Showing posts with label RLC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RLC. Show all posts
"James McLure Dies at 59; Wrote Garrulous Plays."
"Obituary headline to die for," emails the irrepressible RLC.
Stay-at-Home-Dad complains about the special treatment he gets as the one dad amongst the moms at a library storytime.
And the commenters — this is in the NYT — assail him:
This is all deja vu for me. 30 years ago — 30 years! — I was married to a writer who was the stay-at-home parent, processing this kind of material in writing. It became a novel, published in1991 1988. I thought we were in the middle and toward the end of this situation as a new cultural phenomenon. 30 years ago. And now... it's still fodder for a NYT parenting column. Good lord! Will these sex roles never go away?
I was all ready to be sympathetic to the father, but by the end of this piece I was irritated. People were trying to be nice and you ended up getting special treatment. Welcome to being a man! Has this never bothered you before? Or were somehow you able to suck it up in other situations?It continues. And yet... the guy got his little essay into the NYT. But it's ironic... if his point is he wants to not to be noticed.
I'm sure that if he continues to have such a negative attitude about his role as a stay at home dad, and all the activities involved, that all the moms will be more than happy to ignore him. I know I would.
This is all deja vu for me. 30 years ago — 30 years! — I was married to a writer who was the stay-at-home parent, processing this kind of material in writing. It became a novel, published in
"On the right, hateful words are fired like bullets. I still ride a bike."
Richard Cohen* still rides a bike, but his mind is going. I mean, he's riding his bike, listening to a folk rock channel he created on Pandora on his iPhone, and for some reason, instead of throwing new stuff at him, which I think is the point of Pandora, it keeps playing the old Neil Young song "Ohio."
Cohen plunges into his 40-year-old memories about how awful it was when the National Guard shot and killed 4 college students who were protesting the Vietnam War. And naturally, in Cohen's bike-drained, folk-music befuddled brain, that leads to what's wrong with... Glenn Beck!
Why don't you see? Back in 1970, the Governor of Ohio said the protesters were "worse than the Brownshirts and the communist element. . . . We will use whatever force necessary to drive them out of Kent." Cohen weaves his literary magic for us dogged old WaPo readers:
Cohen rants some more about how awful everything on the right sounds to his folk-music plugged old ears. He concludes:
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*That's WaPo columnist Richard Cohen, or as we call him around here: the never-slept-with-Althouse Richard Cohen.
ADDED: Michael C. Moynihan:
Cohen plunges into his 40-year-old memories about how awful it was when the National Guard shot and killed 4 college students who were protesting the Vietnam War. And naturally, in Cohen's bike-drained, folk-music befuddled brain, that leads to what's wrong with... Glenn Beck!
Why don't you see? Back in 1970, the Governor of Ohio said the protesters were "worse than the Brownshirts and the communist element. . . . We will use whatever force necessary to drive them out of Kent." Cohen weaves his literary magic for us dogged old WaPo readers:
That was the language of that time. And now it is the language of our time. It is the language of Glenn Beck, who fetishizes about liberals...... fetishizes about liberals... To "fetishize" is to make a fetish of. How do you make a fetish of about something? Cohen's rugged bike path is studded with incomprehensible prepositions.
... and calls Barack Obama a racist. It is the language of rage...What language? You didn't even quote anything from Beck. Maybe you created a Pandora channel for Beck and you listen and ideate furiously while cycling, but I don't know what you're talking about. I don't pay much attention to the pudgy chattering TV pundit, but he doesn't seem to be raging. I have seen him crying. And oddly, in Cohen's first paragraph, he portrays himself struggling (while biking) to "repress a tear" when Neil sings "Ohio." Oh, compassion! It either builds credibility or it doesn't. (Depending on whether you're liberal or conservative.)
... that fuels too much of the Tea Party...I'm supposed to have the right image of the Tea Party so I can just swallow that assertion whole. But I've been to Tea Party rallies — and heard about them from my husband — and the people seemed pretty nice and normal. To me, Cohen's attempt to smear ordinary people is what's ugly.
Cohen rants some more about how awful everything on the right sounds to his folk-music plugged old ears. He concludes:
I hear the song more clearly now than I ever did. It is a distant sound from our not-so-distant past, but a clear warning about our future. Four dead in Ohio. Not just a song. A lesson.Pedal on, aging columnist. Let the stream of consciousness wash down. Flow river flow. Wherever that river goes, that's where Richard Cohen wants to be.
