Thursday, December 20, 2018

Holiday Spectacular 2018


It’s the 13th  (pretty sure) Holiday Spectacular!!!! As usual, I am just going to start winging it and see what comes out.

Let start with POLITICS!!  NO. No politics. Too poisonous this year. I just can’t. Instead . . .

Tee shirts?
If I had an ounce of entrepreneurial ability I would market uninspirational tee shirts this year. You heard me. U N I N S P I R A T I O N A L.  And I’m calling them - Uninspirational Tee Shirts. Get it? Here is my first batch. Picture these on a tee shirt. 

[Front] F’ inspiration. . . 

[Back] I’m tired.

[Front] I DO ONE THING AT A TIME . . .
[Back] I DO IT WRONG, AND THEN I MOVE ONTO THE NEXT

[Front] THERE’S NO “I” IN TEAM. . .
[Back] BUT THERE ARE TWO IN “I QUIT.” 

[Front] I CAME, I SAW. . .
[Back] GOOD ENOUGH.

[Front] NEVER PUT OFF FOR TOMORROW . . .
[Back] WHAT YOU CAN PUT OFF INDEFINITELY  

[Front] WHOEVER SAID I’M NOT GETTING OLDER, I’M GETTING BETTER . . .
[Back] WAS PROBABLY 22.

[Front] I’M NOT LAZY. . .
[Back] I GENUINELY DON’T WANT TO DO ANYTHING

Sports:

You know what would be a good tourist attraction? A “Mt. Rushmore” for athletes. What four athletes would belong on the American Sports “Mt. Rushmore”? I think they should have to be dead to qualify and obviously be iconic in some way, not just great.  Here’s who I come up with – 

  Muhammad Ali
  Jim Thorpe
  Babe Ruth
  Jesse Owens.

A lot of guys and gals are deserving - Chamberlain, Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Jack Dempsey, Knute Rockne, Jackie Robinson, Johnny Unitas, Vince Lombardi, Leo Durocher, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, to name just a few.  I’ve said my choices. Thorpe and Ruth are probably easiest. Thorpe was possibly the greatest all-around athlete in our history and Ruth, still a home run champ, at least emotionally speaking, regardless of what the record book says and perhaps the most iconic athlete of all. Owens, if nothing else, for the ’36 Olympics. Ali may not have been the greatest boxer of all time compared to other boxers in other great eras – it’s debatable, obviously. But arguably, he was still “the greatest,” for numerous reasons, including entertainment value and worldwide appeal. At one point he may have been the most recognizable person on earth.

Try commenting and giving your opinion (though, of course, I’m right). Maybe it will work. If not, so what else is new.

Politics

Okay, maybe just a little politics. Sccccrrrrreeeeeeeeeeech. No politics. But, a little political history to celebrate our crazy year will be okay.

I did read this in a history book and it reminded me so much of present times I copied it down (really dictated it on my phone at a library and then emailed it to my laptop; it is the 21st century) from the The Rise of Andrew Jackson: Myth, Manipulation, and the Making of Modern Politics by David and Jeanne Heidler P. 240. fn. 9.
“Adams supporters could have wish it had been so easy to wrangle 13 states, each with unique electoral and demographic complexities, into a winning coalition. Jackson simply saw the complexities as corruption and believed an administration founded on it would continue its double-dealing unless checked by the forces of virtue. Indeed, opposing such a creation had to proceed from higher motives than disappointment and resentment. Defaming the perpetrators of such fraud was a righteous application, not a scurrilous enterprise. Andrew Jackson, as he himself saw it, had a duty to vilify the Adams presidency out of principle, regardless of its policies, and with complete disregard for its principal figure’s reputation for spotless rectitude. Jackson's mission justified the actions of it is supporters. Kentucky Senator Richard M. Johnson swore that Old Hickory's men would oppose Adams and Clay even ‘if they act as pure as the angels that stand at the right hand of the throne of God.’ Even Thomas Hart Benton, who never believed the corrupt bargain accusation, endorsed obstructionism as justifiable to secure Jackson's victory in 1828.”
Sound familiar? It almost sounds like . . . nope, not going there. Back to Xmas.
Ah, Christmas music:

For a few years, at least, I have been reworking my list of favorite Xmas songs. Every year it is much the same, but a little different.

