Monday, December 30, 2024

Plains Speaking

 (In case you're wondering how I was able to write this with such supernatural speed, well, I didn't. It took me about a week way back in late February 2023, after I had heard that Jimmy Carter had entered a hospice and assumed, obviously incorrectly, that he only had a few weeks left--Kirk)  


1924-2024

Striding confidentially upon a political landscape ravaged by Watergate, the smiling peanut farmer (who had once been a nuclear engineer) seemed to have come out of nowhere. Of course, nowhere is always somewhere, and this somewhere was Georgia, where Jimmy Carter had been first a two-term  state senator, and then a one-term governor (the latter all that state's constitution allowed at the time.) Not particularly well-known outside of Georgia, he used that to his advantage in 1976 when running for president of the United States. He promised voters that he was one politician who would be "open, direct, and honest, for a change", and, by a very narrow margin, that promise got him elected to the highest office in that land. As President, his most notable success--that is, a success that everyone viewed as a success--was the brokering of a peace treaty between Israel and Egypt, known as the Camp David Accords. That was probably the high point of his presidency. He also did a number of things that attracted much controversy at the time--grant amnesty to Vietnam-era draft dodgers, cancel the B-1 bomber, push for a treaty that transferred the Panama Canal to the Panamanians--that stir up so little passion four decades later that it's easy to forget these acts were ever controversial to begin with.





The low points? Well, the same things that bedeviled the Nixon and Ford administrations: inflation, stagflation, and something closely related to the two: the Energy Crises. OPEC had turned off the petroleum spigot in 1973, leading to long lines at the gas station, along with a very prolonged and nasty recession (the last thing a troubled Nixon White House needed.) Carter was rightly afraid that such a thing could happen again, and went on TV early in his presidency to warn the public that the Energy Crises was the Moral Equivalent of War. He laid out some legislative recommendations. Congress dragged its feet. Part of the problem is that Carter took his campaign brag of being a Washington outsider a bit too seriously, to the point of not returning phone calls from congressional members of his own Democratic party! Instead, he seemed to want to rely on what Teddy Roosevelt had described as the "bully pulpit", a pulpit a later Roosevelt had augmented with radio, and which now could be augmented with television. Unfortunately, with every succeeding TV appearance, it seemed less like bullying on Carter's part and more like pleading. Then, starting in November of 1978, Carter's worse fears were realized when the Iranian Revolution sparked another oil shock. The long lines were back, as was the recession. In the midst of all this, Carter decided to give another speech.

The speech ran a little over a half an hour. In the interest of time, I've decided to show you the second part of the speech and describe the first part. Carter starts off by saying that this indeed was going to be yet another energy speech, but when he sat down to write it, he wondered why none of the earlier speeches had much effect. Suspecting there was something wrong with country beyond the mere price of gasoline (actually, the mere price of everything by that point), he invited people from all walks of life to a powwow of sorts at Camp David, then wrote down the things that he had heard. Many of those things, which Carter read on the air with extraordinary equanimity, were highly critical of Carter himself ("Mr President, you're not leading this nation, you're just managing the government".) After all that was done, he got to the gist of the matter:
  



So it ended up being another energy speech after all, the stuff about the mood of the country merely a prelude. But it was the prelude that stuck and continues to stick to this very day. The media quickly coined it the "malaise" speech, though that word was never uttered. Still, I don't see any real unfairness there. Malaise was as good a synonym for a crisis in confidence as any. Having been told at several points in my life that I lack confidence, I think I would have preferred to be told I was suffering from a malaise instead. As unsolicited advice goes, malaise evokes real pathos whereas a lack of confidence comes across as merely trite. But enough about me and back to Carter. The speech today is remembered as a huge blunder on Carter's part, but it's a false memory. In fact, his approval rating soared immediately following the speech. A few days later he fired a bunch of cabinet leaders in what was perhaps meant to be a show of resoluteness (someone at that Camp David powwow had told him: "Your cabinet members don't seem loyal to you",) but it came across as an administration in disarray instead, a conclusion many Americans had come to before the speech. As for the steps Americans needed to take to conserve energy, I think they were beginning to do that anyway, not out of any renewed patriotism, but as a matter of practicality. The higher the price at the pump, the higher the heating bills, the less a person drives and turns up the thermostat. Congress eventually did pass that windfall profits tax (imposed on a petroleum industry that was seen by an angry American public as making too much money off the Energy Crises) but by the time that happened, things for Carter had gotten a...







...whole lot worse.

