Things Have Gone to Pieces

Oh, the faucet started drippin’ in the kitchen,
And last night your picture fell down from the wall.
Today the boss said: “Sorry, I can’t use you any more.”
And tonight the light bulb went out in the hall.

Things have gone to pieces since you left me.
Nothing turns out half right now, it seems.
There ain’t nothing in my pocket, but three nickels and a dime,
But I’m holding to the pieces of my dream.

Somebody threw a baseball through my window,
And the arm fell off my favorite chair again.
The man called me today and said he’d haul my things away,
If I didn’t get my payments made by ten.

Things have gone to pieces since you left me.
Nothing turns out half right now, it seems.
There ain’t nothing in my pocket, but three nickels and a dime,
But I’m holding to the pieces of my dream.

-Leon Payne

Things Are Looking Up

If I should suddenly start to sing, or stand on my head, or anything

Don’t think that I’ve lost my senses,

It’s just that my happiness finally commences!

The long long ages of dull despair

Are turning into thin air,

And it seems that suddenly I’ve

Become the happiest man alive!

…

Things are looking up;

I’ve been looking the landscape over,

And it’s covered with four-leaf clover,

Oh, things are looking up

Since love looked up at me.

…

Bitter was my cup, but no more will I be the mourner,

For I’ve certainly turned the corner,

Oh, things are looking up

Since love looked up at me.

…

See the sunbeams,

Every one beams, just because of you.

Love’s in session,

And my depression

Is unmistakeably through

…

Things are looking up;

It’s a great little world we live in,

Oh, I’m happy as a pup

Since love looked up at me.

…

-George & Ira Gershwin

Further Domestica

For someone so apt to rail against the lotus-eater, The Neilitist can postprandially rub his satisfied belly with the best. Tonight, I made fruit salad of a pineapple ($1.99 at the Aldi’s) and mangoes (89 c. per, I believe). Dressed it with a splash from my five dollar bottle of Midori and some chopped up mint– the first mint seen this spring. Kids asked why I ruined the salad with mint, but they ate it with the mint, so the insult was merely formal. There was a fair amount of juice left-over along with some fruit. I smushed up the fruit real well, added a splash or orange juice, a little brown sugar, some cream and a healthy snort of rum,and a little nutmeg. Hence the contented belly rubbing.

Most things I make which I find delicious, the kids find an abomination. They love to wipe sauces off with a sly napkin, or simply let it loll out of their mouths back onto their plates. Once Mrs. The Neilitist was making a sausage casserole (from a recipe by Paula Dean, bless her heart) and our daughter asked what that smell was because it made her “want to…you know…vomit a little.” I do cut the kids a fair amount of slack knowing that much of what I now make would’ve seriously grossed out my younger self. However, I am wistful now for all the good food the younger, pickier me let go past. I see my tastes in my daughter, who won’t eat a potato if it’s not a chip or a fry. I did not care for mashed potatoes until late in my seventeenth year. I will let the gravity of that statement sink in….

….I drifted off  thinking toward the weekend and what I want to eat. Maybe more mango, a rum sauce, maybe an upside-down cake. And polenta and greens. And some smoked ribs. Okay, now to think of those things and rub my belly and wriggle my toes and let the recliner take its course.

Ars Domestica

Contra culture’s constant BE EXTREME urging, The Neilitist finds pleasure in placidity. Being a daughter’s dad encourages my gentler nature. I recall the teetering and the swaying where I could scarcely walk down the sidewalk because I wore a baby girl  in a perilous contraption on my shoulders, behind my head, where I couldn’t see her.  The contraption was quickly consigned to the attic (or basement, which are the same for me, serving as the liver of the house, effectively). More useful were The Teletubbies, a show for which I became a bit manic and quite the crushing bore at parent parties. Some things one didn’t do. I certainly would have stood no man or mom praising Barney, who deserves the derision because,well… really. Sesame Street–good especially with the retro bits thrown in. I like Elmo, probably because I can imitate him, though I have to go outside to do so. Aside from those, the rest was generally a bland stew of cheery moralism while the Teletubbies were delightfully and gently peculiar. I found the effect  similar to the side effects from cold medicine or certain bands or fever dreams where a key object hovers right in front of you, if you could just will yourself to grab it. But you can’t quite grab it, or the Teletubbies plotlines …you’ll slip right off. But one day the Tubbies will be seen as evidence of ours being an advanced society, no longer tied to anything as quaint as words to communicate (or enunciated words any way), except when the flowers start speaking to you. And there is a giant baby in the sky on the Tubbies and there’s a giant baby in 2001, A Space Odyssey, neither of which promote comprehension or wakefulness. Not to boast, but I can imitate all the Teletubbies AND The NooNoo, their vacuum-valet. The Teletubbies were also as golden as televised golf in inducing naps all around. Lots of naps in those days. We tried to like Boobah, created by the maker of the Tubbies, but I had neglected to get my daughter and myself prescribed the requisite Thorazine.

