THE INFORMATION #964 OCTOBER 27, 2017

THE INFORMATION #964
OCTOBER 27, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 


He that cannot reason is a fool. He that will not is a bigot. He that dare not is a slave. –Andrew Carnegie

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE 
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART FORTY-EIGHT: DAYS OF WRATH

“Yob, I’ll tell you something right now,” said Count Victor Justin to the young and impressionable Cadger Tandy. “There are a lot of tough old birds out there, roaming the landscape.”

It was an unseasonably warm day in mid-October. As they walked the streets, Cadger Tandy caught a whiff of horse manure, and, curiously, apples.

“And you ought to know that one of them tough old birds might be your boss someday, and in a position to decide whether you prosper or starve. You can count on it. He will probably be a narrow-minded coot who thinks he’s always right. And that his way is the only way. And that his taste and preferences are the best, and those of everyone else are the evidence of an inferior intellect. All you can do with these sorts of bull-headed Yellofs is to yes ’em to death. Adopt for yourself their bizarre tastes and habits. And then, when you make a mistake, as you inevitably will, and the boss notices, and inevitably he will, because among all his other vices he scrutinizes his employees with a fine-toothed comb–then he will call you a fool. But he won’t kick you out onto the sidewalk. Because, if you’ve played your cards right, you’ll be his fair-haired boy.No man has ever been flattered to death.

Flattery is a delicious sop to all such men. So you have to feed it to ’em at least three times a day. And treat the inane drivel that drips from their swollen lips like Ye Olde Wisdom of the Ages. Even though it’s the most selfish, the most mean-spirited, small-minded, crossroad-clown buffoonery you’ve ever heard. Like ‘Close down the pool hall and crime will vanish overnight.’ Like ‘I would never let a greasy Dago marry my sister.’ And like ‘All Socialists ought to be gathered up and horsewhipped in the town square.’ 

“I’m a devil, ain’t I? Call me Mephistopheles himself, if you must–but never say I am stupid and I don’t know what’s what.

“Basically, what all these complacent so-called movers and shakers are saying is as follows: “I know what I like – and don’t like – and you’ve got to agree with me.’ 

“Now, the way to get one over on such men is easy. Once you’ve made their acquaintance–and that’s the hard part—you only have to say what THEY are going to say right before they say it. It is simplicity itself, because you know that men of that type will always think and say the exact same thing. Or, at least, you will come to know this–once you spend any amount of time in their company.   They will always mock at and become angry at things they simply fail to understand. Always!

That Armory Show that’s got them all worked up is a good example. Every yahoo and simpleton on the block is howling their rage at the fact that the avant-garde were no longer peddling pictures of kitties and puppy dogs and old grampas contentedly puffing their pipes on the front porch. Oh, how they all howl like savages at the sight and sound of strange new worlds! The mass of men are a great deal like monkeys in that way. Every week they go to church, both to see and be seen. Why? Because they adopt a passive and superstitious stance toward everything their monkey minds fail to comprehend. And so every week they sit, stand and kneel with groups of other monkeys and hoot and gibber at the invisible bars of their self-made stained-glass cage. Because the big apes have told them to do so. ‘Jesus, help this little child/Make him gentle meek and mild.’ Haww…! 

“Now, if I am a devil for saying as much, then so be it.

“And all these politicians who prate of Democracy. Guh! If you truly believe in Democracy, then you have to let the people have their say. But I’ve noticed that mostly all of these wall-eyed loud-mouthed double-chinned limp-dicked self-styled super-patriots, why, the first thing they want to do is stifle dissent. And ain’t it funny how most of ’em are rich fellers, or they very much want to be.

“Yob, I’ll tell you a secret: The rich are different from you and me. They’re all assholes. Every last one of them. Listen, Yob, I know of whereof I speak. I’ve been the fly on the wall inside their exclusive clubs, inside their lodges, at their conclaves. Do you know what most of ’em like to talk about? I’ll tell you. Golf! Here they are, responsible for handling thousands and millions of dollars every day, and the only thing that truly excites them is a stupid little game! Golf! It’s the favorite game of all the plutocrats. It excites them to knock their little balls upon a field of ass, or is it grass? If they had any real balls, they’d be in a seraglio with a passel of naked zooks plunging into the willing fleshpots with a couple of hundred strokes. But no, not these boys! No! They knock a tiny fucking ball into a subterranean hole, and if they manage to do it in only one stroke, then they hoot and holler and set off firecrackers like they just found the Holy Grail, or won the Nobel Prize!

“The trouble with these Yobs most likely started out way back when they were still sucking on the sugar-tit.They were greedy babies who were always reaching for the cookie jar, and, instead of getting their hand slapped and their britches dusted, why, they were positively rewarded for their greed, and petted and made much of.

“I’m no Robin Hood, Yob. Nor am I any kind of philanthropist. What’s mine is mine, and the hell with you. I don’t pretend to be in any business other than Me & Me, Incorporated. But all the same, it gives me the greatest sort of pleasure to sucker those who sucker everybody else. Mark my words–in about 100 years or so, their greed will destroy the world. You and me won’t be here to see it–more’s the pity. Because it will be one long hellacious party once the brakes come off for good. And I truly wouldn’t mind seeing the fat-cats finally get theirs, along with everybody else.

“Call me…call me a believer in democracy!”  

 

1*SALUTATION
2*REFERENCE
HERE I SIT–A STUDY OF AMERICAN LATRINALIA
BY ALAN DUNDES

digitalassets.lib.berkeley.edu/anthpubs/ucb/text/kas034-010.pdf

3*HUMOR
HARVEY PEKAR
RIP OFF CHICK
4*NOVELTY
NIGHT OF THE LEPUS
TRAILER
 
ALSO SEE:
THE BIZARRE SIDE TO RABBITS


5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIOR MARVEL COMICS

Who are the Marvel heroes with whom the average person is most familiar? The famous ones, right? So you if you into a comic shop and ask for any of the following heroes, you’ll get:
Iron-Man; a black teenage girl whom we are informed is smarter than Tony Stark
Thor; an explicitly feminist woman
Captain America; a black man (the original blonde, blue-eyed Cap revealed himself to be a Nazi)
The Hulk; an Asian hipster
Wolverine; a young girl
Spider-Man; a half black-latino, possibly gay kid with more powers than the original. Surpisingly, Peter Parker still exists too.

The other new characters Marvel has pushed as their main franchises are
Captain Marvel; a former Supergirl rip-off who now looks and acts like a miserable, cliché pseudo-lesbian
Ms. Marvel; a Pakistani Muslim girl who fights Islamophobia, and sometime bad guys
America Chavez; a latina lesbian who might have some powers or something
Moon Girl; a little black girl who is smarter than any man
Squirrel Girl; a botched facelift survivor drawn and written to be as unappealing as humanly possible

http://www.reddit.com/r/KotakuInAction/comments/6qd9wp/can_someone_explain_the_whole_sjw_marvel_thing/

 

6* DAILY UTILITY
“A REPUBLIC–IF YOU CAN KEEP IT.”

 

7*CARTOON
THE CHICKEN-HEARTED KILLER

digitalcomicmuseum.com/preview/index.php?did=19530&page=48
digitalcomicmuseum.com/preview/index.php?did=19530&page=49
digitalcomicmuseum.com/preview/index.php?did=19530&page=50
digitalcomicmuseum.com/preview/index.php?did=19530&page=51

8*PRESCRIPTION
FRANK ZAPPA COMIC BOOK STORY

http://www.afka.net/Mags/National_Lampoon.htm

9*RUMOR PATROL

White restaurant manager in S.C. charged with enslaving black cook
http://www.ajc.com/news/local/white-restaurant-manager-charged-with-enslaving-black-cook/DXODC09DOsFsSajtbjfxJK/

 

10* LAGNIAPPE
LESLIE GORE

Sunshine Lollipops and Rainbows
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSnxYtFarNw

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
MANSPLAINING

Mansplaining is bad.

People should remain ignorant.

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
OVERHEARD ON THE STREET

“Don’t cross against the light, young lady. That’s how God makes angels.”

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THE INFORMATION #963 OCTOBER 20, 2017

THE INFORMATION #963
OCTOBER 20, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 
 
One’s real life is often the life that one does not lead.– Oscar Wilde
 
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE 
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART FORTY-SEVEN: DAYS OF WRATH


“You is got to write your own story in life, Yob,” said Count Justin Victor to Cadger Tandy. “That’s what I been trying to tell you all along.

“Now, over in Europe, it’s another story. Over there, everything is predetermined. You can try to pretend that you ain’t a rascal, but you can be sure your sins will find you out. Their detectives are a whole lot smarter than ours. For the most part.

 

I once knowed a feller named Wojciech Novak. Polish feller. He moved to England and changed his name to Willy Newman. He played all sorts of cute stunts over there during the time I knew him. He’d direct a cabdriver to take him to a swanky abode, then say he had to go in to get the cash to pay the fare. Of course, he’d simply vanish around the corner, and of course the servants at the house knew nothing of any feller matching the discription of Willy Newman.

