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August 13, 2007

Gotta Disagree Here

Usually I accept Lileks's opinion as settled matters of law, but I'll tell you, if I had to live through both the Great Depression AND the birth of Popeye, well, I probably would have killed myself.

I posted the Buzz and sat in my room and watched a small documentary on Popeye on the computer. Did you know he helped a Depression-battered nation find its laughing place again? Indeed. Did more than the NRA and WPA put together. Him and Mickey and Betty Boop. A comfort and an inspiration, those three. I did enjoy learning that Popeye’s rough edges had to be removed as he grew popular, and this led to Pappy, who was old-school Popeye after the original item was Mickeyed down. (Same thing happened to Mickey, for that matter.) The early cartoons are weird – human like Popeye, Olive and Bluto living in the same world with those big-eyed dogmen and other creatures that ran around the Fleischer world. And no one ever stands still; they bob around back and forth constantly, because standing still would drain the life right out of the animation. I'm interested in this stuff, but I'm not sure I like it very much.

Popeye is one of those things that make me immediately change the channel. There's nothing more unwatchable than one of those wretched cartoons.

May 7, 2007

The Strib Shoots Itself In The Foot

The Minneapolis Star Tribune has decided that it can do without James Lileks's weekly column, and instead is planning to send him out to do hard news stories.

This is idiotic; Lileks's commentary on everyday life is what people read him for, not his ability to string together sentences with a good lead and answering Who, What, Why, When, Where. It's like having Norman Rockwell on your staff and sending him out to do chalk court drawings.

Hugh Hewitt is also outraged; and I expect after the blogosphere weighs in, the Strib will find a way to backtrack on this decision, which was stupid.

You can contact the Strib's reader representative here if you want to complain. I did. Keep it civil, of course -- I'm sure it won't help Lileks's cause if they start getting creeepy, Unabomber missives demanding his return.

January 18, 2007

Hail, Malathion!

Lileks waxes nostalgic over pesticide ads. Among other things.

September 26, 2006

Lileks On Rental Cars

Lileks has been undergoing some car repairs, as have I. His problems are relatively straightforward (paint issues), while mine seem to have the Chrysler dealer baffled. And where my problems are inspiring, in me, a barely restrained rage; in Lileks, they inspire his usual apt, offhand observation:

After a while the rental car appeared: a nice young fellow took all my information, then led me on a walkaround so we could be on the same page about the vehicle’s preexisting dents. I asked him how he was getting back to the office; he said someone would be along to pick him up. They did not accept rides from customers. So off I went, leaving the guy standing in a suburban parking lot, waving. It’s a hell of a country. Here! Have a car! Get outta here, ya knucklehead.

The car is a Merc – a Sable, I think. It’s okay. Punchy enough for the class but it has that slightly cheap feel you expect in a rental, and the same vague air of soaked-in resignation rental cars seem to have. They belong to no one, and they know it. What’s most interesting is the smell - it's a commercial air freshener not available to the general public, and it reminds me of motel rooms. It’s the smell of someplace not your own, the smell of rented things and common items that have now passed into your hands, for a while. I like it. It smells like adventure.

I, on the other hand, am driving a Chevrolet Uplander -- the sort of vehicle so unpopular that it has no choice but to become a rental car. Its name -- no doubt developed by a third-string marketing guy with a very bad hangover -- is telling -- "hey, we're kind of like a Toyota Highlander, but not so classy or stylish." It is a minivan. A Toyota Highlander's ugly sister, destined to become a schoolmarm; a librarian; or in this case, a rental-counter spinster, as plain as the ugliest whore in the Gem saloon in Al Swearengen's Deadwood (or so I imagine).

Enterprise, from whom I rented it, was out of "intermediate" vehicles, which are the class of vehicle just above those from which circus clowns emanate. Thus, a free "upgrade" from low-rent GM rental cars (a Pontiac Sunfire, a Chevrolet Shitbird) to low rent GM minivans.

I'm humming to myself the lyrics of Nick Lowe's The Beast in Me while I ponder whether the air freshener is strong enough to cover the smell of a couple of Chrysler repair technicians, who could, I am reasonably sure, be stuffed in the back with room to spare.

