Aug. 6th, 2012
Literary Theory
Aug. 6th, 2012 06:00 amThe question of what literature is can’t be answered simply through conceptual analysis. This is because it is also a question thrown up to us by history; one that cuts to the heart of the question of intellectual and moral value, asking us who we are and what is important to us, and how we respond to life. It must be tackled by rigorous and specific critical practice that looks outwards, on to the world, as well as inwards to the depths of thought and feeling. ... Eagleton is most articulate on the problems that have weighed down his topic in the final chapter: ‘Art and humanity, then, can be seen as akin in that their function lies not outside themselves but in the activity of their self-realisation.’
-- Sarah Boyes, "Rescuing Literature from Literary Theory" at Spiked.com
I simply, perhaps brutishly, take literature to be an exercise in trying to realize meaningfulness through the arrangement of words alone, the play of words - the art of the word, where language meets love.
-- Sarah Boyes, "Rescuing Literature from Literary Theory" at Spiked.com
I simply, perhaps brutishly, take literature to be an exercise in trying to realize meaningfulness through the arrangement of words alone, the play of words - the art of the word, where language meets love.
Literary Theory
Aug. 6th, 2012 06:00 amThe question of what literature is can’t be answered simply through conceptual analysis. This is because it is also a question thrown up to us by history; one that cuts to the heart of the question of intellectual and moral value, asking us who we are and what is important to us, and how we respond to life. It must be tackled by rigorous and specific critical practice that looks outwards, on to the world, as well as inwards to the depths of thought and feeling. ... Eagleton is most articulate on the problems that have weighed down his topic in the final chapter: ‘Art and humanity, then, can be seen as akin in that their function lies not outside themselves but in the activity of their self-realisation.’
-- Sarah Boyes, "Rescuing Literature from Literary Theory" at Spiked.com
I simply, perhaps brutishly, take literature to be an exercise in trying to realize meaningfulness through the arrangement of words alone, the play of words - the art of the word, where language meets love.
-- Sarah Boyes, "Rescuing Literature from Literary Theory" at Spiked.com
I simply, perhaps brutishly, take literature to be an exercise in trying to realize meaningfulness through the arrangement of words alone, the play of words - the art of the word, where language meets love.
Vincent van Gogh
Aug. 6th, 2012 09:00 am“What am I in the eyes of most people: a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person. Somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then. Even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart.”
-- Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Theo, 1882
-- Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Theo, 1882
Vincent van Gogh
Aug. 6th, 2012 09:00 am“What am I in the eyes of most people: a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person. Somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then. Even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart.”
-- Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Theo, 1882
-- Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Theo, 1882
Joyce Carol Oates has written a nice book review of Claire Tomalin's new biography on Charles Dickens, and we will post a couple of excerpts. This first one is on Dicken's childhood hardhip having to take a laboring position when his father was locked up in debtor's prison.
_ _ _
The great drama—which is to say, the abiding trauma—of Dickens’s childhood was his year-long stint in a rat-infested blacking factory near the Thames, when he was twelve years old, following the arrest of John Dickens for debt in 1824 and his incarceration in the debtors’ prison at Marshalsea. Much has been written about this long-secret episode in Dickens’s life, including, most recently, Michael Allen’s heavily documented Charles Dickens and the Blacking Factory (2011), a work of some three hundred pages of interest primarily to Dickens scholars, but very likely impenetrable to Dickens readers in its concentration upon historical minutiae only tenuously related to Dickens and his novels. Another recent book, Ruth Richardson’s Dickens and the Workhouse: Oliver Twist and the London Poor (2012), gives a more intimately evoked view of Dickens’s childhood and the New Poor Law of 1834 by which workhouses became “a sort of prison system to punish (the poor).”
For the child Dickens, the shock of this change of fortune was all the more in that his seemingly loving parents so readily agreed to the enslavement of their bright young son:
No one made any sign. My father and mother were quite satisfied. They could hardly have been more so, if I had been twenty years of age, distinguished at a grammar-school, and going to Cambridge.
At the factory—which manufactured blacking for men’s and boys’ boots—Dickens had a relatively light job, covering and labeling the pots of blacking; he was known there as “the young gentleman”; but the horror of his situation never altered:
No words can express the secret agony of my soul…the sense I had of being utterly neglected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position… My whole nature was penetrated with grief and humiliation.
