumped there for years, but its treatment plant was still being used to process up to 1,500 tons of garbage a day, before being shipped elsewhere.

 

Foto: La Repubblica (12/08/2022).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52325212983

 

That is, before it went up in flames this summer.

 

“An enormous plume, gray,” Luigi Palumbo, the court-appointed manager of the landfill, said as he recalled the toxic blaze and cloud that closed nearby preschools and summer camps and laced parts of central Rome with an acrid odor.

 

“It’s unknown where it started,” he said as he approached the plant, its concrete scorched and its melted aluminum panels hanging over the building like carpets hung out to dry.

 

He turned to a burned heap of garbage that had been inside the plant. It was filled with thousands of scorched and bulging plastic bags, melted plastic fruit crates, stray cloths and tires and cans. It, too, has now been sequestered as evidence — but of what, no one seems quite sure.

 

The Malagrotta blaze was not an isolated incident, but one of a rash of trash fires that broke out around the city this summer.

 

Mayor Gualtieri sought to sidestep the theory that “there is a conspiracy to stop me,” and his incinerator, by preserving a system in which myriad players, some of them shadowy, profited from Rome’s garbage crisis. But, he added, “of course you consider this possibility, how was it possible this really is happening exactly when we are trying to …” Then he stopped himself.

 

He noted a well-established connection between waste management and criminal enterprises. Experts had determined it was “not self-combustion,” he said. “So that was man made.”

 

And it has exacerbated Rome’s already noxious disposal problem.

 

Rome now has to ship its garbage at high cost to plants outside the city, in what Mr. Gualtieri said was a drain on its resources, a contributor to pollution and possibly a favor to the interests of underworld elements who benefit from Rome’s sanitation paralysis.

 

But while prosecutors continue to investigate the fires, the greatest challenge to cleaning up Rome may be the city itself.

 

Rome had “little sense of responsibility for its own garbage, because it’s always thought that public things, being public, belong to no one,” said Paola Ficco, an environmental lawyer who edits Rifiuti, or Waste, a journal about laws regarding garbage. “And we forget that, being public, it’s all of ours.”

 

In the meantime, she added, Rome was a mess, with high grass and garbage everywhere. “It’s a jungle,” she said. “Only boa constrictors are missing. Then we’ll have it all.”

 

Mr. Gualtieri, himself a Roman, acknowledged that his city bred unique character traits. Romans tended to have “behaviors that we find that are not good,” he said, when it came to throwing out the garbage.

 

Restaurants often loaded up bins reserved for the public. The public had a tendency to respond to the packed bins by balancing trash bags on top of them, like a vile Jenga game, or throwing garbage at their sides, forming archipelagos of uncollected trash that attracted all sorts of interesting fauna.

 

But even while the burned plant remains out of commission, the mayor is confident that the new incinerator, on which construction is set to begin next year, and the introduction of tougher fines for a variety of infractions would create a more civilized Roman context. Within it, he said, Romans would become “more sensible about doing their part” and give “the best and not the worst.”

 

Foto: Amazing Walking Tours / YouTube (19/06/2022)

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52324893366

 

As a former economy minister, he had personally helped procure billions of euros in European Union funds for Italy, with a significant chunk for Rome and other plants in the city’s waste plan. He spoke of an additional 1.4 billion euros from the Italian government to help prepare for pilgrims visiting the city and the Vatican during the 2025 Holy Year as if it were a done deal. And he already had success in attracting private investors to finance the new incinerator.

 

“Money is not the problem,” he said.

 

The system is.

 

The mayor presented an organizational chart of AMA, a company that, among other things, manages collection of solid waste in Rome, and of which the city is the sole shareholder. He said that under previous administrations, AMA had changed chief executive officers five times in seven years, had become inflated with patronage jobs and had directed the majority of resources to garbage collection areas where it was not needed. Last winter, Rome paid bonuses to its workers just to show up for work during Christmas time.

 

“This is a joke,” he said. “This should be studied in university, what you should not do.” Overhauling AMA was a part of the mayor’s three-phase plan to clean up the city.

 

He said the city will have actually hired about 650 people by the end of the year to clean the streets while cracking down on an army of loafers. Officials had begun conducting thousands of checks on employees who perpetually present doctors’ notes certifying that they can only do desk work.

 

“You can see people heal,” the mayor said of the spot checks. “Miracles.”

 

In the second stage, within two years, the city would put new dumpsters on Rome’s streets, and a third phase would begin in 2025, toward the end of his five-year term, when the waste-to-energy incinerator is expected to come on line.

 

When he campaigned for the job, Mr. Gualtieri said he did not think such a plant would be necessary and that he would improve things by Christmas. He said that it was only when he took office that he understood the mind-boggling reality of Rome’s garbage. His critics, chief among them Five Star, which opposed the new incinerator on environmental grounds, consider him a hypocrite.

