I skipped the first half of this video of the news reader setting up a dual interview with two divergent opinions. I just don't listen to news readers anymore. Franken is simply being sensible while the smaller man regurgitates every single liberal trope on the subject of Trump as nun reading her prayer beads; boink, boink, boink, boink, boink ... and so on, there is not one single original thought. Not one. He is an automaton. He's reading his internalized script. Other than pure rote, he hasn't a clue what he is talking about. One's impulse is to knock his face off.
Did I just now say "one's?" I meant to say "my."
I only watched it because the little guy looks like a friend. He sounds a bit like him too. When my friend puts on a British accent and speaks like a complete dope.
And that does actually happen.
The way he stands there and seethes, and poses and rolls his eyes automatically rejecting every word when Franken is talking is classic. He embodies the caricature of one of Franken's skits.
So he can expect to be reduced to a caricature in one of Franken's skits. Expect the crossed-arms poses, the shifts, the eye rolls to be part of the caricature. The skit writes itself.
The little man in pink doesn't care that Macron's country is circling the drain. He doesn't care about the issues that brought Trump forefront. Only that Macron stood up to Trump in U.S. Congress and did what he traduces Trump for doing in London. He's blinded to his own internal irony, his ridiculous mal-informed sanctimony, his self-caricature.
He doesn't care Merkel's government is circling the drain. He doesn't know or care that she's ruined her country through careless immigration. Only that Macron stood up to Trump.
He doesn't care that May's government was failing at the time, only that she didn't stand up to Trump sufficiently to suit him.
He is a ridiculous man. He is hundreds of thousands of the exact same caricature bundled into one silly man. He is archetype.
To compensate for the shortcoming of humor in the first video another video is presented of Franken pretending to be practicing with Beethoven.
The whole thing is mental.
Franken gets up from the piano and plays air guitar for recording of a Beethoven violin sonata.
And as you are thinking the pretend musicality is good, the hand goes down the neck closer to the sound hole for high notes, and up the neck closer to the tuning keys for the low notes, the picking, the chords, the hand configurations, the added gesticulations are all good, it's still the wrong instrument, he stops to berate pretend Beethoven at the piano for being out of time, when the whole thing is recorded, then switches personas and pretends that he's Beethoven arguing back that his other personality is imitating the wrong instrument. You get a sense of satisfaction that pretend Beethoven agrees with you. And that's hilarious that you've been drawn into this hallucination by being artistically judgmental.
Fine. Let's play a different song then.
Enter the world of the mentally-emotionally disturbed.
Franken is a serious man. Obviously with career problems. He's been at this quite a long time and just hasn't got anywhere. His videos have very few views.
But I notice that comments to his videos are extremely appreciative.
His serious videos are mostly about his career failure, his industry that doesn't reward his type of humor, his specific resentments about the kinds of people who are rewarded. He talks about his comic heroes, mostly British. Videos of the people he mentions are not nearly as funny nor acute as he is.
He is a philosopher. And philosophers are just flat messed up. If he were 10X more superficial then he'd be 10X more successful.
Instead, he keeps it real. Real to himself. And that keeps him down.
But that doesn't mean that he's not appreciated. People who still think really like him and his work.
Here is Franken unveiling a gravestone to William Blake.
I used to dig Blake s-o-o-o much. As you know, his art is a bit weird. This was my favorite. The Grave. He has better ones than this of a spirit leaving the body such as "Death of the Strong Wicked Man," ew, he was trippy, but at the time I liked this one the most.
Ancient of Days. Who could resist?
Those bunnies are fast.
Back to Franken's humor.
In one video Franken tells his viewers that his agents (5 different agents) told him he must put up short videos that could go viral. They kept telling him and telling him but he just couldn't listen. He has a tiny skit insert using voices about the meaning of viral. He tells us that he cannot do that. It's not how he thinks. They keep insisting, "put up something short." But he's incapable of that. Nevertheless, portions of his act are short and it's easy enough to cut them up and upload the bits separately.
Was that so hard?
These philosopher-types keep thinking themselves into a box.
If they could just break out of their self-constructed box they'd do a lot better for themselves.
This is such a piece. It is a skit of Franken's mental poetry-slam where he plays contest moderator and two poets. This is just one tiny segment of a larger act already shown in the trans counselor video.
The first poem is the first 10 lines of Milton's Paradise Lost presented by a mild-mannered well-bred poet, Milton himself. That poem is set against a modern rap poem about an individual being your worst nightmare.
1 Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
2 Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
3 Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
4 With loss of Eden, till one greater man
5 Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
6 Sing heavenly muse, that on the secret top
7 Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
8 That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,
9 In the beginning how the heavens and earth
10 Rose out of chaos
See? He need only repeat the first ten lines and he gets credit for knowing the whole thing.
