Twisted Spinster

Someone else is having trouble with all those “Nazis are people too” movies being put out by the culturally-bankrupt, dead-souled film industry. Here’s an article in the UK Times about the phenomenon:

A spectre is haunting Europe. It wears jackboots, a swastika and a delicate tear-stained expression of angst-ridden introspection.

Read the whole thing. I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks we already “understand” the Nazis quite enough, thank you, and that there isn’t any particular reasons to hunt among them for sympathetic characters. Believe it or not, there were some good guys fighting the Nazis back in the day who weren’t fellow Nazis! No really. Look it up.

(Via The Macho Response.)

Um, didn’t we have that whole Revolutionary War thing so we wouldn’t have to be governed by people who thought like this anymore? At least, that’s what I learned in school.

Another thought: what makes these people think the Kennedys have “good political genes”? It could be just as likely that they have good rum runner genes. Or considering how many of them have come to untimely, violent deaths, maybe they have good death-by-misadventure genes.

Democrats, thinking for the ignorant masses like good overlords should. I can’t wait to be issued my very own begging bowl so that when the Great Ones pass by in their motorcades I can catch some of the used latte cups and croissant-ends they toss out the windows, so I can make my humble supper.

(Via.)

Added: FWIW, here is the comment I left in Rand’s site, addressed to one of his regular, Bush-obsessed (as in BDS) trolls:

…[T]he issue… isn’t whether people should go into the same profession that other members of their family are in, the issue is the ridiculous fawning over the Kennedys and the supposed “speshulness” of their genetic makeup as concerns politics. This is coming from the Democrats, who claim to be the friends of the common man. It’s the Republicans who are supposed to be the party of exclusionary rich fat cats who don’t want any riffraff getting into power. But NO Republican spokesperson of any importance (in which I am not including some fool saying some Bush offspring is “our John John”) has made any claim whatsoever that the Bush family or any other political family has special political superpowers running through its genetic makeup — in fact, Republicans are in general (at least those who are still conservative) quite wary about basing things on genetics.

No, come on, think about it mentally. We have the “party of the Peepul” and its lackeys in the media licking the floor in delight at the idea of Yet Another Kennedy in a key political position, based solely on the fact that this person is a relative of St. JFK. Gee, you know, I’m sorry John F. and then Robert got shot and all, but that doesn’t invalidate the fact that over two hundred years ago we had a frikken’ war to get out from under the divine right of kings.

And it has nothing to do with the Bushes, that’s just your obsession and your attempt to divert the comment thread here onto it. Most people I know who voted for Dubya did so despite his relationship to the first Bush, not because of it. There is nothing like the weird “Camelot” glamour myth about the Bushes. In fact, most people I know are uneasy that so many in the Bush family are in politics. We don’t automatically drop to our knees in star-struck admiration of celebrities and their families like too many liberals do. I’m sick of the Kennedys; the whole “American royalty” treatment they’ve gotten has always struck me as essentially un-American.

The troll, if you care to read his comments, has been trying to claim that there is a similar level of adulation among Republicans over the Bushes and some other “neocon” families who all happen to go into more or less the same career. The thing is, as I said, that’s not even the issue under discussion. Does someone saying something similar about some other family at all invalidate arguments against this elevation of the Kennedys to entitled status? Even if there is a contingent of Republicans who think that the presidency should be the exclusive possession of the Bush family (and I am aware of exactly zero Republicans who think that way), that doesn’t make the idea behind it — that families who are famous for all or most of its members going into politics means they are “destined” to do so by genetics or any other factor — right.

Well the shops are crowded and traffic is crazy! That’s my excuse, anyway.

Oh, snap. Jeremy Irons is my new celebrity hero. He’s tired of the “smutty, shower room nonsense” on British radio and tv. I want to quote everything but I’ll restrict myself to this:

“It doesn’t mean it all has to be middle-class, shire-orientated behaviour. But good manners and kindness are what hold our society together. And I would think that broadcasting would try and convey that. If we don’t have respect for each other then everything breaks down.”

I keep saying. You all know we have the same problem over here and I’ve been complaining off and on about it for years. But people keep going to movies like Limbs Ripped Off Nubile Models In Slo-Mo XIV and watching “reality tv” shows like Drug Addicts Rolling Around In Their Own Vomit. I don’t get it. (By the way, the fact that they still have plays and things on the radio in the UK is just hilarious to me. Don’t they know that radio is for nasty deejays talking about doing jello shots out of Britney Spears’ ass crack? Not Shakespeare and all that sort of thing. Well, we do have National Public Radio, but nobody listens to that but old hippies.)

Okay, cat update: she got tired of lying on the damp mulch and went back inside to sleep for hours under the table where I have my cable box. I woke her up to poke a little food in her mouth, which irritated her so much she moved back to her pillow, which is now next to the utility closet. Xena is a nervous wreck about the whole thing — I think Squeaky must smell different from being sick and all, because Xena is acting like I’ve brought a whole new cat home. She’s been smelling the places where Squeaky has been, and then going up to Squeaky and hissing at her. And Xena has also been barfing all over the rug. And the one time she doesn’t barf on the rug, she barfs on my Ikea catalogue. Think she’s trying to tell me something? (Yeah, like don’t keep anything you don’t want the cat to barf on on the floor.)

