. . . is not Barack Obama’s security state. It’s not the government in Washington owned and controlled by corporations. It’s not the majority of morally insane stooges of the plutocracy currently sitting on the Supreme Court.
America is you and me, we the people — with the power and the duty to take our nation back from the deranged criminals who’ve hijacked it from us. It’s a mission we must undertake, by any means necessary, out of obligation to our past and to posterity.
I can’t believe that the country which produced George Washington, Robert Johnson and Elvis Presley is going to allow itself to be flushed down the toilet by cheap hucksters like Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.
It’s just not possible.
God damn, this is a good album.
. . . with Scott Bradley, raising a toast to Kevin Jarre.
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1961 — with thanks to Bryan Castañeda . . .
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So when we think about the nation we think about our country, we think about our home, we think about the people living in it and we think about its values. When we think about the state, we’re thinking about an institution.
The distinction there is that we now have an institution that has become so powerful it feels comfortable granting itself new authorities, without the involvement of the country, without the involvement of the public, without the full involvement of all of our elected representatives and without the full involvement of open courts, and that’s a terrifying thing –- at least for me.
That’s Edward Snowden speaking in a new interview in The Guardian. We’re so lucky that we still have American citizens like this, though they seem to be in shorter and shorter supply. Their enemies, like Barry Obama, are the real traitors, and belong in jail.
If you think that Barry Obama represents this country, represents America, represents you, you’re living in a dream world. Barry Obama represents a totalitarian corporate state of which you are merely a dispensable subject, with no rights beyond those he chooses to grant you out of the goodness of his heart.
Read the whole interview here — it’s long, but essential:
With thanks for the link to PZ . . .
Clark Gable didn’t make many Westerns and never made a great one, except for, arguably, the modern Western The Misfits. He never had to grind out a living in B-Westerns, either. It’s a shame, because he looks terrific on a horse and has the physical self-possession of a classic Western hero.
It’s odd, too, because his breakthrough as an actor came as the result of a Western, The Painted Desert, his first talkie, from 1931. He played second lead to star William Boyd but got so much fan mail that the studio which had him under contract, MGM, decided he was star material himself.
The Tall Men, from 1955, directed by Raoul Walsh with his customary craft, is pretty close to being a great Western, however. Gable was doubled a lot in his riding scenes on location during the production, having already suffered his second heart attack by 1955, and much of the first half of the film is studio bound, but this is no great loss, since the heart of it is a lively love triangle between Gable, Robert Ryan and Jane Russell, heavy on dry and amusing banter between the principals.
Russell gives one of her best performances in the film as the ambitious, down-to-earth Nella Turner. It’s a pleasure to watch Gable’s easy, insistently masculine style of sparring with her — there was never an actor who conveyed a cocksure but amiable virility quite the way Gable did. He’s got a lot of woman to work with here in Russell, and he seems to enjoy the challenge thoroughly.
The second half of the film opens up suddenly, and somewhat surprisingly, to an epic scope, as the love triangle hits the trail on a cattle drive from Texas to Montana. It becomes a different kind of film — grand, poetic, rooted in the landscape. It has passages with horses and cattle and wagons and river crossings that recall passages in Walsh’s visually astonishing The Big Trail, from 1930.
The cattle drive mounts to an action climax that doesn’t really deliver the goods visually or dramatically, but up to that moment it’s riveting. And somehow Gable’s presence knits all the ill-fitting parts of the picture together.
The Tall Men may occupy a place in the second rung of the Western canon, but as plain old-fashioned Western entertainment goes it more than earns its spurs.
As Lola Montez . . .
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Martin & Lewis.
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The Tall Men, 1955, directed by Raoul Walsh.
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