“He was pretty shrewd and resourceful, for a Polack. I suppose he got into grifting because it was what he was most suited for, and because he couldn’t do anything else. He had no trade; no influential relatives, and no hope of posterity save grifting and card sharping. He always had some scheme percolating whereby he could make small sums of money in a great big hurry. My favorite was when he would go to a bookstall, pick up a great big pile of books from the display rack outside, bring them into the shop, and sell the owner’s own books right back to the owner. You’d of think he’s of gotten caught at this little gambit at least once, but I seen him do it some twenty or thirty times. Of course, there ain’t much money in books. So he graduated to Jewelry.

“Here’s how he would operate. First, he would borrow some zlotys off of one of his Maiden Aunts back in Poland. Then he would have a fine suit tailor- made and check into one of the best hotels; and start splashing money around, tipping everybody extravagantly, ordering room service, and generally acting the swell–all the while letting it be known that he was a fabulously wealthy match king from Sweden or Denmark or one of them countries, which accounted for his peculiar accent. Pretty soon, word would spread among all the merchants that this eccentric foreigner was practically throwing all his money away.

“Once he made the desired impression, he put his simple plan into action.

“He would go to the best jewelry store in town and flatter the owner that his joint was world-renowned. Then he would smooth-talk the owner and his clerk into allowing him to take a look at the sparklers in his hotel room on speculation, without paying for ’em. Then he would trot right over the second-best jewelry store, which was usually practically right next door, and he would sell the stones to that owner at a steep discount. He’d never even return to the hotel. He was already on a boat to France before anybody–the hotel owner, the merchants, or the police–had any idea of what had happened.

“Of course, nowadays the cops are wise to such stunts, and you probably couldn’t get away with such an elementary grift anymore. Too many districts have been burned-over to even try it. But in its day it was as sweet a short con as I ever heard of. Just goes to show what you can get away with if you got yourself a blustering front and some ready cash to spread around.

“How many times, Yob, do I have to tell you that, when it comes right down to it, nobody knows or cares about you. Folks, in general, why, they don’t give a hoot in hell or a hot damn about much of anything, other than themselves, and maybe–just maybe–their next of kin. But it’s funny how they manage to torment their nearest and dearest all the same. In all the time I have lived and breathed, I have never known a hermit with a nervous stomach. Or a monk who ground his teeth at night. No–it’s always the Yellofs who consider themselves ‘responsible’ who come down with them kind of ailments, and look like they’re sixty by the time they’re thirty-five.

 

“Dames always say that white hair looks ‘distinguished’. Haw! The little minxes have mastered the art of flattery practically from the moment they can walk! What do you expect them to say? ‘The very thought of your embrace makes me shudder with a quick revulsion.’ No, Yob–you got to be well married-up to them before they turn on the candor. And once they do, it flows from the spigot like a waterfall, let me tell you. Womenfolk of a certain class ain’t got much else rattling around in their pea-brains, so they can build a whole storehouse of resentments and inventory them, every single one of them, and produce them on demand. ‘On February first, 1899, you were ten minutes late to my mother’s garden party. I was SO HUMILIATED.’ Women seize hold of all sorts of little grudges and they squeeze ’em dry for every drop. That’s just what they’re like.

“Even if you do find a loving wife, you will still basically be all alone in a fickle world. Do you think that if you get jugged, your ever-loving sweetheart is going to cool her heels waiting for you to serve your time in the cooler? I have never once known such a thing to happen, Yob–and I’ve talked to hundreds of old lags. The faithful wife is so rare that she’s spoken of as the subject of fairy tales and legends. No, no, Yob–if it’s faithfulness you’re looking for, then buy a dog. Once you make him prosperous, he’ll never once bite you. Unlike some shemales I could mention.

“Do I have to come right out and say it, Yob? Never trust a woman. Never never never never never. Take this one piece of advice–and you’ll be sure to live happily ever after.”

 
1*SALUTATION
RAY DAVIES
A PLACE IN YOUR HEART
 
ALSO SEE:
THE KINKS
AUTUMN ALMANAC (TOP OF THE POPS)
 

SEE ALSO:
So Mystifying
Wait Till the Summer Comes Along
The World Keeps Going Round
I’ll Remember
End of the Season
All of My Friends Were There
Drivin’
The Moneygoround
Complicated Life
Look a Little on the Sunnyside
God’s Children
You Make it All Worthwhile
The First Time We Fall in Love
Sweet Lady Genevieve
Mirror of Love
On the Outside
Pressure
Better Things
Summer’s Gone
Heart of Gold
Out of the Wardrobe
How Do I Get Close
The Video Shop
The Road
Still Searching

 

2*REFERENCE

WORKING CLASS HEROES

Wearing baseball caps while driving.

Often, they are driving Jeeps.

Referring to profanity as “swears”.

Always wanting to eat at the bar or the counter.

Always hollering.

Always hollering to turn out the lights because electricity is expensive.

Summer: Shut the door! Do you want to let the flies in?

Winter: Shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out! Where were you born–in a BARN?

Will argue the merits of Bud vs. Miller. Still thinks Michelob is for “special occasions”.

Can’t fight General Electric so he fights his cronies in the bar.

If something is too highbrow for him or her, s/he’ll say “That’s not for me.”

If s/he thinks something actually sucks, and s/he wants to be diplomatic, s/he will say, “That’s innarestin‘.”

And the father will always say to the mother, “Stop mollycoddling the boy–you’re going to turn him into a sissy.”

 
3*HUMOR
GENESIS 1:3

ג וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים, יְהִי אוֹר; וַיְהִי-אוֹר.

KJV:

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

MODERN TRANSLATION:
And a Supreme Being (Who May or May Not Exist) said, “Postulate an at least three times differentiable four-vector field on a four-dimensional Lorentzian manifold. Take its exterior derivative, and call the resulting antisymmetric tensor the Maxwell tensor. Note that this tensor’s exterior derivative is identically zero, yielding a set of field equations for the tensor components. Next, define another vector as the coderivative of the Maxwell tensor and call it the four-current. This definition yields another set of field equations. Finally, note that the four-current is a conserved current. With these definitions at hand, solve the field equations in the absence of a four-current. We shall then call the resulting plane wave solutions ‘light’.”

 
4*NOVELTY

19-Year-Old Is Charged in Hamster’s Death
cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/09/19-year-old-is-charged-in-hamsters-death/

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
 
7*CARTOON
YOUR STORY HAS TOUCHED MY HEART
http://cdn.ipernity.com/130/77/35/20567735.38231c22.640.jpg?r2

 
8*PRESCRIPTION
HOW TO RECTIFY THE LANGUAGE
Rectify the language.–Confucius
books.google.com/books?id=Bl2cxxZ55DQC&pg=PA10&dq=what+did+confucius+mean+by+%22rectify+the+language?%22&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwin6aj_pd_WAhUC2SYKHWQpCYMQ6AEIJjAA#v=onepage&q=what%20did%20confucius%20mean%20by%20%22rectify%20the%20language%3F%22&f=false
 
9*RUMOR PATROL
NIRVANA
ALL APOLOGIES (BACKWARDS)
10* LAGNIAPPE
CHARLES MANSON
LOOK AT YOUR GAME, GIRL
 
11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
REICH ON TRUMP

All the crazy things that we thought that Nixon, Reagan, and W. were going to do?

Trump is actually doing them, or preparing to.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/donald-trump-impeachment-latest-robert-reich-former-republican-senator-unhinged-tax-bill-us-a7996341.html

 

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
THE LAST LIGHT BEFORE ETERNAL DARKNESS

Call me a racist if you must, but all I know is that someday a white dwarf is going to come around and that’s all she wrote.

THE INFORMATION #962 OCTOBER 13, 2017

THE INFORMATION #962
OCTOBER 13, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 

We have a disturbing cultural appetite for novelty, and it seems to me wrong each new laureate should dislodge the ideas of his or her predecessor, especially when they’re still unfolding. –Louise Gluck

 
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART FORTY-SIX: DAYS OF WRATH
 

“Of course, Yob,” said Count Victor Justin to Cadger Tandy, “whether you have any loved ones or not depends on a lot of factors. Mainly, whether your folks came over on the Susan Constant or the Mayflower or the Arabella or a slave ship, or whether they snuck in from Canada or Mexico, or whether they are greenies who just sailed in on a banana boat from Jesus knows what flea-haven. Of course, if you came in through Castle Garden or Ellis Island, they were supposed to poke and prod you to see if you’re sick, or an imbecile, or a pauper, but judging from the types of querulous bohunks we’ve been getting around these here parts lately, they ain’t been doing a very good job. Most immigrants I’ve come across in Blowtown are ignorant Hunkies who work like a dray-horse for twelve to fourteen hours a day and then drink themselves into a stupor, and if their long-suffering wives and kiddies are lucky, the brute is too tuckered out and too flummoxed from strong drink to take the strappado to the whole lot of ’em. There’s nothing lower than one of these sorts of eastern Europeans–they dress like steerage passengers even when they’re well off the boat; they never have any money because they spend it as fast as they get it; they cling to the ways of the old country even though it’s like to put them at a severe disadvantage or even kill ’em, and they stare in gape-mouthed stupefaction at even the simplest and most familiar everyday objects, like telephones and clean bath towels and toothbrushes and soap, none of which they know how to use. If they’re not greasy with machine oil, they reek of cabbage and onions and the other coarse foods of their backward country of origin. You feel like shaking them, every last one of them, and saying ‘Why don’t you get wise to yourself, Bub? You’re in America now! You don’t have to walk around with a bag of stinking asafoetida around your neck, you stupid superstitious peasant. It ain’t going to help you ward off pneumonia, and if it keeps the devil away it’s likely because he can’t abide the smell. You and your fat wife would be just as well advised to stay in the deep background at all times when it comes right down to it, and let your children go to school and learn American ways. When they become infinitely ashamed of your old-world customs, that’s when you’ll know that you’ve done your job right, and you can get on a boat and go back to fucking Ruritania and boast to all the villagers of your family’s new-found prosperity in the Land Where the Streets Are Paved With Gold, and you can lie down with the pigs and goats and die happy.’