Tomorrow morning I go to pick up the fluids and stuff for the cat. I’m still having the fundraiser — thanks to all who have donated so far. Every little bit helps.

This is not actually a slam against capitalists, just self-proclaimed ones who are to the free market what mold is to drywall. Ones like “Tatyana,” commenting on this post about a neglectful landlord who let the apartment buildings he owned fall to pieces. The residents have to move out, because the buildings have been condemned. A fairly straightforward account of what happens when you bite off more than  you can chew (the buildings are being foreclosed on) and the fallout therefrom, right? Not to this Tatyana, who trumpeted that the owner “had the right to take a loss” on the buildings, that he was not obligated to do more for his renters than what was in their lease agreements, that renters want apartment owners to be their “nannies,” and that it was unfair for the evil “state” to make apartment building owners adhere to building maintenance codes or any kind of standard whatsoever except what he, and a free, Ayn-Randian non-altruistic man, valued and felt like adhering to. Well, all I can say is John Galt would have slapped the apartment owner’s face, but not all of us are John Galt — many of us want to get as much as we can grab for the least possible effort. That’s why we have community standards, building codes, all sorts of things that freewheeling pretend capitalists (who are actually looters in disguise — yes, I’ve read the books, I know what I’m talking about, you feel no obligation to tell the truth about what you are selling, it’s all on the buyer’s shoulders and if he’s so stupid as to give you money without spending hours and hours of research and detective work to find out if the apartment he wants to rent is up to code then so what you have his money. Sucker!)

No really, it’s not that difficult: people rent so they won’t have to do certain things, like replace bad wiring, moldy drywall, and corroded plumbing. That’s why they pay security deposits and why renting is more expensive than owning (if not in the actual monthly payment then over the long run since you aren’t building up good credit and the money you put into rent won’t result in you owning anything after a set number of years). And in fact, renters are not allowed to do such things to their property — I’m not even allowed to paint the walls (well, I can, but I have to repaint them the original color before I move or I’ll lose part or all of my security deposit) or change out the hideous white plastic blinds for something more attractive. I accept those restrictions for the freedom not having to unclog my sink myself or fix my broken a/c at my own expense.

And people who live in a community together, like a city or a state, accept that there are certain base standards to adhere to, because without them human nature runs wild and everything goes to shit. Think of all those stories about that one house in the neighborhood where the yards are unkempt and full of trash, rats and other vermin run wild, the stench from the house (which is full of cats, dogs, and their uncleaned-up feces and piss) fills the air for blocks. In Tatyana’s world the community should not be allowed to force the owner to clean up. In Tatyana’s world there are magical barriers to vermin and bad smells making those things respect property lines. Tatyana states that she comes from the former Soviet Union, and uses that as her excuse to never let any state tell her what to do or something. She’s got it sideways: she does not seem to realize that it’s not the community rules that are bad; that depends upon the way they are imposed. In the former USSR, they were imposed from the top down, based on some far away report by some faceless commitee, and therefore not respected and thus not adhered to all that much — hence the crappy living conditions in communist countries. Here in the USA, community standards are set by the people who live in those communities. If Tatyana feels alienated from where she lives here in the US, and thinks that there are rules and regulations she finds too restricting and onerous for her liking, she’s under no obligation to live here — she is free to leave, for some place that suits her better.

One final thing: I think much of her cynical and distrustful outlook is due to her upbringing in the cynical and distrustful atmosphere in the former Soviet Union, a place where little natural community feeling was apparently fostered, and where apparently this sort of attitude (by all report) continues to hold sway and hold Russia et al back. That just goes to show how living under communism damages, not just the people living under it, but future generations who have supposedly broken “free.” Freedom takes trust. If you can’t trust the people you are living among to a certain level, you’re screwed.

It’s their version of Santa handing out sacks of coal and bundles of sticks for all the bad kids: among the movies being released on Christmas Day for the relatively new (well, we didn’t do it when I was a kid) American custom of going to the movies on Christmas is a movie about a possibly kiddie-diddling priest and the unpleasant nun (or whatever she is) that tries to catch him out, Doubt. By the way, the “doubt” of the title doesn’t seem to be the attitide of either of the main characters — the priest, played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and the nun, played by Meryl Streep, or at least that’s how it looks in the trailer. According to the plot synopsis on IMDB, the “doubt” is what all the other characters are supposed to be feeling towards the nun, but if you ask me the “doubt” really means what the people running the film industry want Catholics to feel towards their church, and by proxy all Christians to feel towards their beliefs.