The beast in me
Is caged by frail and fragile bonds
Restless by day
And by night, rants and rages at the stars
God help, the beast in me

The beast in me
Has had to learn to live with pain
And how to shelter from the rain
And in the twinkling of an eye
Might have to be restrained
God help the beast in me

Sometimes
It tries to kid me that it's just a teddy bear
Or even somehow managed
To vanish in the air
And that is when I must beware
Of the beast in me
That everybody knows
They've seen him out dressed in my clothes
Patently unclear
If it's New York or New Year
God help the beast in me
The beast in me

Joking, of course. As Mr. I. Abelman said in The Confederacy of Dunces in reply to the insulting letter of Ignatius -- "We are gentlemen, sir, we shall seek our satisfaction in the law courts."

Should it come to that.


September 8, 2006

Lileks On The Pessimism In The Media

From the Bleat today:

While working and doing various things the other day, I lent an ear to the radio. The morning host was talking about pessimism, and how he’s sick of it. Sick! I agreed. It's not just specific pessimism about specific issues, which is sometimes apt and wise, but the overall glumness you get from the news media. Of course, you can find glumness anywhere. Swaths of the right are pessimistic about America because immigration will result in the national anthem sung in Toltec by 2018, and chunks of the left are pessimistic because Chimpy McDiebold may serve out his term without impeachment or interment. Everyone’s glum about something. But I listen to the news on the radio every hour on the hour, and it makes me want to saw ditches into my wrists. It’s the needling worrisome hectoring tone of the newscasters that annoys me. There's a a woman who handles the morning shift on ABC; she emotes every syllable, infusing them with a sense of impending disaster, and then she hands it off to Vic Ratnor, who likewise leans into every phoneme with worried urgency, regardless of whether it’s an oil shortage (which could rekindle inflation!), a discovery of a new oil field (which could cost billions to exploit!) or a study on the effect of global warming on popsicles (which could stain the rug!) The two of them could make a flooded anthill sound like the end of the Republic.

The news is never good. If the economy’s up, there’s an expert on hand from the Institute of the Possible Downside warning about unforseen pressure on the bond market, softening housing, hardening tensions, turgid wage growth, and explosive release of inflationary pressures. Have a cigarette. Was it bad for you?

TV news gives me the same impression, which is why I avoid it. All those earnest faces. Good evening, we’re deeply concerned, and powerless to do anything about it. Although we hope you infer from our brows the need to contact someone, and urge action on this issue. Now here’s a baby giraffe.

Read the whole thing.

August 16, 2006

Vintage Lileks

Nobody does it better.

July 26, 2006

Lileks Returns Home

A photo journey through Fargo then and now.

July 11, 2006

Lileks on Clocks

James Lileks in a brief, but entertaining Bleat:

In high school I had to get up early Friday morning for speech tournaments, and feared missing the alarm. I don’t know why – it was a Panasonic with a piercing shriek that bored right through your skull to the exact place in your head where your dreams were taking place, and stabbed everyone in the dream with a cold knitting needle. It would wake dead dogs on the south side of town. Naturally we preferred it to the clatter of the old-style clatter-bell alarms, because it was modern. If we resented the sound, well, it was the price we paid for casting off the wind-up clocks. I never really knew a dark room with a ticking clock. Just as well; they’re morbid. They’re nervous and jumpy. They pester the dark – or worse yet, they get that smug feeling that they own the room. Death’s sonar. To hell with clocks!

Read the whole thing . . .

May 16, 2006

Lileks: Noir Tuesday

Sick of the circular firing squad that the conservative blogosphere is becoming? Lileks is doing film noir over at the Bleat.

A refreshing change of pace.

April 12, 2006

The Famed Lileks Water Feature

Now on video.

Some people get Lileks. Some don't. To me, there is a profound wisdom in his writing, which is that the things that matter most are your family, your home, and your own little universe.

December 21, 2005

Christmas Cheer From The Bleat

God bless us, everyone.