My son took to Thomas the Tank Engine, aka “crack” for three and four year-old boys. It’s like Shakespeare after the Teletubbies. Great narration, especially George Carlin though there’s a real charm to Ringo Starr’s familiar accent. Then at some point with two kids you hit the tipping point where the gentle afternoon naps are gone and one eye is now always open. At such point, controlled chaos is the best you can hope for. That was the cue for the Looney Tunes, the Tom & Jerrys, the Popeye’s and Woody the Woodpecker (a LOT more annoying than I recalled, but the kids love him). I like the crazy times now. I worry I foist too much of my likes on my kids. That one day a schoolmate of theirs will say, “Wow, if I didn’t go to school WITH you, I’d swear you were home-schooled.” Right now my kids spend their time riding bikes now that the weather’s nice. Riding around as Fonzie and Pinky Tuscadero due to a new Happy Days fixation. A 70s version of the 50s is about as far as I want to take the kids right now though. I know what’s coming, I know… but, I can play the ostrich till then.

American Pride, Follies Version

The Neilitist is feeling more expansive and less pedantic having glutted himself on three straight Happy Days episodes including the two-part Fearless Fonzarelli episode where Fonzie  jumps not the shark but fourteen trash barrels (why there had to be trash in the trash barrels is never dealt with). Nothing can cheer me up like a thirty-five year old show about life from fifty-five years ago. So here’s a great reason to bask in American pride, cross-dressing teenagers from the fifties…

Hmmm, that had to be a little uncomfortable for Fonzie. But a guy in a dress, now that’s ALWAYS funny.

Now here’s a real true American Hero, Mr Louis Armstrong. In my opinion the greatest entertainer of the 20th century…

One of his best-loved songs. It’s easy to see why he was so well-loved. Here’s a link to one of his best early songs. And another to a new biography from one of my favorite critics.

There is little else in the world as perfect as George Jones’ voice singing a sad song. Here he is singing one of Leon Payne’s great songs…

and here’s another Leon song sung by George. Although Hank had a bigger hit with it, I prefer George’s version.

Continuing n the country vein, this brings back fond memories of fish fries down in Louisiana…

And I have to give equal time to the fond memories of time spent with my Missouri Grandmother…

I am pretty sure that my current pleasure from both Hee Haw and Lawrence Welk is due to fond memories of my grandmothers. I recall being somewhat bored when the shows would come on. I know, a young Philistine.

Here’s another point of American pride

All these examples from the world of entertainment are fun. But there are many real reasons for pride in this great country…

and most importantly,

God Bless those brave young men and women who have served our country, both now and in the past.

The Neilitist wishes everyone a blessed Good Friday and a Happy Easter.

The Right Turn

The Neilitist wandered too long in the wilderness. The first presidential election I voted in was because in 1984 a girl I liked in college rushed me to the polls as they were about to close so I could heroically cast my vote for…Walter Mondale?!?! I am quite ashamed to make this admission but it only gets worse, culminating in a 2000 vote for Ralph Nader. In 1984 at Mizzou, nobody in my crowd could countenance a vote for Ronnie RayGun. No, that was for the boobeoisie, of which there were, strangely, a whole lot of that year. I was uncritically left-wing in my politics in my youth. Then a period of apathy preceded my Road to Damascus moment which came in the form of an 8 pound baby girl. During my wife’s pregnancy I began to tentatively lurch rightward, thanks in part to a co-worker who gave me her National Reviews to read. The writing in the magazine was quite good and some of the ideas began to resonate. However, my daughter had already been born when I cast my vote for Nader. Some things die hard, I suppose. The 9/11 disaster proved to be the moment that my conversion was complete. Specifically, much of the left’s commentary that we deserved it. It harkened me back to the defeatist mindset of the Jimmy Carter years in which I came of age. Now it all began to make sense. I began to read from the parallel curriculum. Howard Zinn had it all wong–we had to be the LEAST imperial of any modern superpower in history. There is a difference between arrogance and pride. I realized that I SHOULD be proud of America and its freedoms and its core beliefs, set forth in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution and in the course of American history.

