guerra mundial

Via the always interesting Everlasting Blört comes the forgotten World War II artwork of Mexican anti-Axis Propaganda.
Though Mexicoʼs involvement in the war was a relatively brief one prompted in 1942 after a Nazi submarine attacked one of Mexicoʼs oil platforms and later dispatched fighter-jet pilots to the Philippines (I was pretty impressed to learn about the Aztec Eagles) the feelings portrayed in the poster were genuine due to having been betrayed and made the object of revile and suspicion beforehand by Germany. The so-called Zimmermann Telegraph was a leaked communique between the German consul and the government of Mexico that proposed an alliance between the two countries should the US decide to intervene in World War I, with the promise to help Mexico to reclaim territory in Texas, Arizona and New Mexico that the US annexed. America launched a punishing raid on Mexico in retaliation and harboured suspicions afterwards, even though it was unclear what Mexico thought of this arrangement.

shamrock

My first reaction to this bit of table decoration was shock since I thought four-leaved clovers were lucky due to their rarity—something of an extension to the parable that Saint Patrick used the three-leaved clover to illustrate the Trinity to pagan Ireland, and each single leaf represented faith, hope and love and with a fourth, one could have good fortune as well.  Genetically mutating clover to produce leaves of four without fail seems like it would be rather tempting fate. Rather than outright meddling with Nature or gaming the system on an industrial scale, however, the ornamentation is a cultivar of the sorrel plant from Central America called the “iron cross,” and is technically one leaf with four leaflets. Botanists aren’t even sure whether it’s genetics or environmental factors responsible for the rare occurrence. I suppose our lucky charms are safe and secure after all.

after all, you’re my wonder wall

Swedish lifestyle and furniture giant offers a flat-pack solution to defending the US southern border which comes in at a price that’s below the other cost estimates, though there’s some assembly required. Another popular item new to the store’s catalogue is the Läddr, capable of scaling heights of up to ten and a half metres.

damnatio memoriæ or diplomatic pouch

Though perhaps not at the levels of the paranoid power-holders of the Roman Empire (yet) nor of more recent lashings out by despots, depleting the ranks at the State Department of senior leadership and repudiating decades of institutional knowledge and highly specialised skills of career consuls without diplomacy or delicacy (no gold watch and pat on the back as they’re ushered out of the building) is very chilling.
While these ranking members of the corps serve at the pleasure of the sitting administration and out of respect tender their resignations, most key division chiefs remain, with many having tenures approaching four decades and beyond and serving both Republicans and Democrats alike, most remain at least until their replacements are vetted to ensure there is little underlap and disruption in the transition and many have remained to ensure continuity. For this purge, however, no one can recall seeing its like in their entire career—damning the memory and progress, it seems, of those that came before and going further to question the department’s role in process and protocol, the arrangements for the first visit by a foreign dignitary carried out (since the first invitee was compelled to stay away, don’t mention the Wall) without the involvement of State whatsoever. I imagine little consultation was sought when enacting the travel ban for Muslims.  What sort of immunities and courtesies can the world be expected to reciprocate when the US is acting-out?

this sceptr’d isle

Of course timeless words never ought to be denigrated for a moment’s gain but their lessons obviously resound and need no champions or intermediaries:

This royal throne of kings, this sceptr’d isle,
This Earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves in it the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happier lands—
This blessed plot, the Earth, this realm, this England!

Through the bleary-eyed and hysterical metrics of today Hobbits too for their love of the Shire—and perhaps for their near universal dismissal by other races, are seen as Little Englanders. Any great and enduring work can withstand these ephemeral sights, however, and lasts because, despite they’re often invoked and abused.

#iamwithtacostand

The sound-bite has been replaced by the hashtag, but far from limiting discourse or dissent this platform allows those words to be fed back to the speaker almost instantly.
Re-tweeting is not the same as rehashing, disinterring old arguments, as momentum can nuance the message and make it carry something more than the fading echoes down the corridors of the internet. That’s the recoil of fake-news, but these headlines write themselves and far more outrageous and incredulous than an army of trolls might muster up. The American people and the citizens of this planet want to see Dear Leader’s tax return supposedly in those manila folders, want to feel confident that his decisions aren’t driven by business entanglements, is not deranged, is capable of compassion to those different than him, and none of want that wall as a monument to his ego and insecurities that’ll be an eternity breaking up rocks in a prison yard. It’s the only been the first full week—I’m still with taco stand.

