Dead mouse floating in the toilet.
ACK!
Seriously, it was just so dead. We know that my cats are Mighty Mousers, so from time to time I have to pick a dead mouse up off the living room floor, and it’s kinda gross, but not so bad.
But something about the floater? Just exuded death. It took me like three tries before I could force myself to get it out. I was shaking.
Arthur said, “Well, your day can’t get any worse.”
I hope he’s right.
No hints this week!
I have learned that I watched far more comedies in the 1980s than in any other decade.
In a few short weeks, I’m going to have to come up with a new idea.
1. I don’t give a fuck about your war. Or your president.
Solved by Mrs. B. (comment #7).
2. Perhaps he knew, as I did not, that the Earth was made round so that we would not see too far down the road.
Solved by Katrinawitch (comment #5).
3. In ancient times, hundreds of years before the dawn of history, an ancient race of people—the Druids. No one knows who they were or what they were doing.
Solved by Evn (comment #1).
4. If you work with me, I’ll help you say “fuck off” more clearly.
Solved by Melville (comment #2).
5. I hate Illinois Nazis.
Solved by Dawa Lhamo (comment #3).
6. You know what word I’m not comfortable with? Nuance. It’s not a real word. Like gesture. Gesture’s a real word. With gesture you know where you stand. But nuance? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.
Solved by Melville (comment #2).
7. Lady, you take my picture with that thing and I’m gonna rip your brassiere off and strangle you with it! You got that?
Solved by George (comment #4).
All my categories have disappeared. Today. And they’re gone not just from Property of a Lady, but from the Ultimate James Bond Fan Blog as well. They are not gone from Basket of Kisses, nor from other WordPress blogs I quickly perused around the ‘net to see if it’s a global problem.
WTF?
Help!
I have been rescued. Yay.
Wyatt Earp (1994) 5/10
The life of Wyatt Earp (Kevin Costner), from his early teens to old age.
Wyatt Earp is long (so! long!), ponderous, and moody. Well, not moody. Gloomy. Not dark so much as gray. It is meant, perhaps, as a character study, but after more than three hours, I didn’t feel I knew Wyatt Earp especially well, except in the broad strokes of a grief-stricken man, deeply influenced by his father’s wanderlust and devotion to family. After the death of his young wife, Wyatt goes on a bender, and then straightens up, closing off his heart and becoming a stiff and difficult man, rigid in his ideas, not all of which are good or honorable.
What comes up here for me is the difference between history and storytelling. Wyatt Earp had a complicated life that has been told and retold many times. He was in Tombstone and in Dodge City. He was friends with Doc Holiday (Dennis Quaid) and Bat Masterson (Tom Sizemore). The gunfight at the OK Corral is famous, its lead-in and aftermath less so. Earp had three long-term relationships: The aforementioned wife, and unmarried partnerships with Mattie Blaylock and Josephine Marcus.
This particular movie is determined to squeeze every fact in so as to be “true.” But truth is found in narrative, in emotional reality, in a character arc, and none of that is really here. Lives don’t happen in narrative arcs, they peak and fall, cluster events together and spread them apart, and the storyteller’s job is to create a flow out of the jumble. There’s no storyteller here, just a plodding biographer.
Helped not one bit by James Newton Howard‘s overstated soundtrack. I don’t often mention soundtracks in my reviews, but this is just egregious. “Let’s go,” Earp says in his “This is a Western line” way, and zing go the strings to underscore it. Oy vey.
Finally, let’s talk a little about Costner. He gets plenty of hate from some film buffs, but I like him fine. He’s a good everyman, a regular Joe in the Jimmy Stewart mold (complete with twangy accent). He’s done wonderfully as that guy in Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, and lots more. (I always thought someone who could make two baseball movies in a row and have them be distinct and different and interesting had some chops.)
But these very qualities make him all wrong for Wyatt Earp. I think there’s no doubt that the real Earp was a charismatic figure; he had a strong influence over his brothers, many of whom were strong men themselves; it was Virgil, not Wyatt, who was the Marshall in Tombstone during the OK Corrall incident. He had passionate romances and deep friendships with colorful characters who respected him. In real life, he must surely have had the presence that someone like Burt Lancaster was able to bring to his portrayal. Costner is unable to show why everyone is so fascinated by the guy.
On the home page of my main site (you did know I have a main site, right?) you’ll see the figurine variously known as Venus of Willendorf, Willendorf Goddess, or Willendorf Woman.
Willendorf is one of many of a similar type, all of approximately the same age (about 27,000 years old). (My personal favorite is Lespugue.)
It has been said that female representations will invariably be interpreted as “fertility fetishes,” while male representations will be seen as important. Ultimately, calling these statuettes “Venus figures” has come to be seen as dismissive, patronizing, and patriarchal. By pigeon-holing them we bring a modern interpretation without, necessarily, understanding.
“Willendorf Goddess” is a term favored by Women’s Spirituality groups, but archeologists today prefer “Willendorf Woman,” acknowledging that they really don’t know how to classify her.
What these figures have in common is their small size (Willendorf is 4 and 3/8 inches long), exaggerated breasts and bellies, undetailed faces, and lack of feet. The feet thing is generally believed to be so that the figure could be placed in the ground. The lack of a face tends towards an interpretation that the statues are “Woman” or “Fecundity” rather than an individual.
I love worshiping Willendorf as a Primal Force, Original Goddess. I love being with her raw, earthy nature. Placed directly into the earth, she is small enough that tall grasses hide her, but in winter, when grassy places are bare, she appears, reminding us that the earth will provide.
Dance as though you are Willendorf; belly forward, letting gravity pull you towards the earth. This is not a time for fancy footwork! She tells us that Pagan worship is not just of the Earth, but in the earth.
I had an old photo editor that worked perfectly fine and was in no way inferior to upgrades I use at work. But it was incompatible with Vista. So fuckity fuck. I installed an upgrade and now I’m back in business.
And look what I found laying around in my hall:
