The Forsaken

If Mother Teresa was forsaken by God, what chance do I have? The bombshell out of Calcutta this month: For five decades Mother Teresa felt abandoned by God. A life time of her personal letters have been compiled and published in Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light; a rather sad and depressing account, her own account, of a life lived in spiritual emptiness, and driven by obedience." I am told that God loves me--and yet the reality of darkness, emptiness, and coldness is so great that nothing touches my soul"

In 1946, Sister Teresa claimed that she was called upon by Jesus himself, to devote her life to the poorest of the poor, the sickest of the sick. She never heard from him again. I won't go into the whole sordid affair, news of it is everywhere, but of all that is whirring in the world today-- wars, famine, political scandal...-- it is this news that is most shocking to me. I can not fathom a faith in a higher power so strong, that it could last decades with no feeling of physical or spiritual contact, just a cerebral notion of its legitimacy, and to sacrifice ones life based on this memory is beyond my comprehension. Given my capacity for comprehension, I suppose that's not saying much, and yet it is saying everything about this woman. MT wrote late in her life, as international recognition and praise were increasingly being directed toward her, "If I ever become a Saint, I will surely be one of darkness". There are a gazillion interpretations, lessons, and analogies applicable and readily available, custom made actually, to this revelation, for now anyway, they fall upon my deaf ears.

Madonna Corp.

I happened upon this image while randomly surfing the net yesterday and something about it made me smile. The implication is obvious sans the seven paragraph hatchet job that accompanied it. It was an article chronicling why Madonna is the most over rated artist in the world; accusing her of having trace musical abilities; a fact obfuscated by the skills of her various & talented producers over the years.
Guilty as charged.
So what if Madonna isn't the best singer or dancer? So what if she hides her shortcomings behind big production values and a cutting edge support troupe. So what if she she has amassed incomprehensible wealth by surrounding herself with the very best young talent available. I don't care quite frankly.

There are plenty of artists that sing, dance, act, write more profound lyrics, and are far superior artists than Madonna. But what Madonna has that very few other artists have is insight and POWER, combined with raw sexual energy. A male sexual energy. It's the kind of energy that doesn't give a shit who disapproves, in fact the opposition serves as a tonic and increases her will to succeed. When she fell off her horse and cracked her ribs, what did she do... She got back on that fuck'in horse, hired Steven Klein to shoot her & the horse in an S&M themed photo essay for W magazine, then went on to choreograph a solid one third of her world tour in a John Paul Gautier inspired homage to everything equestrian. She is brilliant. Talk about creating a spectacle from nothing... it is just this sort of branding that has helped Madonna establish and maintain her iconoclastic standing through out the world.

When Madonna hired Shep Pettibone and Andre Betts to Produce Erotica in the early 90's, she essentially was making the shrewd decision to elicit the help of young talent who had their hands on the pulse of underground sound and House music-- to help her bring that sound mainstream. The driving beat combined with the sensu-sexual theatrics Madonna created around the album, snowballed into a firestorm that is felt worldwide even still. A few years later Madonna developed an inclination toward the metaphysical, and she tapped William Orbit, master of atmospheric electronica, to produce a trance-spiritual-epic of sorts: Ray of Light won four grammys because of Orbitts multi-layered mastery, and yes, perhaps Madge was an incidental element with regard to those awards, but that music would not have been heard by the world were it not for Madonna. She put the deal together--she made it happen. Taking ambient electronica a step further, she pulled in Mirwais to produce both Music & American Life, both of which, incidentally, went to #1 world wide, all the while critics were panning our Queen as being 'washed up".

It's more than the Music Stupid! Madonna embodies i n s p i r a t i o n. She represents to me at least, how much is possible within a single life time, and how a life of magnitude can be widdled from a small and potentially insignificant epicenter.

Why do you love Madonna?

Roger

The typical neurotic cat owner is overly protective, controlling, and much too concerned with the daily trappings of the feline world. If that's a crime...book me Danno! From the day I brought Bubbles and Penuche home from the orphanage, they have been fed high-protein, low fat, dry cat food. From time to time I treat them with Greenies, an organic snack formulated to promote excellent feline dental health, and Cool Claws, a delicious non-dairy faux ice cream treat. They love em both. I have never understood why cat owners would give their pets anything else; wet food is terrible for their teeth, and human food is terrible for everything else. No- Brainer in my book.

