Posts Tagged With: Apocalypse Now

This and that from re Thai r ment, by 3Th. 21 Pepe 0003. (October 21, 2014)

 
Destiny never gets there before you do. So, there’s no need to rush.”
Pookie...

 

 

TODAY FROM THAILAND:

A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN BANGKOK:

I was very pleased with the number of people who wished me a Happy Birthday on my 75th birthday. For some reason it was more important to me on this birthday than in the past when I preferred not to be reminded of the passage of time.

My daughter surprised me with a trip to DC either over the Christmas holidays or during the Cherry Blossom festival. I am inclined to choose Cherry Blossom time. I suspect Washington will be deep into the polar vortex in December.

Here in BKK I spent my birthday more or less like any other day; breakfast than swimming and so on. While swimming I felt anxious about returning to the apartment and getting back to all the things I had to do. I realized I have been experiencing this anxiety for couple of years now. It was much like I was still working and worried about getting back to the office. So I decided to break the habit and instead of rushing back and grabbing a quick lunch from the fridge, I treated myself to a long leisurely lunch and another pleasant meal at dinner. The next morning I woke up with severe food poisoning and spent much of the day at hospital wishing I were dead.

I was well by the following day and had an enjoyable lunch with the Old Sailor/Deep Sea Diver swapping stories of Key West and the Caribbean. He was involved in the race to find the sunken treasure ship Atocha. His team lost to Mel Fisher. They did manage, however, to turn up some relics of far less value.

I get the impression that he longs to go back to the Caribbean, but feels he is trapped here in SE Asia for either lack of money or fear of arrest if he returns.
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When LM cleans up my apt., she refuses to kill any insects she finds crawling around the floor because she is Buddhist. Instead she sweeps those she finds out on to the balcony. Where they go from there is anyones guess.

I have ants that parade up and down (or down and up – one never knows with ants) the walls along corners or grout lines. She says I should not harm them because as long as I do not leave food around or crumbs in my bed, they will not bother me.

Now and then I lie on my bed and watch them scurry along the corner of the room in their eternal rush to work. Their industry annoys me. I have made a deal with them in my mind. As long as they stay in line, I will honor LM’s ethical concerns and they will remain unharmed but should even one step out he will feel my fury. After all I am the all-powerful dictator of my room – at least sometimes.
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Last night LM brought home fried grubs for me to eat as a treat. I refused. She said that at first she was hesitant to eat them but after  trying then she found them so good they became habit-forming. I still refused.
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Today after swimming the sky filled with black clouds turning the City as dark as night, The sky erupted drowning everything in a solid sheet of water. After about three hours of Sturm and Drang it ended leaving the sky bright with sun, the streets flooded and the temperatures as mind numbing as ever. For a few hours, however, the air seemed washed clean of the ever-present dirt and grime.

As I walked back to the apartment, I found that Soi Nana was flooded. This was the first time that I seen like that, although I am sure it had done so many times before. I hoped by walking on the higher portions of the sidewalks I could avoid wading through the gunk. No such luck.
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B. PHOTOS FROM THE HOOD:

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The migrant worker housing beside my apartment showing the large cisterns used for community bathing.

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A Hostel on my block made from old shipping crates.

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A bird in a bamboo cage just outside the door to my building, one of several cages. Maybe Yeates knows what kind of bird it is.

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The small restaurant across the street from the apartment where LM buys my Thai omelets.

 

 

 

MOPEY JOE’S MEMORIES:

Every once in a while I troll through back issues of T&T and come up with something in them that strikes my fancy. The following is from 2012:

War Movies

Yesterday I watched on television the movies Patton, Midway and Apocalypse Now. A television network was having a festival of war movies. While watching for about 8 hours, I began to notice something about the commercials that struck me as strange. Of the over 200 commercials presented during that time, only one was for an American produced manufactured item. All the rest were either ads for financial products, food products, stores that stocked mostly foreign manufactured goods, various entertainment efforts, a few communication companies and four ads for foreign produced automobiles.

War movies are mostly guy things. They are made for men and concerned with men doing men things. Killing each other in great numbers is a man thing. Crying in anguish over the death of a comrade killed by one of the survivors of those he and his comrade have just attempted to slaughter is another guy thing.

Women in war movies are rare. They appear only in an attempt to prove that in war movies the men are not, as most sensible people suspect, sleeping with each other.

At least one or two men in the war movies sleep with something that looks, even if it does not act, like a woman. These are generally portrayed as creatures whose minds are smaller than their vaginas. Although we are often exposed in the movies to the limits of their minds, we never actually see their vaginas. The men in the movies pretend their vaginas do not exist. One can surmise however that they must be robust for the men to be so interested in these insipid creatures during their inevitably brief appearances. It is either that or their shoes are too tight.