Went shopping. I suppose this is where I should drop the pre-fab whine about parking, crowds, commercialism, and the grating nature of pre-fab holiday music. Oh for the old days, when a man could walk down the snow-choked alleys on Christmas Eve, taking care not to make eye contact with his betters, pushing aside the ragged beggars with their oozing carbuncles and the haggard gin-blasted pox-ridden doxies who chew your unholstered parts for a farthing. Oh for the honest Christmases, when you’d buy a goose and take it home and spend your week’s salary getting the stove hot enough to cook the thing. Remember the year little Tim pitched in his crutch so we could have enough heat to crisp the duck? Merry times, merry times. Now let us sing a carol and thank our stars we do not have to drive self-propelled machines - complete with auto-heat and magical devices that pluck music and voices from the very either - to great broad sheds filled with goods unimaginable. It seems like a wonderland, children, but every Eden has its snake; there are other people there, and they oft do not comport themselves as we would wish. And the songs from unseen minstrels, while short and endlessly variable, are often contrary to our aesthetic preferences. No, be happy we are here together in our perfect Victorian times. Now throw another volume of Dickens on the fire; it grows cold, and Father cannot lose but two more toes.

Posts like this are why I love Lileks.

November 4, 2005

Lileks Takes on Pink Floyd

I know, there ought to be a rule about me linking Lileks so often, but there is little else newsworthy today. Unless, of course, you wish to discuss the ongoing sack of Paris by the infidel throng. DeVillepin fiddles while Paris burns.

But Lileks versus Pink Floyd? That's a must read.

Then again, “The Wall” asked the question that bothers us all: how can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat? To this day I pose the question to Gnat. She, too, has no answer.

As they say in the blogosphere, read the whole thing. He gets extra credit for use of the word "doxies".

Oh, and bonus points if you can name the hymn I'm referencing in my first paragraph. The answer is below the fold.

Continue reading "Lileks Takes on Pink Floyd" »

November 3, 2005

As Usual, A Fascinating Link From Lileks

James Lileks is making the virtual coffee table book tour, but he still has time to provide us with interesting links. This is from Theodore Dalrymple, in City Journal. He writes a lot of articles there, and the site has earned "straight to blogroll" status, for Dalrymple's fascinating article on crime in France.

I have been to Paris twice -- once in 1989, and earlier this spring. I have always loved the city; to me it contains a perfect balance of art, religion, and history that makes it unique on the Earth. Oh, I like London just fine, and there are neighborhoods of New York that rival Paris, and Boston will always for me be a shining city on a hill (provided I don't have to drive in it), but Paris is special.

Which makes Dalrymple's story all that more disheartening. Consider:

I first saw l’insécurité for myself about eight months ago. It was just off the Boulevard Saint-Germain, in a neighborhood where a tolerably spacious apartment would cost $1 million. Three youths—Rumanians—were attempting quite openly to break into a parking meter with large screwdrivers to steal the coins. It was four o’clock in the afternoon; the sidewalks were crowded, and the nearby cafés were full. The youths behaved as if they were simply pursuing a normal and legitimate activity, with nothing to fear.

Eventually, two women in their sixties told them to stop. The youths, laughing until then, turned murderously angry, insulted the women, and brandished their screwdrivers. The women retreated, and the youths resumed their “work.”

A man of about 70 then told them to stop. They berated him still more threateningly, one of them holding a screwdriver as if to stab him in the stomach. I moved forward to help the man, but the youths, still shouting abuse and genuinely outraged at being interrupted in the pursuit of their livelihood, decided to run off. But it all could have ended very differently.

Several things struck me about the incident: the youths’ sense of invulnerability in broad daylight; the indifference to their behavior of large numbers of people who would never dream of behaving in the same way; that only the elderly tried to do anything about the situation, though physically least suited to do so. Could it be that only they had a view of right and wrong clear enough to wish to intervene? That everyone younger than they thought something like: “Refugees . . . hard life . . . very poor . . . too young to know right from wrong and anyway never taught . . . no choice for them . . . punishment cruel and useless”? The real criminals, indeed, were the drivers whose coins filled the parking meters: were they not polluting the world with their cars?