“If there’s one thing I can’t abide it’s the notion of some purblind foreign alien coming into this country with nary a nickel in his pocket and preaching to his betters about how superior his broken-down old country is to the U. S. of A. If your damn country is so superior, then why in hell didn’t you stay there? I’ll tell you why–every moocher on five continents has got the earie about Uncle Sucker and his generous giveaways. Haww…! And to see the look on their faces when they realize that they’ve actually got to look out after themselves because ain’t nobody going to wipe their ass for ’em, or even give ’em the time of day. Haw! Priceless! Before too long, instead of milk ‘n’ honey, they’re reduced to pickin’ fish heads out of garbage cans and trawling the town dump for scraps of worn cloth to stuff in the chinks of their jerry-rigged lean-tos. I have to laugh myself silly at these chumps because I know full well that there but for the grace of God goes I. Why, if I were run out of these precincts, I suppose I could make a go of it in some other town, because I got colleagues all over the country–but if I were stranded on the Mosquito Coast and dependent on the charity of wild savages, I suppose I would be in an awful fix. At first.

But now I’ll tell you something that’s very important for a Yob like you to know–a good grifter can get one over on anyone, anywhere, and at any time. Even in a Monastery. Even on board the S.S. Revenge. Even in a Turkish prison in the middle of the Crimean War. Even on Death Row in old San Q. It’s just a matter of using the old noggin. And that’s an ability that your average beaner and bluegum and bog-trotter just don’t have. Cabbage-eaters, Chinks and Greasers just ain’t got the wherewithal to solve their problems using their noggins. They’re too hot-headed. They’d rather resort to the knout, or the axe, or the good old stiletto. The Cheeseheads ain’t much better–too stupefied by beer to make something of themselves, they just sit around and smoke their stinking pipes and jabber in their idiotic dialect. I wouldn’t let my daughter marry one of those lardasses if she was the last woman on earth.”

“Do you have a daughter?” said Cadger Tandy.

“No,” said the Count. “But it’s the principle of the thing. I wouldn’t let her marry a Pole, a Lithuanian, or a Ukranian, either–because they don’t know how to behave like gentlemen as they have no real tradition of mingling with members of the upper crust, except in their own miserable icebox countries.And what’s that worth? Have you ever heard of a Ukranian who was worth so much as a tinker’s damn? No, I thought not. They’re just about good enough to work in the steel mills, I suppose, even though they’re little better than cattle. And don’t even get me started on the Greeks and Albanians. ‘Bout the only thing they’re good for is cannon fodder, and let me tell you something–one German or Prussian is worth about twenty of them. I would trust the Greeks to make my pancakes and dish out ice cream on a hot summer’s day, but for a fighting man, give me a man of hearty Saxon blood. That’s all there is to it.”


1*SALUTATION
JERRY LEE LEWIS
OLD BLACK JOE
2*REFERENCE
THE HEAD WRITER AT THE END OF AN ERA

http://splitsider.com/2015/05/the-head-writer-at-the-end-of-an-era/

3*HUMOR
CONGRATULATIONS, PUERTO RICO

 President Trump on Tuesday told officials in Puerto Rico that they should be proud that only 16 people died in Hurricane Maria, compared with the “thousands” killed in “a real catastrophe like Hurricane Katrina.”

“Sixteen versus in the thousands,” Mr. Trump said during his first visit to the island after the storm, after asking one of the officials what the death count was. “You can be very proud of your people and all of our people working together.”

www.nytimes.com/2017/10/03/us/puerto-rico-trump-hurricane.html

4*NOVELTY
ELAINE STRITCH
LADIES WHO LUNCH
 
ALSO SEE:
ELAINE STRITCH
AT LIBERTY
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
PEOPLE WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH THE CLOWN FROM ‘IT’

www.vice.com/en_us/article/j5g5v3/people-want-to-fuck-the-clown-from-it

6* DAILY UTILITY
7*CARTOON
DUMBO
PINK ELEPHANTS ON PARADE
8*PRESCRIPTION
TOP 100 LIST OF WORST GUITAR SOLOS

Completely devoid of taste, structure or steady tempo, this should be required listening for budding guitarists everywhere. Surely they can’t do any worse.

 
9*RUMOR PATROL
TOP LAS VEGAS CONSPIRACY THEORIES
 
ALSO SEE:
THE MEDIA AND THE LAS VEGAS MASSACRE
10* LAGNIAPPE
22 TERRIBLE SONGS BY GREAT ARTISTS
11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
YELP REVIEWS PRISONS

San Quentin ’17: “It’s a GOOD Pruno…It’s not a GREAT Pruno….”

www.xojane.com/issues/yelp-prison-reviews

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
KAUFMAN VS. KING

Alan King: You read my book? Who did you have read it to you?
George Kaufman: The same person who wrote it for you.

MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 228 OCTOBER 2017

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE 
NUMBER 228 
OCTOBER 2017
Copyright 2017 Francis DiMenno
1. NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES
SECOND SERIES
51. Your alibi is so flimsy that even the bailiffs laugh in your face.
52. You will learn the definition of anilingus–in a prison cell.
53. Hot date, Casanova? A bee will sting your nose. 
54. Even your goldfish flees when you enter the room.
55. When Lincoln freed the slaves, he didn’t say anything about you.
56. You will be a forgotten footnote in the annals of crime.
57. Why do the heathen rage? You desecrated their sacred shrine.
58. They never hit a man with glasses. They hit him with a 2×4.
59. Your wife will make a fat man cry. It will be you, obese one.
60. The villagers aren’t THAT superstitious. They know a meth lab when they see one.
61. You used to be a fruit, but soon you’ll be a vegetable.
62. God is tired. Most of all, He’s tired of you.
63. On TV your wife will confide she was a very good friend of Bill Cosby.
64. Soon YOU will be a prisoner in a Chinese Fortune Cookie Factory.
65. You can’t tell funny jokes because your life is a funny joke. 
66. From Harvard graduate to degenerate gambler is only one easy step.
67. Your fellow KKK members have learned you’re passing for white.
68. The cops busted you as you were snorting cocaine off your baby’s back.
69. Your diseased body will even sicken the hardened morgue attendants.
70. You will live to be 90–in a prison cell.
71. Papa’s got a brand new bag. Of heroin–and he won’t share.
72. In boarding school they separated the men from the boys–with a crowbar.
73. Your friends call you “Mr. Wisdom.” They are all ironic hipsters.
74. You hate her. You hate her. You ate her.
75. On the golf course even OJ will cut you–literally.
76. You’ll be tired scared and hungry ’til the day you die.
77. You nodding, scratching fool–the narcs are onto you. 
78. If you weren’t so crazy the neighbors wouldn’t gossip so.
79. The dope is weak and your monkey is strong.
80. Fool! Stop pounding that basketball and start pounding those school books!
81. Even schoolchildren find you an irresistible figure of mockery.
82. Your scandal-tainted daughter will marry a homosexual Doctor addicted to goofballs.
83. Your heart will go on–but your brain will not. 
84. Your love of watching furious express trains will prove your ironic downfall.
85. Maybe Jesus loves you–but he ain’t here right now.
86. Restauranteur, you have been 86’d–forever.
87. You wife says the cigar butts in the ashtray are hers.
88. You thought they said “cream”. They said “cremation.” 
89. You will soon the proud father–of a yen shee baby.
90.  Your marriage will be made in heaven–and lived in hell.
91. You will reinvent yourself. It will be an invention which nobody wants.
92. That man you called a shrimp is a featherweight boxing champ.
93. Why did you bring brass knuckles to a razor fight?
94. You ridiculed a hobo with fists of iron. 
95. Your mad quest will end in utter anonymity.
96. Your cruelty will make you the enemy of every decent man.
97. You will be punished for being too eager to avoid punishment.
98. That elephant you teased has a very long memory.
99. You are of no use to anybody except the pusher man.
100. That cyanide in your hollow tooth is actually ipecac. 
 