Apocalypse Now is the ultimate man’s movie. The plot is about a love affair between two men — a psychopathic, depressed, serial murderer and substance abuser who goes in search of another psychopathic, depressed serial killer (but alas not a substance abuser) and kills him; a war movie‘s version of orgasm.

Another notable feature of the movie is its emphasis on male speech patterns, or man-talk. Speech to a man is not an invitation to a dialog as it is with women but the declaration, in a simple laconic statement, of their world view at the moment as uncontested fact — even if no one else either agrees or has any idea what he is talking about.

For example, The Dennis Hopper character, a war photographer and to whom Captain Willard had just manly warned “You take my picture again I am going to kill you,”  asks Willard, who is tied up in a cage (SM alert), “Why would a nice guy like you want to kill a genius?”

Later he announces:

“The man is clear in his mind but his soul is mad.”

Robert Duvall portraying the surfing obsessed battlefield commander who loves waking up with the smell of napalm tickling his nostrils, after observing archly that “Charlie don’t surf,” comments:

“This war is run by four star clowns who are giving away the whole circus.”

Upon coming upon a platoon guarding a bridge at night during a particularly psychedelic fire-fight, Willard asks a one of the stoned platoon members, “Soldier who is in charge here?”  The soldier responds, “Ain’t you?”

“The horror. The horror.”

 

 

DAILY FACTOID:

October 15: Feast Days and Holidays.
Saint Teresa of Avila, Saint Hedwig of Silesia, Saint Thecla of Kitzingen. The Equirria or October equus, sacrifice of a horse to Mars. (Roman Empire). Global Hand-washing Day (International). Earliest day on which Sweetest Day can fall, while October 21 is the latest; celebrated on the third Saturday in October. (Great Lakes Region). White Cane Safety Day (United States).

 

 

PEPE’S POTPOURRI:

A. What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:

It wants distribution of income to resemble the period from 1949 to 1979 rather than the period from 1980 to the present.
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B. Observations by Carroll Quigley:

“My experience and study of the destruction of civilizations and of the collapse of great empires has convinced me that empires and civilizations do not collapse because of deficiencies on the military or the political levels. The Roman army never met an army that was better than it was. But the Roman army could not be sustained when all these things had collapsed and no one cared. No one wanted to serve, no one wanted to pay taxes, no one cared.”
“Public Authority and the State in the Western Tradition: A Thousand Years of Growth, A.D. 976 – 1976”

(Are we repeating the Roman tragedy here in America, that we no longer care to pay taxes or serve because we are afraid it may benefit someone we do not like or fear?)

C. The Wit and Wisdom of Trenz Pruca:

On the Meaning of Words:

“Whitehead and Russell taught us that words have no meaning unless backed by mathematics. In other words, it is all blah, blah, blah unless it has numbers. Goedel then taught us that mathematics is based on unprovable assumptions. In other words, blah is still blah.”
http://trenzpruca.wordpress.com/

 

TODAY’S QUOTES:

“Survival has never been a right… Survival has always been a matter of hard-earned elitism.”
Burke, Declan. Absolute Zero Cool. Liberties Press.

“It’s a crying shame, yeah, so have a cry, feel ashamed and get over it. The rest of the week is coming on hard and its brakes are shot to hell.”
Burke, Declan. Eightball Boogie.

 

 

TODAY’S CHART:
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TODAY’S PHOTOGRAPH:
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Claude Monet

 

Categories: October through December 2014 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This and that from re Thai r ment, by 3Th. 1 Pookie 0001 (November 15,2012)

TODAY FROM AMERICA:

A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN CALIFORNIA:

Autumn has snuck into El Dorado Hills. Summer left the Sierra foothills like a politician blowing town after losing an election.

I have begun preparations for my departure Sunday. Why it takes so long to pack, I have no idea. It is certainly not the amount of stuff I have. My clothing does not even fill up a single suitcase. Each item I pick up I stare at and contemplate like an artist studying a block of marble before striking it with his chisel. What is this? Where did I get it? Do I need it? Is it part of something else? How do I fold it? Where should it go? Will I ever see it again? Will I ever use it? What is it really for? ….and so on.

Yesterday I watched on television the movies Patton, Midway and Apocalypse Now. A television network was having a festival of war movies. While watching for about 8 hours, I began to notice something about the commercials that struck me as strange. Of the over 200 commercials presented during that time, only one was for an American produced manufactured item. All the rest were either ads for financial products, food products, stores that stocked mostly foreign manufactured goods, various entertainment efforts, a few communication companies and four ads for foreign produced automobiles.

