The War at Home

Anyone who told you they weren't scared was either a fool or a liar.

Anonymous Combat Veteran

All Quiet on the Western Front

8/31/2006


I found this photograph on the website The Heritage of the Great War. The site features a wide variety of period pictures, stories and information pertaining to World War I. Check it out if you have an interest.

This particular image looks like it was taken from the German lines in France or Flanders circa 1917/1918. It seems to be of a German flame-thrower team in the middle of "No Man’s Land" confronting an approaching tank. The top of the vehicle is barely visible through the thick black smoke.

WW I tanks were slow, lumbering machines that were notorious for suffering mechanical breakdowns. But, if they reached the enemy trenches, they could also be quite effective. The damage they would inflict was not just physical, such as flattening barbed wire and machine gun bunkers, but also psychological. When the first tanks appeared on the Somme in September of 1916, many Germans troops fled in terror, having never before seen, much less having any idea how to stop, these "mechanical beasts."

But, as human beings always do, the Germans started to improvise. After their trial and error, one of the more accepted ways of "taking them out" was the use of the newly invented flame-thrower. My guess is their goal was to heat the tank up so much that either the engine would break down or the crew would be burned out and have to abandon ship. The above picture looks like it captures this action pretty clearly.

This is a powerful photograph.

Besides from the obvious stunning "You are there" feel to it, it also made me think of the human element:

Three men in the middle of a moonscape, completely devoid of cover.

Toe to toe with a hulking piece of steel that is coming to kill them.

Huddled body to body in tandem, behind a tube that spews fire because it is the only thing keeping them alive.

The idea of death is no longer conjecture to these guys. In fact, it is quite probable.

Can you imagine the unbelievable bond that is formed at that moment?

And there is no possible way they could share their thoughts about that moment in time, possibly the defining moments of their lives, with anyone else accept those two other men.

It is said that battle brings out the very worst and the very best in Mankind:

The worst is obvious. The pointless death, pain, disfigurement and terror all meted out by inhuman steel.

The best is the camaraderie. These three men, out of their fear and/or determination, are mustering up the strength and will to fulfill an age-old Human quest to overcome. And, more importantly, they are going to survive or perish together.

Now some will argue that the root of most, if not all, wars is government or corporate greed. I pretty much agree. But the reason why War, with a capital W, does not go away entirely and is not only tolerated but embraced with fervor is a lot more subtle than that.

That fear and the desire for self-preservation are in abundance in the trenches there is little doubt. The fear is overcome because of several different factors such as training, duty and discipline. The instinct for survival is built into all of us and needs little coaxing. I have heard several veterans say point blank, “When the guy next to you got it, you were happy that it wasn’t you.”

But an interesting thing happens in the heat of battle. Either out of loyalty or necessity or...dare I say...love, this “self-preservation” morphs into “group-preservation.” In this case, a three man flame-thrower team in the middle of a man-made apocalypse, stick together to stay alive.

The feelings these three men are having can not be described in a conventional societal way. The emotions must be amplified so intensely it is as if they are waves of light beyond our visual spectrum. They are unattainable.

That is, unattainable to everyone except them. It was a shared experience of the highest order. At that moment in time, no matter how noble or base any of their individual motives were, there will be an unspoken bond between them. Probably until the day they die.

And that feeling, the aftermath of the experience, is what is envied and coveted by a great many people. Usually people whom never actually been in The Crucible. Whom never seen the shelling. Or smelled the death. People whom view war as some sort of an adventure never understanding what high price is paid for this glory. As Remarque wrote:

...and least of all an adventure because death is not an adventure for those who have come face to face with it.

The shame of it all is that it takes human beings the extreme conditions of any number of nightmarish “No Man’s Lands” around the world to realize the simple truth that if We are to move forward, we have to work together.

The irony is that the “working together” part is not only the only means to a satisfactory end to the human experience but is, in itself, a source of great joy and contentment which, in their hearts, is what everybody is searching for in the first place.

Larry

Pop Goes the Weasel

To widen the market and to narrow the competition is always the interest of the dealers.

