The "Iron Lady" Is Dead.

Margaret Thatcher is dead. For those of you who've been living somewhere other than the U.K. (that's the United Kingdom, not the University of Kentucky), which is a lot of us, Margaret Thatcher was the first and only female Prime Minister of Great Britain. Historic as that is, her legacy will be much more remembered for her 11-year attempt to return Britain to its former feudal state. Many say that she effectively destroyed the country and it has yet to fully recover. The British, it turns out, are a lot less reserved about her than we are across the ocean. And the most vociferous critics of the Iron Lady, it turns out, were artists. A lot of musicians in England had very much a pointed perspective. One song was famously called "Margaret On The Guillotine".  She was a force of nature that seemingly nothing could stop. Artists and musicians helped fuel the growing outrage with her until she was finally toppled in 1990. One noted singer, Morrissey penned a venom-filled op-ed in The Daily Beast following her passing, calling her "a terror without an atom of humanity." He also wrote "Margaret On The Guillotine" during Thatcher's heyday.

So...safe to assume Morrissey didn't think much of her.
I mean, you couldn't infer that when he asks "When will you die?"
Well, she's dead now. At 87. Of a stroke. She spent her final years in dementia, which seems fitting given the years she spent hating things like working people, feminists, the arts in particular, and poor people. All this hollows you out. I'll have to check this part out, but I heard that she died alone in a hotel room with only a caregiver in the room next door to attend to her. Curious how a woman of such heft and bombast could come to such a pitiable end. Her twin children were living abroad and apparently didn't visit often. Of course, the exact contours of their relationship are unknown, but it does make one speculate about the reasons why some grown children put states, continents, and even oceans worth of distance between their parents. The Iron Lady, she who wrecked England was now wrecked herself, and those closest to her seemed not to care very much.

Having said this, it seems that the Thatcher twins have made names for themselves, particularly the son, Mark, in ways their mother mightn't have approved of. And all of this is to note this: Thatcher was a force in and of herself. This is noteworthy. But she might have done well to realize what most superheroes get: I must only use this power for good.

I think Morrissey might agree.

Margaret Thatcher 1925-2013

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While You Were Watching "Game of Thrones"

Last night the 2013 Major League Baseball season began quietly with a game between the twice-contending Texas Rangers and the non-contending American League new entrants, the Houston Astros. Destined for underdog status this year, and with the lowest payroll ($20 million) in the big leagues, the Astros gave playoff-tested Texas a run for its money, beating them 8-2, a sound whoopin' by any standard. Texas, of course will likely recover and avenge this embarrassment. Houston on the other hand gets to brag about having drawn first blood being clearly overmatched.

Today the season officially gets underway with the Boston Red Sox facing the decimated New York Yankees at Yankee Stadium (for the New England crowd), and my hometown New York Mets facing San Diego at CitiField. Meanwhile, over on the left coast, the San Francisco Giants defend their World Series title against perennial rivals the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Oh, to be Jon Miller right now.

The Texas/Houston matchup makes me think of Robb Stark, the King of the North, seeking to avenge his father's death and rescue his sisters from the Lannisters down in King's Landing. Anyone watching this match-up has to think that the Starks are doomed. But they have (or had) the Kingslayer under guard, and King Robb is not be underestimated. He has Lord Tywin's attention, which is no mean feat.
Rick Ankiel, whose 3-run HR put the game away for Houston, reminds me a bit of Jon Snow, Ned Stark's other son, who seems to be finding new life beyond the Wall with those who fight the White Walkers.

See, I watched the game, and I saw the "Game".

Jon Miller, the Voice of the San Francisco Giants

 Rick Ankiel, reborn as the Hero in Houston's 8-2 victory over Texas last night.

Jon Snow, son of Ned Stark, seeking to be a Hero north of the Wall

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

 A White Walker, the object of Snow's hero-making quest. Yeah. Good luck with that!

And, finally the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister looking not so good here, Lord Tywin, ruling as Hand of the King (which is to say, King, since Joffrey is a child, and a sociopathic coward), and none too happy about the current state of affairs as he faces a threat from the King of the North, Robb Stark.

Game of Thrones, the game of Baseball, the metaphors abound. Let the games begin!

