when you’re smilin’, the whole world smiles with you

Messy Nessy Chic has an interesting essay on the cultural ambassadorship, endorsed and sponsored by the US Department of State, of iconic jazz performers from the late 1960s onward through the end of the Cold War.
Somewhat facetiously since the criticisms of the Soviet Union regarding racial inequalities and racial tensions in America were valid, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie and others were dispatched on world-tours. Their concerts were especially concentrated in countries that the US government feared might turn to Communism in Latin America, Africa and the Middle East. Even though accorded more respect than most people of colour at the time ostensibly, the State Department sabotaged the artists’ domestic record contracts to keep them on the road constantly. Nowadays—though the programme may have been slashed, the successor Bureau of Education and Cultural Affairs sponsors hip-hop musicians and sends them on international tours.

dissonant and desensitized

Admittedly, I thought the flurry of reporting on San Bernardino was follow-on developments regarding the mass-shooting at an office Christmas party back in December of 2015 and didn’t pay the news of another tragedy its due regard.
What occurred yesterday in California involved a man walking into an elementary school classroom and shot his estranged wife (the teacher) and an eight year old boy before taking his own life. This story—which has become an all-too familiar refrain—was overtaken by the collective outrage of an individual who refused to give up his seat on a plane and was forcibly removed. The stock-market prices of the corporation responsible for the latter was re-accommodated precipitously, whilst the valuation of the industry aggregate before the former (the gun manufacturers) remained unchanged and saw a slight boost, due to waning fears that the American government might restrict sales at a later point.

potatoe

While I am certain that James Danforth Quayle made a lot of gaffs during his four year stint as US vice president, we only remember him for misspelling a type of tuber publicly for some reason and lambasting Murphy Brown for her indictment on the institution of marriage by having a child out of wedlock.
We shouldn’t be nostalgic for those days. The present administration ought to be afforded by history only a couple of indelible moments, but incredibly and uncharitably the awkward, ham-fistedly dishonest spokes-office has been unrelenting. After betraying a general ignorance and disdain for history by not knowing who social-reformer Frederick Douglass was during Black History Month, defending rapists on sexual assault awareness day (plus being a sexual predator himself), with surpassing irony—during Passover—Dear Leader’s first trumpet, in an attempt to portray the Syrian leader as the worst individual in all of human history (or rather that Dear Leader was not Russia’s puppet), made an awful and inaccurate analogy. “You had someone as despicable as Hitler who didn’t even sink to using chemical weapons.” (EN/DE) Jesus wept.  After realising the outrage that his omission caused (or perhaps the regime considers Zyklon B gas a form of aromatherapy), the chief spokesman produced an equally awful wreck of an apology, referring to Nazi extermination camps as a “Holocaust Centre.”

fly the friendly skies

The Big Think features a thorough study of all the vectors of de-accommodation, security-theatre, toxic corporate culture and industry de-regulation that has bought the experience of air-travel to new lows and something to be avoided at all costs.
Of course the class that counts does not deign to subject itself to being treated like a battery hen and instead foregoes these indecencies with private jets. Beyond illustrating how business cannot become a surrogate for public institutions (flight is a mass-transit enterprise after all and airlines are either nationalised charters or benefit from government subsidies) the gaping chasm between the middle, working class and the outrageously rich is also bringing the incivility and brutality that happens in impoverished neighbourhoods and to people of colour constantly into stark focus. Those of us lulled with a sense of security and privilege are often spared these assaults and insults but it becomes something we must be prepared to stare down.

drunk shimoda

Recently, at the recommendation (or rather a shared-affinity for pebble ice amongst the hosts, having now heard both episodes where the shows intersect) of another fine podcast in the Maximum Fun network, I found myself tuning on to a show called The Greatest Generation—a review, critique of the series Star Trek: The Next Generation that’s smart and paralysingly funny. I think one could pick up at any point and work one’s way back and acquaint oneself with the running gags and regular segments but a good episode to begin with would be You Don’t Name the Cow on the episode I-Borg (series five, episode twenty-three).

5x5

ærodrome: Kottke wonders if the circular aircraft runway might ever take off

no mister bond, i expect you to die: movie villain dermatological trends

my beautiful launderette: the Pope opens a free laundromat for the poor and homeless of Rome with plans for expansion

nakkaşhane: scenes from cult films depicted in Ottoman miniature style by Murat Palta, whom we’ve admired previously

bring a whistle to a knife fight and pretend you’re the referee: Texas is tendering legislation to name an official state gun—with the Bowie knife being a top-contender, via Weird Universe