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*That's WaPo columnist Richard Cohen, or as we call him around here: the never-slept-with-Althouse Richard Cohen.
ADDED: Michael C. Moynihan:
And no, Richard Cohen doesn’t catch the irony: The dissent of Kent State protesters, he thinks, was met with deadly force because of rhetoric that “otherized them,” that turned them into a domestic enemy. Pretty much exactly what Richard Cohen is doing to the dissidents of the Tea Party movement.
Hey! Business Insider used my picture without attribution!
Look here! Scroll down. See?
(Enlarge.)
That is a picture of me working on my last law school exam. I've blogged about it before. My son John scanned it and uploaded it on his Flickr site here.
It has a Creative Commons license, reserving some rights, and there should be attribution to the photographer, Richard Lawrence Cohen, who was, back then, my husband.
That's not the first time I've seen the picture used like that. It's interesting to me that people see it as a generic hard-working student, since of course I see myself as completely specific. I had a Federal Courts exam to write, and I had a newborn baby a few feet away in our studio apartment. That baby, John, is now 29 years old.
(Enlarge.)
That is a picture of me working on my last law school exam. I've blogged about it before. My son John scanned it and uploaded it on his Flickr site here.
It has a Creative Commons license, reserving some rights, and there should be attribution to the photographer, Richard Lawrence Cohen, who was, back then, my husband.
That's not the first time I've seen the picture used like that. It's interesting to me that people see it as a generic hard-working student, since of course I see myself as completely specific. I had a Federal Courts exam to write, and I had a newborn baby a few feet away in our studio apartment. That baby, John, is now 29 years old.
It's the President and the First Lady vacationing in Asheville and eating at 12 Bones.
That's what we did last year. Look at the photograph.
See the big red sign in the background in that photograph? Here's my picture from the same room:
The guys are RLC and Meade (my 2 husbands).
(And here's my old blog post about 12 Bones. We need to do a summer drive that takes us back down that way again. I'd like to spend a few days in Asheville and eat every meal at 12 Bones.)
***
See the big red sign in the background in that photograph? Here's my picture from the same room:
The guys are RLC and Meade (my 2 husbands).
(And here's my old blog post about 12 Bones. We need to do a summer drive that takes us back down that way again. I'd like to spend a few days in Asheville and eat every meal at 12 Bones.)
A father who stays home with his child while his wife works struggles with feelings of isolation and shame.
This was the story of my life, 25 years ago. My ex-husband wrote a novel about it. I couldn't believe, back then, the way this problem persisted. And now, here's this guy writing about it and getting an Instapundit link as if it's a fresh problem yielding new insights.
These deeply embedded sex roles... they don't change so easily. Being large-minded and flexible and into change isn't enough. It doesn't get at the root of what you really feel, and you can't just feel what you want to feel.
These deeply embedded sex roles... they don't change so easily. Being large-minded and flexible and into change isn't enough. It doesn't get at the root of what you really feel, and you can't just feel what you want to feel.
Richard Cohen says "Let Polanski Go — But First Let Me At Him."
Absurd macho posturing from the liberal (?) columnist:
I'll bet he's opposed to torture, yet he's in love with the idea of hurting someone as a way to express outrage. I'll bet he thinks that the locution "bust him one in the mouth" makes it man-to-man and somehow okay. Indeed, it's perfectly apt... to punch a 76-year-old man in the face.
Such is the fantasy of an aging major-media male opinionator. Look, either Polanski deserves to be put in prison or he does not. Take a position. Your fantasy is of committing a crime for which you would deserve to be put in prison. Yes, yes, of course, you'd never do it. Which is why you are a big hypocritical pussy.
This post is about the Washington Post Richard Cohen, not my ex-husband Richard Cohen. Around here, the WaPo Richard Cohen is called Richard Hasn't-Slept-With-Althouse Cohen.)
It’s alright with me if Roman Polanski is freed by the Swiss authorities who have detained him at the request of the United States -- if first I get a chance to bust him one in the mouth....Ugh. This is on the level of hoping someone sent to prison gets raped. You think it's cute to flaunt your violent fantasies? I'll bet that elsewhere this guy acts as if it's important to follow the law, yet he loves the idea of punishment without due process whenever it jibes with the ebb and flow of his emotions.