Adam Smith (1723 - 1790)

The Wealth of Nations
Book I Chapter XI

8/29/2006


I am currently reading a book aptly titled Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain. The book tells the story of the Punk Era through a series of interviews with the performers, managers, producers, roadies and fans who were actually there. The portrait that is painted is both depraved and beautiful, and since it is a testimonial, wildly subjective…which makes it a must read if you have any interest in the history of Rock and Roll. I don’t really want to get into the whole thing right now because my thoughts and comments on the over 400 pages of direct quotes probably deserves a post of its own. Let me just say that I think it is really good.

The only reason why I mention it is because I was tad surprised, if that’s the right word, to find out how central a figure Iggy Pop was to that whole scene. I, of course, have heard of him before but I only really knew two of his songs off the top of my head, “Lust for Life” which was in Trainspotting and “Candy” a duet with Kate Pierson of the B52s in the 1980s which was well after the time period in question. (I also was aware he wrote “China Girl” which was a smash hit for David Bowie in 1983) I also knew that he was pretty much a junkie and he would roll around on glass. Other than that, I didn’t know much about him.

Oh yeah. I also remember seeing a porno magazine back in the day (Maybe Playboy or Penthouse) which had a black and white photo of him standing on a stage singing into a mike with his draws down and some fan’s hand reaching up out of the crowd and grabbing his cock.

Anyway, in the book, several of “the witnesses” continuously refer to the Iggy and the Stooges album Raw Power (1973) as an extremely important disc for both its intensity and its influence. As I turned the pages, and the more this LP was mentioned, the more embarrassed I became because I never even heard of it. So the other day at lunch, I decided to take a trip down to the local CD shop and pick up a copy, if anything, just to see what the hell these people all went ga-ga over.

Unfortunately, J&R didn’t have it. They had a bunch of other Iggy Pop CDs so I decided to pick one and give it a try. As I scanned the titles, I became apprehensive. I wanted to buy a record from the early seventies and a lot of the cases had copyrights in the 1990s and, at this point, I didn’t want anything, relatively, newer. Since I had no idea about his discography except for that one album name I decided to play it safe and get some kind of compilation because I wasn’t going to leave there empty-handed.

At that point I found one called “Iggy Pop – The Hits.” Confusing, because I didn’t think he had any, so I took a quick look at the songs and didn’t recognize a one except for “Lust for Life.” The price was seven bucks so I figured I had nothing to lose and bought it. Besides I thought the cover looked pretty cool:

The Front Cover

So I get back to my cube and break open the goodies. Since I was interested in the recording and release dates of each individual song and what albums they originally appeared, I immediately turned to the liner notes. Most compilations have that information. But as soon as I opened the case a card falls out, obviously an advertisement from the manufacturer which, in this case, is BMG. It is one of those, “since you bought this maybe you would like to buy these other things we’re selling,” type of come-ons. I was just about to throw it in the trash when something on it caught my eye:

Homogeneous Society

Then I turn this flimsy little card over and I see that there is more...

"Coming Soon...Dolly Parton"
Ridiculous

Rick Astley? Rick Springfield? Evelyn “Champagne” King?

Ace of fucking Base?

Is BMG kidding? Do they think anyone buying an Iggy Pop record would be remotely interested in purchasing a “greatest hits” collection from any of these “artists”? Who knows, maybe someone would, diversity is a good thing. But, in a larger sense, the two types of music seem to me completely incompatible.

Now I am not defending Iggy because, as I mentioned before, I don’t really know much of his music. I did listen to the album and thought there were some good things on it. The one thing that did come through in my preliminary listening was the passion. The songs sound like there is an attempt to express something. They do not feel contrived. So I will definitely buy Raw Power to further clarify my thoughts on the subject. In other words, the jury is still out.

The same can not be said about Henry Mancini or Neil Sedaka. Now, you may like “Theme from Peter Gunn” or “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” but, really, we are talking about two completely different experiences and, I find, if you are happy with the one type, for the most part, you are totally turned off by the other.

The Back Cover
"I saw the sign..."

At my place of employment we are allowed headphones so it gives me a chance to play CDs all day. I remember one time listening to the original Broadway cast recording of Evita (1979) followed directly by Lou Reed’s Transformer (1972). One was perfectly fine. It had catchy tunes, bouncy at times, dramatic at others. But the other one was actually moving.