Which brings me to my point: this is being released on Christmas, and I can’t think of a nastier “take that!” to give to people trying to celebrate Christmas for reasons other than getting gifts and going to parties. I guess this is Hollywood’s revenge for having to adhere to the Hays Code for so long. I wonder if anyone has even read it — seeing the complete list of everything banned makes me realize why movies of yesterday, even the so-called “B” pictures, seem to be so much better than most big blockbusters of the today: filmmakers, prevented from filler such as lengthy sex scenes or detailed depictions of criminal activity meant they had to actually be creative in their plotting and scene settings, and not being allowed to salt the script with numerous “fucks” and “shits” meant they had to write interesting dialogue. Really, read the whole thing. You’ll cry. I can’t imagine a single thing the code lists that is actually necessary to any truly good story. And don’t most movies these days consist of every single thing listed therein, except maybe (and I’m not sure since I don’t watch those “art” films) exposing childrens’ sex organs?

Oh well, gotta break a few eggs to make an avant-garde mess on the floor that you can install in the Tate and call art! Some other uplifting treasures being released over the holidays: Seven Pounds, another black-man-as-Christ flick (with Will Smith doing the crying and suffering; you know, with those ears of his he is starting to resemble our new prez, which can only be to the good of his career); The Wrestler, with Mickey Rourke playing yet another part where he gets to beat someone up and be sweaty; Nothing But the Truth, about a Crusading Journalist up against the dastardly US government; Milk, which is not about what does a body good, but which is about a guy who used to do other guys’ bodies and who became famous for getting shot to death in San Francisco; Revolutionary Road, which is about how the Fifties sucked and was boring but especially so for cute married couples played by Leonardo Di Caprio and Kate Winslet (yes, the Titanic pair are together again in what sounds like another sinker); Valkyrie — rebellious Nazis led by Tom Cruise in an eye patch don’t manage to kill Hitler. I call it “Reepicheep in Risky Business 2.”

“Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2.”

There was an ad on tv for this just now. Hold me, I’m scared.

Well, I’m sitting here eating pasta and watching NCIS and trying not to worry about my sick cat all by herself in some strange cage at the vet’s office. (Or worse, surrounded by the smells and noises of strange people and animals! O, the felinity!) Anyway, since I have the tv on I get to see all the commercials for Hollywood’s idea of what makes uplifting Christmas viewing. Evil priests and mean nuns (Doubt); aliens destroying the world because we suck (the remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still); and then for the Watergate-was-our-finest-hour crowd, that movie about the David Frost interview of Richard Nixon. This last one is particularly grating and here’s why: I remember what David Frost looked and sounded like, and he did not look and sound like a member of Oasis. I remember what Nixon looked and sounded like. He did not look and sound like someone doing a comedy parody of Nixon.

That is all.

Oh, I get it. Hee! It’ll be a nice mind-cleanser every time I have to see that commercial about the commemorative Obama plate on HGTV.

The reality on the ground. Sure, Obama campaigned to be the Princess Sparklepony Unicorn Rider promiser of all things good and liberal to get his ass in the Oval Office. But now that he’s there he has to govern the whole kit and kaboodle that is the USA, not just do what the leftist-weirdo majority that backed him wants. The first unpleasant kick in the crotch to the wealthy hippie left was Proposition 8, which was passed mostly thanks to the Hispanic and Black minorities who — shock, horror, why you ungrateful…– mostly don’t like gay people and want marriage to mean a lady and a man. Picking some bland centrist dude who happens to not be ashamed to be Christian to give the invocation at his inauguration ceremony instead of, oh, I don’t know, that performance artist woman who paints her naked body with raw eggs and chocolate* and screams about her dad? is kick number two, or twenty — I haven’t been paying attention, I must admit. Anyway, the Noisy Left is not pleased. Ooh, I love the smell of Schadenfreude in the morning.

Of course, let us not forget how stupid the Noisy Left is. And let not my fellow righties relax our fascist vigilance. Don’t put those jackboots away! Think of the Noisy Left as a distraction to hide Obama’s real agenda.

(Via Kathy Schaidle.)

*Trufax: I once got free tickets to a Karen Finley, ah, performance in Miami Beach from this guy I knew who owned a record store. This was back in the early 90s, so she’s been at this stuff for a while. Anyway, I didn’t go. I was tired, my car was broken — I don’t remember my excuse. Or maybe I just didn’t feel like watching a naked lady smear eclair ingredients all over herself. I had pretty low standards at the time but I did have my limits.

I think that covers just about everything. Trust me — when I was a liberal I was stupider than wood. I actually thought Jeanine Garofalo and Margaret Cho were funny! I voted for Bill Clinton despite that little voice in my head telling me that he was a thief and a conman. I took seriously the idea that the way to fight crime was to ban guns, since we all know that criminals fear the law more than anything. Hey, at least you know I’d make a lousy criminal.

So far, the best commenter is Don, who has brought to the debate here the stunning revelation that Kathy Shaidle is, in fact, a Canadian, and not an American, a thing that… actually nobody believed. Even in remote villages in Kazakhstan where the wifi-enabled Starbucks just opened yesterday they know she’s from Canada. But you have to give him props for trying to fire up those two remaining synapses. Oh wait, no you don’t.