1984 (1,8) The Junk Shop

Winston leaves the pub disillusioned and distraught, walking mindlessly, when he finds himself before the junk shop where he had bought his special diary notebook. He knows he should not be making a habit of this, but he fatalistically enters the shop, and we get to meet the proprietor.

_ _ _

He was a man of perhaps sixty, frail and bowed, with a long, benevolent nose, and mild eyes distorted by thick spectacles. His hair was almost white but his eyebrows were bushy and still black. His spectacles, his gentle, fussy movements, and the fact that he was wearing an aged jacket of black velvet, gave him a vague air of intellectuality, as though he had been some kind of literary man, or perhaps a musician. His voice was soft, as though faded, and his accent less debased than that of the majority of proles.

-- 1984

_ _ _

Of course, we who have read the novel before understand that this old gentleman is the embodiment of all that Winston has feared but feared in the wrong places. He is a spy for the Thought-Police.

I suppose the first-time reader does not see this as being obvious; I know I did not. Yet, reading this considerately and critically, one wonders whether Orwell has committed a flaw, because the proprietor seems like such a cut above the other proles we have encountered.

It could be said that we just have not encountered the full range of Oceania’s proletariat, and that there exists this sharper, more genteel breed. Though, if this is true, one might wonder why Winston does not seek one of these proles to interview about pre-Revolution life.

Well, if this is a flaw, I suppose the force of Orwell’s story and his prose sweeps the first-time reader right past it, and I am not especially concerned by it. In fact, I know I was completely taken in by the charm of the character, and was fooled as completely as Winston was.

1984 (1,8) The Junk Shop

Winston leaves the pub disillusioned and distraught, walking mindlessly, when he finds himself before the junk shop where he had bought his special diary notebook. He knows he should not be making a habit of this, but he fatalistically enters the shop, and we get to meet the proprietor.

_ _ _

He was a man of perhaps sixty, frail and bowed, with a long, benevolent nose, and mild eyes distorted by thick spectacles. His hair was almost white but his eyebrows were bushy and still black. His spectacles, his gentle, fussy movements, and the fact that he was wearing an aged jacket of black velvet, gave him a vague air of intellectuality, as though he had been some kind of literary man, or perhaps a musician. His voice was soft, as though faded, and his accent less debased than that of the majority of proles.

-- 1984

_ _ _

Of course, we who have read the novel before understand that this old gentleman is the embodiment of all that Winston has feared but feared in the wrong places. He is a spy for the Thought-Police.

I suppose the first-time reader does not see this as being obvious; I know I did not. Yet, reading this considerately and critically, one wonders whether Orwell has committed a flaw, because the proprietor seems like such a cut above the other proles we have encountered.

It could be said that we just have not encountered the full range of Oceania’s proletariat, and that there exists this sharper, more genteel breed. Though, if this is true, one might wonder why Winston does not seek one of these proles to interview about pre-Revolution life.

Well, if this is a flaw, I suppose the force of Orwell’s story and his prose sweeps the first-time reader right past it, and I am not especially concerned by it. In fact, I know I was completely taken in by the charm of the character, and was fooled as completely as Winston was.

hot

I so hate always being hot. Feeling weighed down in bestial depths. The spirit and ideas need to soar above in cooler air. I can hardly believe we were denied our mid-August rains on top of being deprived of the spring rains. It is not humane. At least we are no longer flirting with the 110-degree mark, but this is surely beggar's portions.

hot

I so hate always being hot. Feeling weighed down in bestial depths. The spirit and ideas need to soar above in cooler air. I can hardly believe we were denied our mid-August rains on top of being deprived of the spring rains. It is not humane. At least we are no longer flirting with the 110-degree mark, but this is surely beggar's portions.

Coveriing Up Wall Street Crimes

For those of us who presume that Wall Street finance is corrupt, Matt Taibbi spells out just how right we are, not that it can do any good, because we are that bad off. America is obviously falling apart. Naturally, the country was never perfect, but it seems that we have moved beyond redemption. The inmates truly run the asylum. All we can do is watch the sky falling down.

_ _ _

Imagine a world in which a man who is repeatedly investigated for a string of serious crimes, but never prosecuted, has his slate wiped clean every time the cops fail to make a case. No more Lifetime channel specials where the murderer is unveiled after police stumble upon past intrigues in some old file – "Hey, chief, didja know this guy had two wives die falling down the stairs?" No more burglary sprees cracked when some sharp cop sees the same name pop up in one too many witness statements. This is a different world, one far friendlier to lawbreakers, where even the suspicion of wrongdoing gets wiped from the record.