2. MEDIEVAL BUMPER STICKERS

TOUCH NOWT MINE SCABBARD NOR HEFT MINE POMMEL LEST THE BLOOD-GUARD OF MY SWORD DRINK WEL AND FUL

CAVE! HERE BE MINE BAIRN!

THANKE FREYJA IT BE GODDAG

ASK ME ABOUT YE KING’S EVILLE

YE TOUCHA MINE SLEDGE, I BREAKA THINE FACE

THOU SHALT BEAR MINE CROSSBOW HENCE WHANNE ERSTENS DOE YE PRISE IT FROM MINE COLD, DEAD HANDS

YE CANNAE HUG THINE BAIRNS WHILST THOU ART IN YE BLACK KNIGHT’S ARMOR

MINE ENTIRE VILLAGE DIDDE PERISH IN YE BLACK DEATH AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY JERKIN

I DOE BRAKE FOR APPARITIONS OF YE BLESSED VIRGIN MOTHER

YE LOATHSOM MEAD DRUNKARDS NATHELESS HAVE MORE FUN

HOLLOA? RELINQUISH MY TRINITARIAN FAITH AND OFFER UP INCENSE TO YE EMPEROR? ERSTENS SHALT I SEE YE IN HADES!!

MINE VASSAL YEA; MINE LORD, MAYHAP; MINE BROAD-SWORD–?!!!!! I SAY THEE NAY!!

BAN YE THE SCIMITAR AND ONLY YE BANNED SHALL WIELD YE SCIMITAR

I DOE BRAKE FOR YE FAIR MAIDEN OF ASTOLAT

I DRADDEN NEVERE FOR TO DYE FOR VERILIE SWEET IESUS MINE COPILOT BE

MY SLAVE IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT YE UNIVERSITY OF AL-KARAOUINE

THE GUILEFULL GREAT ENCHAUNTER WORKES ME WOFULL RUTH! TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME!

 
3. DRUGS SPEAK

It is easy to get a thousand prescriptions but hard to get one single remedy.

–Chinese Proverb

I AM I AM METHEDRINE AND I CAN DO ANYTHING.

I AM CRYSTAL METH…. WHERE MY TOOTH AT?

Ich bin Haffenreffer. Die Erbrochenes sind nicht meinem.

IAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA
MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAM

AMAMAMAMAMAMA
mr.

lsd

My name is Mr. Hash, and I think Ayn Rand haa lot of good ideas.

I am peyHUUUALP!

i am ecstasy… wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait
wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait
wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait THIS IS MY
FAVORITE SONG !!

iAMmuscatellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllmmmmmmmmmmmmmUHHHHHhawkTOOoohLordyLORDY

I am oxycontin….GIMME THE MONEY–NOW!

I am ster–ROWWWWWWWWWRRRRR!

I am cannabis indica. I just smashed an ice cream cone on my own head
and now I’m sleepy.

I am Formaldehyde and you will usually find me where Mr. Cheap Beer
likes to hang out.

I am the sweatband of Jimi Hendrix…lick me and see God.

HEY THERE SKINNY–I’M MRWILD POTATO SEED.

4. CRAZY BOYFRIEND BINGO
Instructions:
Create a 25-square grid with any of the following expressions. Fill in
as they occur. Loads of fun! (Thanks to Dan From Providence.)

Felony
Bail
Arrested
Jail
His kid

Judge
Simple assault
1st offense
2nd offense
Beat up girls

Warrant
Meds
Psychiatric
Anger management
Raped

Registered sex offender
“why is she still dating him if she knows he raped a little boy?”
Domestic
Protective
Trespassing

2nd degree
Pending
Plead
Guilty
Restraining order

Property damage
Disorderly conduct
“continued without a finding”
“he’s hiding”
oxycontin/heroin

 
5. MORE MEDIEVAL BUMPER STICKERS

ANGLO-SAXON FIRST!

SPQR RULETH OK

MY BAIRN WENT TO JERUSALEM FOR YE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE AND ALL HE GOT WAS SOLD INTO SLAVERY!

MINE OTHER OXCART BEE AMANITA MUSCARIA

I BELIEVE OSWALD OF NORTHUMBRIA ACTED ALONE

I BRAKE FOR YE EVILLE CRONE WITH YE CATS WHO IS SURELY A WITCH

I SUPPORT OUR GOODLIE KYNGE IN YE WARRE AGAINST SARACENS

LEPERS ARE ALWAYS GOOD FOR A PIECE OF ASS

TORQUEMADA LIED–HERETICS FRIED

SQUIRES DOE IT ALL KNIGHT

MAGNA CARTA: THESE COLOURS DINNAE RUNNE

YE KYNGE IS ON A CAPITALIST PIGGIE POWER TRIPPE

THESE ARE YE GOOD OLDE DAYS

KING PANDION HEE IS DEAD; ALL THY FRIENDS ARE LAPT IN LEAD

I AM A GOOD HERDS-BOY UT HOY!

I HEART THE PILLAGE PEOPLE

HONK IF YE DOE LOVE THE MOST EXCELLENT AND GLORIOUS PERSON OF OUR SOVERAINE THE QUEENE

TORTURING ONE HERETIC IS DOCTRINE. TORTURING ALL HERETICS IS YE WORKE OF GODDE

AGENBYTE OF INWYT RULES OK

VISUALIZE YE RAPTURE AND YE ENDE OF DAYES

I HAVE NO LYFFE AND MYE WYFFE LOVETH ME NOT SO WHY DO YE NAE RUNNETH MEE OFF YE FUCKINGE ROADE?

FRANCISCANS DO IT NASTIE, BRUTISH, AND SHORTE.
COPERNICUS’S MIDDLE NAME IS HUSSEIN AND HE WEARS NO CROSS LAPEL PIN ON HIS DOUBLET.
IF YE CAN READ MY OXCART STICKER, YE BE SURPRISINGLY LITERATE.
DON’T BLAME ME FOR YE EXTRANEOUS VOWELS, I BACKED HAROLD II AT HASTINGS.
MINE OTHER RUDE OXCART IS AN OTHER RUDE OXCART
I ATE YE AMINATA MUSCARIA AND ALL I GOT WAS YE NEW LENGTHY VIEW OF MINE HORNY HAND.
IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO DIE OF BLACK DEATH.
IT WILL BE A GREAT DAY WHEN YE WORMLIKE POPULACE FEEDS ON SWEET CAKES WHILE YE SOVEREIGN NEED SELL EGGS ON MARKET DAY TO RAISE HIS ROW OF PIKEMEN
–Jody the Pig

MYGLOVE NOT WORE
NO BLOODE FOR ROYALE
I SLAKE FOR HEX SIGNS
–Sputnik

HIS ROYAL TROOPS OUT OF FRANCE NOW!!!!
–The Balls

STONEHENGE IS FOR PAGANS
–Skeeter1

CUDDLES NOT CUDGELS
OTTOMAN EMPIRE IS FOR LOVERS
ABOLISH TROLL BRIDGES
–Colt45

HONK IF YOU LOVE IUS PRIMAE NOCTIS!
IRON MAIDENS HAVE MORE FUN
–RMS


6. POSITIVE WASSERMAN JONES

[George Young] had a fine sense of the hilarious. We once got into a
contest to see who could come up with the best names he ever heard. I
favored the USC backfield of the early 1950s, Addison Hawthorne and
Aramis Dandoy, and for non-football, I found the name of someone I
once heard paged at a Miami Beach hotel, Babalou Rappaport. He topped
it with a girl who was in one of his history classes at Calvert Hall
High, Positive Wasserman Jones.

“When the girl was born, her mother got a look at her own hospital
chart and thought that was what she was supposed to name the baby,” he
said. “So the poor girl was stuck with the name. The other kids called
her Pozzie.”

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/inside_game/dr_z/news/2001/12/12/drz_insider/

Also see:

Quessie Mae Knuckles
Positive Wasserman Johnson
Molester Jones
Cantwell F. Muckenfuss, III
Voncil Shindledecker
Cash Register
Fannie Cheeks
Mittie J. Pigg
Annie Flucker
Ophelia Rump
Bonnie Craps
Major Michangelo Boyd
John Fairey
Heiner Krapp
Charles Fagg
Arizona Feaster
Sioux Furmeister
Bisco Fairbetter
Sedona Shindledecker
S. Moochly Small
King Solomon Hurdle
Lunda Mungo
Golden Keys
Lemoine Morecock
Basil Smallpiece
Dillard Pickle
Brockenbrough Lamb
John Barf
Rose Hips
Theartrest Valentine
Mandy Pandy
Pensacola Moseley
Bernice Blow
Toppie Smellie
Herman Sherman Berman
Magdalena Babblejack
Carl Fillinger, DDS
Turley Curd (say that 3 x fast!)
Prister B. Tealie
Wendall Mendall
Groover Blitch
Woody Dicus
Zilpher Spittle
Eppley Veach Pridgen
Strong Boozer
Ozell Fluck
http://justaskjudy.blogspot.com/2005/02/odd-amusing-and-downright-funny-names.html

 

7. HISTORY OF NOXTOWN: NIXONLAND


Nixontown was founded and incorporated in 1952, by local Republicans
who funded the venture after being impressed with the Senator’s
“Checkers Speech.” (Its previous name as an unincorporated area had
been ‘Blue Eagle’.)