Another motive for inaction was that, had the youths been arrested, nothing would have happened to them. They would have been back on the streets within the hour. Who would risk a screwdriver in the liver to safeguard the parking meters of Paris for an hour?

This is a city in need of a Rudy Giuliani -- and direct election of judges. And removal of rent controls and establishment of a concealed-carry permit law -- but let's not ask for too much at once, shall we? Read the whole article -- it is beautifully written and well researched -- as well as being frightening.

UPDATE: The dilemma is that the solutions I mention above could never be put in place by the French elites, as they seem unspeakably barbaric to them. Which is the problem. When the officials of the government refuse to enforce the law, people will --eventually -- take matters into their own hands. You want to know what is behind the rise of Le Pen and the proto-fascists even further to his right? It is that the government has abidcated its responsibility. Once it does so, then the people, for their protection, turn to those who will offer them the formulation "outside the law but safe". So you have the rise of reactionaries who have no respect for the law -- and once they assume power, you have a country that is capable of anything. Fascists can only assume power in a vacuum. The French need to build some large prisons and start taking the violent criminals off the streets. They start doing that, and the people will respond, and help the police. Crime will fall dramatically.

UPDATE 2: Dalrymple also notes the lack of jobs in France, due to the tight economic controls and high taxation. This just adds further fuel to the fire -- people who are disaffected and unemployed have no opportunity to fit in with society. Along with Rudy Giuliani, this is a country that needs to embrace capitalism. Really, what they need is a Margaret Thatcher. If they don't find her, perhaps not even Joan of Arc can save France.

UPDATE 3: Rioting continues, for a sixth night.

UPDATE 4: Wretchard has more thoughts here and here. I too, am skeptical of Fukuyama's thesis, which to me is too geneous to Islam. Certainly Western societies have encouraged radicalism where they have not resisted it. But Islamic countries on their own are not open and tolerant societies. Walk down the street in Riyadh as a woman wearing a modest sundress and cross on a chain around your neck, and you'll be hauled in front of a religious court in seconds flat. The problem is not either/or -- we're great, and they're screwed up (or, "they're ok and we're screwed up"). It's both/and -- we're sick, and they're screwed up. I see the sickness of the West every day when I read the appeasement and defeatism emanating from the left-hand side of the blogosphere, or read articles like Dalrymple's about the sad state of Paris. But the bigger problem is still the Middle East itself. While rioters can burn Paris tenements and unemployed Muslim men are ripe for carrying a bomb onto a tube, these are, at some level, small problems. Tehran having an atom bomb and a means of delivery that can hit Jerusalem is a direct, immediate and large-scale problem. Certianly the defeatism, apathy, and decadence of the West must be fixed. But we can live with that provided there aren't atom bombs raining down. We must ask ourselves -- do we have the courage to solve that problem? If we don't, then reform of the West probably won't save us.

October 18, 2005

Lileks Wants One

And so do I. Man, that is a cool looking car. Lileks reveals his love here. Kind of. Sometimes the best parts of The Bleat are the links -- they are like gateways into other worlds.

holden_efigy.jpg

I always thought they should make a movie out of the Ayn Rand book Atlas Shrugged -- it would make a good movie, if you cut out most of the 700 page speech at the end. Stylistically, you'd shoot it in high Art Deco -- all supermodern looking skyscrapers, trains, and cars like this. I'm thinking Cate Blanchett for the Dagny Taggart part, because we know she can play the Hepburn type. They'd all drive around in cars like this, and the women and men would all wear hats.

You'd need a scriptwriter who could let the philosophy come through -- in measured doses, of course. I'm thinking Brad Bird could do it.

UPDATE: I'm not an objectivist, mind you. I think that as a philosophy it has a lot of shortcomings, including its complete dismissal of religion. But it has its merits, too. An objectivist could survive a disaster like Hurricane Katrina precisely because they would not wait for or expect help. They'd steal a bus. They'd walk out of the city. Granted, they'd do it while giving you a long monologue on how they are morally superior because they expect nothing of anyone, but they'd probably make it out in one piece.