One time I took the meter and cadence and form of internal repetition used in the poem Hiawatha by Henry Longfellow and used it for a poem about constructing crossword puzzles and getting them published in NYT, and published my new poem in comments to the NYT crossword puzzle chat site. This caused a sudden rush of similar poems about the trials and tribulations of publishing crossword puzzles and the lives of crossword constructors. Which admittedly are all a bit weird. For the most part they are strange people. I didn't know anything about the poem but I got credit for knowing the whole thing.
The poem was familiar only because Clyle, or however he spelled his name, my first boss at the FRB told us that he used to have the entire poem memorized. So we all used Clyle's voice and very strange and disgusting manner to recite the poem to hilarious effect when Clyle wasn't around. All the boys knew how to act like a disgusting old man. It was so hilarious to all of us doing it that we all came to love Clyle, an unloveable person if there ever was one, and love the poem that we didn't really know much about before that. We wished Clyle the best in retirement although we didn't like him, although we loved him. It was weird. He was hilarious to us without being funny. There was nothing funny about him. Yet he cracked us up. All because I imitated his voice and that caused all the other workers to out-do my voice imitation with brilliant perceptive Clyle-foibles and that poem was a very large part of it. It was the perfect poem to use to imitate Clyle's voice and mannerisms.
One poem is about the fall of man, an epic masterpiece of ten thousand lines, the other poem is about a guy's tats and piercings and his pinched narcissistic rant. There is no doubt which poem that a philosopher in his hallucination will have a modern audience choose.
In one video Franken tells his viewers that his agents (5 different agents) told him he must put up short videos that could go viral. They kept telling him and telling him but he just couldn't listen. He has a tiny skit insert using voices about the meaning of viral. He tells us that he cannot do that. It's not how he thinks. They keep insisting, "put up something short." But he's incapable of that. Nevertheless, portions of his act are short and it's easy enough to cut them up and upload the bits separately.
Was that so hard?
These philosopher-types keep thinking themselves into a box.
If they could just break out of their self-constructed box they'd do a lot better for themselves.
This is such a piece. It is a skit of Franken's mental poetry-slam where he plays contest moderator and two poets. This is just one tiny segment of a larger act already shown in the trans counselor video.
The first poem is the first 10 lines of Milton's Paradise Lost presented by a mild-mannered well-bred poet, Milton himself. That poem is set against a modern rap poem about an individual being your worst nightmare.
1 Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
2 Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
3 Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
4 With loss of Eden, till one greater man
5 Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
6 Sing heavenly muse, that on the secret top
7 Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
8 That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,
9 In the beginning how the heavens and earth
10 Rose out of chaos
See? He need only repeat the first ten lines and he gets credit for knowing the whole thing.
One time I took the meter and cadence and form of internal repetition used in the poem Hiawatha by Henry Longfellow and used it for a poem about constructing crossword puzzles and getting them published in NYT, and published my new poem in comments to the NYT crossword puzzle chat site. This caused a sudden rush of similar poems about the trials and tribulations of publishing crossword puzzles and the lives of crossword constructors. Which admittedly are all a bit weird. For the most part they are strange people. I didn't know anything about the poem but I got credit for knowing the whole thing.
The poem was familiar only because Clyle, or however he spelled his name, my first boss at the FRB told us that he used to have the entire poem memorized. So we all used Clyle's voice and very strange and disgusting manner to recite the poem to hilarious effect when Clyle wasn't around. All the boys knew how to act like a disgusting old man. It was so hilarious to all of us doing it that we all came to love Clyle, an unloveable person if there ever was one, and love the poem that we didn't really know much about before that. We wished Clyle the best in retirement although we didn't like him, although we loved him. It was weird. He was hilarious to us without being funny. There was nothing funny about him. Yet he cracked us up. All because I imitated his voice and that caused all the other workers to out-do my voice imitation with brilliant perceptive Clyle-foibles and that poem was a very large part of it. It was the perfect poem to use to imitate Clyle's voice and mannerisms.
One poem is about the fall of man, an epic masterpiece of ten thousand lines, the other poem is about a guy's tats and piercings and his pinched narcissistic rant. There is no doubt which poem that a philosopher in his hallucination will have a modern audience choose.
19 comments:
This is what happens when you become a gamma female injecting yourself with estrogen through soy products. It probably identifies as zim/zer/nonbinary/gender fluid fucktardo.
He reveals more intensity and fast-paced connect-disconnect, or connect-leap, than I can take in and process. I don't know where he's coming from or what he intends to convey or invite me to consider with his presentation. The same with this post--I don't know what it's really about, especially the strange inclusion of the mocking the boss behind his back story, but did appreciate the link to Blake's art.
