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Why Tattoos Are Permanent? New TED Ed Video Explains with Animation

For the last three decades my right ankle has been the site of a deeply botched tat­too. It was sup­posed to be a yin yang, but with every pass­ing year, it looks more and more like a can­cer­ous mole. The drunk­en Viet­nam Vet who admin­is­tered it bare­ly glanced at the design tak­ing shape on my once vir­gin skin as he chat­ted with a pal. I was too intim­i­dat­ed to say, “Um…is it just me or are you fill­ing in the white cir­cle?” (I con­vinced myself that he knew what he was doing, and the ink would recede as it healed. Need­less to say…)

My pathet­ic, lit­tle yin-ya’ is an embar­rass­ment in an era of intri­cate four-col­or sleeves and souped up rock­a­bil­ly gor­geous­ness, but I con­fess, I’ve grown fond of it. The fact that I have an out-of-bal­ance sym­bol for bal­ance per­ma­nent­ly engraved onto my body is far more appro­pri­ate than the poor­ly grasped  flash art could have been. It’ll be with me til the day I die.

Longer, actu­al­ly, to judge by the dec­o­ra­tive mark­ings of an 8000 ‑year-old Peru­vian mum­my.

I feel for­tu­nate to have devel­oped ten­der feel­ings for my bush league mod­i­fi­ca­tion. Clau­dia Aguir­re’s TED-Ed les­son “What Makes Tat­toos Per­ma­nent,” above, does not make an easy case for removal.

In the words of your grand­ma, don’t embell­ish your birth­day suit with any old junk.

Your gang affil­i­a­tion may feel like a for­ev­er-thing now, but what if you decide to switch gangs in a few years? Eras­ing those mem­o­ries can be painful. Ask John­ny “Winona For­ev­er” Depp.

Dol­phins may strike you as peace­ful, spir­i­tu­al crea­tures, but I’ll bet there are ways to appre­ci­ate them that don’t involve hav­ing one punc­tured through your epi­der­mis at 50–3000 micro-wounds per minute. 

Choose wise­ly! If you’re veer­ing toward a Tas­man­ian dev­il or a rose, do your­self a favor and browse the Muse­um of Online Muse­ums. Feel a kin­ship with any­thing there? Good! Once you’ve fig­ured out how to best fea­ture it on your hide, take Aguir­re’s anato­my-based quiz. See if it’s true that you’ll be barred from bur­ial in a Jew­ish ceme­tery. Your tat­too artist will like­ly be impressed that you cared enough to do some research. Watch a cou­ple of episodes of the Smith­so­ni­an’s Tat­too Odyssey for good mea­sure.

Then lay in a tube of Prepa­ra­tion H, and pre­pare to love what­ev­er you wind up with. It’s a lot eas­i­er than the pain of regret.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Get Ancient Advice on Los­ing Weight, Sober­ing Up, Remov­ing a Tat­too & More at Ask The Past

TED ED Ani­ma­tion Gives You a Glimpse of What Life Was Like for Teenagers in Ancient Rome

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is up to her eye­balls in Bye Bye Birdie and so should you be. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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The Sex Pistols Play in Dallas’ Longhorn Ballroom; Next Show Is Merle Haggard (1978)

“John­ny Rot­ten and Sid Vicious were both punched in the face by girl fans as the Sex Pis­tols per­formed today deep in the heart of Texas.” That was the lede for the Eng­lish news­pa­per The Evening News cov­er­ing the Pistol’s con­cert at The Long­horn Ball­room in Dal­las, TX on Jan­u­ary 10, 1978. It proved to be one of the strangest, most con­tentions shows in one of the strangest, most con­tentious tours in rock his­to­ry. You can watch it above. All 37 min­utes.