zener cards

Among the massive cache of documents recently declassified by the US Central Intelligence Agency one can find glosses of the research programme into remote viewing and the identification and recruitment efforts of psychic warriors. One such mental pugilist was Uri Geller—who was a bit taken aback one hearing the news that the project called Stargate was now in the public domain, considering that studies were still on-going, but he could corroborate at least some of his special assignments, like standing outside the Soviet Embassy building in Mexico City and trying to erase floppy disks telepathically or arresting the heartbeat of a hapless pig in preparation for larger prey, in addition to him being asked to produce clairvoyant sketches.

tranvía

As part of a broader discussion on borders and boundaries, Citylab presents the fascinating semi-legendary story of the streetcar line that used to connect the metropolises of El Paso, Texas with Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua as it evolved from mule to monorail (proposed at least on paper) over seven decades.
The trolley-tracks were finally dismantled in the early 1970s—when many municipalities were abandoning streetcars and in some cases mass-transit altogether—at the urging of shopkeepers on the Mexican side who complained that it was too easy and tempting for their customers to do their shopping across the border, but there were hundreds of intervening stories to gather and tell, which a member of the El Paso city council is trying to do, also hoping to restore if not a transnational trolley (and they’re not giving up on that dream without a fight) at least a corridor of public transport with vintage streetcars.

ex voto suscepto

Hyperallergic brings us an excellent primer in the tradition of the folk-art ex-voto devotions (short for the Latin “from the vow made”)—wherein unhappy little accidents are depicted (often graphically) and the sufferers’ recover through divine intervention.
These personal petitions and statements of gratitude that adorn shrines and other places of pilgrimage have their roots in sympathetic magic but developed into a highly stylised and ritualised practise that’s not only limited to iconography but also inscriptions and other offerings. Mexican artist Frida Kahlo amassed a sizable collection of these votive works that would also go on to influence her art and the how she persevered working whilst ill. Be sure to peruse the entire extensive gallery at the link up top and learn more about the different traditions.

guerre de course

As we close in on a quarter of a century since the dissolution of the Soviet Union—26 December 1991, a day after Mikhail Gorbachev announced his resignation, it’s striking how Russia is a reflection for the US of its long and illustrious career of regime building and heavy-handed support of governments sympathetic to their world-view of transparency, liberal democratic institutions and free-markets.
Regardless of the extent ostensibly state-sponsored hacking affected the outcome of America’s presidential election, the intrusion into political party secrets and strategies ought to bear out investigation—and the victors would be gracious to remember that their data was compromised as well and there’s sure to be hell to pay later. In a world that was polarised and after the US could comfortably proclaim itself as the last-standing superpower, America’s meddling in politics was rampant and undeniable. From General Pershing in Mexico to the geopolitics of the Suez canal that ended the British Empire, and later from Iran to Afghanistan, arguably the cause for the collapse of the USSR, America has sought to engender a climate—as would any other nation within reason and within limits—favourable to its national interest. What do you think? Of course, Russia worked to undermine this engineering throughout, but as unopposed as America has imagined itself in the past few decades, the tonic of democracy and exceptionalism has soured and become something doctrinally unpalatable.

freedom of disinformation act

The inquiring and persistent Matt Novak, writing for Gizmodo’s Paleofuture, brings us the Cold War curiosity called the United States Information Agency, superseded by the State Department’s Broadcasting Board of Governors, whose media and divisions were charged with the mission advocating US policies and values abroad—in other words, propaganda or counter-propaganda.
Perhaps the most memorable public-relations campaigns that the organisation ran is the still extant Voice of America radio service (although a 1976 act mandated that the content be fair and balanced and news-casters had to get a little more creative with their message amid human-interest allegories) and a series of spaghetti-Westerns produced covertly and at astronomical expense called Project Pedro meant to make the neutral, rather laissez-faire government of Mexico to take a stance against Communist ideologies infiltrating Latin America, but by way of introductions for the doctrinaire and indoctrinating USIA, there was also a fictitious by-line (nom de plume, nom de guerre), a prolific polyglot economist Guy Sims Fitch, that was a catchment for pro-American monetary policy and distributed to news outlets all over the globe, usually as cheerful op-ed pieces in praise of the wages of capitalism (maybe such shill articles today might be in praise of TTIP and the like)—except in domestic papers, that is. Novak’s FOIA filing to retrieve some information on those writers and editors that wrote under this pseudonym was foiled owing to a technicality that the successor intelligence agencies cite for secret identities, since there’s no way for government to confirm or deny the consent of anonymous, unidentified authors to having their private writing given public attribution.