That, it now appears, is exactly how the Securities and Exchange Commission has been treating the Wall Street criminals who cratered the global economy a few years back. For the past two decades, according to a whistle-blower at the SEC who recently came forward to Congress, the agency has been systematically destroying records of its preliminary investigations once they are closed. By whitewashing the files of some of the nation's worst financial criminals, the SEC has kept an entire generation of federal investigators in the dark about past inquiries into insider trading, fraud and market manipulation against companies like Goldman Sachs, Deutsche Bank and AIG. With a few strokes of the keyboard, the evidence gathered during thousands of investigations – "18,000 ... including Madoff," as one high-ranking SEC official put it during a panicked meeting about the destruction – has apparently disappeared forever into the wormhole of history.

-- Matt Taibbi for Rolling Stone

Coveriing Up Wall Street Crimes

For those of us who presume that Wall Street finance is corrupt, Matt Taibbi spells out just how right we are, not that it can do any good, because we are that bad off. America is obviously falling apart. Naturally, the country was never perfect, but it seems that we have moved beyond redemption. The inmates truly run the asylum. All we can do is watch the sky falling down.

_ _ _

Imagine a world in which a man who is repeatedly investigated for a string of serious crimes, but never prosecuted, has his slate wiped clean every time the cops fail to make a case. No more Lifetime channel specials where the murderer is unveiled after police stumble upon past intrigues in some old file – "Hey, chief, didja know this guy had two wives die falling down the stairs?" No more burglary sprees cracked when some sharp cop sees the same name pop up in one too many witness statements. This is a different world, one far friendlier to lawbreakers, where even the suspicion of wrongdoing gets wiped from the record.

That, it now appears, is exactly how the Securities and Exchange Commission has been treating the Wall Street criminals who cratered the global economy a few years back. For the past two decades, according to a whistle-blower at the SEC who recently came forward to Congress, the agency has been systematically destroying records of its preliminary investigations once they are closed. By whitewashing the files of some of the nation's worst financial criminals, the SEC has kept an entire generation of federal investigators in the dark about past inquiries into insider trading, fraud and market manipulation against companies like Goldman Sachs, Deutsche Bank and AIG. With a few strokes of the keyboard, the evidence gathered during thousands of investigations – "18,000 ... including Madoff," as one high-ranking SEC official put it during a panicked meeting about the destruction – has apparently disappeared forever into the wormhole of history.

-- Matt Taibbi for Rolling Stone

Two Coffees in Heaven!

An LJer was kind enough to share a Republican e-mail that reminds us of some of the darker undertones of our political culture, of the racial and religious prejudice that festers not to far beneath the surface.

Nevertheless, I marvel that we have a black president at all. I honestly never thought that we would see the day. I used to think that we might see a white woman or two in my lifetime, if I made it to sixty and better, but never a black or brown president. So, if we see quite a bit of racial hatred directed at Obama, it bears noting that it is practically a miracle that we even have a President Obama (Lord, especially with that name!), even if he is not nearly as liberal and progressive as one would like.

( The e-mail joke )

Two Coffees in Heaven!

An LJer was kind enough to share a Republican e-mail that reminds us of some of the darker undertones of our political culture, of the racial and religious prejudice that festers not to far beneath the surface.

Nevertheless, I marvel that we have a black president at all. I honestly never thought that we would see the day. I used to think that we might see a white woman or two in my lifetime, if I made it to sixty and better, but never a black or brown president. So, if we see quite a bit of racial hatred directed at Obama, it bears noting that it is practically a miracle that we even have a President Obama (Lord, especially with that name!), even if he is not nearly as liberal and progressive as one would like.

( The e-mail joke )

Rupert Murdoch

Rupert Murdoch's compensation swells to $33.3 million in 2011

-- Los Angeles Times headline

Ah, who says crime doesn't pay?

Rupert Murdoch

Rupert Murdoch's compensation swells to $33.3 million in 2011

-- Los Angeles Times headline

Ah, who says crime doesn't pay?

The Great Worm In the Sky

Stanley Kunitz gives us a poem that I feel really cuts open the guts of faith, exposing our sublime, profoundest dreams and hopes. It is the nature tale of the worm that is turned into a breeding ground by a wasp. Should the worm think it punishment for sin, or just count this as the best of all possible worlds, however enshrouded by divine mystery?

But should we just take our suffering straight? I have always been the dreamy type, myself, and do not mind sweetening my reality with beautiful poetry - divine or otherwise.

( Poem )

The Great Worm In the Sky

Stanley Kunitz gives us a poem that I feel really cuts open the guts of faith, exposing our sublime, profoundest dreams and hopes. It is the nature tale of the worm that is turned into a breeding ground by a wasp. Should the worm think it punishment for sin, or just count this as the best of all possible worlds, however enshrouded by divine mystery?

But should we just take our suffering straight? I have always been the dreamy type, myself, and do not mind sweetening my reality with beautiful poetry - divine or otherwise.

( Poem )