 

Foto: 7Colli (11/07/2022)

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52209791423

 

But, as summer vacation ends and the city fills back up with Romans and their trash, he argues the waste-to-energy incinerator will improve Rome’s environment and be profitable, an incentive he said for investors to get in on the ground floor.

 

All of Rome, he insisted, was on the brink of a new Golden Age.

 

“I can tell you why,” he said, anticipating the natural Roman skepticism and calling Rome an undervalued asset. “It has a lot of margin for improvements.”

 

Fonte / source:

--- NEW YORK TIMES (29/08/2021).

www.nytimes.com/2022/08/29/world/europe/rome-garbage-fire...

 

S.v.,

 

Foto: Nyt (22/07/2015).

www.flickr.com/photos/imperial_fora_of_rome/52325212978

 

--- ROMA ARCHEOLOGICA & RESTAURO ARCHITETTURA 2022: Il degrado di Roma sul New York Times: Marino più interessato ai ricchi stranieri che ai cittadini, THE NEW YORK TIMES (22|07|2015), p. A4; LA REPUBBLICA & Forexinfo.it (23|07|2015).

 

ROME — The grass in some public parks sways knee high. Disgruntled subway workers have slowed service to a crawl. Fire has rendered the city’s largest airport crammed and chaotic. The arrests of public officials pile up, revealing mob infiltration of the city government.

 

It all adds up to what Romans call “degrado” — the degradation of services, buildings and their standard of living — and the general sense that their ancient city, even more than usual, is falling apart.

 

Not all those troubles are necessarily the fault of Mayor Ignazio Marino, a former surgeon whose own integrity remains unblemished. But, strangely enough, in Rome, his decency is not necessarily seen as part of the solution, either.

 

Fonte/source:

--- THE NEW YORK TIMES (22|07|2015), p. A4.

 

rometheimperialfora19952010.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/roma...

I'm probably in the minority in my opinion, but this is the best adaptation of Choderos de Laclos' 1782 novel of emotional and sexual brutality among the French upper classes. Any adaptation of the material lives or dies by the casting of Merteuil and Valmont, and in Jeanne Moreau and Gerard Phillipe, the people behind this film hit the jackpot. Moreau brings all of the necessary shadings of cruelty, pride, cunning, and beneath that, loneliness and fear, that makes the character complelling. Philippe similarly is good at finding the human being behind the shiny scales of Valmont's surface, and he makes the 180-degree character twist, when the seemingly-heartless Valmont falls like a ton of bricks for the kindly Madame Tourvel, seem almost convincing.

 

Tourvel was played by Annette Stroyberg, the second, and least known, wife of director Roger Vadim, and she gave the character a dignity and bearing that Michelle Pfeiffer couldn't in the 1989 film version, and when the character cracks at the end of the film, she will break your heart.

 

The most controversial twist in the screenplay that Vadim wrote with Roger Vailland and Claude Brule was to make Merteuil and Valmont, ex-lovers in the original book, into a married couple. Peronally, I have no particular problem with the idea; upper-class marriages are often more about money and social position than love. Also, the film suggests that Merteuil, a bundle of ambition and pride, does lover her husband, but is also determined to prove to him that she can be as cynical and sophisticated about love and sex as he is--more so, in fact. The disastrous set of circumstances she eventually sets in motion results from his sudden announcement that he, the man who dragged her into this ugly arrangement, is suddenly above such behavior. He essentially destroyed her, and she is going to destroy him.

 

The supporting cast is strong as well. Jeanne Valerie is Cecile, strong-armed by her parents into an engagement to the latest of Merteuil's lovers (Nicolas Vogel), who commits the unpardonable offense of dumping her before she dumps him. Wanting revenge, she enlists Valmont to seduce her, a seduction that is more akin to rape than anything else, then encouraging the young woman to carry on with Valmont while doing her best to alienate the affections of the struggling student (Jean-Louis Trintignant--an appropriate bundle of nerves, pride, and vulnerable self-esteem) that the young woman really loves. Madeline Lambert and Simone Renant are both appealing as the mothers of Madame Trouvel and Cecile, and Boris Vian, the novelist and musician, has a small but poignant role as a friend of Merteuil's who stumblingly confesses love to her (she warns him off--one of her rare moments of unalloyed decency).

 

Vadim shot the movie almost in the manner of film noir, which seems appropriate, given the nasty behavior on display here, and he is helped in establishing that atmosphere by Marcel Grignon's dark, silky photography. Gladys de Segonzac makes the characters looks appropriately chic (you get the feeling that many unfortunate women have cut themselves on the razor-sharp creases in Valmont's trousers), and finally, one should say something about Thelonious Monk's wonderful score; spare, witty, and quietly meloncholy, the voice of a distant God looking down on his creations with bleak amusement and great sorrow.