His parents’ betrayal was unforgivable, and his year in the factory humiliating, yet twenty years later, recounting the episode to his first biographer, his beloved friend John Forster, Dickens acknowledged that the blacking factory had given him the determination to persevere, with “a sense that everything was possible to the will that would make it so.” And of course, servitude as a child worker would provide the author with both material and a sharply informed perspective as well as a natural empathy for the enslaved working poor of all ages, which remained with Dickens throughout his life.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
_ _ _
The great drama—which is to say, the abiding trauma—of Dickens’s childhood was his year-long stint in a rat-infested blacking factory near the Thames, when he was twelve years old, following the arrest of John Dickens for debt in 1824 and his incarceration in the debtors’ prison at Marshalsea. Much has been written about this long-secret episode in Dickens’s life, including, most recently, Michael Allen’s heavily documented Charles Dickens and the Blacking Factory (2011), a work of some three hundred pages of interest primarily to Dickens scholars, but very likely impenetrable to Dickens readers in its concentration upon historical minutiae only tenuously related to Dickens and his novels. Another recent book, Ruth Richardson’s Dickens and the Workhouse: Oliver Twist and the London Poor (2012), gives a more intimately evoked view of Dickens’s childhood and the New Poor Law of 1834 by which workhouses became “a sort of prison system to punish (the poor).”
For the child Dickens, the shock of this change of fortune was all the more in that his seemingly loving parents so readily agreed to the enslavement of their bright young son:
No one made any sign. My father and mother were quite satisfied. They could hardly have been more so, if I had been twenty years of age, distinguished at a grammar-school, and going to Cambridge.
At the factory—which manufactured blacking for men’s and boys’ boots—Dickens had a relatively light job, covering and labeling the pots of blacking; he was known there as “the young gentleman”; but the horror of his situation never altered:
No words can express the secret agony of my soul…the sense I had of being utterly neglected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position… My whole nature was penetrated with grief and humiliation.
His parents’ betrayal was unforgivable, and his year in the factory humiliating, yet twenty years later, recounting the episode to his first biographer, his beloved friend John Forster, Dickens acknowledged that the blacking factory had given him the determination to persevere, with “a sense that everything was possible to the will that would make it so.” And of course, servitude as a child worker would provide the author with both material and a sharply informed perspective as well as a natural empathy for the enslaved working poor of all ages, which remained with Dickens throughout his life.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
Joyce Carol Oates has written a nice book review of Claire Tomalin's new biography on Charles Dickens, and we will post a couple of excerpts. This first one is on Dicken's childhood hardhip having to take a laboring position when his father was locked up in debtor's prison.
_ _ _
The great drama—which is to say, the abiding trauma—of Dickens’s childhood was his year-long stint in a rat-infested blacking factory near the Thames, when he was twelve years old, following the arrest of John Dickens for debt in 1824 and his incarceration in the debtors’ prison at Marshalsea. Much has been written about this long-secret episode in Dickens’s life, including, most recently, Michael Allen’s heavily documented Charles Dickens and the Blacking Factory (2011), a work of some three hundred pages of interest primarily to Dickens scholars, but very likely impenetrable to Dickens readers in its concentration upon historical minutiae only tenuously related to Dickens and his novels. Another recent book, Ruth Richardson’s Dickens and the Workhouse: Oliver Twist and the London Poor (2012), gives a more intimately evoked view of Dickens’s childhood and the New Poor Law of 1834 by which workhouses became “a sort of prison system to punish (the poor).”
For the child Dickens, the shock of this change of fortune was all the more in that his seemingly loving parents so readily agreed to the enslavement of their bright young son:
No one made any sign. My father and mother were quite satisfied. They could hardly have been more so, if I had been twenty years of age, distinguished at a grammar-school, and going to Cambridge.
At the factory—which manufactured blacking for men’s and boys’ boots—Dickens had a relatively light job, covering and labeling the pots of blacking; he was known there as “the young gentleman”; but the horror of his situation never altered:
No words can express the secret agony of my soul…the sense I had of being utterly neglected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position… My whole nature was penetrated with grief and humiliation.