Interested by my emotional reactions to these discs, I turned to my partner in filing and made, what I thought, was a very interesting observation:

Me: You know, Mandy Patinkin (Che) has a really great technical voice. He can hit all the notes in any range, any tone, any octave and seems to have total control of his voice. Lou Reed, on the other hand, has extremely limited vocal ability yet is one thousand times more effective.

Him: Hey, that’s not fair. You’re comparing apples and oranges.

Me: Yeah, I know. But it’s just that I find the oranges so much more satisfying.

I would put Steve Perry from Journey in the Patinkin category as well.

And before you say “lighten up” or anything in that vein, I want to set you straight pal. I’m going to give you a piece of my mind right now. All I’m going to say is…

Woh...wait a damn second! Hold the phone!

Sorry...I got to go.

Dan Fogelberg just came on my radio.

"Longer than...
There've been fishes in the ocean"

Make war no more.
Larry

Is There a Doctor in the House?

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

from Animal Farm (1946)

8/17/2006



Let me describe a situation I found myself in the other day:

Elevator doors open into a shabby vestibule. The unfriendly, life-weary face behind the counter asks me…no…tells me to take a seat. I look around and out of the twelve or so beige felt chairs that litter the area the only one available is under a tactless water color of some sort of sail boat whose stunning banality is only made bearable when I compare it to the truly dismal selection of pedestrian magazine titles neatly stacked in the brown Formica wooden rack next to my armrest.

I scan the faces of the other people sitting all around me. It was an interesting group. The majority of the bunch was shabbily dressed, unkempt, white men in their thirties. Men whose faces betrayed a complete lack of direction, cognizance or even interest. Men who were waiting to be told what to do and offer little resistance to the contrary. In other words, losers in that game called life.

But in between these emaciated glassy eyed zombies sat three young guys…they couldn’t have been more than 24…in obvious navy blue suits. Their laptops, freshly quaffed hair, cellular phones and ceaseless fidgeting were a statement. They were telling the world that they were not “one of them.” They were climbing the corporate ladder and one day would be on top of the world. Their energetic grins projected their misguided, self-appointed status of “Master of the Universe.”

After several minutes of observing the wanting, an authoritative figure comes marching out of a back room. I immediately tell he is in charge because of the surrendering desperation reaction of the serfs and the cloying deference of the jesters. This man obviously has what they all need, and every one in the room will do whatever it takes to get their “fix.”

No, I am not describing my sojourn to a “shooting gallery” under the Williamsburg Bridge. This was my latest visit to my Doctor’s office. And the man with the power was the doctor.


As soon as the doctor came out into the waiting area, he was swarmed by one of the suited guys who introduced himself as a drug pusher…I mean Pharmaceutical Sales Rep…and starts handing the doctor free samples. I believe his drug of choice that day was Propecia which is the latest stop-balding-vanity-pill that will answer all our problems. With the small boxes of drugs this pimp’s apprentice was also handing out “Money Back Guarantee” brochures explaining the wonders of Propecia for the doctor to give to patients. The brochures were in one of those little merchant display cardboard sleeves you would see in a bank with things like “Ask me about a low interest loan” written on it. I guess it is supposed to be displayed on the desk so it would be visible to patients during consultations.

Now let’s forget about the whole Willy Loman/Shelly “The Machine” Levine aspects of these sales people who at such a young age have tragically chosen a career path that will inevitably lead to disillusionment and disappointment. They are going to have to learn that for themselves.

Rather I want to focus on their function…that is to advocate, facilitate and expedite the use of narcotics with the result being the junkified vacant stares of all the other poor bastards sitting in that room.

Since when did doctors become salesman? I mean shouldn’t a physician’s decision on “writing script” be based solely on medical conditions and not sale promotions?

I admit Propecia sounds relatively harmless, aimed at middle aged men scared that they might actually die some day, but just for laughs I checked the Propecia Website and I found this little tidbit:

In clinical studies for PROPECIA, a small number of men experienced certain sexual side effects, such as less desire for sex, difficulty in achieving an erection, or a decrease in the amount of semen. Each of these side effects occurred in less than 2% of men and went away in men who stopped taking PROPECIA because of them.