Lately I have noticed that Bubbles, my hood kitty ,the one who just lives for the hunt, has been eating less and less t home. I wasn't too concerned until yesterday, when my eighty-six year old neighbor Roger, muttered something about pork chops, fried fish, and Bubbles, all in the same sentence as I waved hello to him from across the fence.

"Say what?"

"Bubbles show like the pork meat?"

"Pork meat?"

"...and the fried catfish too, she just luvit!"

I am not one to shy away from confrontation when the situation calls for it, but once my adversary hits the age of eighty, I back off. Besides, Bubbles could use another friend in the neighborhood, and I am guessing so could Roger.

Hard Candy: The M-Filer Review

Best Tracks:
Give it 2 Me
Heartbeat
Miles Away
Incredible
Beat Goes On

Someone wrote that Hard Candy is the non-stop dance record that Confessions on a Dance Floor promised to be, but wasn’t. True dat. I loved Confessions, but it wasn’t a non- stop dance album , not in the way Britney’s Blackout was, and certainly not to the degree that Hard Candy is.

We were all so worried that Madonna would succumb to the hip-hop arm bending of those men. I think it was Madonna who won those arm wrestling matches. Hard Candy is an authentic Madonna creation with some lite street cred tossed in to give it balls--or somethin'. In my humble opinion there are two throw away tracks: Candy Shop and Spanish Lessons. Both are lyrically silly, one in English, the other in Spanish. Candy Shop however, does open the album and sort of invites us in..."come on into my store, I've got candy galore", and so, what the hell...I'll give it a pass.

On first listen , I’ll confess to disliking Four Minutes. But didn't we all, and what was that about anyway? That tune rocks! HC’s third track is its best. Give it 2 Me takes everything I liked about new progressive music from the early eighties, infuses it with driving electro-trance rhythms, then amps it up with a solid teckno kick. As soon as I heard this one, I knew we were going to be just fine. Heartbeat continues with that electronic vibe I love so much. Still not sure how I feel about that refrain that has Madge rapping “ see my booty get down” over and over. It only lasts a few seconds, but I could really live without that part. Miles Away, She’s Not Me, and Incredible are each arguably the most auto biographical songs on HC. All three present stellar vocal performances by Madonna and in many ways are classic Madonna . Her signature self confidence drips off the edges of She’s Not Me, underscoring the singular reality that is Madonna: SHE'S FABULOUS! Incredible is simply that …incredible. It starts off bubble gummy, then morphs into a groovy little club tune that you gotta love the very first time you hear it. It's got single release written all over it.

Madonna catches a lot of shit for regurgitating her own lyrics from album to album, and perhaps legitimately so. I have never ,ever, seen her finesse this tendency with the skill and success that is found on Beat Goes On. Madge deftly layers in lyrics from Deeper and Deeper -- an all time favorite of mine--gives a shout out to Donna Summers' Bad Girls , then pulls into the background as Kanye West (and I can’t believe I am admitting this in public) rips out a kick ass solo to finish it off. This is an example of a song that when originally leaked, was just plain garbage. This reworked version is one of the albums best.

Dance2Night continues HC’s tradition of beat driven dance music (love the subtle nods to Starlight btw), and is a back to basics 70’s disco anthem with Madonna’s famously simple and marginally inspirational lyrics, “you don’t have to be beautiful, to be understood…” A friend referred to it as filler, I give it more credit than that. It’s fun. The last two tracks, Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You, and Voices are beautiful ballads. Not exactly ballads really, but richly lyrical, somewhat haunting, and gorgeous send offs…”who is the master and who is the slave?”.

Fine. I’ll be the slave.

It's coming together

It's 3:00 a.m. and who is going to answer that call? They both are! I couldn't be happier with the unfolding of events in Washington. We now see who Obama has chosen to surround himself with, the team he is putting together, and I suddenly feel quite confident about his success as a President.

Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State is a brilliant appointment! Better than VP, better than any other single post short of the Presidency itself. Rham Emanuel as chief of staff is another brilliant choice. I love BO installed an attack dog in that post, someone who will be less concerned with posturing and more concerned with results. And a ballet dancer no less! My biggest apprehension about an Obama presidency was that it might be a little short on political savvy. Those fears are gone.

The dream of turning Virginia blue finally became a reality. That wretched Muslim hating bigot Virgil Goode was narrowly beaten by the second coming of Christ....Tom Perriello. We love Tom! He's young, smart, and progressive and no one expected him to win. Of course our former Governor Mark Warner won election to the Senate by a landslide, and Obama became the first Democratic nominee to take Virginia's electoral votes in over 40 years.