His parents’ betrayal was unforgivable, and his year in the factory humiliating, yet twenty years later, recounting the episode to his first biographer, his beloved friend John Forster, Dickens acknowledged that the blacking factory had given him the determination to persevere, with “a sense that everything was possible to the will that would make it so.” And of course, servitude as a child worker would provide the author with both material and a sharply informed perspective as well as a natural empathy for the enslaved working poor of all ages, which remained with Dickens throughout his life.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
_ _ _
The great drama—which is to say, the abiding trauma—of Dickens’s childhood was his year-long stint in a rat-infested blacking factory near the Thames, when he was twelve years old, following the arrest of John Dickens for debt in 1824 and his incarceration in the debtors’ prison at Marshalsea. Much has been written about this long-secret episode in Dickens’s life, including, most recently, Michael Allen’s heavily documented Charles Dickens and the Blacking Factory (2011), a work of some three hundred pages of interest primarily to Dickens scholars, but very likely impenetrable to Dickens readers in its concentration upon historical minutiae only tenuously related to Dickens and his novels. Another recent book, Ruth Richardson’s Dickens and the Workhouse: Oliver Twist and the London Poor (2012), gives a more intimately evoked view of Dickens’s childhood and the New Poor Law of 1834 by which workhouses became “a sort of prison system to punish (the poor).”
For the child Dickens, the shock of this change of fortune was all the more in that his seemingly loving parents so readily agreed to the enslavement of their bright young son:
No one made any sign. My father and mother were quite satisfied. They could hardly have been more so, if I had been twenty years of age, distinguished at a grammar-school, and going to Cambridge.
At the factory—which manufactured blacking for men’s and boys’ boots—Dickens had a relatively light job, covering and labeling the pots of blacking; he was known there as “the young gentleman”; but the horror of his situation never altered:
No words can express the secret agony of my soul…the sense I had of being utterly neglected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position… My whole nature was penetrated with grief and humiliation.
His parents’ betrayal was unforgivable, and his year in the factory humiliating, yet twenty years later, recounting the episode to his first biographer, his beloved friend John Forster, Dickens acknowledged that the blacking factory had given him the determination to persevere, with “a sense that everything was possible to the will that would make it so.” And of course, servitude as a child worker would provide the author with both material and a sharply informed perspective as well as a natural empathy for the enslaved working poor of all ages, which remained with Dickens throughout his life.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
This part of Ms. Oates's discussion concerns Dicken's less than laudable love life. Great men have more opportunities, and they usually take them - dick first and philosophy second.
_ _ _
By this time Dickens had fallen in love desperately, and been rejected, by an “enchantingly pretty” young woman named Maria Beadnell; he was eighteen, and Maria twenty; his intense romantic feeling for Maria wasn’t requited, and Dickens was, by his accounts at the time and many years later, devastated. The “wasted tenderness” of those hard years caused him suppress emotion, he said, “which I know is no part of my original nature, but which makes me chary of showing my affections, even to my children.” Maria Beadnell is immortalized in two portraits in Dickens’s fiction: as the pretty feather-headed Dora of David Copperfield (1850), who dies young; and as the fat, fatuous, garrulous, middle-aged Flora Finching of Little Dorrit (1857).
Despite the cruelty of his parents and his father’s chronic irresponsibility, like any Victorian Dickens seems to have conceived of family life as an ideal. Still besotted with Maria Beadnell, he quickly decided to marry Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of his newspaper employer, within six months of meeting her in 1835, an impulsive decision that he came to regard as what Tomalin calls “the worst mistake” of his life. Though Dickens would impregnate Catherine more than ten times, resulting in a daunting number of children both loved and not-so-loved by their father, in a way that strikes the contemporary reader as outrageously and obtusely sexist Dickens seems to have blamed his wife for their numerous progeny, as if this plain, placid, passive woman had been a siren to tempt her husband into sexual intercourse against his will.
Casually and belatedly, after having sired ten children, Dickens remarked that he had not wanted “more than three children.” Not so casually, but also cruelly, in the final year of his life he would speak and write of his ill-suited marriage as a “skeleton in the closet.” Luckless Catherine—cast aside by her husband when, at the age of forty-six, he fell in love with the eighteen-year-old actress Ellen Ternan—was transformed in Dickens’s imagination into that most horrific of Victorian villainesses, the unmotherly mother:
She does not—and she never did—care for the children; and the children do not—and they never did—care for her… I want to forgive and forget her.