1. Baby, it's cold outside. Last year this classic by Frank Loesser of Guys and Dolls fame was no. 4, but I’m making it No. 1 just because the idiot patrol that is slowly taking over the country has deemed it a date rape song. For the nth time – he wrote the song for his wife. HIS WIFE, YOU MORONS! They used to sing it at their annual Xmas party. She was furious when he sold it to the movies. “What’s in this drink?” doesn’t mean he drugged her drink, you idiots! Apparently, numerous radio station at where numerous idiots (or, to be fair, moral cowards) work, have stopped playing it. Fight back a little, will you? Take a look at this. It’s from the movie Loesser finally sold his love song to – Neptune’s Daughter.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRGZULIkfwE.
Esther Williams tries to avoid Ricardo Montalban, and sure, Ricardo is a little bit wolfish, but she hardly looks coerced, and one withering look from her gets his hand off her arm (which of them was scared?), and in the counter-couple Red Skelton and Betty Garrett (who, btw, later played Edna on Laverne and Shirley), she’s the wolf and he’s the mouse. Date rape, my ass. Try not to ruin everything. 
Though, for once, it looks like the good guys are winning. I just read that the Dean Martin version (I love Dean, but the Mercer and Whiting version is best, followed by Leon Redbone and Zoey Deschanel (yes, the zany actress) just made the top 10 digital sales chart for the first time. Please be true. Go normal people!
2. Game of Bells. This probably should be the real number one. I love the harmony of this French trio, L.E.J.  It's based on the theme from Game of Thrones (of which I’ve never seen a single second, but I checked the theme), and should be a classic. I’m not hearing it out there though, but once. Magnifique.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtk3kyHlmfo.
3. 
Cool Yule. This was number 6 last year, but it has grown on me. Actually written by the actor, Tonight Show host, song writer, comedian, Steve Allen.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxTSxQcCWLI. The Louis Armstrong hit is still the only one I listen to.
4. Hallelujah. The Leonard Cohen hit that I only heard for the first time recently. He died soon after I discovered it although I'm almost positive there is no direct causation between the two events. I can’t find anything else he did that I like. Who cares? I like this. Is it really a Xmas song? But it is played at Xmas so maybe it is. An acappella group, Pentatonix, also does a good version.   
5. 
All I want for Xmas is youThe Vince Vaughn and the Vandals one hit wonder. Formerly, my number one, and I still love it. No, it’s not the Maria Carey song and it was first.
6. 
Let it SnowI love Dean Martin. Who doesn’t? It bothers me that other artists have made covers of it. Some songs permit no covers. Quoting myself from last year – “The lyrics were written by the immortal Sammy Cahn, who was nominated for 32 major awards (I counted myself - mostly Oscars, and he won a bunch), while he and one of his writing partners, Jule Styne, were in the desert.” 
7. 
Joy to the World. Whitney Houston. A friend who sometimes reads this blog called me the other day just to say he was listening to her on the radio and no one compared to her. I agreed. Not even Mariah can compare.
8.  
Snoopy and the Red Baron byThe Royal Guardsman. Still no. 8. I can’t help feeling good when I hear this song.
9.  As with last year, I call a tie for three Trans-Siberian Orchestra songs -  Christmas Eve, Siberian Sleigh Ride and Carol of the Bells.
10.   Linus and Lucy (from a Charlie Brown Christmas – I think of it as a Christmas song)
11.   Frosty the Snow Man (Jimmy Durante ONLY)
12.   Home for the Holidays (Perry Como, although there are other good versions)
13.   Christmas (Maria Carey). Yep, at this point I like this better than that other song. You know which one.
14.   Put one foot in front of the other (Fred Astaire), from the iconic animated movie.
15.   Ave Maria (Andrea Bocelli). I don't care what other opera singers think. Most people like him better. We hate opera, like him.
16.   It’s the most wonderful time of the year (Andy Williams)
17.   Winter Wonderland (Eurythmics)
18. Santa Claus is Coming to Town. I love the Bruce Springsteen version. 
19. Frosty – Only sung by the immortal Jimmy Durante. All other versions are just a stupid song about a dancing snowball.
20. Christmas time is here – Daniela Andrade. Daniela is hypnotic. A narcotic. I love to take naps to her voice. A sweetheart (although, she could be a psycho and just playing a sweetheart to the camera). Amazing. And I have to admit, that little dog really is frigging cute, just like she says.     
Honorable mentions: I’m a little sick of Mariah’s All I want for Christmas is you. But, it has to at leasst rate an honorable mention. John Lennon’s So this is Christmas is growing on me again. It may be on the list next year. There are, of course, many others. Suggest them in the comments that Google won't let you make.