UPDATE 2: You'd shoot it tastefully, of course. Done badly, the movie would look like Dick Tracy. Done well, it would look like a classic film noir.

UPDATE 3: I'm serious about that speech, too. It's about 700 pages long. Well, maybe not that long. But if John Galt really wanted to get his point across to the starving masses as they wander the post-apocalyptic wasteland, I'm thinking he would want to boil that speech down a little. Refine it. Rand obviously existed in a time before Powerpoint.

October 6, 2005

Lileks On Harriet Miers

In the Screedblog. Cue Carly Simon's "Nobody Does it Better" -- although I guess that means if bloggers were James Bonds, Lileks would be Roger Moore. And certainly we don't believe that. Because he's pure Connery.

At any rate:

The wailing! The gnashing! The rending of garments! If the conservative reaction to Harriet Miers is any indication, Bush has no chance of winning a third term. The decision to appoint a relative unknown – or, given her proximity to the Bush inner circle, an unknown relative – has caused many on the right to open a vein and the let the despair flow out into the warm bath of misery, disappointment, and overextended metaphors. Why didn’t Bush clone Scalia in a dish and appoint him? Here, use some stem cells if you have to. Anyone but another Souter!

That’s the great fear on the right: Souterism. A mild-mannered cipher appointed by a Bush who dons the black robe and promptly starts to eat babies. Souter! How many times have you opened the door at Halloween and seen his face on a child’s mask? How many times have you waited in the doctor’s office, clammy with dread, waiting for him to slap the X-rays up on the wall and point to a grayish souter-shaped mass? Miers could turn out to be the conservative’s worst nightmare. She could regard the Constitution as a living document, still in its first trimester. She could, at this very moment, be in the attic assembling the shortwave she got while a member of the Resistance in Texas, dialing in Steinham One to report total success, repeat total success.

Or not.

Not to pick on Michelle Malkin -- who is, after all, on my blogroll for a reason -- but I can usually tell when a story is being overhyped when she runs "scroll for updates" at the top of a post and it extends for something like three full revolutions of the mouse wheel. There's coverage of a story, and then there's blasting a meme out of a firehose.

September 28, 2005

Lileks Takes On Bran

In The Gallery of Regrettable Food.

September 26, 2005

Lileks: Screed and Bleat

James Lileks is one of my de rigeur daily reads. Be sure to check out today's Bleat and Screed.

Both worth reading.

September 20, 2005

Lileks Reviews Blackboard Jungle

In case you were wondering where I got the idea to review the James Bond films, it should be apparent that it is an homage to James Lileks, who is the master of this sort of thing.

Noir is his beat.

August 25, 2005

Lileks Reads His Mail

Lileks reads his mail over at the Screedblog. And reacts.

Please get this straight: there are no marching orders. There is no RoveHive to which everyone buzzes in the morning for a scrap of Royal Jelly we carry off to our blogs. If there sometimes appears to be a unaniminity of subject matter, that’s because certain ideas appear, flower, bloom, take root, and spread. Like kudzu. But kudzu is not taking orders from some dark shrouded mastermind made entirely of cellulose and chlorophyll. If you honestly think that everyone to the right of Noam Chomsky is part of some dark soulless cabal dedicated to extirpating all photons and replacing them with negative matter that strips the flesh from the bones of the poor, I envy you; the world must make perfect sense.

Actually, there is a Rovian hive. I usually get my daily instructions from reading Lileks.

Read the whole thing.

June 10, 2005

He Said What?

He said what? Dino, Sammy, get the boys together. It looks like Mr. Square from Squaresville needs a little talkin' to.

frank_sinatra.jpg


UPDATE: He thinks he's tough? Tell him I got Llamas bigger than him. You heard me. Llamas.

Continue reading "He Said What?" »

June 6, 2005

Lileks Introduces the "Screedblog"

Lileks takes on "Galactic Pizza", and has also introduced the Screedblog.