Yet Dickens never divorced Catherine, for divorce would have been a scandal for one of his presumed moral stature; pragmatically, if perhaps hypocritically, he lived with Nelly Ternan until his death, in quasi-secret locations, sometimes under the name “Charles Tringham.” But amid the myriad entanglements of his life Dickens never ceased writing—not only his fiction but his extraordinary letters, estimated to be beyond 14,0002—and, with ever-increasing compulsion in the last decade of his life, giving “paid readings” of his work to large, adoring audiences in both the UK and the United States.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
_ _ _
By this time Dickens had fallen in love desperately, and been rejected, by an “enchantingly pretty” young woman named Maria Beadnell; he was eighteen, and Maria twenty; his intense romantic feeling for Maria wasn’t requited, and Dickens was, by his accounts at the time and many years later, devastated. The “wasted tenderness” of those hard years caused him suppress emotion, he said, “which I know is no part of my original nature, but which makes me chary of showing my affections, even to my children.” Maria Beadnell is immortalized in two portraits in Dickens’s fiction: as the pretty feather-headed Dora of David Copperfield (1850), who dies young; and as the fat, fatuous, garrulous, middle-aged Flora Finching of Little Dorrit (1857).
Despite the cruelty of his parents and his father’s chronic irresponsibility, like any Victorian Dickens seems to have conceived of family life as an ideal. Still besotted with Maria Beadnell, he quickly decided to marry Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of his newspaper employer, within six months of meeting her in 1835, an impulsive decision that he came to regard as what Tomalin calls “the worst mistake” of his life. Though Dickens would impregnate Catherine more than ten times, resulting in a daunting number of children both loved and not-so-loved by their father, in a way that strikes the contemporary reader as outrageously and obtusely sexist Dickens seems to have blamed his wife for their numerous progeny, as if this plain, placid, passive woman had been a siren to tempt her husband into sexual intercourse against his will.
Casually and belatedly, after having sired ten children, Dickens remarked that he had not wanted “more than three children.” Not so casually, but also cruelly, in the final year of his life he would speak and write of his ill-suited marriage as a “skeleton in the closet.” Luckless Catherine—cast aside by her husband when, at the age of forty-six, he fell in love with the eighteen-year-old actress Ellen Ternan—was transformed in Dickens’s imagination into that most horrific of Victorian villainesses, the unmotherly mother:
She does not—and she never did—care for the children; and the children do not—and they never did—care for her… I want to forgive and forget her.
Yet Dickens never divorced Catherine, for divorce would have been a scandal for one of his presumed moral stature; pragmatically, if perhaps hypocritically, he lived with Nelly Ternan until his death, in quasi-secret locations, sometimes under the name “Charles Tringham.” But amid the myriad entanglements of his life Dickens never ceased writing—not only his fiction but his extraordinary letters, estimated to be beyond 14,0002—and, with ever-increasing compulsion in the last decade of his life, giving “paid readings” of his work to large, adoring audiences in both the UK and the United States.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
This part of Ms. Oates's discussion concerns Dicken's less than laudable love life. Great men have more opportunities, and they usually take them - dick first and philosophy second.
_ _ _
By this time Dickens had fallen in love desperately, and been rejected, by an “enchantingly pretty” young woman named Maria Beadnell; he was eighteen, and Maria twenty; his intense romantic feeling for Maria wasn’t requited, and Dickens was, by his accounts at the time and many years later, devastated. The “wasted tenderness” of those hard years caused him suppress emotion, he said, “which I know is no part of my original nature, but which makes me chary of showing my affections, even to my children.” Maria Beadnell is immortalized in two portraits in Dickens’s fiction: as the pretty feather-headed Dora of David Copperfield (1850), who dies young; and as the fat, fatuous, garrulous, middle-aged Flora Finching of Little Dorrit (1857).
Despite the cruelty of his parents and his father’s chronic irresponsibility, like any Victorian Dickens seems to have conceived of family life as an ideal. Still besotted with Maria Beadnell, he quickly decided to marry Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of his newspaper employer, within six months of meeting her in 1835, an impulsive decision that he came to regard as what Tomalin calls “the worst mistake” of his life. Though Dickens would impregnate Catherine more than ten times, resulting in a daunting number of children both loved and not-so-loved by their father, in a way that strikes the contemporary reader as outrageously and obtusely sexist Dickens seems to have blamed his wife for their numerous progeny, as if this plain, placid, passive woman had been a siren to tempt her husband into sexual intercourse against his will.
Casually and belatedly, after having sired ten children, Dickens remarked that he had not wanted “more than three children.” Not so casually, but also cruelly, in the final year of his life he would speak and write of his ill-suited marriage as a “skeleton in the closet.” Luckless Catherine—cast aside by her husband when, at the age of forty-six, he fell in love with the eighteen-year-old actress Ellen Ternan—was transformed in Dickens’s imagination into that most horrific of Victorian villainesses, the unmotherly mother:
She does not—and she never did—care for the children; and the children do not—and they never did—care for her… I want to forgive and forget her.