Politics :  No, no politics. I can’t. I just can’t.
But, we can talk about Russia, just not about . . .  you know.   When I think about Russia, I think about snow (and, of course, onion domes, but ignore that for now), and if I think about snow, I think about Xmas, so we can go there for the Holiday Spectacular.

A true story of Russian Collusion on The Night Before Christmas (Shhhhh!! Don't tell Mueller)
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away a Russian (or Ukrainian, depending on which you prefer) writer by the name of Nikolai Gogol, a disciple of the great Pushkin, and one of their most influential writers, wrote a short story called The Night before Christmas, usually translated in English as Christmas Eve. Though Gogol was famous as a realist, this was a fantasy, involving a very pathetic Satan, a witch, the witch's son, who was the heroic blacksmith Vakula (variously spelled), Vakula's beloved, being the comically spoiled and bitchy beauty, Oksana, Potemkin and Catherine the Great, not mention her shoes. I’ve decided against retelling it, because – well, okay, real fast then: The devil and the witch (Vakula’s mom) are up to mischief, stealing the moon and some stars, and the devil, coming on to the witch-mom back at her house, has to quickly hide in one of Vakula’s coal sacks when her many suitors start showing up at her home. Then, Vakula, stung from being rejected by Oksana (whose father is also hiding in one of the sack), picks up the sacks and goes out with them on his back, carrying all the suitors, including the devil, the mayor, the sexton and Oksana's father among them. Well, since he has vowed to Oksana get her the Czarina’s shoes (for she taunted him that is the only way she would marry him), he needs the devil’s help, and he learns from an old Cossack that the devil is on his back. The devil thinks he has things in hand, but Vakula easily overpowers him (some devil) and forces him to help and off they fly. He collects the shoes, comes back and finds he already has won Oksana's heart with his dedication to her and blah, blah, blah.

That all might not seem so special to you, raised on the much greater A Christmas Carol and The Night Before Christmas and, of course, the best movie ever made, the 1947 (and only the 1947) Miracle on 34th Street. But, in 19th century Russia, Gogol was almost as big a deal as Google is here and now (there’s some typical Russian exaggeration in there – but he was a big deal).