Two percent? Not bad…AND their banging ability came back directly after they stopped using the drug. Sounds good but then I read this:

Women who are or may potentially be pregnant must not use PROPECIA and should not handle crushed or broken PROPECIA tablets because the active ingredient may cause abnormalities of a male baby’s sex organs. If a woman who is pregnant comes into contact with the active ingredient in PROPECIA, a doctor should be consulted. PROPECIA tablets are coated and will prevent contact with the active ingredient during normal handling, provided that the tablets are not broken or crushed.

Did I read that correctly, if a (even potentially) Pregnant Woman so much as touches the active ingredient, her unborn son loses his cock? That seems like a high price to pay just so her beau in a mid-life crisis can feel young again. Oh well, it’s probably worth it.

Besides, the baby might be ballless but I bet he would come out with a mane like young Elvis!

Now I admit that these two disclosures are nothing compared to some other drugs laundry list of “possible” side effects as they cure whatever it is you’re taking it for. (“Cotton Mouth,” “Sleep Deprivation,” “You will shit in your draws,” etc.) But still it strikes me as a completely unnecessary remedy to a “problem” that is actually just a natural part of life.

On the subject of hair loss, which advice is really in the best interest of the patient or, as he is being referred to more and more these days, the customer…

”Look, I know it is not the greatest thing in the world but you are getting older, and no magic pill is going to change that. But just because you are getting older and your hair is thinning doesn’t mean you’re dead! You are still the same person you were. You can still do all the things you want to do. You can still be happy.”

or

“Take this pill. You might get some hair back...but you might lose your penis.”

…and which one is in the best interest of Pfizer, Genentech or Dow?

Again, that’s just Propecia, the only pill I overheard being pushed. Who the hell knows what the other two were selling. OxyContin? Vicodin? Valium? Crack Rock?

Whatever it was, I am sure they will find a buyer.

Keep it Real
Larry

Wikipedia is Whack

8/8/2006


On The Colbert Report (Comedy Central – 11:30 PM) the other day, Colbert did a little bit on Wikipedia. For those of you that are unfamiliar, Wikipedia is a web site that is set up like a reference encyclopedia that has varied entries about pretty much anything. All you do is type in a person, place or thing and an article pops up giving you all the info and “facts” that you need.

I put that words in quotes because, evidently, the text of these various posts can be edited by anyone with internet access. All someone has to do is log in (I think) and change anything they want. The danger, of course, is that, very quickly, rumor can become fact.

So Colbert suggested that we should type in the fact that "the elephant population in Africa has tripled in the last ten years" making the conservationists cries and pleas ridiculous. His theory being that if you keep this obvious fabrication up on the site long enough, the information would eventually become "common knowledge."

I think Colbert's punchline was "creating a world of democratized knowledge."

I think his idea is brilliant. But instead of fucking with important things…like saving the elephants…why don't we do something that would be more inconsequential. Something subtle enough that might go unchallenged for a long time so kids everywhere in twenty years will be learning about it as if it were really true.

I thought about this long and hard for several days. I used all my intellectual guile, spending hours studying the charts, color coded maps and pie graphs that I constructed for this very purpose, but still, nothing really came to me. Then, as proof of the old adage, "a watched pot never boils," I turned on the radio and there it was.

What we could do is find any Wikipedia entry, about anything really, find an appropriate place and insert the four words

"an uncredited Phil Collins."

Let's see if it works!


How about gangsta rap...

Snoop Dogg

Snoop produced a pornographic film called Snoop Dogg's Doggystyle with Hustler magazine in 2001, where he combines hip hop music with X-rated material. From then on, many films of the genre followed, and finally ended up with founding the Snoopadelic Films company in 2005 with an uncredited Phil Collins.

"Fo' shizzle, my nizzle"

...or speed metal...

Megadeth

Megadeth is an American speed/heavy/thrash metal band led by Dave Mustaine. The group was formed in 1983, disbanded in 2002, and reformed in 2004 with an uncredited Phil Collins.

...or film...

Star Wars

Star Wars is a science fantasy saga and fictional universe created by writer/producer/director George Lucas with an uncredited Phil Collins during the 1970s.