Josh Homme, Queens Of The Stone Age @ Lupos, Providence, RI

 

p.s. if you are gonna post my copyrighted images elsewhere on the internet at least have the decency to credit me with them or link them back to here, or i'll probably stop posting them or at least start putting big watermarks on them.

 

This photo frame I bought at a garage sale my neighbour was having before they moved out. It is less than perfect, chipped, scratched and totally full of character, perfect for a prop.

 

I had a few ideas for this week's shoot, toyed around with it in my head since I did not have time for anything else. Eventually I gravitated to a couple of photos Adriana did a few years ago involving replacing her head with a bunch of rolled up magazines. The idea of a "formal" portrait appealed and this is just some of the words that has been known to describe me. At least these are the ones that will pass public decency censorship.

 

On an interesting note, I had not anticipated just how disconcerting it is to do a self portrait without visual references to the camera. Everything was a little harder, to line up, to find level, to be sure that I am as front on as I could be to the lens.

  

Set up:

Camera EXIF: Canon 5DMkIII with Canon 50mm f/1.8. 1/160@f/9, ISO100.

 

Strobist info:

Yongnuo 602RX, filtered through tissue paper in slave mode at 1/128 power. Yongnuo 620RX, bare to the right and behind of model. Triggered by Yongnuo 600TX.

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.

 

Dry Creek Falls, Cascade Locks, Columbia Gorge, Oregon

 

My Sis and I took advantage of the cold weather this weekend and visited several waterfalls. Dry Creek Falls was our last stop and the temperature gauge registered a frigid 19 degrees. It was breathtaking to be in such a wintery wonderland. There was a little bit of snow up here but most of it was ice.

 

Happy Waterfall Wednesday Everybody!

What and where?

If you can't say precisely where in Bristol this is, suggest a context which makes sense of the meaning.

 

Put your hand down, Churchcrawler. We all know you know.

I also paid a visit to one of my favorite wooden overpasses today. Usually I compose my pictures here so you don't see any of the junk people have tossed onto the tracks, but I guess today I felt like doing something different. That white microwave appears to be a fairly recent addition to the mess of old TVs, furniture, tires, and other odds and ends that have been illegally dumped here. This stupidity and trashiness is why we end up with fences on overpasses that make photography much more difficult. Hopefully the idiots who do this at least have enough decency to not endanger the crews by throwing things at moving trains...I doubt it, though...you stay classy, Willmar!

One of my contacts, Nick, said he wanted to see more nudes from Bay To Breakers. I'm not one to disappoint! So, here's a girl dressed up as a character from Avatar, I believe. The costume was made entirely of blue paint...and that's it. I probably would have tossed this if it weren't for the lucky chance of catching that guy showing his appreciation for the costume. :)

 

I'm actually really surprised that with so many naked people running around and me firing off the camera with absolutely no sense of decency or taste, I came home with exactly zero photos that would be unsafe to post here (the part about photoshopping in the backpack over the naked cowboy was a joke). There was always a well placed arm or a convenient backpack blocking the right things at the right times. Just amazingly lucky (or unlucky, depending on what you are going for) timing, I guess.

"Out of every crisis, every tribulation, every disaster, [I will rise] with some share of greater knowledge, of higher decency, of purer purpose."

 

- Franklin Delano Roosevelt

 

I have been unable to post for awhile. I've been busy working and recuperating.

 

I was on a family vacation for a week (it was nice being able to go seeing as though I have been unable to for the past couple years due to work). While on vacation I was battling a horrible cold and cough... it went away for awhile, but now it is back again in full force. The cough isn't so bad this time around, but I have a throbbing headache and runny nose (it makes me feel OH SO glamorous). Cory thinks it has something to do with my allergies and my immune system during this time of year.

 

I've also been experiencing a flare up with my ulceratiive colitis. I have an appointment with my gastroenterologist to figure out our next plan of action. I'm pretty worn out and am just ready to find out how to keep this pain at bay. I feel like I'm always sick... it's draining.

 

August 10th marked Cory and I's 2 year anniversary. We weren't even able to spend it together (It was right when my family planned their vacation). But we celebrated upon my return. This past year has been a rough one, but we have come out on the other side of it hand in hand.

 

I had a show at Ella's Boutique in Portland. I wasnt really able to fully enjoy it due to this annoying flare up, frustrating cold, and work, but I'm happy to have shown there none the less.

 

I am behind in my blogs and website. Hopefully this marks me getting back in the habit. And hopefully all this pain goes away shortly...