By the time of the con­cert, the Sex Pis­tols were already noto­ri­ous in the U.K.  They had released a sin­gle – “God Save the Queen” – that called Britain’s head of state a fas­cist on the date of her Sil­ver Jubilee. The sin­gle became a huge hit in spite of – or per­haps because of – it get­ting banned by the BBC. They famous­ly hurled obscen­i­ties at a chat show host on live TV.  But to be fair, host Bill Grundy lit­er­al­ly asked for it. “You’ve got anoth­er five sec­onds,” he told John­ny Rot­ten and com­pa­ny. “Say some­thing out­ra­geous.” They did.

Though the band start­ed out as an elab­o­rate Sit­u­a­tion­ist-inspired per­for­mance art piece dreamed up by mega­lo­ma­ni­ac man­ag­er Mal­colm McLaren, they evolved beyond just being a stunt.  Their music was loud, aggres­sive and glee­ful­ly nihilist with lines like “And I wan­na be anar­chist, I get pissed, destroy!” That music and that atti­tude touched some deep sim­mer­ing well of cul­tur­al dis­con­tent — be it low­er class frus­tra­tions, dis­sat­is­fac­tion with con­sumer cul­ture or some dark­er pri­mal urge to burn every­thing down. Their music res­onat­ed.

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For their 1978 tour of the Unit­ed States, McLaren wasn’t inter­est­ed in build­ing a fan base. He was inter­est­ed in piss­ing peo­ple off. So the tour com­plete­ly bypassed seem­ing­ly obvi­ous tour stops, like New York, Chica­go and Los Ange­les, in favor of places like Mem­phis, Tul­sa and San Anto­nio – none of which were exact­ly hot beds for punk. A famous pic­ture of the mar­quee of the Long­horn Bal­loon shows the Pis­tols list­ed along­side Mer­le Hag­gard, giv­ing you a feel for just how weird this tour was. Pri­or to the con­cert, Sid Vicious con­fessed his fears to a reporter about play­ing in Dal­las. “They killed Kennedy here and every­body has warned us that the peo­ple are crazy. I think there’s a real dan­ger that this is the town where I am going to be blown away.” (Weird his­tor­i­cal side note: The Long­horn Ball­room was owned for a spell by Jack Ruby, the guy who shot Lee Har­vey Oswald.)

The police were also report­ed­ly wor­ried. The Dal­las police depart­ment had a SWAT team ready just in case the show turned into a riot. It didn’t, but just bare­ly. The audi­ence was equal­ly split between hard­core fans – for exam­ple, Lamar St. John, the woman who decked Sid Vicious in the nose, drove from Los Ange­les to see the show – and skep­ti­cal locals who want­ed to see what the fuss was all about. As one Dal­las paper wrote, “most of the peo­ple last night came to see the peo­ple who came to see the Sex Pis­tols.”

As you can see from the video, John­ny Rot­ten, who spent much of the show look­ing like a tweak­er in the throes of a demon­ic pos­ses­sion, wast­ed few oppor­tu­ni­ties to ridicule the audi­ence. “I see that we have a whole sec­tion of the silent major­i­ty around there,” he sneered. As the band worked its way through the set list, cul­mi­nat­ing in a blis­ter­ing ren­di­tion of “Anar­chy in the U.K.,” the audi­ence hurled beer cans, toma­toes, garbage and the occa­sion­al punch at the stage. It’s not clear if the peo­ple who were doing the throw­ing were fans or irate cow­boys. Such is the world of punk. Sid Vicious, the band’s out­ra­geous if utter­ly untal­ent­ed bassist, jumped around on stage and occa­sion­al­ly con­tributed some aton­al back­ing vocals. After the punch, he let his nose bleed and soon he was cov­ered in blood. “The bass play­er rubbed blood over his face and chest,” wrote the Evening News, “so that he looked like a dement­ed can­ni­bal.”

“Sid was real­ly fucked up. Real­ly drunk,” recalled writer Nick Bar­baro. “He played for a while with­out his gui­tar plugged in. He played for a while with a fish. I think some­body threw it up there, a bass or some­thing. Peo­ple seemed pissed at him. He’d spit on the audi­ence; they’d spit on him. That’s what you did. There was this ele­ment of, ‘You paid to see us play?’”