What has this to do with collusion, you ask? Nothing. Patience.
The short story had a powerful effect on other artists. In the 1870s, there was a libretto written by one Polonsky based upon the short story floating around unused, as the composer it was prepared for and his patroness, who paid for it, had both untimely croaked. The Russian Musical Society offered a prize for the best opera written based upon the libretto, to be anonymously entered in a contest to be judged by a committee of respected musical jurymen. Among the jury was the composer, Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov. He writes in his autobiography, A Musical Life: “The submitted operas were distributed to us for examination at our leisure. Two of them proved to show merit. But when the committee met at the Grand Duke’s place, it was openly said that one of the operas was Tchaikovsky’s. How this became known before the seals of the envelopes had been broken I don’t remember; but the prize was awarded to him unanimously. True, his opera undoubtedly was the best submitted, so that no harm came from the improper management of the competition, but still it was not in lawful order. . . . ”
I found this quite amusing, because when I read what he wrote, having the advantage on R-K of having read Tchaikovsky’s little brother’s biography of his famous sibling, I knew how they knew it was Tchaikovsky's. It was more than just "not in lawful order." Tchaikovsky not only made it obvious, but lest there be any doubt about it, he also told the judges. Tchaikovsky, you see, one of my (perhaps most everyone’s?) favorite composers, was a bit of a nutcase if there ever was one. At first, he didn’t even want to participate for fear of losing. He made sure that anyone he feared had a shot at beating him – Anton Rubinstein, Balakirev or Rimsky-Korsakov (the only one of the three who really would also stand the test of time) wasn’t competing.  Once he knew they would not be, he worked like a demon for three months, a more concentrated effort than ever before, to make certain he had Vakula the Smith completed by the deadline of August 1, 1874. The trouble was, he had the deadline wrong. It wasn’t due until August 1, 1875 – he was a year early. So, he had to sit on his hands for a year, something, with his nerves, he wasn’t very good at. On top of this, despite his growing success, he was feeling a bit of a failure at this particular time due to the lack of success of another opera. This Vakula was his baby. He loved it. I don’t know why – I’ve listened to it and bleh. So, either because he wanted to tip the scales, or, because he was an idiot, he wrote to the directors of the opera house to see if they would put on the opera in advance of the decision, despite it being a secret entry in the contest, and despite the fact that he no right to use the libretto outside of the contest. I’ll let him tell it himself from a letter to one of the opera house directors, naturally, in translation, in which his insecure, self-centered, hurt-puppy little soul leaks out:
“I have learnt to-day that you and the Grand Duke are much displeased at my efforts to get my opera performed independently of the decision of the jury. I very much regret that my strictly private communication to you and Kondratiev should have been brought before the notice of the Grand Duke, who may now think I am unwilling to submit to the terms of the competition. The matter can be very simply explained. I had erroneously supposed that August 1st (13th), 1874, was the last day upon which the compositions could be sent in to the jury, and I hurried over the completion of my work. Only on my return to Moscow did I discover my mistake, and that I must wait more than a year for the decision of the judges. In my impatience to have my work performed (which is worth far more to me than any money) I inquired, in reply to a letter of Kondratiev’s—whether it might not be possible to get my work brought out independently of the prize competition. I asked him to talk it over with you and give me a reply. Now I see that I have made a stupid mistake, because I have no rights over the libretto of the opera. You need only have told Kondratiev to write and say I was a fool, instead of imputing to me some ulterior motive which I have never had. I beg you to put aside all such suspicions, and to reassure the Grand Duke, who is very much annoyed, so Rubinstein tells me.”
All a mistake, huh? No ulterior motives, huh? Don’t buy it. For one thing, “so Rubinstein tells me?” Rubinstein would either be Anton or Nicholas, who were brothers, leading musicians both very important to Tchaikovsky career. Most likely it was Nicholas, Tchaikovsky's mentor, who was on the jury! So, I guess he would know. And Eduard Napravnik, to whom the above letter was written, was also on the jury. So, mystery solved. But, it gets worse. Tchaikovsky was either an idiot, or unscrupulous. As related by one of the jury, Laroche, though Tchaikovsky's "anonymous" score was copied out in a handwriting unknown to the jury “the motto, which was identical with the writing in the parcel, was in Tchaikovsky’s own hand. “Ars longa vita brevis’ ran the motto, and the characteristic features of the writing were well known to us all, so that from the beginning there was not the least room for doubt that Tchaikovsky was the composer of the score. But even if he had not had the naïveté to write this inscription with his own hand, the style of the work would have proclaimed his authorship. As the Grand Duke remarked laughingly, during the sitting of the jury; ‘Secret de la comédie.’”
So, maybe Rimsky-Korsakov forgot all of the above when he says he doesn’t remember how it was all known. It doesn’t sound likely. Maybe he was just protecting someone he had come to like after a rocky start. R-K’s was a “member” of the “Mighty Handful” aka “The Five” aka “The Invincibles,” a loosely connected group of musicians following Mily Balakirev dedicated to a purely Russian  music (that is, mostly free of French and German influence) and who eschewed formal training, a group with whom Tchaikovsky had a love/hate relationship.* But, in time he came to have a good relationship with some of them and no doubt R-K came closest to Tchaikovsky in technical ability and probably benefitted most from the relationship.
*Fully aware that of the few people who will actually read this, fewer still will give  a goddam, but Russian music in the 19th century is musically and historically intriguing to me, and I plan to write here someday at least a little more about this dynamic group and Tchaikovsky. So, hold on to your babushkas, baby. The Mighty Five are coming and they aren't Marvel Super Heroes.