The area has never had an entirely wholesome reputation. One
dissident, an avowed Democrat, was run out of town by a mob headed by
Mayor Loveson Bustard, who cried, “OK Boys, let’s throw him out!”. It
was this hapless populist who later characterized Nixontown as “the land of
smash and grab and anything to win.”

And, although one is constrained by the ethics and the responsibility of
the dispassionate chronicler and historian, it can be affirmed that
such a reputation is not entirely undeserved.

Although initially curiously straitlaced (There was, at first, no vice
district, and the local furrier advertised his wares as “Respectable
Cloth Coats”), Nixontown soon began importing prostitutes, illegal
gaming equipment, and other Mob-owned and Mob-run divertissements. Not
the least of these were bootlegged liquor and cigarettes lacking state
tax stamps. From all illicit swag town officials took generous
rake-offs, called “campaign contributions.” Meanwhile, the taxes on
the working poor and owner-run businesses were practically
extortionate.

Mayor Bustard was a man nearly devoid of personal charm.
Outwardly emotionless, and none too cerebral, he made up for his
deficiencies with an almost frightening drive to win, and after,
dominate. His peculiar genius was in fashioning elaborate deals in
which no money or documentation of any sort exchanged hands; these
clandestine “understandings” were sealed with secret handshakes and
broad winks.

Mayor Bustard began to “go a bit funny” midway through his third
four-year term, and a series of trusted confederates actually ran the
town for the remainder of his third, and nearly the entirety of his
fourth term. It can only be said that Bustard’s form of graft was
reletively restained compared to the depredations committed by his
disreputable associates, many of whom were swarthy ethnics with
profoundly close ties to syndicate bosses. It was said that both the ethos of
the mob and the ethos of the Mob prevailed while Mayor Bustard was
“off his feed”.  One man in particular, Captain Richard Stolas, who
went by the nickname of “Cappy Dick,” was said to be the “power behind
the throne”. There was wild talk of paramilitary training camps
secreted in the swamps and fens of the region; of monitoring devices
planted in the homes of ordinary citizens; of a veritable “secret
army” of spies and enforcers. These last were led by a local
impresario known as Rowdy Hardenstock. This colorful individual
deserves a more extended biography, but a brief summation of his
career will have to suffice.Hardenstock was, by turns, depending on
who asked, a rare-book dealer, a swindler, a purveyor of rare wine, a
cheat, a war hero, a fraud, a drug dealer, a junkie, a straight arrow,
and a con man. Truth to tell, he was in fact a peculiar amalgam of all
these qualities and more. What is known about him is scanty, but
apparently he had served during World War Two in some unnamed
capacity; he had made a small fortune in the sale of black market
commodities both licit and otherwise; he had some training in chemistry;
he knew something about computers and had worked with them back when
they were powered by vacuum tubes; he was a member of quasi-fascist
organizations and yet was willing to sell munitions to factions on
opposing sides. This was the man Bustard put in charge of the everyday
details of municipal governing. Bustard himself preferred to spend
his time dining gratis at gourmet restaurants with his cronies and
drinking copious amounts of wine.

Bustard easily won a fifth term. He was nominated by acclamation and
no Democrat dared run against him; in fact, there were no registered
Democrats in the entire town!

Bustard here made a disastrous decision. He himself was going to run
the town. Actually tend to all the administrative details himself!

He began his fifth term by empowering the police to “crack down” on
all unsanctioned lawbreaking. It was a well-known fact that penny-ante
bingo and card games were taking place in Catholic churches, VFW
halls, and like places. Bustard directed these activities be halted.
He shuttered all nightclubs where teenagers congregated. He made sure
unfriendly restauranteurs were found guilty of various, vague “code
violations.”

In all fairness, Bustard also tried to attract new business to the
town by infrastructure improvements: he repaved roads and installed
new sidewalks and ordered slum clearance to make way for an ambitious
shopping mall and convention center that would attract “high-rollers”
from other cities to Nixontown. But the taxes and the graft became two
much for many honest citizens to endure; many of them moved to
neighboring communities during this “reform” period.

In the mid-1970s the town underwent a fiscal crisis which saw it
nearly going into state receivership, only to be rescued in 1974, when
its reputation was rehabilitated in part by a new appreciation for
those who would, indeed, do “anything to win.” Nixontown declared
itself “The City of Nixonland” and set about restoring itself to
fiscal solvency.

It accomplished this feat in a way that may prove useful and
instructive to small towns everywhere, particularly those which have
seen their industries desert them and their populations abandon them.

First, the city council hired themselves out as consultants and
charged the municipality top fees for their previously
under-compensated efforts. All business ventures had to be routed
through city hall, which skimmed an astonishing fifty per cent for
their private campaign coffers. (The money, it was said, was kept in
“a marvelous tin box” in Bustard’s attic. Bustard did not trust
banks.)

Secondly, practically overnight the town motto changed from “Law and
Order” to “Anything Goes.”

Police looked the other way when racketeers once again took over the
town, doled out protection money to top town officials, dealt cocaine
out of the Laundromat, opened up a house of prostitution directly
across from City Hall, openly flouted ordinances against gambling and
public drunkenness, and recklessly violated traffic laws.

City employees were no better; in fact, they were even more brazen.

Landscapers and gardeners grew marijuana on publically owned property.

The Department of Parks and Recreation openly sold drugs in the city parks.

Janitors and maintenance workers peddled reefers in the corridors of
the town’s middle school.

Movers and security guards burglarized businesses and private homes.

Nursing aides and social service assistants plundered the possessions
of the elderly.

EMTs and nurses tore rings from the ears and fingers of accident victims.

Office managers and accountants directed secretaries, typists, and
bookkeeping clerks to submit fraudulent documents for fat payoffs from
local vice lords.

Construction equipment operators could be induced to “rent” their
equipment to racketeers “for a price.” Corrupt civil engineers
employed mobbed-up construction crews for ambitious, expensive projects
that were ruined by shoddy workmanship and materials.

In the midst of this carnival of malpractice, lawyers battened on a
lion’s share of “the haul.”

Thus corrupted from the top down and everywhere in-between, Nixonland
became something of a felon’s playground, a veritable paradise of
outlawry that was also attractive to convicted criminals, psychopathic
playboys, junkie celebrities, disgraced royalty, wealthy foreigners,
and eccentric millionaire recluses.

All of these new arrivals were happy to pay the city the various fees
its employees demanded in return for turning a blind eye to their
misbehavior. It is said that Nixonland catered, not only to every
known vice, but to ones which hadn’t even been invented yet.

Its high school was used as a testing ground for new forms of
hallucinogenic drugs; its tobacconists and even its candy stores
openly peddled cocaine, and its X-Rated movie theatres admitted all
comers, regardless of age.

It was said that when a man wore out his welcome in his own
community–even in such wide-open dens of known vice such as Pariah,
Bravo, Buzzard, Kith, Morel, and Stingy Brim–Nixonland would welcome
him with open arms.

The town was, and is to this day, a virtual clearinghouse for miscreants.

Pickpockets and former CIA men often jostle up against each other in
its grocery stores and pharmacies. Pimps are often seen ‘hoisting a
few’ in the presence of disgraced former politicians. Defrocked
priests, disbarred lawyers, and Doctors who no longer had a license to
practice medicine all find a new, and most congenial home from the
moment they set foot in Nixonland.

Strangely enough, its rate of reported crime is among the lowest in
two counties. In all likelihood, this has less to do with the behavior
of its citizenry than from the fact that, in the words of one law
official, “Crime? Chances are, if you do the crime in Nixonland, it’s
not even considered a crime.”

 
8. ADVERTISING IS THE STALINIZATION OF COMMODITIES


I consider myself fairly well steeped in the whole media studies thing
as it pertains to psychosexual imagery used in advertising, as
explicated by authors such as McLuhan (The Mechanical Bride), Vance
Packard (The Hidden Persuaders), 
Key (Subliminal
Seduction; The Clam-Plate Orgy), and Stuart Ewen (Captains of
Conciousness; P.R.!).

Although all of these writers have valid points to make, their whole
spiel sometimes seems a bit overdetermined (especially Key’s).

However, in P.R.!, Ewen delves into the life of Edward Bernays, a key
figure in bringing Freudian imagery to ad campaigns.

“We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas
suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical
result of the way in which our democratic society is organized.”
–Bernays, Propaganda (1928)

Bernays helped the Aluminum Company of America (Alcoa) and other
special interest groups to convince the American public that water
fluoridation was safe and beneficial to human health. This was
achieved by using the American Dental Association in a highly
successful media campaign.