. . . the start of the Screedblog, where polarizing grumpy reactionary drivel can be placed in a cordon sanitaire, leaving the Bleat as neutral ground where we can all get along. I advise those disinclined to like my screedish side to avoid it, since the spotty quality, haphazard reasoning and predictable conclusions will only serve as a depressing reminder of what I have become.

Lileks rocks, as always. Read 'em both.

April 22, 2005

Lileks Really Needs To Stop Reading My Brainwaves . . .

Heh. Been there. I think we all have.

The Fun Shop has more costumes than novelty items, but once I walked in I was pitched back 30 years. Thirty! I swear, nothing had changed: not the bad black-light posters with garish seascapes full of wise dolphins or trippy mushrooms or dead rock stars who gargled on a lungful of barbs and puke before giving up the ghost so his estate could license it unto eternity. The wizard statuettes with tall thin bearded sorcerors holding up sticks or crystal balls, calling on some dark god from a Conan short story to come forth and smite, etc., so be it. The incense. Oh, the incense; it never changes either, the same sickly smell of a million stoner basements, a smell that just drenches me with all the dread and failure of adolescence, the pathetic need to find some culture of your own, and your growing realization that the outsider / counterculture offered by Spencer Gifts is more moronic than your own by a factor of ten – except for the Farrah posters, those are wicked. Not that you’d dare buy one.

You should read the whole thing. Good advice on cheating at Skee ball, too.

April 18, 2005

Oh the Bleat, Oh the Bleat, Oh the Bleat is Back . . .

Oh the Bleat, Oh the Bleat
Oh the Bleat is back
Stone cold sober as a matter of fact
He can Bleat, He can Bleat
He writes better than you
It’s the noir that he moves
The things he can do . . .
Whoa whoa whoa!

(Sorry -- was channeling my nemesis Elton John there for a moment)

Yes folks, Lileks' new book is finished and he has returned to bleating! Let the women ululate and the men fire their guns in the air (so to speak). The Americana is American-ier. The Noir is, well, Noir-ier. Jasper! Gnat! Chuck-e-fargin' Cheese!

I read Lileks each and every morning; there is really no one like him. Unlike the premise of the old Gilbert and Sullivan Tune "I've Got a Little List" there are bloggers who "would be missed". Lileks is top of that list.

Go read him now. Bookmark him. Unless you're holed up in the Sistine Chapel today with all the other seventy year olds, you've got nothing more important to do.

April 4, 2005

Lileks Going "Sporadic"

Perhaps my favorite blogger in the whole world -- although I hesitate to use the insufficient word "blogger" to describe a writer of his talents -- James Lileks, is taking a break from The Bleat.

He is giving us "The Sporadic" until his professional obligations lighten.

Given the amount of writing he has to do in a week between his 3-5 columns and his book, I was amazed he kept the Bleat going as a daily as long as he did.

I hope he will finish his book soon and give us more daily treats.

March 21, 2005

Lileks and Vanderleun on Terri Schiavo

James Lileks always seems able to take those half-formed thoughts that sit on the blurred edge between reason and intuition and hammer them out in well-structured prose.

I had this same thought flicker through my mind this weekend, but only as a will o' the wisp. On the Bleat, they spring fully formed from the head of Lileks.

The Schiavo matter is the Elian Gonzalez case of 2005, a person who stands at the nexus of a variety of irreconcilable issues. Some people wouldn’t care at all if she died, unless she had been the sole occupant of a hospital in Baghdad leveled by an errant Tomahawk; then you’d see her face in every protest march. Some see another step towards the triumph of euthanasia – they stop at the idea of someone being starved against the wishes of her parents, and there’s not another fact that matters.

The same people who insisted that Elian Gonzalez must be returned to Castro's Cuba at gunpoint post-haste seem to be the same folks who are insisting that Terri must die. Today. No waiting. Smother her with a pillow if she doesn't die fast enough, dammit!

Armed men at gunpoint must prevent her from being fed! Boil that dust speck!

I would ask, what's the rush? Does Michael Schiavo have the caterer for his next wedding lined up already? Is the settlement money burning a hole in his pocket?