But, there’s worse. What I love most about his statement in R-K’s biography is that it smacks of an innocence that really wasn’t there. It’s possible that he couldn’t remember how they came to know Tchaikovsky was competing originally, but eventually, it was beyond an open secret. R-K was talking with Tchaikovsky himself about it. Tchaikovsky had written him in September, 1875 a letter which was not a little obsequious – “How small, poor self-satisfied and naïve I feel in comparison with you! I am a mere artisan in composition, but you will be an artist, in the fullest sense of the word. I hope you will not take these remarks as flattery. I am really convinced that with your immense gifts—and the ideal conscientiousness with which you approach your work—you will produce music that must far surpass all which so far has been composed in Russia.” Of course, it was the most cloying bologna. That last bit was pretty much how Tchaikovsky felt about himself on his good days. Yes, he felt that R-K had talent, but also that he had wasted most of his career with the amateurs of the Mighty Handful and had only recently learned the importance of musical technique. To be fair, that was also largely R-K’s assessment too, and though the Five produced some brilliant work, particularly Mussorgsky, Borodin and R-K, there’s some truth to it. Writing about 2 ½ years later to a confidant, Tchaikovsky was more honest – “At present he [R-K] appears to be passing through a crisis, and it is hard to predict how it will end. Either he will turn out a great master, or be lost in contrapuntal intricacies.” But, to return to Tchaikovsky’s letter in 1875 to R-K, he finally came to the point, after his excessive flattery:
“I should very much like to know how the decision upon the merits of the (opera) scores will go. I hope you may be a member of the committee. The fear of being rejected—that is to say, not only losing the prize, but with it all possibility of seeing my Vakoula performed—worries me very much.”
I hope you may be a member? Please. He is flat out asking what’s it going to be? When R-K replied the next month, he wasn’t as duplicitous – “I do not doubt for a moment that your opera will carry off the prize. To my mind, the operas sent in bear witness to a very poor state of things as regards music here. . . . Except your work, I do not consider there is one fit to receive the prize, or to be performed in public.”
No, it wasn’t quite fixed and it Tchaikovsky’s work may have been the only one worth a ruble, but we will never know. There is a reason contest entries or tests are judged anonymously. The jury may have been dazzled by knowing who he was, and what he was capable of, rather than by the work itself. In my opinion, it’s not so good. And history has passed the same verdict. In fact, as you will see, R-K really didn’t think so either.  
Of course, R-K did turn out a master. Music is subjective. Maybe some prefer him to Tchaikovsky, though I doubt he quite is as popular today as Pyotr Ilyich. But, his Scheherazade and Flight of the Bumblebee are quite often played today and there are many other wonderful (and also ordinary) pieces by him. Unfortunately for 19th century Russian composers, we just don’t like their opera much in modern America – but we love many of their other works. But, for one thing he wanted to write, he had to wait for his friend Tchaikovsky to die. Fortunately for R-K, the great man died prematurely of Cholera. And that led to . . .                                                                                
“The desire seized me to write an opera. With the death of Tchaikovsky, the subject of Christmas Eve, so attractive also to me, had been released, as it were. Despite many of its musical pages, I had always considered Tchaikovsky’s opera weak, and Polonsky’s libretto good for nothing. During Tchaikovsky’s lifetime I should have been unable to take this subject without causing the man himself a heartache. Now I was free in that respect, too, in addition to having always been entitled to it morally.”
So, he did, and added all kinds of mythological elements to the story he thought should go in which, in retrospect, he realized just confused the audience. But, though nothing he wrote for me compares to Tchaikovsky’s best, other than the bumblebee thingee (and let's face it - though considered difficult to play, the long version is less than four minutes long), I do prefer the music in his Christmas Eve to anything in Tchaikovsky’s Vakula. Actually, I really like it. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0vFOax7ZeU).
A much more modern and personal Christmas Tale.
I don't care where it began, Xmas was captured by the North. I can’t imagine living in the South and celebrating it in Florida or sunny California in 70 degree heat. I like it when it snows at Xmas time even if it makes most people I know not so happy.
Anyway, another long time ago during the holiday season, my evalovin’ gf and I took a trip further north, into evergreen, white-capped Vermont. It was long enough ago that there wasn’t (Thank God) gps on her phone for her to torment me with. Like most trips of a few hundred, or even a few thousand miles, it is really just a few roads, and you can figure it out, as we have many times (although, if I so much have to think or stop for even three seconds, or god-forbid make one wrong turn after 100 right ones, she tells everyone I was lost – you have no idea my travails).
We passed through Massachusetts on our way and I decided to stop for coffee. When we are leaving she sweetly asked, “Can I drive?” A voice told me, It’s a trap. She is trying to trick you. Of course she was. You see, she is a very angry driver. The kind who curses (not just me while I’m driving, but...) every other person on the road with a ferocity usually reserved for times of war or when your computer freezes just before you save an hour’s worth of work.
“You can drive,” I say, “if you promise!!! (I emphasized this word, as if it was going to make a difference) not to fight with any drivers. “Okay,” she says just as sweetly, “I promise.” Thirty seconds later I am yelling at her – “Jeeesus Christ, you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot!!!” She can’t help it. She hates other drivers with the white-hot heat of the molten goop at the core of the sun.
We arrived at our inn, a bnb, in a sleepy Vermont town, which I tried to explain to my goddess, had no nightlife. You are here to relax, walk around, go visit local towns during the days, browse in stores, have dinner, sit by the fire at the inn and go to bed. Get up for breakfast . . . .
And we did. It was really nice. The inn was quite old. It was situated next to a cemetery, which might creep some people out.  But I found it beautiful and fun to walk through in the snow. One afternoon we took a long walk through it and continued down the road. A big black furry dog approached us – a lab. He was very friendly and wanted to walk with us. Later our hostess explained to us his story. He belonged to a neighbor, but had free rein to come and go as he pleased, and was pretty much the mayor of the neighborhood. He just liked to walk with people, occasionally fetch a stick or be petted. He also liked to roll in the abundant snow, which was quite entertaining and picturesque. I don't think I've seen other dogs do that. We were sorry to see him go when we approached the house, but I guess he had other things to do.
As we approached the Inn, we noticed a sign at the edge of the parking lot. It said “Circa 1800.” My beloved, who I sometimes refer to in these hallowed pages as the New Ms. Malaprop asked innocently, “So, I guess the Circa family used to own this?” “Yes,” I answered, “and there were exactly 1800 of them.” This is probably why we work. I often need her help to use a computer and on most domestic issues, and she's not real big on history or the English language.
Our hostess was one of a pair of twins, the other who also lived in the area. This was the old family home and she was slowly renovating it. She was also slowly inventorying the library, which I found fascinating and would have volunteered to help with. Actually, I think I may have. I think I also had the feeling that I could have done it in a long weekend, but she seemed to feel it was a year long job. 

