Bye, bye, Ingmar

What a sad day. Post-Bergman era now begins. At least there's this: If anyone left an indelible mark upon cinema, it was Bergman (pronounced "berryman"?--depends on that Norwegian and Swede I met on a train years ago). I hope he tells Orson Welles hello.

Take a gander.

Oh, yeah, and there's something going on with that Attorney General....


Love and Death

And yet a kiss (like blubber)'d blur and slip,
Without the skull beneath the lip.

-John Frederick Nims


Way Past Fucking Time

Almost fainted when I read this:
A federal judge in New Orleans on Friday ruled that residents of areas heavily flooded when Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters were funneled down a New Orleans navigation channel can sue the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
It's narrow, but it's something. I'm sure lots of people in St. Bernard (and probably the Lower 9th) are grinning voraciously right now. I hope they get some red, well-marbled meat. Rest here.



Hey, while I'm "posting" on a "blog," I may as well mention that the most American song ever written, the most Thomas-Paine-friendly lyrics ever (sorry, conservatives, you like the King, not the Congress, and Mr. Paine, that proto-socialist, you would loathe) is Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name of." No, it's not the kind of song the American non-government has loved for sixty years, it's the kind that your janitor will fucking love. Anybody who doesn't agree, unless you've got a more uppity song, go do something offensive with yourself*.

And, no, I don't need any goddamned credit or a better mattress, so STOP CALLING ME. And yes, Hillary, this means you.

*No I don't mean it, but I had to write it.