When the news arrived that the Iranian students or protestors or radicals or whatever they were had overrun the U.S. Embassy and taken a bunch of hostages, the teenaged me wanted Carter to drop an H-bomb on Tehran. Now, before I get a bunch of angry rebukes in the comment section, let me reassure you that the late-middle-aged me disagrees with the teenaged me and is glad Carter did not do that. Call it maturity. And Carter himself showed quite a bit of maturity during that whole ordeal. And quite a bit of patience. In fact, patience became kind of a rallying cry. Guest-hosting Saturday Night Live, Howard Hesseman summed it up thusly:

HOW LONG WILL WE WAIT?

AS LONG AS IT TAKES!

SUPPOSE IT TAKES FOREVER?

THEN THAT'S HOW LONG WE'LL WAIT!

It didn't take forever. Just the better part of an...





 


...election year.

While he may have been a liberal in the dictionary sense of the word, Jimmy Carter was never truly a man of the Left. He was wary of government spending, even during harsh economic times when priming the pump was called for; eventually eschewed wage and price controls as a way of combating inflation in favor of Federal Reserve Chairman (and fellow Trilateral Commision member) Paul Volcker placing a chokehold on credit; and many of his domestic programs (energy included) involved deregulation. Yet neither was Carter a man of the Right, as any true man of the Right with a megaphone will tell you, as he had the temerity to suggest that human rights violations in noncommunist countries were every bit as objectionable as human rights violations in the communist ones. As for being a moderate or a middle-of-the roader, Carter's technocratic moralizing as civilization fell apart around him and a new Dark Age threatened (or so it seemed at the time) was too upsetting to a large enough swath of the public to be anything else but the moral equivalent of radicalism. So, if Jimmy Carter wasn't Left, Right, or Middle, what exactly was he? Simply his own unique self. A self he didn't feel the need to hide. As he had promised, he was open, honest, and direct. The things we should all want in a president. But not just those things. They should merely be a prelude.

Take it away, Gladys:

 

Just substitute Washington for LA. And I think it was a chartered flight.


Saturday, December 28, 2024

We'll Always Have Verona

 





Olivia Hussey 1951-2024

What light through yonder window breaks?

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

If the Fates Allow

 



I'll write about the bounced commies and Luke Short's new western some other time. For now I want you to focus solely on Norman Rockwell's illustration. The people pictured seem realistically rendered, don't they? That's partly due to Rockwell's skill as a painter, especially his almost photographic attention to detail, and partly because, well, they're real people. The woman doing the hugging is Rockwell's second wife Mary. The young man she's embracing and who's back is turned to us is Jarvis Rockwell, her and Norman's oldest son. On the far-left edge of the painting, in glasses, is youngest son Peter. And the exuberant lad in the plaid shirt right behind Mary is middle son Thomas. The man with the pipe who seems to be looking on at the scene taking place with amused curiosity is none other than the family patriarch, Norman himself. The family that models together stays together.


Yet according to Deborah Solomon's 2013 biography, American Mirror: The Life and Art of Norman Rockwell, this was anything but a model family. Rockwell was insecure about just about everything but his chosen profession. And even then, he was more secure doing commercial art--which a Saturday Evening Post cover basically is--than the type of art found in galleries and museums, which in his case turned out to be the same thing but the latter not realized until very late in his life. This insecurity led to him maintaining a certain aloof distance from family and friends, and family at least paid a price for this aloofness, most notably wife Mary, who developed a serious drinking problem that repeatedly landed her in and out of the hospital. Eventually the whole family ended up in therapy. The illustration itself doesn't truly reflect on the Rockwell family's 1948 Christmas. Norman spent the holiday in Los Angeles--as a kind of personal getaway, while the rest of the family stayed behind in Vermont.

Does that make the above illustration a lie? Not necessarily. It could have taken place during a different Christmas. Or just as likely, Rockwell may have witnessed somebody else's family reunion, and just replaced that other person's family members with his own, achieving in art what his own insecurities prohibited him from doing in life. Whatever the reason or whatever happened, it's worth remembering that imperfect people and imperfect families, both of which there are a great deal many, have to find ways to make it through a holiday season in which the perfected art of happiness is practically a moral mandate. Enjoy the eggnog and brush strokes.



Enough of that. I don't want to ruin your holiday. So I'll turn my attention to the woman pictured above, who is also in the Rockwell illustration. Turns out she was an...


Christmas at Home (1946)

...artist herself.



That's right, it's Grandma Moses. Born in 1860, the farmer's widow didn't take up painting until age seventy-six. Completely self-taught (thus a "primitive" artist) she produced pictures of what she termed "old-timey" New England. One of these pictures ended up hung in a rural drug store, where a big city art collector out for a drive in the country saw it. Soon after a collection of her works hung in the gallery of an Austrian refugee who had run afoul of the Nazis for the twin crimes of being Jewish and advocating modern art. That was waaay different from anything that happened to Grandma Moses in old-timey New Hampshire, but no matter, soon she went from folk art to what might be called fine art, though the style remained basically the same, only now exhibited in different venues. As she became more well-known, Grandma Moses became a pop culture figure as well, thanks in large part to Hallmark cards, which reproduced her paintings on a series of popular greeting cards.