War movies are mostly guy things. They are made for men and concerned with men doing men things. Killing each other in great numbers is a man thing. Crying in anguish over the death of a comrade killed by one of the survivors of those he and his comrade have attempted to slaughter is another guy thing.

Women in war movies are rare. They appear only in an attempt to prove that in war movies the men are not, as most sensible people suspect, sleeping with each other.
At least one or two men in the war movies sleep with something that looks, if not acts, like a woman. These are generally portrayed as creatures whose minds are much smaller than their vaginas. Although we are often exposed to the limits of their minds we never actually see their vaginas. The men in the movies pretend their vaginas do not exist. One can surmise however that they must be robust for the men to be so interested in these insipid creatures during their inevitably brief appearances. it is either that or their shoes are too tight.

Apocalypse Now is the ultimate man’s movie. The plot is about a love affair between two men — a psychopathic, depressed, serial murderer and substance abuser goes in search of another psychopathic, depressed serial killer (but alas not a substance abuser) and kills him; a war movie‘s version of orgasm.

Another notable feature of the movie is its emphasis on the males speech patterns, or man talk. Speech to a man is not an invitation to a dialog as it is with women but the declaration in a simple laconic statement their world view of the moment as uncontested fact — even if no one else either agrees or has any idea what he is talking about.

For example, The Dennis Hopper character, a war photographer (probably into SM) and to whom Captain Willard had just warned “You take my picture again I am going to kill you.” asks Willard who is tied up in a cage (SM alert) :

“Why would a nice guy like you want to kill a genius?”

Later he announces:

“The man is clear in his mind but his soul is mad.”

Robert Duvall portraying the surfing obsessed battlefield commander who loves waking up with the smell of napalm tickling his nostrils and observes archly that “Charlie don’t surf” comments:

“This war is run by four star clowns who are giving away the whole circus.”

Upon coming upon a platoon guarding a bridge at night during a particularly psychedelic fire fight Willard asks a one of the stoned platoon members, “Soldier who is in charge here? “ The soldier responds, “Aint you?”

“The horror. The horror.”

MOPEY JOE’S MEMORIES:

Old man’s memories, Don Lundy (Cont.):

Most of us, born into the Southern Italian tradition had nicknames. In addition to “Sir Rinse,” our gang included, Frank “Soupy,” Supa, Louis “Louie,” DeLago, Charles “Chazz,” DeVito, Peter “Whitey,” White (Whitey, was non ethnic originally from Saugerties NY and considered a “hick.” He was the groups best all around sports athlete. (He had a sister who was not 100% and who the older boys had their way with.)), and Edward “Neddy,” Callaghan, a small Irish kid who was my rival in non-sport athletics such as climbing trees and buildings.

I used to like to climb into the tallest of the trees that dotted the neighborhood. I would climb until I reached the topmost and thinnest branch. There I would cling to that branch as it swayed back and forth and bent under my weight. I liked the view from the top and the rush I would get as the breeze swung my perch about. One time, the branch I clung to broke under my weight. I tumbled through the lower branches grabbing at them in desperation and felt them break under my weight as I plunged by. Each branch, however, slowed my descent somewhat until by the time I reached the lowest of them I had slowed myself enough to enable me swing gently and safely  on to the ground. My experience so exhilarated me that I took to climbing up other trees and leaping off the top in order to experience the thrill and danger, just like some people take to bungee jumping today.

The local public school building, at that time was made of red brick with marble cornices about 1/2 inch thick marking the separate floors. Ned and I used to like to climb up the brick facing by squeezing our fingers and toes into the slight indentations made by the mortar between the bricks until we reached the cornice. We would inch along the cornice until we had encircled the building and then climb to the next floor and repeat the circumnavigation.

Every now and then someone in the group would call me “Mopey Joe.” I hated that name and so, often a fight would ensue. I was given that name by one of the Blount brothers, (the Blounts were older and not members of our group). They called me that because I usually walked slowly, at a steady pace with my head down. The reason I did so was that I suffered constant pain from flat feet. The pain forced me to generally walk gingerly back on my heels, compelling me to tip my upper body forward for balance. Anyway, the Blounts were African-American, part of the vast migration north of rural southern blacks that began during World War II. The African-American community in town was split between those immigrants and the free blacks who could trace their residence in the village back almost to the Civil War and before. They, this latter group, actually made up most of the village’s two or three person middle class.