Found the Death of a Good Man much more peaceful than the Death of a Strong Wicked Man. On Saturday, I attended the funeral of a much-loved woman whose daughter described her sense of a similar scene, with her mom leaving as if she'd been invited and escorted away from this life. Her mom had touched a lot of lives with good simply by tending to her own garden, and I and my family had been the recipients of that good. At the end of the service they extinguished the life candle and the smoke and scent of wafted through the room, reminding us of the invisible presence of love invested that remains behind when the light is gone.
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/the-death-of-the-good-old-man-sir-william-blake.html
I'm wondering now what was it about Clyles behavior, or the announcement of his love for a particular poem that came across to the boys as disgusting? For what reason would the FRB (who seems from other descriptions here as particular about some behavior such as punctuality) allow a disgusting old man to hold a supervisory position? With the biggest question being, what did those who laughed at him also love or respect about him?
My grandfather memorized the entire book of Romans in his later years. He was a highly usual guy, with some definite foibles. Since there was also much about him to respect, we were able to laugh about and note the foibles without resorting to mockery. I don't recall any of us mocking him behind his back with others for a laugh. While doing that might have felt or seemed like fun, it's not love when respect (even grudging respect) which brings things back into balance is missing.
Sort of why roasts don't work unless the subject is present, so the audience can see and gage that person's reaction.
Blake was an ecstatic. He really did believe that Earth could be Heaven. Or perhaps that Earth IS Heaven. Visions were actual for him. Written visions and visions seen. He had a huge problem with Newton and the ascendant Industrial Revolution because he saw both as DISENCHANTING Earth. Right or wrong, Blake was genuine. In fact the question of right or wrong doesn't even come into it. He was a genuine ecstatic. A thousand miles from the debased hippies with whom he has been compared.
* whinging little girl voice *
I don't understand what he's trying to say, including this post. I don't get why certain things are included that don't resonate with me.
Look, Mama, you can do yourself a great favor by just skipping over everything that I write.
From day one you've attempted to fashion what I say, and don't say, and how I say it.
* spelling right off the bat. I'm instructed to proofread multiple times and in format other than Editor. I told you stop bossing me around.
* The language that I use. Specific words you don't like.
* The way I speak about things being inappropriate.
* The things that I talk about.
* You've presumed to psychoanalyze me over a series of posts.
* You've remarked on the tightness of writing as if I'm a journalist and you are my newspaper editor.
* Now you're whinging "I don't get it. I don't get why something was included."
Let this sink in. I. don't. care. what. you. don't. like.
And
You will not fashion what I say, don't say, or how I say it.
I'm at the point now of skipping all your remarks. Because I know you cannot resist being a pushy broad. To me. To me singularly. You don't do this other writers. What is it about my writing that causes you 1) to read it 2) presume you must shape it. 3) push me around (?)
(Rhetorical question. Don't bother answering. I most likely won't read it because I've had it up to my gills with you. Unless, of course, you choose to talk to everyone else. But then, you can do that in post. And then you'd invite the type criticism you deliver to me constantly! )
What's the problem, Lady?
If you choose not to contribute posts anymore and instead devote your time and energy here to critiquing mine then I can remove your name from the contributors list. And I can easily skip everything that you write as easily as you can skip mine.
I told you upfront that you will not be shoving me around and I meant it. Your nagging criticisms are rejected.
If you don't get the comedian Will Franken, who is exceedingly straightforward and clear, then your comprehension difficulty is similar to your difficulty getting me when I've told you repeatedly get off my back.
If I wanted to tolerate a constantly nagging girlfriend hanging on for the purpose of criticizing me I would have one here living with me.
Chip, My wise mother would often say, after one of her 4 kids ranted about her or anything, "Better out than in." Way to speak your mind, my man.
And, I like your post and appreciate you introducing me to a Franken who is funny, and someone that I like.
Better out than in, indeed! At least the Real Monkey on the Back is finally letting loose, with anger bordering on rage being flung like poo. Unfortunately, it's still not aimed at the right target, but moving closer to the mark.
It sounds like you're really, really, REALLY annoyed with me right now ChipAhoy, to the point of using untrue statements, name-calling, threats, insults, and another dollop of mockery regarding an imagined voice I don't have or use with you or anyone else.
Also, several bespoke shoes were thrown that don't fit or hit the intended target, with the holiest, oddest shaped one being that I don't like the tightness of your writing. Seriously? Tightness of writing???? Are you kidding me? Is that idea the result of a Reverse Thought experience on your end?