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Nothing To See Here

An article on Salon this past week sought to answer a question posed by others about former President George W. Bush's newfound passion for painting. The question was did his artwork offer any insights into the man or into his presidency. I would have to answer, along with the writer, most assuredly not.
I suspect the former president is as much a mystery to himself as he is to the rest of us, and his artwork, about which people so enthusiastically rave is no more than just a snapshot of what he happens to be observing at the moment. No self-reflection. No introspection, and certainly nothing that would give anyone anymore insight into who he is and what his presidency was about. I once told someone, a very devout Mormon in fact, that Bush has no spiritual connection that I have ever been able to discern. I think you could fairly argue that he has no active inner life either. No active self awareness and no inclination to question his motivations, feelings, etc.

This is very much like his arguably more intelligent, if equally opaque Vice President Dick Cheney. Both men during their time in the White House carried with them an aura of absolute certainty about their actions. Now certainty doesn't mean they were right. But they were never in doubt. They never gave themselves the luxury of asking questions, soliciting other viewpoints, or even wondering if they might be wrong if not insane.

So while Dick Cheney goes fly-fishing and tells the world to essentially go to hell for questioning his decisions, the former president may find himself, stirred by his new passion, asking, or attempting to ask the questions he never allowed himself to even entertain during 8 years as Commander-In Chief. Because art, doing art, invites that kind of inner journey. That is, if you want to do work that means anything. Some people will always be content doing still life renderings of bowls of fruit, flowers in a vase, or in Mr. Bush's case, dogs. Or on occasion, the picture of his legs in water as he sits in the tub, seeing nothing, understanding nothing.

And a river runs through the stygian blackness that is Cheney's soul.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bush paints what he sees. He just knows not what he sees or why.

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More Snow...

The Goddess of Winter isn't done with us yet, is she?

Damn

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Meanwhile On Planet Cheney...

On Friday, March 15th, Showtime Network releases "The World According To Dick Cheney", which allows our former VP to essentially hold forth with his unique brand of snarling gravitas. You can see a preview here, and then close your eyes and imagine what it might be like to interview Darkseid, Darth Vader, or Victor von Doom.

Somehow you just don't imagine this guy (or these guys) painting dogs, do you?

Neither can I.

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KCD

Enough Already!!

According to the Telegram & Gazette, we the residents of Worcester, MA received 108.9 inches of snow this season. Now, we've had winters like this before. In fact, we have a list of snowiest winters on record in recent years, and we have a record, set in the winter of 1995-1996, that still stands: 132.9 inches. That's more than twice our normal of 65 inches. Last year, as the locals will tell you, we didn't have anything that resembled a "normal" winter. Any such notions of that becoming a trend were swept aside by the blizzard that was Nemo in February. Yesterday, Saturn wrung itself out over the region. We got 22.8 inches. Hooray for us. This is more our speed. I'm waiting for someone to suggest that we had a "mild" winter. Yeah. Maybe on your planet. Meanwhile on this one, the argument for a more characteristic winter in this region has been made.

SO ENOUGH ALREADY!!

Papa's Got A Brand New Bag!

One of the strangest, and possibly under-reported stories in modern politics also happens to be one of the strangest stories in art. Strange because it features the one person that I and many other folks would never expect or imagine would have such a passion for art. That person, ladies and gentlemen (drumroll please), is none other than former President George Walker Bush!

WHAT??

You heard it here first friends. Actually, you heard it hear after news outlet Salon and a few others first made noise about the President's artistic aspirations. The latest story says he took to painting with a passion that bowled over his teacher, Bonnie Flood. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea of a GOP president who would have defunded the National Endowment For the Arts if that bill had crossed his desk, and whose allies tried, as conservatives tend to do, to wipe out funding for the CPB (that's the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which brings you Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow, and that little-watched thing called Downton Abbey). Never mind that the funding for those entities amounts to an infinitesimal portion of the national budget. Never mind that US government spending for the arts tends to be a target for cuts no matter who is sitting in the White House. Never mind that our spending for the war in Afghanistan exceeds that miniscule amount by several orders of magnitude. Don't let's get wrapped up in all that!

Let's just watch in awe at the under the radar transformation of our former president, who essentially left the country in a pretty bad place, allowed the greedy to profit, etc, etc, into a wine-sipping artiste'!
In case you were wondering (and I really wasn't until this) what ol' Dubya was doing with his time down there on the ranch in Texas, well now you know. We all know now.

He's painting.
Painting dogs. Fifty of them so far. Oh, and there was that thing about him painting pictures of himself in the shower. Some people thought that was strange. So far the sort of stereotypical "weird" tag that's tagged on to artists seems to be sticking to him. He's on the right track. His teacher seems to think he has real potential. So the presidential gig didn't work out so great. It's okay. Maybe this was his calling all along. If only that teacher had gotten to him in 2000.

Ye Gods.


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