...and comic books.

DareDevil

Although Daredevil had been home to the work of many comic-book legends — Jack Kirby, Wally Wood, John Romita Sr. and an uncredited Phil Collins, among others — it was not until Frank Miller's entrance on the title in the late 1970s that Daredevil was regarded as either popular or influential.

Hell. Why not structural engineering?

The Verrazano Narrows Bridge

The bridge was designed by Chief engineer Othmar Ammann, who also designed most of the other major crossings of New York City , including the George Washington Bridge, the Bronx-Whitestone Bridge, the Triborough Bridge and the Throgs Neck Bridge with an uncredited Phil Collins.

POWER TO THE PEOPLE !!!

Larry

I OWN MALIBU !!!

The front page of today's NY Post

8/1/2006


I promised myself that I would not blog on this subject because, quite frankly, it is too easy. Besides, I wrote an extensive post on Mel awhile back (The Passion of the Patriot) so what was the point? But then I saw the above pictured front page and I just couldn’t resist. The situation is just too ridiculous for words.

What we have here is a major Hollywood star who has recently been dogged by accusations of anti-semitism…charges he vehemently denied…while getting busted for drunk driving going on an out-of-control tirade which included chestnuts such as:

To a Jewish Police Officer…


“Fucking Jews! Jews are responsible for all the wars in this world. Are you a Jew?”


To a female Police Officer…


“What are you looking at…Sugar Tits?”


To everybody…


“I’m going to fuck you. You’re going to regret you ever did this to me. I own Malibu.”

Couple this outrageous dialogue with the photo of Gibson draped over two young blondes, obviously tanked, and I am able to paint a very distinct mental image of what happened on Friday night/Saturday morning at 2:30 AM. That is when Mel decided to get all liquored up and drive 85 in a 45 MPH zone.

Let’s face it…this is fucking hilarious.

But as I continued reading…and laughing…I came across this picture:

It’s Gibson’s mug shot obtained by The Smoking Gun. Something about it kind of gets me down. He looks terrible and not in that Nick Nolte wild way but more of just a sad aged way. This is not the “Martin Briggs” Mel of Lethal Weapon but more of just a thinning hair clown who probably has some serious problems...both mental and physical.

The front page doesn’t feel as funny to me any more.

This is a man who grew up in a strict household run by a notorious “Holocaust Denier,” a belief whose practice of is far beyond my meager comprehension that I will not pretend to understand it. I am sure the impressionable pre-teen Mel heard the expression “This country is run on Jew money” many times at the dinner table. Then as a man in Hollywood, I am sure he was double-crossed and screwed by some Jewish “studio suit” or two over his 30 plus year career, which just reinforced his opinion about “them.” And now, obviously disillusioned about the pot of gold he has been chasing his whole life, in the throes of alcoholism, he is more and more becoming his father.

Even if you don’t agree with that ludicrously over simplified life arc I provided one thing is abundantly clear: He does not like himself very much.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not defending his point of view. It is one that has been used for the last thousand years by village elders, town criers and national governments whenever blame needs to be averted from the actual source. And this belief in “The Eternal Jew” has led to some of the most despicable behavior mankind has ever exhibited be it the rape and murders of the never-ending Russian Pogroms, the grotesque sadistic torture of the Spanish Inquisition or the unspeakable acts of the Holocaust...all of which was state/church sanctioned

So I don’t let Gibson off the hook for his more and more apparent embracing of an ideology that will lead us yet again to human depravity. But at this point, he looks like a man who needs some serious help and I never liked kicking a guy when he is down.

If I did, I would be a Republican.

But the bigger question this whole episode raises is this: Why is “scapegoating” (a practice that dates back to Biblical times) so widely embraced on the personal level by so many? Is our own reality so hard to face that we can’t exist without a shadowy bogeyman? Is the horror you find within so unbearable that you need something without to explain the pain? Isn’t this philosophy of hate just a never-ending mantra of “If only...If only?”

When I think that there are people in this country...or on this planet for that matter...who are actually convinced that there is a Jewish conspiracy that is “keeping us down,” depression doesn’t half describe how I feel.

Larry