And why is it that the folks on the left, who are so quick to defend the guilty, are in such haste to snuff out the innocent?

Gerard Vanderleun is also moved by the story; another craftsman of fine prose, his must-read essay on the story is here.

March 15, 2005

Lileks Weighs In on Ayn Rand

James Lileks, in today's Bleat, weighs in on a number of topics, including the Lebanon revolution ("hubbaliciousness"), but also on the works of Ayn Rand.

His take, on the Fountainhead:

It’s billed as a romance, and rightly so; we all know that human relationships was the author’s strong point. (coff.) Yes, it’s the book every 20 year old should read, and every 30 year-old should forget!

He has a point.

I admire Rand's work, especially Atlas Shrugged, which is, of course, available, if you haven't read it, from Amazon.com.

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(Available at my Amazon.com store)

I like her books, but I'm not prepared to join the cult yet. There are people you meet in life who develop scary attachments to authors; who want to believe that the answers to life's problems can be found entirely inside the pages of a book, or that one person has it all worked out. I have met a lot of people, including many conservatives and a lot of Libertarians, who feel this way about Ayn Rand.

What I like about Ayn Rand is that she developed a philosophy of rugged individualism in contrast to the twin totalitarian philosophies of her times -- Fascism and Communism. Many of the intelligentsia in the 20s and 30s were drawn to either of these twin beacons of death; but it took some real brains to find the middle path offered by the Western democracies. It is for many of these same reasons that I admire Winston Churchill; he knew that individual liberty was the purpose of the state, that the state serves man and not the other way around.

But that being said, I find that Ayn Rand is not perfect, by any means. She rejects religion utterly, which I think is a mistake. The religious impulse in man is one of his nobler things; to merely rule it superstition is short sighted. I think also she places far too much faith in the market, without understanding the necessity of the rule of law to enforce it. Caveat emptor is a fine philosophy, but you do need to be able to take people to court. And as a writer, her characters are somewhat unsympathetic and hard to understand. "I love you, now let me go on with a three page soliloquy about individualism." She hates Communism but adopts their worst literary practices.

Rand is a better thinker than a dramatist.

Now, that being said, Atlas Shrugged would make the top 50 books I've read in my life. It is a profound book, about which I think often. If you haven't read it, you should.

February 23, 2005

Lileks: Now in Audio

Lileks tries audioblogging.

February 14, 2005

The Sign of a Great Writer

The sign of a great writer is that he can capture all the mystery of existence and being on a canvas, no matter how small.

James Lileks. The Bleat. Today.

February 4, 2005

I Won't Sleep For a Week Now

Lileks, in the Bleat, discusses Ronald McDonald with Gnat.

Four and a half, and she’s got the branding down pat. And where does she get it? PBS. They run a little spot before one of her favorite shows. Upon further inquiry she thought that Ronald McDonald owned all the restaurants. Interesting: she did not think he was a clown, just a man who dressed oddly.

Read that last sentence again. Doesn't it give you chills down your spine? I mean, I'm no fan of clowns (I own two of these, as a matter of fact), but if you take Ronald McDonald out of the clown context -- saying that he is something other than a clown -- isn't that infinitely more disturbing?

Face paint, big shoes, red nose -- just the sartorial choices of . . . of what, exactly?

What looks like a clown that isn't a clown? Please don't tell me there is another whole class/order/phylum of these things that I'm going to have to consider.

I'm gonna have some really bad dreams about this.

January 20, 2005

The WaPo Interviews Lileks

The Washington Post Home section (registration required, curse you, vile WaPo) interviews James Lileks:

The money quote: Despite what seems to be a cult following -- he has complained about the cost of buying extra bandwidth to accommodate heavy Web site traffic -- he remains well below the mainstream media radar. This is his first big-time interview and he's a tad uneasy about the photo shoot, he confessed in last Thursday's online Bleat.

"Now everyone will get to point and laugh at my home decorating choices. I suppose it's only fair. . . . Should I wear clothes I wear around the house or pretend I stalk the halls in a quilted jacket and ascot?"