Happy Veterans Day

"Papou" Chicago/2008

I just read that obese ten year olds have the arteries of forty-five year olds. That is so offensive to forty-five year olds! I should know. Anyway, I know this blog can be ridiculously inane at times, and this post would have been no different if not for a letter sent to my father from my younger brother, and then forwarded to me. It struck me on so many levels, not least of which is the realization that I have no real concept of what it means to sacrifice. Also, I notice that I have been a knee jerk war opponent my entire life--unapologetically so btw--because almost every U.S. military action in my life time has seemed gratuitous. World War Two was different.

My ninety year old father, who is currently undergoing cancer treatment in Chicago, is a veteran of WW II. He served in the Air Force, flying thirty-five missions over Europe, while his six Greek-American brothers also served simultaneously in the European theater. That life is so removed from anything I could ever imagine. No surprise that I didn't understand why my father was upset that I had worn his incredibly sharp green wool Air Force uniform, stripes n'all, to a Halloween party in 1998. I went as Ben Affleck in "Pearl Harbor", wearing it to a smokey venue, and not exactly showing it, or him, the respect either deserved. Anyway, it fit like a glove, and I looked great in it, but still...I didn't get it.

My brother Mike gets it. He sent this letter to him this week:

Hey Dad,
I wanted to send you an email to wish you a good Veterans Day and to thank you again for your service to our country. What your generation did to protect our freedom was second to none. The U.S. was forced into that war after Pearl Harbor was attacked and if it wasn’t for the courage, bravery and the strong character of your generation, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I’ve spoken with you about this before, but it makes me proud when you said that you were not upset that the country DRAFTED people into the military, that you KNEW you had to get in there and fight back to protect our {Country} regardless if they drafted you or not.

I appreciate you sharing some of your stories with me over the years, like crash landing in Brussels when you thought you were over Germany and had to make a decision to bring her down or jump. You guys decided to bring the big bird down to the ground and take your chances. The ball turret should have dug into the ground and force the front of the plane into the ground but by the grace of god the ball turret sheared off on impact and you were able to belly in to the field successfully. The landing was rough, but you survived. You and your men got out of there as quick as you could, thinking you were in Germany (but in reality you had made it to Brussels, a safe zone). As you were running out, the natives were running in to the plane and ransacking it. You didn’t care what they took, you were just happy to be alive.

Or, how about during one of your first of 35 bombing missions when the heavy flak pierced the thin plane lining and narrowly missed you, but did cut your oxygen hose. You knew from basic training that a man can only survive a few minutes without sufficient oxygen. You were running around the plane looking for a replacement hose unsuccessfully and desperately yelled at the pilot in the cockpit about your dire situation. He calmed you down and showed you the location of a replacement air hose. You were so worked up that you started getting sick out of the bombing doors, but you kept going and got your mission completed.

Or, how about the time you got caught without your dog tags by the MP and they put you in a holding cell. You kept telling the police that you needed to play ping pong on your Captain’s team that night. The police kept saying, you’re not going anywhere tonight! You asked to make one call, and when you reached your Captain he said, “let me talk to who ever is in charge over there”. When the military policeman got off the phone with your Captain he turned to you and said “why didn’t you tell me you were playing ping pong tonight with the Captain?!”. He let you go.

These are only 3 of the many war stories that we have discussed over the years, thank you for sharing them with me. Thanks again for your sacrifice.

Mike

Living in the Bubble

My sisters live in the little bubble known as Wheaton, Illinois. Very white, very republican, very linear. Straight lines, flat surfaces, and blue Skies. Wheaton reminds me of Majestic, that well-heeled neighbor to Agrestic, in the Showtime drama "Weeds".

The day after I got here, a crazed gunman took hostages at a local bank; considering the town has virtually no crime, I sort of feel like I hit the jack pot in terms of excitement.

Meanwhile my sister Pam and her husband Brian took off for the weekend, to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They drove up to Saugatuk, a gay-friendly resort on Lake Michigan. During a romantic walk on the beach, as they strolled toward the dunes, they had a sighting...

Him: "I think there's a naked man up there in the dunes, Pam. Do you think it's a nude beach?"

Her: "Duh Brian, there are three nude guys staring at each other, and all these empty boats bobbing in the water, that's not a nude beach... it's a gay prostitution ring!"

Priceless.