soporific or soda-jerk

From editrice extraordinaire Messy Nessy Chic, we learn that behind the domineering soft-drink empire’s decision to drop cocaine from its recipe in 1903 was only the tip, the last words of a crazed drug-fueled revelry that lent much credence to the Prohibition movement.
Though the treacly, family-friendly international brand might not like to own up to its heritage, the decidedly non-adult-beverage had its origins in an infusion of Bordeaux wine and said opiate: a Corsican chemist concocted a very potent cocktail called Vin Mariani in 1863, whose consummate consumers included Thomas Edison, Queen Victoria, Mark Twain, Jules Verne and Pope Leo XIII. The combination resulted in terribly epic binges—together, mightier than cocaine or alcohol alone, and eventually led to many jurisdictions banned both outright. In response, the tonic of John Pemberton, originally peddled as a coca-wine to the elite of Atlanta, was brought into compliance with the prevailing attitudes and its legacy went on to overshadow its roots.

doxological

With the papal-visit in Mexico wrapping-up, The Atlantic’s recommended Lenten reading, I think, takes on greater dimensions in Graham Greene’s novel The Power and the Glory. There was also a cinematic adaptation called The Fugitive starring Henry Fonda. Inspired by an actual sojourn on the part of the author in the Mexican state of Tabasco when the governor was cracking down on the influence of the Catholic church, an anti-hero known only as the “whiskey priest” faces dogged persecution worse than Jean Valjean when the character resolves to conduct underground services and hold confessions despite the government’s suppression of the faith, forcing priests into retirement, burning churches and destroying relics and other religious paraphernalia. Though the struggle of the seriously flawed main figure—whom no community wanted as his activities attracted unwanted attention and a state-sanctioned inquisition that led to more killings and destruction—was condemned by Church censors for sacrilegious and agnostic portrayal, I agree that it is a good-read especially when one considers how broken resolutions (first for New Year’s and then for Lent) are compounded and confounded and the physical articles of faith are denuded among other claimants and one only has one’s own time in the wilderness as a measure.

décoration for the yellow house

Via Nag on the Lake we learn that in anticipation of its upcoming retrospective on the art of Vincent van Gogh, the Chicago Institute of Art has created his room in Arles, which can be rented by the public as sort of bed-and-breakfast experience. This is a delightful draw to get people learn more about the artist and his work, but as the Yellow House period bookends his descent (late summer to just before Christmas 1888, sunflowers to sunflowers) and mental breakdown, I don’t know if it’s the best accommodations for all and sundry.

flight deck

Forty years ago this week, the maiden voyages of the sleek, supersonic jet liner, Concorde a joint Franco-British collaboration, took place, continuing for twenty-seven years before the fleet was retired. The combination of low fuel prices and industries still slowly being decommissioned as Europe transitioned into its Cold War identity made the time just right for this sort of venture—which sounds like fun and familiar times, four decades on.
The decision to ground the planes and put them on almost taxidermical display so one can wonder and be nostalgic over having never been whisked across the ocean at twice the speed of sound always strikes me as an affront to progress—no matter how elite and exclusive that the manifest tended to be, and was driven in part to the 9/11 Terror Attacks that drained all the romance out of jet-setting and also to the development of higher capacity freighters to shuttle more and more passengers to their destinations, teethed on high-overhead and unchecked competition. Maybe it’s even more retrograde to try to recapture past accomplish, though the technical achievement (at least for something that is commercially available) was never repeated, and though although new break-through in æro-space but it would behove one to remember that cruise-goers (or soldiers’ of fortune) are not the heroes that astronauts are, and while space-tourism might be driven by individual investment and could very well lead to innovations in efficiency, that enterprise—purely a commercial venture—also strikes me as giving up the ghost. Like for Concorde, there’s no separate flag-ship and we’re all just classed in different ways—through cordons and charters that might make the flying experience marginally less traumatic for a few but generally, democratically bad all around. What do you think? Can you believe it’s been forty years since the inaugural flight?

