Harbor town

A short film, animated, from and about Rotterdam in the Netherlands. There is some additional explanatory text at the Vimeo link, but it's really not necessary. The easy motion and the little splashes of color speak loudly enough. There's also a cat and a bird, both of whom are lovely.

Faintly

 Bear with me, I seem to have reset the password on this blog. Complications from having multiple Google accounts.

Anyway, just a little bit ago I put on a record. Jazz instrumentals, Gerry Mulligan was involved. It was a bit late and I didn't want to disturb the neighbors, so I set the volume low. It turned out to be even lower than I expected. Audible, but very faint.

An interesting effect actually. While I was hearing the music, it felt more like I was remembering it. Although this would have been an eerily detailed and accurate memory.

Kudzu

 

Go walking for long enough in any place that has yards and you'll see these yard signs. At least where I live. 

You have to parse them carefully. Take the tautology that "Love is love," It doesn't say that love is particularly important, does it? Surely not, which is why you're free to undermine every form of familial love and agape ever known. Linguists are still trying to determine the definition of this word "kindness" but the word self-evidently isn't being used in the previously accepted manner.

Really, though, you can ignore everything after "house." The underlying message is, "We belong to the property-owning class." You don't see them in apartment windows.

The big heat

That time of year is upon us. High heat and high humidity. Dogs will be hanging their tongues out and looking for shady places to nap, if they aren't already. 

Speaking of napping, it helps to have some efficient cooling at least in your bedroom. Some people think you need air conditioning, but I don't really feel this is necessary, and certainly not for the home. I have a fairly powerful fan about the size of a toddler, so I should be all right. Anything that keeps you mostly dry overnight is fine.

A vignette of the Belle Epoque

 

Chantal: So you were saying...

Vivienne: I was just telling you that it's weird to be around Edmond when Anatole is around.

C: Weird? What kind of weird?

V: Well like, Anatole can spend an hour or more staring at Edmond, this creepy pout under his beard. And I'm all, are you sporting wood for my boyfriend, buddy?

C: Ha-ha, that's awesome. How does Edmond react?

V: He just kind of stares into space all broody-like. It's hard to know if he's into it or he's just clueless and self-absorbed. You know how it is.

C: Well I mean, yeah, I told you when you first started dating. When they're that pretty there's usually something missing.

V: Uh-huh. Well, I'll make you a bet.

C: Actual money bet?

V: Nothing too rich. Say twenty francs.

C: Huh. What's the bet, then?

V: Okay, so the three of us are having a picnic tomorrow. Has to be the three of us because Anatole tags along everywhere.

C: Yeah, okay.

V: And the bet is that I can take off all my clothes, just get ass naked right there in the park, and neither one of them will even notice.

C: No way! That's a claim all right. I'm gonna need proof.

V: Yeah, I know, pics or it didn't happen. I'll get you a snapshot.

C: See, that won't work. It's the nineteenth century and a photograph takes six fuckin' hours. No, I have to be there.

V: Sure, whatever. We'll be by the river. You can go there and bathe or something.

C: Fine, but I have to keep my slip on. I'm breaking out in zits all over.

V: TMI, but I'd insist on it anyway. I never said anything about them being able to ignore two naked women.

C: ?!?

V: Well, not Edmond anyway.

The night they shamed Old Dixie down

The strange case of Ellie Kemper's debutante ball shows cancel culture at the intersection of silly and sinister.

First, some background on Kemper. She's a comedic actress who first leapt to prominence in the latter half of  The Office's run (US edition) as kindhearted ditz Erin Hannon. When that was done she played the title role on Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, a sitcom about a former cult member and implied sex slave. While I've only seen clips, few things could be funnier than the fact that NBC picked it up for its opening season, then passed it onto Netflix  in a blind panic before it ever aired when they realized what they'd signed on for.

The controversy or "controversy" of the past couple of days goes back to her Clinton-era teens, when she was crowned at some high society function that--if you traced it all the way back to its roots--used to be segregated. Wait until you hear about a little something called the United States of America.

The good news is that as cancellations go, this one thus far looks to be a bust. None of the high-profile actors/producers/etc. that Kemper has worked with have stepped forward to denounce her or apologize for associating with her. She hasn't tearfully checked herself into whiteness rehab to reflect on her privilege. If she's not on Twitter it's conceivable she's blissfully ignorant the whole thing happened.

As an X-ray into the psychology of wokeness, however, it's educational. The AV Club reading this as Kemper having a "racist past" and Kemper being called a "KKK princess" stem about entirely from her hometown being St. Louis, Missouri. Missouri was a slave state, albeit one that fought on the Union side in the Civil War. And it's hard to deny that we in the North look at the South/border states with an unearned sense of superiority. Which is to say that in both regions football is huge, water is wet, and debutante balls are kitschy, but it's much easier for us to project evil qualities on all these things if they're taking place below the Mason-Dixon line (as commonly accepted.) 

Partisan attitudes following the migration of posh Rockefeller Republicans into the Democratic coalition may have exacerbated this tendency. And of course there is a huge overlap between Southern Americans and black Americans, which suggests how much alleged antiracism consists of condescension toward the latter.

As implied, I live in a Northeastern state, and there are a lot of things I like about it, such as brilliant fall foliage and a shorter mosquito season. This kind of snooty provincialism, though, I could do without.

Good grief

 

Just a little behind-the-scenes with Sparky Schulz. (I keep wanting to add a "t" to that last name, and I'm kind of amazed that everyone pronounces the name as if it were there. Ah, German.) Interesting that while the Peanuts characters could express themselves with the erudition of a college graduate--something Schulz pioneered in the comics--they were still very much drawn as children in terms of shape and dimension.

I don't know if he had a barber father like Charlie Brown did but he looks it.