I'll bet he's opposed to torture, yet he's in love with the idea of hurting someone as a way to express outrage. I'll bet he thinks that the locution "bust him one in the mouth" makes it man-to-man and somehow okay. Indeed, it's perfectly apt... to punch a 76-year-old man in the face.
Such is the fantasy of an aging major-media male opinionator. Look, either Polanski deserves to be put in prison or he does not. Take a position. Your fantasy is of committing a crime for which you would deserve to be put in prison. Yes, yes, of course, you'd never do it. Which is why you are a big hypocritical pussy.
***
This post is about the Washington Post Richard Cohen, not my ex-husband Richard Cohen. Around here, the WaPo Richard Cohen is called Richard Hasn't-Slept-With-Althouse Cohen.)
"An' there the police sat so patiently/waiting to find out white rice..."
"... you can put sardines on to get out of / eating all those leftovers twice."
(Remedial reading for the Dylan-deprived: here. Remedial listening: here. Best Dylan ever, arguably. Approximately.)
(Re-meade-ial reading.)
***
(Remedial reading for the Dylan-deprived: here. Remedial listening: here. Best Dylan ever, arguably. Approximately.)
(Re-meade-ial reading.)
Jack Kerouac did not text.
I need to get some blogging up, and I actually have about 5 things I've been meaning to write, that is, after the completion of various Sunday morning activities, such as transforming the corn leftover from last night into breakfast and analyzing why I didn't quite replicate my mother's corn fritters. But somehow, I'm reading the comments over on Richard's blog — not even my own blog.
(I did read some of my blog's comments on my iPhone in the middle of the night, and I'd just like to say, Lem, I'm sorry no one was in the buckets of flowers with you last night to say, yes, we're your friends and thanks for telling us that you've found comfort here.)
Anyway, over at Richard's, Penny commented:
(We've been eating salads from that 101 salads list, and, for example, #2 really is — as billed — "[a]stonishing.")
There are only 30 items on Kerouac's list, so it's easier to read than not to read. Nevertheless, I'll copy a few here, with commentary:
And text, if u want 2.
(I did read some of my blog's comments on my iPhone in the middle of the night, and I'd just like to say, Lem, I'm sorry no one was in the buckets of flowers with you last night to say, yes, we're your friends and thanks for telling us that you've found comfort here.)
Anyway, over at Richard's, Penny commented:
I just noticed your new blog header. NICE! I like it a lot. I do have one comment though. Pen authors need to watch out for what I will call "texting creep".That refers to the quote in Richard's banner:
SCRIBBLED SECRET NOTEBOOKS, AND WILD TYPEWRITTEN PAGES, FOR YR OWN JOY... SUBMISSIVE TO EVERYTHING, OPEN, LISTENING... SOMETHING THAT YOU FEEL WILL FIND ITS OWN FORM. --JACK KEROUAC, FROM "BELIEF AND TECHNIQUE FOR MODERN PROSE"Kerouac wrote "yr," long before anybody was indulging in rampant abbreviation for texting purposes. I'd read that quote in Richard's banner many times, but this morning was the first time I was moved to Google the quote. I wanted to make sure of what I was already sure of, that the abbreviation was Kerouac's. And the cool thing about that, for which I offer a penny to Penny, is that I found the whole context, "Belief and Technique for Modern Prose," which is written — Richard elides this — as a numbered list. I love lists, especially numbered lists.
(We've been eating salads from that 101 salads list, and, for example, #2 really is — as billed — "[a]stonishing.")
There are only 30 items on Kerouac's list, so it's easier to read than not to read. Nevertheless, I'll copy a few here, with commentary:
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own houseAnd don't even yell as if u were drunk outside yr house, especially at a cop.
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mindConsider it done! Since 2004.
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mindI often write bottomless. Much more than topless. Because I like to write in bed.
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibitionK.
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monologWould all the political bloggers please take a day to do exactly this? Then, if you can do it, do it all the time.
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea...See? Blog!
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
And text, if u want 2.
Boys conquer Craggy Pinnacle.