Bernay’s most extreme political propaganda activities were said to be
conducted on behalf of the multinational corporation United Fruit
Company (today’s Chiquita Brands International) and the U.S.
government to facilitate the successful overthrow (see Operation
PBSUCCESS) of the democratically elected president of Guatemala,
Jacobo Arbenz Guzman.

Even more ominously:

In his 1965 autobiography, Bernays recalls a dinner at his home in 1933 where:

Karl von Weigand, foreign correspondent of the Hearst newspapers, an
old hand at interpreting Europe and just returned from Germany, was
telling us about Goebbels and his propaganda plans to consolidate Nazi
power. Goebbels had shown Weigand his propaganda library, the best
Weigand had ever seen. Goebbels, said Weigand, was using my book
Crystallizing Public Opinion as a basis for his destructive campaign
against the Jews of Germany. This shocked me. … Obviously the attack
on the Jews of Germany was no emotional outburst of the Nazis, but a
deliberate, planned campaign.

More about Bernays here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Bernays

As for Freud himself? He once famously commented, “Sometimes a cigar
is just a cigar.”

Advertising is obsessed with sexual matters because humans are
obsessed with sexuality.

“In many cases, the images present in stories or dreams can be called
“phallic.” Phallic symbols are everyday objects in a story that stand
for male or female sexual organs and often represent the repressed
sexual desires or fears of the characters. Analyzing the significance
of phallic symbols can reveal important insights into both the
characters and the meaning of the story.

Generally, objects such as towers or rockets, or any item that is
taller than it is wide, often serve as male phallic symbols. Lakes,
swimming pools, tunnels, and other rounded structures with openings
are often used as female phallic symbols.

Another Freudian concept is that of the “fetish.” In anthropological
terms, “fetish” refers to an object that the bearer regards with
reverence and trust. The bearer believes that the object has magical
powers that both protect its owner and lead the owner to success.”

Of course advertising is sexual. How could it be anything else? Not
only is it the broadcasting of commodity fetishism, but it is also
nothing more and nothing less than the Stalinization of commodities,
by which I mean to imply that just as in Soviet Russia Stalin’s
picture was once omnipresent, so in modern western society the
consumption of commodities not only defines the norm but has also been
made virtually compulsory. As a result, commodities are regnant.

Marx assigned a different meaning to the word “fetish”:

“His argument goes something like this. In capitalist society,
material objects are given value by people — we construct hierarchies
of value, placing more value on some objects — for instance, gold —
than others. But strangely, we forget our part in constructing the
hierarchies and the object like gold come to seem naturally valuable.
We praise gold for its natural properties and prize it most highly of
the precious metals. But, Marx insists, the properties which make gold
valuable are not primarily natural, even though gold is extremely
useful for some things. No, what makes gold valuable is a specific set
of social relations. This is easily proven when one considers that
only a minority of cultures have considered gold to be a precious
metal. Thus, the powers bestowed upon gold are social, not natural.
This is true not just of gold, but of all commodities.

But this is not how it appears to us. And this is the second important
point to notice: the appearance of commodities as valuable, while not
exactly false, masks an important truth which can only be disclosed
through theoretical analysis. Yes, commodities are valuable, but we
are routinely deceived about where the value comes from. We think
these things have value in and of themselves, but in reality, they
have value because somebody, somewhere made them — their labors were
exploited for profit. In the act of fetishizing commodities, in
imagining them to have natural powers above and beyond what they
actually have, we lose sight of and forget the processes of
exploitative production which create commodities in the first place.

Marx discusses the fetishism of commodities in the opening chapter of
Capital and then he drops it. But subsequent Marxist theorists have
made a great deal of this concept, demonstrating as Marx implied that
it is the most simple example of how the economic and material forms
of capitalist production — understood as relations between things —
obscure, conceal and otherwise distort the underlying and more
fundamental relations between people.”

However, in Freudian lingo, Fetish also carries a further meaning:

“For Freud, the fetish is a kind of creative denial, a sort of magical
thinking that helps the fetishist ward off anxiety and restore a sense
of well-being, all the while producing a kind of amnesia. Of course,
this theory does not really help explain why some men become sexual
fetishists and others do not.”

http://bad.eserver.org/issues/1998/41/wray.html

Nowadays, we conceive of fetishism in terms popularized by Krafft-Ebbing:

“Krafft Ebbing esteems – and rightly, it seems to me – that fetishism
becomes truly abnormal as soon as the fetish is something not being a
part of the remaining body itself. So shoe fetishism, for instance,
should be considered as truly “abnormal;” hair fetishism is still
“normal;” amputee fetishism as being exactly at the limit between
“normal” and “abnormal,” because it bears upon some part of the
feminine body, but upon some part that normally does not exist. This
distinction seems right since the most normal lover is attracted by
one or more parts of the feminine body, but not by dead things as
clothes, shoes, etc.

According to Krafft Ebbing, there is also no such thing as the
“anti-fetish.” So may some people be repelled by monopedeshigh
heeled shoes, etc. Those things play a part in what may be called
“taste” of a given individual.”

 http://www.overground.be/londonLife/1940/19400427c.html

ALSO SEE:
Psychopathia Sexualis Full Text:
http://ia350608.us.archive.org/1/items/psychopathiasexu00krafuoft/psychopathiasexu00krafuoft_djvu.txt

Dr. Joseph Merlino on sexuality, insanity, Freud, fetishes and apathy

https://en.wikinews.org/wiki/Dr._Joseph_Merlino_on_sexuality,_insanity,_Freud,_fetishes_and_apathy

 
9. Review of Pitch Perfect: The Quest for Collegiate A Capella Glory

by Mickey Rapkin (Paperback; Gotham Books; 2008).

I only rolled my eyes maybe once or twice while reading this
frustrating expose of the seamy world of collegiate a cappella
rivalry.

Confession: I myself was in a boarding school glee club for a brief
interval. (They were called “The Abbey Singers” if you must know). We
performed no contemporary material whatsoever, even though Dom Ambrose
(aka “Bambi”) professed to be a fan of Sgt. Pepper and Alice Coltrane,
and knew a lot about sacred music. No, instead we performed hoary old
novelty numbers; songs like “The Deaf Woman’s Courtship,” and
“Trinidad Popocatepetl”.

My saving grace: My heart wasn’t really in it. Good Dom Ambrose booted
me off the squad once it became apparent that I was sabotaging the
sound by trying to sing above my natural range.

I learned one thing at boarding school: Preppies were boring. Really
boring. Their parents were nearly always well-to-do, a part of
America’s aristocracy as well as its striving meritocracy; if they
didn’t start out as aristocrats then they were (generally) fairly avid
aristocrats-in-training. Their sons and daughters tended to be either
debauched and shallow, or sheltered and callow.

An anatomy of the lives of the sons of these sons and daughters of
governmental courtiers and functionaries, financial and entertainment
eminentos, powerbrokers and stockbrokers, and upper-class East Coast
clenched-jaw old money types–such a tale may be fascinating to those
who are in that class, or who aspire to it. It is rough sledding
indeed to create passionate interest in them among the common rabble
and hoi polloi.

Particularly since it is a subculture without the saving grace of
intrinsically fascinating backstories. In fact, this book is primarily
the story, told in magazine-sized chunklets, about a bunch of rich
kids driven to exhibit themselves on stage. What they are essentially
doing,  as Rapkin correctly observes, is dabbling in low-level
show-business.

What’s really frustrating about the narrative is that the author
seemingly neglects no opportunity to use the lazy, trashy genre
fiction device of describing people in terms of what famous Hollywood
or television personality they resemble. His characterizations seldom,
if ever, rise above the level of the superficial. One fellow from
Virginia is tall. A woman from Oregon had a cocaine problem. A musical
director from Massachusetts has a nervous breakdown and drops out of
school. Mr. Rapkin has written for Entertainment Weekly, and it shows.
His style is both breezy and ponderous as he describes ludicrous
ephemera with the most solemn of poker faces.

Rapkin’s narrative strategy is, admittedly, shrewder. He tucks the
boring obligatory bits about the history of collegiate a capella in
between a tripartite tale focusing, in the main, upon rivalries among
and between three regional a capella groups: An all-female ensemble
from Oregon, a mostly (though not entirely) white ensemble from
Virginia, and a group of fanatics from Tufts, in Massachusetts. I
suppose in some way we can read his account as a parable about the
broader regional and cultural differences which may have helped to
fuel these rivalries. But although the day-to-day details of how these
collegiate a capella dramas play themselves out are journalistically
inclusive, the reader does not come away with much of a sense of why,
for instance, Utah dislikes Oregon, or why Virginia has no respect for
Massachusetts. We are left on our own to infer the sources behind
these cultural sore spots. Rapkin apparently does not consider them
important enough to even merit speculation.

Here is a problem I have often found with writers who essay books
about evanescent cultural phenomena.

The people who know a lot about the phenomena can’t write and have no
sense of history outside of their narrow subject field.

The people who can write seldom take the time and trouble to become
subject field experts.