Tomorrow, why we should be proud…

Mild Exasperation

The Neilitist sighs. Ground to a pulp by the recent news cycle, I can offer nothing that isn’t a bilious pustule or a too-unkind commentary on my fellow man. Nor do I have it in me at the moment to rhapsodize upon either the past, or the arts, or my kids, or religion. Strange too that this comes upon me as the weather takes a pleasant turn and the crocus is now replaced by the hyacinth and a vase of daffodils sits prettily in the alcove on my mantle, all of which fail to charm. Earlier this evening, even the books by which I while away most of my free time, fail to appeal. Maybe I have a chemical imbalance or the allergies have taken hold. Perhaps I have been bitten by Churchill’s black dog, though I am not prone to such.  I rattle on so about it only because this is a very odd state I find myself in. I thought I would offer you some soothing music in place of a normal post, but I have been vexed even at that–I must pay to do so and am much too…frugal to do so. Rattling on does please me I realize. On Sunday, I went to pick up my daughter from an activity and since she had not yet arrived I spoke to a couple also waiting for their daughter. It wasn’t until afterwards I realized that I had done nearly all the talking, mainly because I hardly paused for breath. And now…taciturn. Well, the pendulum shall swing back I hope. Until then please enjoy the opening of Rumpole of the Bailey, he who does exasperation like no other.

Happy Holy Week

The Neilitist wishes everybody a fulfilling Holy Week, which began yesterday on Palm Sunday. The Easter holiday certainly gets none of the fuss Christmas does and I suppose it makes some sense. Christmas is full of the joy of new birth  and was perfect for co-option by Madison Avenue. Easter requires a more serious inwardness, with its attention to death on the cross. Today’s culture is profoundly unserious and seems to regard Easter as a bit of a downer, with no gifts and no carols, no cards or festive lights. Easter, though, is THE Christian holiday, its sine qua non. The Lenten tradition of the Catholics is meant to aid in focusing the mind and remind  one of the suffering Christ endured. So, we give up chocolate or potatoes or something, myself included. As we get closer to Easter and begin in earnest to focus on the Passion, our Lenten privations seem small and petty, which they generally are although that doesn’t mean they are necessarily easy. Perhaps one year I will give up meat for the duration (I’m sure my vegetarian friends are mordantly saying, “Oh…Wow.”) I have a hard time remembering to not eat meat on Fridays in Lent, especially true during my first Lents (I am a convert, 8 years now). I would be blithely munching away on a ham sandwich at my desk at work on a Friday and my co-worker (raised Catholic but non-observing) would come up and ask what I was eating and then ask me what day it was. All I could do was sigh and wrap up what remained of the offending sandwich. I haven’t made that mistake for a couple years now, though this year the same friend said he’d buy my lunch the next day (Friday) if I’d go pick it up from Jimmy John’s sub shop. That evening, I told my wife I didn’t need to bring lunch and why. She said, “Tomorrow’s Friday.” I am now trained enough to know immediately what she meant. I sighed. I’m sorry, but a vegetarian sub can slightly depress me. Fortunately I had a terrible cold, so I got a tuna salad sub. I would never get a tuna salad anything unless I couldn’t taste it (which I couldn’t) because  of the similarity of the smells of canned tuna and canned cat food.

So, not much in the way of privation, I know. Still, I will celebrate the events of this week and know I do so in a small way (a VERY small way) because I may again dine uncritically. Obviously, this penitent has far to go on his spiritual journey.

Friday Follies

Weird Al, you are brilliant in so many ways

Yes, yes, it’s been around for years but I still have to watch it every couple months.

Jerry’s tour de force, Mouse in Manhattan, from 1945. The underrated Scott Bradley provides the  excellent score with its use of Manhattan Serenade and Broadway Melody.