For fans of RLC's blog, these are Agents 95 and 97. We're here in Asheville, North Carolina, at a unique family reunion. For example, here are RLC and Meade, together at 12 Bones:
So there you have it: a picture of my husbands, former and future.
"Blues is what I love, and blues is what I always do."
"Blues is my life. It's a true feeling that comes from the heart, not something that just comes out of my mouth."
We* saw Koko Taylor** at the Blind Pig*** in Ann Arbor circa 1970. Koko seemed pretty old then, but we were young. We're old now, and Koko lived a long time.
RIP, Koko Taylor.
______
* "We" = my then-future, now ex-husband Richard and I.
** The one song I know she sang that night is "Wang Dang Doodle," which, I see now, is a song Willie Dixon wrote for Howlin' Wolf. Neither Dixon nor Wolf liked the song, which Wolf called a "levee camp" song. We had no associations like that, of course. No thoughts of levee camps for us Ann Arbor college kids who filled the basement night club. We just assumed it was about sex — though I don't think anyone (in Ann Arbor) used the word "wang" to mean penis in those Vietnam-and-hippie days. It seemed like she hollered the lyric "all night long" a hundred times.
*** The Blind Pig is still around.
We* saw Koko Taylor** at the Blind Pig*** in Ann Arbor circa 1970. Koko seemed pretty old then, but we were young. We're old now, and Koko lived a long time.
RIP, Koko Taylor.
______
* "We" = my then-future, now ex-husband Richard and I.
** The one song I know she sang that night is "Wang Dang Doodle," which, I see now, is a song Willie Dixon wrote for Howlin' Wolf. Neither Dixon nor Wolf liked the song, which Wolf called a "levee camp" song. We had no associations like that, of course. No thoughts of levee camps for us Ann Arbor college kids who filled the basement night club. We just assumed it was about sex — though I don't think anyone (in Ann Arbor) used the word "wang" to mean penis in those Vietnam-and-hippie days. It seemed like she hollered the lyric "all night long" a hundred times.
*** The Blind Pig is still around.
3 Beautiful Things.
RLC — my ex-husband — cribbed the idea 3 Beautiful Things from a blog called 3 Beautiful Things. So far he's got:
Research Headache, Cancelled Meeting, Double SaberI wonder if the original 3 Beautiful Things is doing 3 (or 4) Beautiful Things as well as RLC. I've only glanced at 3 Beautiful Things, but I have to say I doubt it. If it is, though... astounding.
William Blake’s neighborhood, Texas radio, Indian blanket, spilled tea
Clumsy Billboard, Porkpie Hat, Heroic Twig
"You can hold back from the suffering of the world. You have free permission to do so and it is in accordance with your nature."
"But perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could have avoided."
Hey, RLC is blogging again.
Beginning — after 2 years of holding back — with that Kafka quote.
Hey, RLC is blogging again.
Beginning — after 2 years of holding back — with that Kafka quote.
Let me supply the missing links for that NYT article about the Althouse + Meade love story.
Here's the whole article. What follows are the bits that could do with links to the various blog posts and comments that are mentioned:
... the March 22 announcement on her blog...
“Does she know the guy?” sniggered Mickey Kaus, the Slate blogger, in a bloggingheads.tv interview....
... Andrew Sullivan (who also snickered at her betrothal last week)...
... about three years ago, when Ms. Althouse and her ex had a blog-spat, Mr. Meade, whose marriage was then unraveling, commented on Mr. Cohen’s behalf...
In a January post, Ms. Althouse listed lessons from Clint Eastwood’s film “Gran Torino.”...
The next morning, she posted a harsh review of “The Wrestler,” but didn’t mention the date itself....
On Friday, Feb. 13,... the commentariat buzzed with suspicion. “I think the professor has a boyfriend.” Another wrote: “Has anyone seen Meade lately?”
The next morning, Valentine’s Day, Ms. Althouse posted a photograph of the cafe with the caption, “In the Heartland.”...
On Feb. 28, Ms. Althouse posted a photo of a skillet on a stove, with the headline: “You cook breakfast. I’ll blog it.”...
Two weeks ago, Ms. Althouse put up a series of photos. The final was a close-up of her hand, trying on Tiffany sparklers. The commentariat went wild....
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