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Lets ask Americans And Their Guns, a 1967 publication from the National Rifle Association then ask "When was the last time you encountered a well-regulated militia?"
The cover of Popular Science Monthly, November 1932, and the corresponding article.
From An Anthology of Concrete Poetry, Emmett Williams, ed.
Ty Cobb's 1961 auto-biography, My Life in Baseball - the True Story, begins with a forward by General Douglas MacArthur, another mean as rabies, crazy as batshit, asshole. It is interesting to note that MacArthur was probably Cobb's only friend. Obviously, kindered spirits. Cobb still holds baseball records that will probably never be beaten, even in the current steroid era. His autobiography, however, is a gross mass of self-aggrandizing, closer to a Horatio Algers story bloated with statistics.
B. R. Myers trims the hype and examines the meat. From The Atlantic Monthly, a review of Denis Johnson's latest novel, Tree of Smoke:
"Having read nothing by Denis Johnson except Tree of Smoke, his latest novel, I see no reason to consider him a great or even a good writer, but he is apparently very well thought of by everyone else. According to the New York Times, which in 2006 sent a questionnaire to writers, editors, and critics, a collection of Johnson’s short stories titled Jesus' Son is regarded by some as the best American book of the past 25 years." The review...
From page 283 of Emmett Grogan's "Ringolevio", detailing The Invisible Circus:
The night of the Invisible Circus, the officials and ministers of Glide Church began to get rather nervous, wondering what they had gotten themselves into. They had accepted all the lies and halftruths liaisoned to them by Quaker Fish, but it was difficult to be deceived about what they saw with their own eyes. There was an elevator that ran from the street level entrance of the church to a large hall in the basement below, and Emmett had filled that hall with literally tons of shredded plastic he had spent days trucking over from a plastics factory. When people descended to the hall in the elevator, they stepped out into three feet of plastic strips and it was quite a struggle for them to move around, falling all over themselves as their feet got tied up in the strewn cord. Once they made it through the plastic jungle, they were confronted with a crush of people feeling each other up inside a low-ceilinged, cramped rec room that was sweltering hot because of its proximity to the boiler, and blustering with outrageous noise from a rock band whose amplified sound was so loud in that tiny space that it brought many to tears. The barren Formica church cafeteria took up the rest of the basement, and it had been turned into an R and R center, with a huge punch bowl on one of the tables filled with Tang spiked with salutary doses of acid." click and go to page 283
From The New Republic book review of Mark V. Tushnet's "Out of Range" :
In 1991, Warren E. Burger, the conservative chief justice of the Supreme Court, was interviewed on the MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour about the meaning of the Second Amendment's "right to keep and bear arms." Burger answered that the Second Amendment "has been the subject of one of the greatest pieces of fraud -- I repeat the word 'fraud' -- on the American public by special interest groups that I have ever seen in my lifetime." In a speech in 1992, Burger declared that "the Second Amendment doesn't guarantee the right to have firearms at all." In his view, the purpose of the Second Amendment was "to ensure that the 'state armies' -- 'the militia' -- would be maintained for the defense of the state."
Orson Welles and his last screen credit.
Sign your name across my heart I want you to be my baby = poet.
"Because both music and poetry are born of passion and strive to express the inexpressible, they unite quite naturally. Often it happens within the mind of a musician/poet who utilizes both art forms within a single expression. For me, one such artist is Terence Trent D’Arby...." More here...