Norman Rockwell, himself a pop culture figure with a line of Hallmark greeting cards, helps Grandma Moses cut a cake celebrating her 88th birthday. The whole thing was a PR stunt dreamed up by a Hallmark exec. It certainly made sense to pair the two, who had just met. Though their artistic styles, and perhaps their artistic sensibilities, differed, what both of them offered the greeting card consumer was that much sought-after commodity: warmth. And wouldn't you know it that a genuine warmth did develop between the two? They became friends. Not best friends. The age difference (he was thirty-four years her junior) and Rockwell's own aforementioned aloofness, got in the way of that, but for a while Grandma Moses was part of his social circle, and as with anyone part of his social (and familial) circle, it eventually got her on The Saturday Evening Post. Not that Grandma Moses needed his help getting on the...
 


 

...cover of a magazine.
 

Take it away, Judy:




Thursday, December 12, 2024

The Not-So-Abominable Dr. Phibes

 


"This little green one seems to need a home."



In 1970, a certain horror movie star and his daughter pretty much came to the same conclusion. 

Saturday, December 7, 2024

Quips and Quotations (Tried and Trudeau Edition)

 


Trump has suggested that Canada become the 51st state in our union. Does that mean that we can adopt the Canadian health care system and guarantee health care to all, lower the cost of prescription drugs, and spend 50% less per capita on health care? I'm all for it.

--Bernie Sanders

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Graphic Grandeur (Wool's Worth Edition)

 


December is here and temperatures are plunging, so if you're going outside, make sure to...



...bundle up.


1977 strip by Charles M. Schulz.




Saturday, November 23, 2024

Vital Viewing (The Muses Are Heard Edition)




The last time I posted was the day before the presidential election. Some of you may have been wondering why I haven't posted since then. I just haven't had the time. You see, I've been busy...
  




...sulking. Well, maybe more than sulking. OK, I don't have wings (or curves), but this is pretty much the way I've felt lately. Obviously, things didn't go the way I had hoped.

But I'm not sulking anymore! I picked myself up and brushed myself off and found a way to deal with the political calamity that has now befallen our country. Take a gander:

 

Um, I'm suddenly hearing murmurs of disapproval.



See? Margaret Forster (author of Georgy Girl) has my back!

Now that we've established that it's wonderful, what's the best way to escape the horrors of topicality? Well, one tried-and-true method is a...



...Hays Office-approved old Hollywood movie:

 


Ah, what a diversion--What's that? You don't feel like you were escaping anything? What you need is a strong dose of silliness, and you can't get much sillier than this...



... BNL (before Norman Lear)-era situation comedy:



After watching that, you very well can't say your current affairs anxieties haven't all been swept away.

Huh? THEY HAVEN'T? Obviously, a stronger broom is needed. So instead of silliness, I'll provide you with some downright mindless...



...slapstick:



HAHAHAHAHAHA! I'm lost in laughter, without a world-historical care in the world, and I'm sure you are too.

What do you mean your world-historical cares have increased? Boy, what a tough crowd.

All right, as one last resort, I want you all to escape into the innocence of childhood. Specifically, those nights when your mother or father would read you a...



 ...bedtime story:



There! I knew that would do it. Now you can puff up the pillow, pull up the blanket, and dream of a world devoid of any kind of news other than box scores and celebrity gossip. Isn't escapism wonderful?

Oh, there's still one naysayer out there, telling me I'm being irresponsible, that I should confront reality, not run away from it.

Look, naysayer, I never said I was planning to escape forever, just temporarily. And as far as confronting reality goes, I'll have you know that in order to have a better understanding of the election results, I've been reading this book:



So far nothing about fellating a microphone, but maybe that's in a later edition.


 


 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, November 3, 2024

Vex Populi

 


It's almost over. Nothing left to do now but cast your ballot...



...and await the results.

Democracy in America, 2024

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

Quips and Quotations (Something Welcome This Way Comes Edition)



 

The monsters weren't intended to be gay, except possibly when director James Whale was behind the lens, but they read as gay to me. For me and my fellow queer youth growing up in the gay-intolerant era of the mid-twentieth century, these monsters spoke to our lives. That they flourished in marvelous gothic fantasy films, some brillant, most ridiculous, all imagination-stirring, only made them more special.