Mr. Rapkin appears to be in the first, and I believe, preferable camp.
He has gathered about as much about information regarding the last
twenty years of collegiate a capella competitions as any human being
could reasonably expect to muster. He has done his legwork.

I predict his reward will be as follows: The elite media will gush all
over this tale about these mostly privileged and sometimes talented
collegians, their groupies, and the social climbers and industry
weasels who are flocking to attach themselves to this latest
(media-generated) “phenomena”. Within eighteen months, a major
Hollywood film will have an a capella sub-plot. People will come
crawling out of the woodwork claiming to have always been “into” a
capella.

And after another eighteen months, the phenomenon will be all but forgotten.

And meanwhile, obscure a capella groups who, in their day, performed
brilliant cover versions of contemporary material  (for example, The
Royal Counts and Vito and the Salutations) will remain just
that–obscure. Even though these groups, and countless others better
known to aficionados, are the ones who really deserve to be
rediscovered and cherished. Rapkin does mention the importance of the
Mills Brothers. But he completely overlooks The Nutmegs, The Swingle
Singers, Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, and The Ink Spots, among others.
He could have devoted a mere one-tenth of one percent of his narrative
to such an honor roll, but he apparently considers it outside of the
scope of his book. Instead, we are given more information than we need
about the travails of talented and overworked college sophomores,
about their proud and pushy parents,  about their venal promotors,
about their competition-related setbacks and heartbreaks and amusing
tour mishaps, et al.

There’s a tragically missed opportunity here: Rapkin has written an
interesting book. Had he provided some more historical context he
could also have written a truly useful one.

10. MENCKEN

ON DEMOCRACY
Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want,
and deserve to get it good and hard.

ON WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN
Bryan was a vulgar and common man, a cad undiluted. He was ignorant,
bigoted, self-seeking, blatant and dishonest. His career brought him
into contact with the first men of his time; he preferred the company
of rustic ignoramuses. It was hard to believe, watching him at Dayton,
that he had traveled, that he had been received in civilized
societies, that he had been a high officer of state. He seemed only a
poor clod like those around him, deluded by a childish theology, full
of an almost pathological hatred of all learning, all human dignity,
all beauty, all fine and noble things. He was a peasant come home to
the dung-pile. Imagine a gentleman, and you have imagined everything
that he was not.
http://www.peeniewallie.com/2005/06/h_l_menckens_ob.html

ON HARDING
He writes the worst English that I have ever encountered. It reminds
me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on
the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs
barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort
of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself out of the dark abysm of
pish, and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is
rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.

ON THE SOUTH
Obviously, it is impossible for intelligence to flourish in such an
atmosphere. Free inquiry is blocked by the idiotic certainties of
ignorant men. The arts, save in the lower reaches of the gospel hymn,
the phonograph and the political harangue, are all held in suspicion.
The tone of public opinion is set by an upstart class but lately
emerged from industrial slavery into commercial enterprise-the class
of “bustling” business men, of “live wires,” of commercial club
luminaries, of “drive” managers, of forward-lookers and
right-thinkers–in brief, of third-rate Southerners inoculated with
all the worst traits of the Yankee sharper. One observes the curious
effects of an old tradition of truculence upon a population now merely
pushful and impudent, of an old tradition of chivalry upon a
population now quite without imagination. The old repose is gone. The
old romanticism is gone. The philistinism of the new type of
town-boomer Southerner is not only indifferent to the ideals of the
Old South; it is positively antagonistic to them. That philistinism
regards human life, not as an agreeable adventure, but as a mere trial
of rectitude and efficiency. It is overwhelmingly utilitarian and
moral. It is inconceivably hollow and obnoxious.What remains of the
ancient tradition is simply a certain charming civility in private
intercourse–often broken down, alas, by the hot rages of Puritanism,
but still generally visible. The Southerner, at his worst, is never
quite the surly cad that the Yankee is. His sensitiveness may betray
him into occasional bad manners, but in the main he is a pleasant
fellow-hospitable, polite, good-humored,even jovial. . . .But a bit
absurd. . . .A bit pathetic.
FULL TEXT:
http://writing2.richmond.edu/jessid/eng423/restricted/mencken.pdf

The Declaration of Independence in American
WHEN things get so balled up that the people of a country got to cut
loose from some other country, and go it on their own hook, without
asking no permission from nobody, excepting maybe God Almighty, then
they ought to let everybody know why they done it, so that everybody
can see they are not trying to put nothing over on nobody. All we got
to say on this proposition is this: first, me and you is as good as
anybody else, and maybe a damn sight better; second, nobody ain’t got
no right to take away none of our rights; third, every man has got a
right to live, to come and go as he pleases, and to have a good time
whichever way he likes, so long as he don’t interfere with nobody
else. That any government that don’t give a man them rights ain’t
worth a damn; also, people ought to choose the kind of government they
want themselves, and nobody else ought to have no say in the matter.
That whenever any government don’t do this, then the people have got a
right to give it the bum’s rush and put in one that will take care of
their interests.
FULL TEXT:

THE INFORMATION #961 OCTOBER 6, 2017

THE INFORMATION #961
OCTOBER 6, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 
Wealth is like sea-water; the more we drink, the thirstier we become; and the same is true of fame. –Arthur Schopenhauer
 
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART FORTY-FIVE: DAYS OF WRATH

 

The Count and Cadger Tandy were taking a late summer constitutional one evening, along the wharfs of the Salt River, where the water lapped the shore leaving rings of rime and foam, and where innumerable derelicts lay sprawled in rags amid barrels and bins, many clutching bottles of cheap rotgut. “From the way the slobber over that hooch,” said the Count, “it seems as though they’ve found their ruling passion. S’good. A man ought to figure out at some point in his life exactly what he’s good for,  and stick to that. Haww…!

And then the Count grew reflective. “What a world. Drunk for a dime and dead drunk for a dollar. Curious how a man’s financial outlook shrinks and narrows when all he’s concerned about is where the next bottle of kill-devil is coming from. ‘Consider the lilies of the field,’ et cetera, ad nauseum, ad infinitum.

“Yob, there’s an a-number-one reason to have a bit of dosh about you at all times,” said Count Victor Justin to Cadger Tandy. “Not just so you can lap up all the booze you please, and buy a round for the boys on a whim. No; what you really need money for is for simple survival–in case you fall ill. Because a sick man is little better than a helpless animal. There’s no use arguing, or trying to deny it. That’s just the way of nature.

Naow, I know full well that a robust young buck such as yourself don’t think HE’ll ever be subject to the sickness unto death. But if you would only use your eyes, you would see that most of the world’s work is done by people who are feeling perfectly lousy. Either from some condition or disease or its lingering aftereffects. Cooks in greasy spoons come into work with colds and flus and sometimes typhoid fever and are unusually prone to dosing themselves with whiskey and cocaine. Streetcar conductors nearly all have walking pneumonia at some time or other, and are usually drunk. I’ll wager that a lot of Apothecaries are pale and ghostly white from tuberculosis, and they dose themselves with laudanum for it. All the rum-sodden Jack Tars who pass through Memphis and New Orleans and points south are prone to Yellow Jack and nearly all of them have had it.

 
“In any event, I’m supposing–and kindly correct me if I’m out of line–I’m supposing that a strapping young yellof like you need not concern yourself overmuch with minor maladies. No, Yob–it’s the infectious diseases that will lay you low. I suppose you could go your whole life long living in an ivory tower and never contract so much as the sniffles, but if you’re out and gadding about in the world, you’ll bound to catch something, sometime. Schools, hospitals, department stores–all of them brimming over with sick people who aren’t always scrupulous about coughing into handkerchiefs. Public restrooms–stay away! Better you should piss in an alleyway, and shit in a nearby thicket of woods. ‘To piss undt fart ist gud for the heart.’ 
“My old Austrian grandmaw used to tell me that.  She also used to warn me about the perils of the poor hospital. ‘Zey carry zem in…undt who knows ven zey valk out? Nie! Neffer!’ She also told me many a tale of the Black Bottle.  ‘Zey give you a trink, and dot’s all she wrote. Vun little sip…undt your lights go out for gud!’ 
 
“That’s why you always want to be able to afford at the very least a semi-private room at one of the better hospitals. Because, when you’re sick, it’s nice to have things like a window view of the park, and fresh cut roses, and a Persian rug on the floor, and a fireplace, and gourmet food brought in from a good restaurant instead of the slop the ordinary patients get. It’s good to be waited on hand and foot by pretty nurses, and be treated like a king. It does wonders for the disposition of a sick man, I’ll tell you that. Clean sheets and cool fresh breezes can make all the difference to how soon you’re back on your feet again.
 
“Because the docs in the poor hospitals are either young interns who need unwilling bodies to experiment on, or old butchers who won’t listen to a word you tell them. Those Yellofs are so case-hardened that you might as well be yelling at a stone. It gets so a doctor looks upon his patient with all the compassion that a drunken horse doctor uses to treat a broken-down nag. And, just like you would put down a sick dog, don’t you know that half of those docs would shoot the poor, if they could get away with it? The poor hospital is a death trap, full of filth, and rats, and putrid smells. The only people in it are those who are not considered worth saving. The doctors wash their hands of them–if they even bother to wash their hands at all. Major surgery in a public hospital? If you give your consent to that, Yob, then you’re signing your own death warrant. Make sure you’ve already made out your will. 
 
