...more recent posts
Steve Allen, Jack Kerouac, interview / On the Road reading / piano noodling video.
Photo of Toronto in the clouds.
it was a word his mother used to use.
Rbt. Kennedy assassination news
Here's a video I shot in the Alps this morning.
Not sure why anyone would want any fashion / shopping advice from me, but I just went to the brand new store Uniqlo on Broadway between Prince and Spring. Sort of a Japanese Gap or J. Crew. Except much better in my opinion. And cheap! Holy cow. Men's and women's. Worth a look.
my brother sent me this link. his friend robin named a gene she discovered Taupe (after another gene Beige.) not funny enough to make the article though.
tunguska explosion of 1908
Ellen Willis rip.
ed bradley, rip.
i am so happy i am in tear's
http://www.nytimes.com/
(skinny)
Such self-loathing is, of course, nothing new. “Who hates the Jews more than the Jew?” Henry Miller once asked. But Mamet has a ready answer for Miller: everyone else. The world hates the Jews, he writes, always has, always will. Liberal Jews who read The New York Times or listen to National Public Radio may not think so, but they are naďve; when the pogrom comes, he predicts, even lapsed Jews will search frantically for doorways with mezuzas. In fact, apart from various Internet wackos, anti-Semitism, at least the American strain, has waned; how else to explain the very assimilation Mamet so detests? But he writes as if Father Coughlin is still on the radio, Henry Ford still hawks The Dearborn Independent and Fritz Kuhn’s German American Bundists still march through Yorkville.
With equal fervor, Mamet depicts lapsed Jews as figures from Dante, full of pain and guilt and “anomie,” languishing in an ethnic limbo, scorned by Jew and gentile alike. Pathetic, self-lacerating losers, he calls them (sort of like gay Republicans). Naturally, no one’s fooled: to both themselves and those who hate them, they’ll always be Jews. Mamet subscribes to what an old Jew from Chicago — one a generation older than he — once told me: “You can change your noses, but not your Moses.”
But as near as I can tell, few wayward Jews feel such angst. We are no longer in the age of “The Jazz Singer,” where children steeped in Jewish learning break their poor pious fathers’ hearts by trading pulpits for prosceniums. They may feel a pang or two around their Christmas trees, but as assimilated children of assimilated parents, their Jewish ties were pretty attenuated already. Here, too, Mamet seems a generation or two too late. Given his prodigious talent and insight, one wonders why. Maybe it’s a bizarre form of nostalgia, for a time when, thanks largely to their enemies, Jews felt more fraternal, and many were shtarkers — tough guys — rather than the deracinated wimps he thinks we’ve become, people whose favorite Jew, as he puts it, is Anne Frank.
finally broadway is taking the tom moody demographic seriously. this makes sweeney todd seem like, um, musical theatre? angela lansbury eat your heart out, or at least let somebody else do it.