five-by-five

de consumo popular: brilliant, hard-boiled galleries of Mexican pulp art

aviatrix: the adventures of Sophie Blanchard, Napoleon’s Chief Air Minister of Ballooning

seeing-eye: “service dog fraud” is a burgeoning phenomenon

nocebo: a study behind the psychology of medical break-through hype

cardinal points: destinations mapped out through the lenses of contemporary art and design

motor-city or monobrow

Via the superbly inscrutable Everlasting Blort comes a splendidly curated gallery of the impressions of artists Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera when they sojourned to the city of Detriot together during the height of the Great Depression. This enriching visit that was able to capture the spirit of the times in a manner that was happily preserved for prosperity has provided a unique retrospective that has tragically come full circle has another sort of poverty and desperation has been descending slowly on America’s Rust-Belt for decades, culminating in a nostalgic revival of the town’s cultural and industrial heritage. Hope there is a revival to follow in the vibrance of the region. 

paso del norte oder flüchlingslager

In a 2008 publication, historian David Dorado Romo explored a very dark and tragically formative and inspiring episode of in the history of cross-border relations between the US and Mexico and attitudes towards immigration.
These uncomfortable measures taken—ostensibly to ensure public health during the Spanish Influenza pandemic (brought back by returning soldiers from the Great War) that was decimating the population, included screenings to keep out homosexuals, the handicapped and other undesirables, fumigation and disinfection, and were lauded as systematic and scientific—though only in practise only carried out in a targeted, selective manner at checkpoints in El Paso and Juárez and only for Hispanic peoples. While the cruelty and outcome—death and maiming from the disinfectants that included DDT, petrol and Zyklon-B, has gone mostly undocumented and even forgotten—even after the debut of Romo’s book, the influence that America’s model had on the Nazis is recorded explicitly, whom instituted those already horrible and dehumanising methods by dread exponents.

domesticated ungulate or nectar of the gods

Though already rejected and ridiculed as coming straight from the teat of Frankenstein’s monster, a major soda conglomeration has decided to venture unabashed into one relatively untapped niche of the dairy market with a new and improved milk-like tonic. As if the non-browning apple was not bad enough, this new beverage is supposedly more healthy and nutritious than plain, old no-name milk. Despite initial public revulsion, I am certain that this concoction will be snuck into the food-supply surreptitious through the soda’s flagship distributors, fast-food franchises that pump out brand identification and loyalty. What an unholy alliance to scratch out a bit of profit from an industry that while not unsullied universally with growth-hormones and battery-farming remains wholesome in some places.
Interestingly, and mostly without notice, one of America’s (as the chief producer of these enhanced foodstuffs) geographically closest trading partners, which produces its own classic version of the above-mentioned soda incidentally, Mexico, has quietly repelled any overtures from US agri-business to sell crops or plant seeds on its soil. Though certainly not alone in worrying about the future impact of such experiments, this uncertainty is not the primary reason for Mexico’s distaste and it is rather out of a sense of reverence that such imports are blockaded. Like India’s sacred cow—who’s resisting advances but sadly under great pressure to assimilate, Mexico has an ingrained tradition of worshipful respect for their sustaining staple, maize, and consider it sacrilege to presume to improve upon Mother Nature.

¡refrescante! or double-blind trial

While the usual battle-fields for the Cola Wars are found in public institutions, school cafeterias and workplace cantinas, the competition can involve sometimes much more than just syrup and air-canisters with a whole franchised realm, a vertical monopoly of loyal patrons behind the brand who would never dare sell the competing product.

There, however, is precious little more serious than one’s immortal soul—which are the stakes for tribe in Mexico, who’ve incorporated either one or the other big cola brands into their religious traditions. Convinced that belching helps to release evil spirits, members of the community are willing to pay 50¢ for a bottle of soda—which does not sound bad until one realises that that’s a day’s wage, to augment their purification rituals. Aside from the faithful forgoing food to support the marketing and distribution rivalry between billion-dollar multi-national corporations, there are also the matters of health, fair-labour and responsible water-usage at stake. Realising that they are the momentary playthings of globalism, some communities in Chiapas have boycotted the soft-drinks altogether—though both companies are pretty ruthless about re-establishing market-control.