Hollywood's message may have seemed clear: You're gay; you're a monster. The villagers must hunt you down and destroy you. However, there was a more subversive underside to them. Almost without exception the monsters are presented sympathetically: Frankenstein's Monster was a lonely innocent, persecuted for existing, and good with children (some of the time). And there was his enormous schvancestucker. The Wolfman was a heroic fellow who acquired a cursed life when he came to the aid of a damsel in distress. Even soulless Dracula is often presented as a lonely, isolated figure seeking love, burdened by a curse acquired in defense of his country. The villagers are usually frightened, ignorant yahoos, with a hair-trigger lynch-mob response to almost any stimulus.

These movies said to me, It is intolerant society that is wrong. Hang in there. Fight the good fight. If you get enough sequels, eventually everyone will love you. Once Abbott and Costello show up, you're home free.

There is hope.

--Douglas McEwan, The Q Guide to Classic Monster Movies




..............................................................................................................................................



1944-2024


The "enourmous schvancestucker," that Mr. McEwan refers to is not a direct or even an indirect quote from any classic monster movie made in the 1930s or '40s, but rather uttered by the winsome young woman pictured above in a classic monster comedy from the 1970s. Her name is Teri Garr, and as a trick instead of a treat I'll leave it up to you to come up with the name of that movie.


Sunday, October 27, 2024

Smart Art (Ben Day, Done Dat Edition)

 




 
This Halloween, why not let Roy Lichtenstein pick out your costume?


Tuesday, October 22, 2024

Vital Viewing (Hex and Violence Edition)

 


Halloween is not too far off, and what better symbol of the holiday than a witch? Here's one of cinema's scariest. If fact, she just might be the gold (or mold) standard for cinematic scary witches:



Did you notice how the Tin Man put out the fire with his oil can hat? That's because a fire needs oxygen or else it's likely to die out. Nice to know that even in a land of witches and talking scarecrows, the basic laws of science still apply. 



By the time she died at age 82 in 1985, Cleveland native Margaret Hamilton had lived through decades of TV showings of 1939's The Wizard of Oz, and was well-aware that her Wicked Witch of the West character had become a cultural icon. It didn't seem to bother her any. Also, cultural icons often attract the attention of other cultural icons, which seems to be the case in this clip that pairs Hamilton with a man who was considered anything but wicked: 

  



Mister Rogers seems positively gleeful at the prospect of this sweet old lady transforming herself into a wicked witch. Walk on the wild side, Fred!

Mister Rogers' Neighborhood wasn't the only 1970s TV instance of Margaret Hamilton donning the pointy black hat and the rest of the black ensemble. Here she is alongside a man with a wit so wicked it could have turned Dorothy's face as red as her ruby slippers:




Nice place for the clip to end, huh? I take what YouTube gives me, folks. I did see this special when I was in high school, but I've long since forgotten what kind of truck driver Paul Lynde turned into. Since I don't want you to feel deprived, let's just say this came next:



Betty White, bless her soul, got her wish.  

..............................................................................................................................................

 Now, let's look at a different witch. Well, I thought she was a witch at first because there's a black cat, and the lady herself is dressed in black, but that's where the similarity ends:



And I don't care if she's a witch or not. She's still magical.


Mitzi Gaynor 1931-2024


Friday, October 11, 2024

Bobby's Girl

 

1928-2024

Of course, we'll never know for sure, but she might have made one groovy First Lady.

Thursday, October 3, 2024

Vital Viewing (That's Enfranchisement Edition)

 



For those of you who live in Ohio, the deadline to register to vote in the 2024 elections is October 7, this coming Monday. Above are all the things you need to know and do and be in order to register. However, it may not be all that easy to read as at some point the words shrink quite a bit (just what you need in an election where there's bound to be accusations of fraud and voter suppression: small print.) So as a further service I've included the following video provided by the good people at the Cuyahoga County Board of Election themselves in the hope of making things a bit more clear:




Get all that? Good. Now just to make sure you do everything you're supposed to do to fully participate in our democracy, I'd like to add a cautionary tale of what could happen if you DON'T do everything you're supposed to do.



Actually, this cautionary tale takes place in the Queens, New York of the 1970s but I think it applies equally well to Cuyahoga County, Ohio of the 2020s as a man of many, many opinions suddenly finds himself unable to act upon a single one of those opinions. Watch:



Don't end up like Archibald. Register!


 


Monday, September 30, 2024

Oxford Blues

 


Maggie Smith (1934-2024) in 1952, a member of the Oxford University Dramatic Society.  



Rhodes Scholar Kris Kristofferson (1936-2024), circa 1958.



Keep this institution in your thoughts and prayers. It's been a rough week.

Friday, September 27, 2024

Graphic Grandeur (Hub Bub Edition)

 



Ah, yes, who doesn't like going off to distant lands and viewing all those famous landmarks up close? However, as you do so, Norman Rockwell wants you to give some thought to those working stiffs who make such travel possible:



In 1937 anyway. By now it's all been digitalized.