We went out to dinner on Saturday night. A little pub. It was there that the Christmas miracle happened, there that she passed off to me the little homily that changed my life - 

                              "Jesus was born. He lived and he died. And when he was re-erected, he said that he  
                              would protect us – in times of The Good, The Bad and the Ugly.”

And the veil fell from my eyes and I could see the light. Clint Eastwood was Jesus and he had a gun. That's the kind of stuff even Gogol couldn't make up.

Happy Holidays.


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About Me

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I started this blog in September, 2006. Mostly, it is where I can talk about things that interest me, which I otherwise don't get to do all that much, about some remarkable people who should not be forgotten, philosophy and theories (like Don Foster's on who wrote A Visit From St. Nicholas and my own on whether Santa is mostly derived from a Norse god) and analysis of issues that concern me. Often it is about books. I try to quote accurately and to say when I am paraphrasing (more and more). Sometimes I blow the first name of even very famous people, often entertainers. I'm much better at history, but once in a while I see I have written something I later learned was not true. Sometimes I fix them, sometimes not. My worst mistake was writing that Beethoven went blind, when he actually went deaf. Feel free to point out an error. I either leave in the mistake, or, if I clean it up, the comment pointing it out. From time to time I do clean up grammar in old posts as, over time I have become more conventional in my grammar, and I very often write these when I am falling asleep and just make dumb mistakes. It be nice to have an editor, but . . . .