Saturday, June 22, 2013

The Hour of the Evolution

-*The HOUr of the evolution*/n.


;It seem like more an more people are gra-sdj f  ²Û
Û² Name: CORE MAFIA ²Û

Û² Serial because you know you don’t was as Û² ²Ûbecause ypou dpn’t wana get excwuded from what’s realy happening.



                                   The Tamlinmediaco has been on;ine sionce july 1995. Eighteen years. In the past, periodically I’d review the various iterations every few years of so, but I’ll resist that yemptation today.
                         Suffice to say, given our remit, there were some dodgy moments and these moments of risk have not ceased to appear. It was the blues musician, “Son” House who put it succinctly.

                            “I’m gwine git me religion
                              I’m gone jine the Baptist Church 2x
                            Ahm gone become a Baptist Preacher
                             so I don’t have to work.”
 
              Actually Son, if I’m not mistaken. also was a Pullman Porter. He was the carry bag man on the railroad. But there is a subset of the blues culture comprised of those torn between the paths of righteousness and the lures of Satan, Prince of the Earth.
Oh dear me. What’s a po’ child do do in the snar e of de debble?                        Who is the devil? The Israelis know and the arabs do too.  
              The devil is a woman. Why else would a self respecting businessman leave his wife and family for a chick younger then his daughter? Because she’s the devil.

              And the devil , like the gods we find more acceptable, promises eternal life. Sex is part of it but the bigger part of it is the gul maketh the toad as a tadpole. She makes him feel young. He tied of himself.
                            He has learned the game – pretty much he has learned how to play – how to cheat the corners – how to take advantage of the innocent - how to hide his winnings; how to say just enough to lead the sucker on. But not so much as to create actual obligations. All this our win boy has learned - but it’s not enough – it’s not enough to wash the blood off his hands.

                                        And so he falls in love.
                                          Isn’t that wonderful?
But think of it from the wife’s perspective. She has a lifetime invested in loving this dude. For her the oddsof a younger lover are not on the map. And what does he say?
I’m sorry. I just don’t love you anymore…

               If a man if willing to do this, for the sake of his c@ck, do you really think he’s going to be faithful to you?

I suppose he might attempt to convince you this is so- that he is interested in the higher, more ethereal truths. Classically the story they give out is “I didn’t really love my first wife” and in fact there’s many cases where the second wife does have more in common with tubby then the first.
                           Okay let’s make a quantum leap through the singularity to beyond the looking glass.
               Once upon a time there was a kid from Brooklyn. People from that part of New york city, especially the white ones, tend to be of mixed ethnic heritage, because there’s so many different neighborhoods packed so tightly. Like most, in time he moves to suburbia.
                         He wants to make a life for himself but he soon discovers he has no avenues of admittance to the fabled corridors of power. (It was C.P.Snow who coined the phrase incidentally.)
He decides he needs an act, a premise, some bizarre story that will set him apart from Joe Blow. He takes the name of his favorite TV character and calls himself the Alien Life Form.
                     Alf is something like an American version of Thedoctor – emphasis on the definitive article, mates. He knows he’s not educated, he has no connections, let alone talent in any field. All he has is a hunger. Unlike most stars though he knows what his hunger is. It is a hunger to be loved – to be thought a part of society.
                      He imagines a best friend, sort of a Tom Sawyer fellow, a rich Wasp, and names him Tamlin. The story evolves. Other characters come an go. TheALF has seen him himself as waiting for someone to take him out of his miserable life for so long we begin to believe he has begun to believe his cover story himself. And he seems to know things. His understanding seems to make sense.
                            Other things happen. Call it coincidence or call it luck but
TheALF seems to have slightly prophetic abilities, nothing specific but disturbing anyway. What is more we begin to get hints that something happened in ALF’s life that shattered his sense of who his was – something so awful that afterwards he could never be the same person again.
                       The years go by. The parallels between the ALF and Tamlin and Zonker and Doonesbury are made explicit. The web page comments on the developing web. I comments on the fact that the big companies seem little interested in moving things along – quite the opposite.
                   The page is published on the average three times a week. The hope was to create an ongoing novel – one that would interact with current events and at the same pursue it’s own plot action.
Then disaster strikes. A major motion picture is made about an average guy who thinks he comes from outer space.
                               Main character also has curious abilities. Main character seems to have suffered traumatic incident which provoked break with reality.
Of course we have to get idea from somewhere and to prove these things is very difficult, but it hurt, and I stopped doing it. And in some honesty a part of the reason why was when I have a major idea about how to do something I want to work it in it’s fullest and most complete way. Frankly I am not interested in what some clutz thinks of my idea.
                                                                          I was furious at first but later, much later cooled down. The movies I think was called Starman or something. Ironincally the actor in it established a firm online that would “Review” other peoples scripts. What a haughty bastard. Is that like “Droit de seignior? “
                               Another case I want to work up a product that would be sort of an online whole earth catalog only mixed together with “The Medium is the Massage” by McLuhan and Quentin Fiore. At the same time I’m in correspondence with a nationally syndicated television critic. I’m not a heavy tv watcher, nor am I what is commonly called a media critic. Although I went in depth into the Time Warner story before the buyout – wondering why TW was sitting on it’s hands.
My actual main hobby is the effects of technology on myth, or how we succumb to the technological myths in the absence of religious or social ones.
                     Anyway though here I was trying to develop a product, one which would benefit from it’s association with a relatively big name. Plus in the 80’s there was some commotion on CD-Roms and Director coding – which went no where because the speed was too slow and the amount of data limited. I felt that with compression and online thingy could work. Obviously the difficulty with anything like this is the revenue stream but that could be worked with. Other aspects you don’t need to know about.

