. . . that people like Saxby Chambliss serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
Monthly Archives: April 2013
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Richard Burr serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
DONKEY DICK
A question that should be asked of every United States Senator, under oath — “If the NRA demanded it, would you give a blow-job to a donkey?”
Obviously a willingness to suck donkey dick for money does not disqualify a person from serving in the United States Senate, but shouldn’t this willingness be a matter of public record?
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like John Boozman serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Roy Blunt serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
A GREAT NEW REVIEW
Very Enjoyable Reading
Who says the short story is dead? I gave this collection of fourteen stories a try, although I hadn’t read any “western” fiction since Lonesome Dove. Mr. Fonvielle does the genre proud with realism, stark situations and conflict, and endings that often are not what you’d expect. His characters often speak in crisp Victorian language that reminded me of several John Wayne movies. In fact, I think the dialogue is my favorite part of the collection. But don’t misunderstand: he depicts frontier living with its lawlessness, whores, brutality, saloons, scalpings, and the rest, so it’s not for the fainthearted. The stories vary in length from just 2-3 pages up to 20-30. I was disappointed when I got to the end. Give it a look.
An Amazon customer review which you can see here.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Mark Begich serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Max Baucus serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like John Barrasso serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Kelly Ayotte serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on her and her issue until the end of time.
A NATIONAL DISGRACE
. . . that people like Lamar Alexander serve in the United States Senate. Let us visit scorn and contempt on him and his issue until the end of time.
THE DARK CHAMBER
The U. S. Senate — where ghouls gather to pay homage to their dark lords.
If you want a convenient place to kiss the Devil’s anus, look no further!
A COOL PLACE TO STAY
. . . in New Orleans, at the magical home of my friends Adrienne Parks and Bill Bowman. It’s a vast and comfortable mansion in the Garden District, filled with good vibes and wondrous art. Before now, only lucky friends got to experience the place, but Adrienne and Bill are making it available as a bed and breakfast destination for one and all. You’ll find that a stay there will rank among the high points of your trip to The Crescent City — as it always has for me!
Book it here.
ESTHER RALSTON
DJANGO UNCHAINED
Probably the best thing you can say about Django Unchained is that it’s almost impossible to say anything about it at all. It’s an utterly incoherent work of art, aesthetically, conceptually, emotionally.
What’s odd about it is that it has a kind of cellular structure — it’s component parts work on their own terms while you’re experiencing them. One cell sparks interesting intellectual thoughts about the place of slavery in American history. Another cell arouses the sort of emotions we associate with intense and unapologetic melodrama. Yet another cell connects us with the exhilaration of a brilliant goof on generic clichés.
The only thing I can think of to compare it with is a Joseph Cornell box, whose juxtaposition of discrete, disjointed sections somehow adds up to an aesthetic whole.
Is it important? Is it profound? Is it ultimately satisfying or meaningful? I really don’t know. All I can say is that it’s fascinating, that it’s of its time, that it took a lot of courage and eccentric genius to create. Compared to the sort of rote junk Hollywood is programmed to turn out these days, it’s a miraculous anomaly.