Lileks has more than a cult following, believe you me. He is read by virtually everyone who blogs or who read blogs. I wager this number is bigger than those who turn in to see Dan Rather each night. He is an internet rock star.

And as for the ascot and silk jacket, James -- well, just remember, that's Glenn's shtick.


January 17, 2005

Lileks has Joe Ohio Up

Joe Ohio now has his own section on Lileks.com. Front page here.

January 14, 2005

Lileks Phones it In

I was in my car around 4:00 and it hit me -- did I read Lileks today?

Answer: nope.

So I get home and head over to Lileks country.

Friday Bleat, and Lileks calls in sick. So I didn't miss anything there.

Ah, but it's just a head fake . . . the saga of Joe Ohio continues unabated.

January 5, 2005

Lileks's Own Personal Abu Ghraib?

Regular readers of James Lileks's The Bleat know that he bought his daughter Natalie, aka, Gnat, a "My Size Barbie" for Christmas.

Well, lately he's been posting pictures of the Barbie holding Hugh Hewitt's book "Blog".

And frankly, it's getting to be a little creepy. Abu Ghraib creepy. I'm half expecting to see in tomorrow's bleat a picture of the Barbie, cigarette dangling from her mouth, leading a swarthy, grubby "My Size GI Joe" around on a leash.



December 21, 2004

Lileks to Take on James Wolcott?

He's teasing us with this possibility in today's Bleat.

Wolcott has been causing a stir with his rather mean-spirited attacks on people, particularly Glenn Reynolds. Or consider yesterday's rather snarky comment about James Lileks being "a beloved blogger in the daycare community."

A piece of unsolicited advice for Mr. Wolcott -- the blogging community is kind of like your corner bar. People are having their traditional after work shot and beer, and when someone comes in and starts elbowing past the regulars and talking loudly about how he can't get a decent glass of Chardonnay here in the benighted Red America outside of Manhattan -- well, people are going to get annoyed. Criticism we can take. Cheap shots are another thing entirely.

Lileks is beloved by more than just the "daycare community." As is Glenn. They are very valued resources among bloggers. If you don't like what they have to say, well, that's fair enough. State your piece and move along. There's no need to get nasty and personal about it. If you do, just remember -- there are many more bloggers who value those two folks than value your blog, and you don't have anything like a monopoly on nasty prose.

UPDATE: Lileks takes on Wolcott here.

December 15, 2004

Scenes From A Barnes and Noble . . .

He's back again. The weirdo. The weirdo with the coffee table book. Call security. Yesterday he was actually moving the books from one section to another, the freak.

Sh*t, he's coming over here. Call security now!


UPDATE: OK, it was just a little jest at our friend's expense. And why go to Barnes and Noble when you can get all the Lileks you need right here online? And I don't just mean the Bleat. Amazon, baby, Amazon.

December 13, 2004

Lileks Takes a Train Trip

Observations here. I used to travel on the train periodically to and from college, and found this paragraph especially apt:

Now we’re moving through the old industrial wastelands – strange blasted places that stretch for miles – smokestacks without factories, vast weedy parking lots, half-demolished factories, warehouses still in use, barrel fields. A few minutes later, luxury housing developments. A few minutes later, a barn. It’s not like I remember the Eastern Corridor, which was an interminable iron ditch lined with sagging rowhouses. But you can never judge an American town by the view from the train. They always drag you through the alley to the back door.

December 10, 2004

Lileks: Hot Dogs Go To War

Hot dogs go to war.

December 7, 2004

Lileks is a Little Tough on Space 1999 . . or maybe not

in today's Bleat, Lileks is pretty tough on Barry Gray, the composer of the Space 1999 theme.

Actually, I think the theme song was the best part of the show. I'd hear that theme, and it made me want to sit down and watch. But the show would then lose me after five minutes or so.

What was it?

Probably the cheesy special effects. Or the sets, which looked like the stuff Roddenberry rejected for Star Trek.

Or maybe it was the uniforms.

I liked to think that in the future, there would be no bell bottoms.