           So I’m writing these “Quarterly reports” which are essential blueprints or flow charts of the greater project and they have sections which would have comment one by me – the idiot, ishtam, then a photo or two or a movie, then the rational explanation by the wiseold man with the famous name.
                               Much of it was current events (that old standby) but one section I was excited about was a letter from a sensitive new jersey Mafioso who is complaining to his don about the Russians moving in and this and that, and really what he wants is someone to talk too who understands him.
To this end he’s going to engage a “bookwriter person” as an amanuensis. His correspondent, uncle Nick (the devil) tells him to sit tight and he’ll be visiting the little guy soon.

                       In fact the reason I am writing this today is because the actor who played Tony Soprano died this week at 51. God the dude was so young, huh? This is a case where I saw the thing but I don’t know If I could have done . I’m part Italian and am so tired of seeing the portrayal of Italians as mobsters.
                        Would we accept the portrayal of other ethnic groups in this way? And Italian American directors know that if they want to make money they got to bring out the deese and don’ts. Long ago ethnic humor, mostly dialect driven, was okay – we’re speakin 1900 – 1930. The audience was largely immigrants.  
   
               I saw several episodes however, never being completely comfortable. I would have felt better if a sizable contribution were made to some fund sending Italian Americans to college.
                        The critic begged off saying the Sopranos was about family. That’s a lot of bullshit.. That’s like saying Stephen Fetchit is a comic character - he is but that’s not the whole story.
In conclusion one can only say caveat emptor. Justice is slow and clumsy. And I know I’ve nicked more then my share of musical ideas – indeed practically every song I write owes something to some other song.
                                  I for one think that more of the things done “on spec” are heeded then we are aware off – yes they get tossed in the round file but not before they get reviewed to see which way the wind is blowing.
                              There are not that many saints in the world.
                        I had a good friend named Al, he was a shrink with multiple degrees. You realize that an artist such as myself, we begin in childhood and in some regards we retain that connection to youth though out our lives. It’s like being born a king. You just always have it as part of you. It cannot be severed.
But death is who knows where and only a fool forgets that. What I remember Al saying to me was “keep on going,” and so I say the same thing to you in whatever you do.

Keep on Going

And long live the revolution








   addendum:  don't like wearing my professorial cap but as to "La Mer" a toon covered by Bobby Daren. Bobby did some nice things   but he began as a Vegas Act   and did not  do justice to this song

             "La Mer"  (the Sea) was written in 1946, by Charles Trenet, a homosexual who also wrong "I wish you love" among many other french standards.  I keep insisting that  no song, no person, no love can be properly understood without a knowledge of it's context and context can not be put into words!   Joy, tears, sorrow, strength  these thing cannot be communicated via any verbal language.

     In short the tune should be played slowly and solemnly  to indicate that one is aware of the reality within the illusion

             La Mer is about the endless.   both the nation and the man we may suggest knew what sorrow was. France had suffered a humiliating  defeat in the second world war  and had to be rescued by "le roast beef's"

and yet she had to go on. I recall one time  Sigmund Freud and his father were walking the streets of Vienna and some gentiles came along and Sigmunds father, as was the custom, stepped into the gutter to allow the gentiles to pass. Sigmund was furious.  He was not a weak man. Several of his sons were soldiers  who advanced to become officers in the  Austrian Army ( and then to be cast out of the country in the 30's)

    but life goes on    - there are levels of human  ugliness I daresay we never experience   - cruelty beyond imagining   - sorrow without cause     pain with out end till death brings release.

            But let no one judge you but yourself




















































































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