That Spanky had charisma in SPADES! Pete the Pup was an American Staffordshire Terrier, a type of pit bull. The breed was a very popular family pet in the first half of the 20th century and it is a bit sad to see them so reviled today.

Coin of the Realm

The Neilitist spends much time feeling shocked and appalled…it is when aggrieved that he feels truly at peace. So, no wonder I feel a special glow when I can read some foul invective streaming from the comment section of whatever high-brow online publication I happen to be perusing. Anonymity breeds the new coarseness and the mob provides wind for its sails. Discourse has been debased, no doubt. Mark Helprin’s Digital Barbarism was written in response to the comments he received following an article for the New York Times on the innocuous (or so he thought) subject  of copyright law. More recently, The New Criterion deals with reaction to an article by the incomparable Anthony Daniels on Ayn Rand. One has only to briefly examine the comments section of any politically partisan website to witness the most intemperate language imaginable coming from putative adults. That the left’s and the right’s far ends are capable of all manner of ignorance is of no surprise, or so I thought. Last Sunday, I made the mistake of dropping my mask to reveal my inner Grinch while reading a friend’s political link on a popular social network site. Normally, I breezily ignore such things reminding myself of the importance of loving the sinner, etc…. My friend had posted a link to some reputedly foul behavior by some Tea Party folk toward some of our congressmen. That the incident described WAS shameful could not be denied by any reasonable human being. What struck me was the tone of moral self-congratulations in the responses. The effect sought, I presume, was to distance themselves from the Tea Party people. I wondered,”don’t you all remember the nastiness directed to Bush and Co.? The nasty Jew-baiting regarding the Neo-Cons?”  I realized that they had not known much about this because the media did not fixate on the foul intemperance towards Bush and Co. Such crude invective was simply the coin of the realm for the media viz-a-viz conservatives. When nastiness comes from even the mouth of a former presidential candidate and sitting Senator (John Kerry jokes with Bill Maher about killing Bush), from a major television network (Craig Kilborn on CBS overlaying a picture of Bush with the caption “Snipers Wanted”) or from a respected author (Nicholson Baker’s Checkpoint which debated the pros and cons of assassinating Bush) it is small wonder that no one bats an eye when the little people get in on the act. I have seen much video from anti-war protests while Bush was president as well as the current Tea Party demonstrations and undoubtedly the Tea Partiers seem much more like normal people than do the crocheted vest wearers against the war. Much more like adults and more reasoned in their rhetoric, less given to unstrung stridency. So why the disconnect?

People don’t read much anymore and don’t wish to read about that which depresses them or causes cognitive dissonance. The news is a business and as such knows that most people want to hear about Lady GaGa instead of anything about Afghanistan. That the major media, other than Fox,  is liberal in their politics appears to be a given. I believe that the media now has begun a campaign to marginalize the Tea Partiers so as to minimize their voice in the elections this year (and to keep their anger from rubbing off on moderates). . That is why the tales of harassment to congressmen who voted for the healthcare bill are being disseminated. Representative Stupak claims angry, threatening calls for his “yes” vote  and now it gets a wide broadcast, but last week, when the threatening calls were for his purported “no” vote (related to objections over abortion) the media was silent. The incident I mentioned before with the Tea Party folks using the N word to black congressmen has acquired a life of its own in the blogosphere. However, there are numerous videos that have surfaced of the incident and I have heard the N word in none of them. Hardly the “chorus” of which Rep. Emmanuel Cleaver spoke. And as native Kansas Citian I feel free to offer that if Cleaver is running point on this, take it with a grain of salt. So, the media will portray the Tea Partiers as mouth-breathing miscreants and the moderates who get their news from The Daily Show will cluck and feel good about their comparative intelligence and hopefully associate the conservatism they see with negative feelings (if the media correctly applies its powerful focus). The merits are no longer important. Proper framing is all. If you think that discourse has only recently become DisCoarse, you have only yourself to blame and should supplement your media diet with something other than Jon Stewart and Bill Maher, those emblems of the ascendence of the adolescent. Maybe read something by an adult who is unashamed to be an adult. Otherwise, it’s bread and circuses from here on out.

Now it’s an official meme. Victor Davis Hanson in NRO