“So my advice to you is that when you find yourself on your last legs, make sure you’re dressed well, so that you’re considered one of the better class of people. Make sure that they take you to the best private hospital in town. Make it clear that you’re willing to pay and you’re not just any old riff-raff from off the street. They should be able to tell that anyway, from the way you dress. Soiled linen and dirty underwear are always a dead giveaway that you’re poor. So always be clean in your personal habits. Clean-shaven, starched collar, gold cuff-links, the works. And once you’re in the hospital–because you never know what might happen–make sure you’ve made at least a few friends and have some money–enough to bury you. Otherwise, at best, the stony-hearted doctors will burn your body to a cinder and scatter the ashes. And at worst, they will perform diabolical experiments upon your rotting corpse in full view of a bunch of gawping interns, who will giggle nervously and take scrupulous notes. Maybe it won’t matter, because you won’t be there to see it–but your loved ones will be horrified. 
 
“If you have any.”
1*SALUTATION
ED’S REDEEMING QUALITIES

BUCK TEMPO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFBNIJHOLdA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeFwlagP3k4&list=PLMFaQDqUkIZqcfcCit3DhSVfdsYB-RrXv&index=4

GUESS WHO THIS IS
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjGKmkjh9jo&index=10&list=PLMFaQDqUkIZqcfcCit3DhSVfdsYB-RrXv

THE LETTER
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMALPnJti_o&list=PLMFaQDqUkIZqcfcCit3DhSVfdsYB-RrXv&index=44

I WILL SEND YOU A CHART

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7-NwMFMcRI&index=18&list=PLMFaQDqUkIZqcfcCit3DhSVfdsYB-RrXv

2*REFERENCE

THE COMING STOCK MARKET CRASH OF 2017-2018
AUGUST 15, 2017
…It’s hard to conceive of a new and bigger wave of stimulus on top of the already failing ones. There is no new China, no new India, no hoping for Africa to pull profits higher when the low hanging fruit in the U.S. and Europe have been plucked.
In addition, after 9 years of expansion a profit recession is way overdue.
mikaelsyding.com/bear/

 
ALSO SEE:
THE COMING CRASH

Rogers: I don’t know. It could be an American pension plan that goes broke, and many of them are broke, as you know. It could be some country we’re not watching. It could be all sorts of things. It could be war — unlikely to be war, but it’s going to be something. When you’re watching Business Insider and you see, “That’s so interesting. I didn’t know that company could go broke.” It goes broke. Send me an email, and then I’ll start watching.

Blodget: And how big a crash could we be looking at?

Rogers: It’s going to be the worst in your lifetime.

***
Blodget: And we are in a situation where Western civilization already seems to be possibly collapsing, even with the market going up all the time. Often when you do have a financial calamity, you get huge turmoil in the political system. What happens politically if that happens?

Rogers: Well, that’s why I moved to Asia. My children speak Mandarin because of what’s coming.

You’re going to see governments fail. You’re going to see countries fail, this time around. Iceland failed last time. Other countries fail. You’re going to see more of that.

You’re going to see parties disappear. You’re going to see institutions that have been around for a long time — Lehman Brothers had been around over 150 years — gone. Not even a memory for most people. You’re going to see a lot more of that next around, whether it’s museums or hospitals or universities or financial firms.
www.businessinsider.com/jim-rogers-worst-crash-lifetime-coming-2017-6

 
SEE ALSO:
Don’t worry about the US economy…until 2018: Economist
Tom DiChristopher | @tdichristopher
Published 12:34 PM ET Wed, 31 Dec 2014
CNBC.com
If the future plays out like BNY Mellon’s chief economist expects, 2018 is going to be a year for the history books.

That year, investors will see a number of chickens come home to roost, including wage inflation, a spike in oil prices and an upside inflationary surprise, Richard Hoey told CNBC’s “Squawk Box” on Wednesday.

The story begins with bonds. Hoey believes the U.S. 10-year Treasury yield will be priced in a “G-4 10-year world” marked by competition to own 10-year German bunds, Japanese government bonds, and U.K. gilts. Quantitative easing in Europe and Japan will dry up the supply of high-grade sovereign bonds, resulting in a slow upward drift—rather than a spike—in U.S. long rates.

“I’m worried about 2018. I think by that time everything will all come due. We’ll have wage inflation. The Fed will have to tighten hard,” he said.

At the same time that wage inflation builds up due to easy Federal Reserve monetary policy, the oil price collapse of 2014 will generate supply demand changes that will yield an oil price spike in 2018, he said.

Oil producers are set to slowly cut back investment in new production, and the price will come raging back in three to four years, he projected.

“That’s kind of what we’ve seen over history. When you way overdo it on downside on oil prices, give it a couple years, you’ll way overdo it on upside,” he said.

That’s a problem because most U.S. recessions have been triggered by oil price spikes, Hoey said, noting that oil had reached $145 per barrel in July 2008.

“I’m not worried about 2015. I’m not worried about 2016, not too much about 2017. I think the bill comes due in 2018, but that’s too far in the future to worry about now,” he said.

In Hoey’s view, financial regulation of banks has been so restrictive that it has pooled up excess liquidity that hasn’t flowed into the economy. A few years down the line, as the U.S. government is no longer launching new rounds of financial restriction on the banking system, the excess liquidity will finally get mobilized, he said.

“I expect an upside inflationary surprise around late 2017, 2018,” he said.
www.cnbc.com/2014/12/31/dont-worry-about-the-us-economyuntil-2018-economist.html


5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
10 MOST IMPORTANT ROCK ALBUMS

OK COMPUTER
LONDON CALLING
NEVERMIND
HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED
PET SOUNDS
BLACK SABBATH
ARE YOU EXPERIENCED?
LED ZEP IV
DARK SIDE OF THE MOON
SGT. PEPPER

But what about:

Freak Out?
Double Nickels on the Dime?
Zen Arcade?
Song Cycle?
Forever Changes?
Astral Weeks?
Odessey & Oracle?
Never Mind the Bollocks?
Pink Flag?
Heroes?

Autobahn?
Los Angeles?
Tommy?
Kick Out the Jams?
S.F. Sorrow?
 
Or even:
UNDERWATER MOONLIGHT
MOTHERSHIP CONNECTION
STATIONS OF THE CRASS
VIOLENT FEMMES
PHIL OCHS’ GREATEST HITS?

https://youtu.be/zXGDKCNHyDQ

6* DAILY UTILITY

7*CARTOON

9*RUMOR PATROL
TOP TEN BIZARRE THEORIES ABOUT JESUS

listverse.com/2016/07/14/top-10-bizarre-fringe-theories-about-jesus/

10* LAGNIAPPE


SEE ALSO:

VAN MORRISON 
SWEET THING (ACOUSTIC 1971)
A transcendent moment at 6:20.


11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
IT (2017)
Hackneyed acned rubbish from the repetitive mind of America’s number one garbageman. It is amusing to read the movie reviews and see cinematic media whoremongers, nearly all of whom know better, straining to favorably notice this farrago of meaningless tropes and scare child menaces. 
 
*11A BOOKS AND FILMS REVIEWED
A-FORCE 2. RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT. ***
ALL-NEW ALL-DIFFERENT AVENGERS 3. CIVIL WAR II. ***
ALL-NEW X-MEN INEVITABLE 4. IVX. ***1/2
AMERICAN BORN CHINESE. YANG. ***1/2
THE BACKSTAGERS. TYNION. **1/2
BART SIMPSON: SUCKERPUNCH. ***
BATMAN 3. I AM BANE. ***1/2
BECAUSE I SAID SO! JENNINGS. ***1/2
THE BIG HEIST. DESTEFANO. **1/2
BLACK BLIZZARD. TATSUMI. ***
CAPTAIN MARVEL 2. CIVIL WAR II. ***1/2
CHAMPIONS 1. CHANGE THE WORLD. ***
COLONIAL COMICS. NEW ENGLAND 1750-1775. ***1/2
A COLONY IN A NATION. HAYES. ****
CULTURAL AMNESIA. JAMES. ****1/2
THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS WRONG. POND. ****1/2
DAMIEN SON OF BATMAN. KUBERT. ***
DAYS OF RAGE. BURROUGHS. ****
DEPT. H 2. AFTER THE FLOOD. KINDT. ****
DESCENDER 4. LEMIRE. ****
DOGFIGHT AT THE PENTAGON. NEWMAN, ED. ***1/2
DOOM PATROL 1. BRICK BY BRICK. ***1/2
DRINKING AT THE MOVIES. WERTZ. ****
FAITH 1. CALIFORNIA SCHEMING. ***
FAITH 1. HOLLYWOOD & VINE. ***