Yet Dickens never divorced Catherine, for divorce would have been a scandal for one of his presumed moral stature; pragmatically, if perhaps hypocritically, he lived with Nelly Ternan until his death, in quasi-secret locations, sometimes under the name “Charles Tringham.” But amid the myriad entanglements of his life Dickens never ceased writing—not only his fiction but his extraordinary letters, estimated to be beyond 14,0002—and, with ever-increasing compulsion in the last decade of his life, giving “paid readings” of his work to large, adoring audiences in both the UK and the United States.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
_ _ _
By this time Dickens had fallen in love desperately, and been rejected, by an “enchantingly pretty” young woman named Maria Beadnell; he was eighteen, and Maria twenty; his intense romantic feeling for Maria wasn’t requited, and Dickens was, by his accounts at the time and many years later, devastated. The “wasted tenderness” of those hard years caused him suppress emotion, he said, “which I know is no part of my original nature, but which makes me chary of showing my affections, even to my children.” Maria Beadnell is immortalized in two portraits in Dickens’s fiction: as the pretty feather-headed Dora of David Copperfield (1850), who dies young; and as the fat, fatuous, garrulous, middle-aged Flora Finching of Little Dorrit (1857).
Despite the cruelty of his parents and his father’s chronic irresponsibility, like any Victorian Dickens seems to have conceived of family life as an ideal. Still besotted with Maria Beadnell, he quickly decided to marry Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of his newspaper employer, within six months of meeting her in 1835, an impulsive decision that he came to regard as what Tomalin calls “the worst mistake” of his life. Though Dickens would impregnate Catherine more than ten times, resulting in a daunting number of children both loved and not-so-loved by their father, in a way that strikes the contemporary reader as outrageously and obtusely sexist Dickens seems to have blamed his wife for their numerous progeny, as if this plain, placid, passive woman had been a siren to tempt her husband into sexual intercourse against his will.
Casually and belatedly, after having sired ten children, Dickens remarked that he had not wanted “more than three children.” Not so casually, but also cruelly, in the final year of his life he would speak and write of his ill-suited marriage as a “skeleton in the closet.” Luckless Catherine—cast aside by her husband when, at the age of forty-six, he fell in love with the eighteen-year-old actress Ellen Ternan—was transformed in Dickens’s imagination into that most horrific of Victorian villainesses, the unmotherly mother:
She does not—and she never did—care for the children; and the children do not—and they never did—care for her… I want to forgive and forget her.
Yet Dickens never divorced Catherine, for divorce would have been a scandal for one of his presumed moral stature; pragmatically, if perhaps hypocritically, he lived with Nelly Ternan until his death, in quasi-secret locations, sometimes under the name “Charles Tringham.” But amid the myriad entanglements of his life Dickens never ceased writing—not only his fiction but his extraordinary letters, estimated to be beyond 14,0002—and, with ever-increasing compulsion in the last decade of his life, giving “paid readings” of his work to large, adoring audiences in both the UK and the United States.
-- Joyce Carol Oates at "The New York Review of Books"
America's Religious-Cleansing?
Aug. 6th, 2012 07:30 pmThe only mosque in Joplin, Missouri has burned to the ground. The cause of the fire is still unknown. As KSMU’s Jennifer Davidson reports, the loss of property leaves the Islamic community without a place of worship in its most sacred time of the year:Ramadan.
-- News-LJ
And yesterday there was another mass shooting at a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin by a white supremacist, who was himself killed by the police. Six people were murdered in that incident. It seems like the country is burning up this summer, as tensions seem to be getting only nastier rather than better, and one looks nervously toward the future.
-- News-LJ
And yesterday there was another mass shooting at a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin by a white supremacist, who was himself killed by the police. Six people were murdered in that incident. It seems like the country is burning up this summer, as tensions seem to be getting only nastier rather than better, and one looks nervously toward the future.
America's Religious-Cleansing?
Aug. 6th, 2012 07:30 pmThe only mosque in Joplin, Missouri has burned to the ground. The cause of the fire is still unknown. As KSMU’s Jennifer Davidson reports, the loss of property leaves the Islamic community without a place of worship in its most sacred time of the year:Ramadan.
-- News-LJ
And yesterday there was another mass shooting at a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin by a white supremacist, who was himself killed by the police. Six people were murdered in that incident. It seems like the country is burning up this summer, as tensions seem to be getting only nastier rather than better, and one looks nervously toward the future.