The right-off-the-bat about spelling correction, is another doozy, a foul ball in fact, as I rarely attempt to correct another’s spelling, due to being prone to dyslexia and spelling challenged myself. Perhaps you're confusing me with someone else? Would it be helpful to you if I named the names of those who do correct your spelling so you can more appropriately direct your anger and disgust at them?
Other than you being raging mad and looking for anything within arm's reach to throw at me, I'm not clear as to where the notion that I am "bossing" you around,, being a "pushy broad" intent on pushing and shoving you around, nagging, and delivering constant criticism, is coming from. It sounds like you may again have me confused with someone else! Someone from your past perhaps, where level 10 reactions to level 2 situations originate? Could there have been a different "Lady" or "Mama" who acted that way towards you and didn't treat you with the respect you needed and deserved?
I've been reading and commenting as MamaM (a palindrome play on my last name) here at Lem's Levity since this blog opened. Before that, I was reading and commenting as MamaM at Trooper York's, which was a wild run, and before that at Althouse, before she decided to temporarily shut things down after finding herself annoyed by the quality and content of the comments she was receiving from the community that had gathered around her blog. When she became annoyed (a milder word for angry) and started threatening to cut people out who disagreed with her in a manner she didn't care for, I left, even though I wasn't the one doing the disagreeing.
If you were to look back at the comments I’ve made over the years here, at TY's, and at Althouse's, regarding you and some of the creative work you've posted, you’d find I was consistently one of your champions, affirming your creativity and much of your content. In recent months, however the tone of your content appears to me to have changed considerably and I have attempted to listen and respond in an honest and open manner to what I see and hear that's currently being shared by you here for public comment and consumption.
I’m sorry my comments upset you. I remain interested in what the old disgusting poetry-spouting boss did to earn the behind the back mockery that was perpetrated. I’m also glad it worked out right, with love as the response that found its way through and out of the maze of playful disrespect and ridicule. Hopefully love will eventually come through here as well.
PS. It didn't sound to me like you don't care. If anything, it sounds like you really really do care and in reality are hopping mad about something that's much more difficult to address, manage, take to task, or send packing than I am. I am not your enemy ChipAhoy and I am not seeking to pull you down, take you out, run your life, or dictate what you can and can not do.
@ ricpic Thanks for the response on Blake as an ecstatic. As mentioned earlier, I appreciated the mention of him in this post, along with the pictures that prompted me to take a second look. I'll really compound the impression of cluelessness on my end by admitting I wasn't familiar with Blake as anything other than a poet before seeing this, but did recognize the God Minus the Rabbit picture as familiar.
I meet with a woman who had a vision that profoundly changed her life. Finding someone who was willing to respectfully listen to her description of what happened, accept it as real for her and help her find ways to move forward, profoundly changed her life a second time. That's who I am and what I do, and I enjoy finding an oddity such as Blake described as genuine, as that is how I experience her as well, even if such experiences land on the growing edge of my awareness.
Well huh - there was a "Read More" button. Never noticed that before.
Some of us not only push the "Read More" button, Sixty Grit, but actually do so, reading more and regarding the content presented as share-worthy and open for comment, disagreement or discussion as long as civility is kept.
I meant on this post. I had missed the Milton. As for the rest, well, the spirit of Althouse lives on in her blog offspring.
Blog offspring who apparently have yet to mature past the "La-la-la-la-la I can't hear you with my fingers in my ears, so there, I will show YOU who's boss!" stage of maturity.
I hear that.
I hear you hearing that, SixtyG and appreciate the hearing you still have available to you.
While I understood which "Read More" button you were referring to, I was caught up in my own recall of the many times I've followed that imperative to read more, and more, and more of the opinions, stories, memories and dreams publicly shared on this blog--several years worth in fact--without being as clearly aware as I am today of the "Listen to me but don't really listen to me" expectation that appears to run beneath that directive.
Oddly enough, it's as if solving puzzles, figuring out word clues, reading glyphs and sign, gathering info, noticing differences, looking for similarities, pondering oddities, following curiosity, asking questions, recognizing patterns, piecing together themes, evaluating outcomes and forming opinions isn't part of how a normal human brain responds to received information and experience. Tell enough stories enough times, with enough Read More's provided and the listening audience will begin to recognize certain memes and tells, in addition to gaining insight into what appears to matter most and least to the one doing the sharing.
Since I now know I'm no longer being read, I can stop wondering if I still have the freedom to comment wherever and however I please, provided I'm civil. There's relief in that.
Comment at will, MamaM - I for one read and like what you write. Have at it. I will read more.
Thank You, SixtyG.
Had I been on my toes, rabbit quick as a Warren, I'd have snapped back after the delivery of the final punch line, If I wanted to tolerate a constantly nagging girlfriend hanging on for the purpose of criticizing me I would have one here living with me, with: "If you can find one!"
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