Nick-names were part of italian culture, mostly prosaic and based either on some rearrangement of ones name, something peculiar about the person (I knew a guy call “Beefsteak” because of his fondness for that food) or insulting like “Gimp.” African-Americans however tended to bestow nicknames whether from affection or insult more playfully and seemed to revel in the poetry. Mopey Joe had a certain poetic ring to it, don’t you think? At that time, I was ashamed of it and hated it. It was only almost 70 years later when I started using it in this section of “This and that…” that I got to like it. I now have several nicknames some of which would normally be considered a bit insulting; “Pookie” and “Mopey Joe,” being two of them. Pookie I have grown to love and refer to myself that way. It was given to me by a small child out of love and trust. How could one be ashamed of that? If I were to rank the various names that people referred to me by, Pookie would be first, then followed by Papa Joe, Mopey Joe, Joe, Joey, Asshole, Bastard and Motherfucker (I have grown somewhat fond of Asshole, however, and would consider moving it up the list somewhat).

There were a few other members of the gang. Alas, I have forgotten their names. Then there was Donald Lundy, “Don” or “Dondi.” My recollection of whom prompted this post.

Dondi was “colored” as people of that time, in private, referred to what we have today agreed to refer to as African-Americans. In my experience no-one I knew used the N word then not even blacks with blacks as became fashionable later. The only people that used the N word were Southerners (we were told this) or classless white guys and crazy angry and often drunk people. I assumed, since my African-American friends at the time informed me, they like many others privately referred to us, as Dagos, Wops or Guineas (the D,W and G words. For Jews there were the K, H and S words. For those interested in these type of things, Wikipedia has a fairly complete list of ethnic slurs.)

Typically the complexities of racial and ethnic profiling and insults escaped the understanding of most of the children in my peer group in that village. However, by the time we hit high school we very much were indoctrinated into the world of sexual, racial and ethnic epithets and stereotypes.

Anyway, Don’s family was of the older African-American settler group that had settled in the village before World War II. I wanted to be his friend and we spent a lot of time together apart from the gang, playing and talking about those things of interest to little boys. I never fought with Don as I often did with my other friends and gang members. Dondi was too good natured for that. At times we ate at each others homes. Dondi used to like to come over to my house because at that time Italian cuisine was still considered exotic and spicy. Dondi developed a taste for it. I also ate over at Don’s house. To be honest, at the time I thought what Don and his family ate was “American food.” I was sort of proud that I was eating food that “real” Americans ate. It was only later that I learned how wrong I was and how bland real “real American” food actually was. (To be continued.)
DAILY FACTOID:

geocommons

This is a map plotting supposedly racist twitter posts sent a couple of days after the recent election. I include it here not because I wish to add my support to those libs whose voices thrash with emotion at their perception of continuing racism buried in the heart of every Southerner (to be honest, it looks to me like the racism is pretty well distributed throughout the US), but to point out that modern communications technology now allows your personal messages and thoughts to be classified and displayed for all to see moments after your often probably regretted burst of emotion. This may be something accepted by those under 30, but for an alter like me, I believe one should have at least a week to think over whether what you said or wrote is what you ment or even still believe. Perhaps we can have a delay function built in to things like this where after about a week the sender receives a note that goes something like, “Dear….., a week ago you posted this. Please let us know if you still believe what you wrote before we blast it around for all the world to see and either laugh at you or despise you for.”

PEPE’S POTPOURRI:

A. What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:

OWS Infographic-5

B. So said God:

“Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions.”
1. Ezekiel 23:19

C. Election post scripts:

Ben Howe writing in the conservative blog “Red State” had the following to say about the recent election:

“According to all the sources I spoke to, the breakdown of the campaign can be traced to the primaries. One source saying “they looked at the guy who could raise the most money in history as a ride” adding that “money no longer matters. That’s the problem,” also referring to the campaign overall as “the biggest political flim flam of all time.” The result of all of these false numbers and inaccurate ground reports is simple: Mitt Romney had no idea what was coming on election day and his false sense of confidence directly translated into how the campaign operated in the closing weeks. In the words of one source, it was a con job. As David Mamet famously said, “If you’re in the con game and you don’t know who the mark is … you’re the mark.” Mitt Romney had no idea what was coming.”

http://www.redstate.com/2012/11/09/campaign-sources-the-romney-campaign-was-a-consultant-con-job/

Have we come to this now? In order to explain the electoral defeat of a business man running for office claiming that a business man is better able to manage the government than anyone else, we must blame his defeat on him not being such a good business man in the first place.

TODAY’S QUOTES:

“It is requisite for the relaxation of the mind that we make use, from time to time, of playful deeds and jokes.”
Thomas Aquinas

“If is the middle word in life.”
Dennis Hopper character in Apocalypse Now

TODAY’S CARTOON:

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TODAY’S CHARTS:

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Correlation is not necessarily causation, but this case may be an exception.

TODAY’S PHOTOGRAPH:

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Categories: October 2012 through December 2012 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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