-- News-LJ
And yesterday there was another mass shooting at a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin by a white supremacist, who was himself killed by the police. Six people were murdered in that incident. It seems like the country is burning up this summer, as tensions seem to be getting only nastier rather than better, and one looks nervously toward the future.
Clint Eastood Endorses Romney
Aug. 6th, 2012 09:00 pmClint Eastwood endorses Mitt Romney. It is disappointing, but it probably shouldn't be a surprise. The man could be a protagonist in an Ayn Rand novel. It's just that Romney is so shady in his financial dealings that you might think that Clint could just be silent, if he cannot faithfully back Obama.
_ _ _
Sun Valley, Idaho (CNN) - It could have been a scene from one of his films, but fortunately for Mitt Romney, it was no act when Clint Eastwood endorsed him Friday night.
At a fundraiser in the Idaho resort town of Sun Valley, where Eastwood owns a home, Romney said the legendary actor and director "just made my day."
But Eastwood showed up at the Sun Valley resort as a citizen concerned about the direction of the country,telling reporters beforehand he was backing the Republican presidential candidate "because I think the country needs a boost somewhere."
He later told hundreds at the outdoor reception that Romney was "going to restore, hopefully, a decent tax system that we need badly...so that there's a fairness and people are not pitted against one another as to who's paying taxes and who isn't."
-- ONTD
_ _ _
Romney for tax fairness? Yeah, if fairness mean that the rich shouldn't have to pay taxes because they are such a gift to the country and to mankind.
_ _ _
Sun Valley, Idaho (CNN) - It could have been a scene from one of his films, but fortunately for Mitt Romney, it was no act when Clint Eastwood endorsed him Friday night.
At a fundraiser in the Idaho resort town of Sun Valley, where Eastwood owns a home, Romney said the legendary actor and director "just made my day."
But Eastwood showed up at the Sun Valley resort as a citizen concerned about the direction of the country,telling reporters beforehand he was backing the Republican presidential candidate "because I think the country needs a boost somewhere."
He later told hundreds at the outdoor reception that Romney was "going to restore, hopefully, a decent tax system that we need badly...so that there's a fairness and people are not pitted against one another as to who's paying taxes and who isn't."
-- ONTD
_ _ _
Romney for tax fairness? Yeah, if fairness mean that the rich shouldn't have to pay taxes because they are such a gift to the country and to mankind.
Clint Eastood Endorses Romney
Aug. 6th, 2012 09:00 pmClint Eastwood endorses Mitt Romney. It is disappointing, but it probably shouldn't be a surprise. The man could be a protagonist in an Ayn Rand novel. It's just that Romney is so shady in his financial dealings that you might think that Clint could just be silent, if he cannot faithfully back Obama.
_ _ _
Sun Valley, Idaho (CNN) - It could have been a scene from one of his films, but fortunately for Mitt Romney, it was no act when Clint Eastwood endorsed him Friday night.
At a fundraiser in the Idaho resort town of Sun Valley, where Eastwood owns a home, Romney said the legendary actor and director "just made my day."
But Eastwood showed up at the Sun Valley resort as a citizen concerned about the direction of the country,telling reporters beforehand he was backing the Republican presidential candidate "because I think the country needs a boost somewhere."
He later told hundreds at the outdoor reception that Romney was "going to restore, hopefully, a decent tax system that we need badly...so that there's a fairness and people are not pitted against one another as to who's paying taxes and who isn't."
-- ONTD
_ _ _
Romney for tax fairness? Yeah, if fairness mean that the rich shouldn't have to pay taxes because they are such a gift to the country and to mankind.
_ _ _
Sun Valley, Idaho (CNN) - It could have been a scene from one of his films, but fortunately for Mitt Romney, it was no act when Clint Eastwood endorsed him Friday night.
At a fundraiser in the Idaho resort town of Sun Valley, where Eastwood owns a home, Romney said the legendary actor and director "just made my day."
But Eastwood showed up at the Sun Valley resort as a citizen concerned about the direction of the country,telling reporters beforehand he was backing the Republican presidential candidate "because I think the country needs a boost somewhere."
He later told hundreds at the outdoor reception that Romney was "going to restore, hopefully, a decent tax system that we need badly...so that there's a fairness and people are not pitted against one another as to who's paying taxes and who isn't."
-- ONTD
_ _ _
Romney for tax fairness? Yeah, if fairness mean that the rich shouldn't have to pay taxes because they are such a gift to the country and to mankind.