Four days lat­er, the band broke up. “This is no fun. No fun at all. Ever feel like you’ve been cheat­ed?” Rot­ten weari­ly said on stage in San Fran­cis­co, the Sex Pistol’s final con­cert, before walk­ing off stage and quit­ting the band. Vicious was dead a year lat­er from a hero­in over­dose.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sex Pis­tols Front­man John­ny Rot­ten Weighs In On Lady Gaga, Paul McCart­ney, Madon­na & Katy Per­ry

John­ny Rotten’s Cor­dial Let­ter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: Next to the Sex Pis­tols, You’re ‘a Piss Stain’

Mal­colm McLaren: The Quest for Authen­tic Cre­ativ­i­ty

The His­to­ry of Punk Rock

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

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Ayn Rand Trashes C.S. Lewis in Her Marginalia: He’s an “Abysmal Bastard”

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Images via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

The polit­i­cal inter­sec­tion of Ayn Ran­di­an lib­er­tar­i­ans and Evan­gel­i­cal con­ser­v­a­tives is a baf­fling phe­nom­e­non for most of us out­side the Amer­i­can right. It’s hard to rec­on­cile the athe­ist arch-cap­i­tal­ist and despis­er of social wel­fare with, for exam­ple, the Ser­mon on the Mount. But hey, mixed mar­riages often work out, right? Well, as for Rand her­self, one would hard­ly find her sym­pa­thet­ic to reli­gion or its expos­i­tors at any point in her career. Take her sound lash­ing of writer, schol­ar, and lay the­olo­gian C.S. Lewis, intel­lec­tu­al hero of Protes­tant Chris­tian­i­ty. (Wheaton Col­lege hous­es his per­son­al library, and there exists not only a C.S. Lewis Insti­tute, but also a C.S. Lewis Foun­da­tion.) Lewis’ The Abo­li­tion of Man (1943), while osten­si­bly a text on edu­ca­tion, also pur­ports, like Aquinas’ Sum­ma The­o­log­i­ca, to expound the prin­ci­ples of nat­ur­al law and objec­tive moral val­ue. Rand would have none of it.

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Reli­gion jour­nal First Things brings us excerpts from the edit­ed col­lec­tion, Ayn Rand’s Mar­gin­a­lia: Her crit­i­cal com­ments on the writ­ings of over 20 authors. In it, Rand gloss­es Lewis’s Abo­li­tion of Man with sav­age feroc­i­ty, call­ing the author an “abysmal bas­tard,” “cheap, dri­v­el­ling non-enti­ty” [sic], and “abysmal scum!” The screen­shot above (Lewis left, Rand’s anno­ta­tions right) from the First Things’ blog post offers a typ­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Rand’s tone through­out, and includes some par­tic­u­lar­ly elab­o­rate insults.

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The C.S. Lewis Foun­da­tion com­ments that Lewis “prob­a­bly would not have approved of the lev­el of ven­om, but he prob­a­bly would not have liked Rand’s phi­los­o­phy much either.” Anoth­er Chris­t­ian aca­d­e­m­ic has suc­cess­ful­ly squared an appre­ci­a­tion for both Rand and Lewis, but writes crit­i­cal­ly of Rand, who “seems to have inter­pret­ed Lewis’s book as a Lud­dite screed against sci­ence and tech­nol­o­gy,” part of her “ten­den­cy to car­i­ca­ture her oppo­nents.” Cer­tain­ly no one ever accused her of sub­tle­ty. “It’s pret­ty clear,” our pro­fes­sor con­tin­ues, “that when show­ing stu­dents how to engage in schol­ar­ly dis­course, Ayn Rand should not be the mod­el.” No, indeed, but how she would thrive on the Inter­net.

Read more at First Things, and down­load a PDF of the Rand-anno­tat­ed Lewis excerpts here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Audio: Down­load the Com­plete Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia by C.S. Lewis

The Only Known Record­ings of C.S. Lewis (1944–1948)

Watch Hand-Drawn Ani­ma­tions of 7 Sto­ries & Essays by C.S. Lewis

Flan­nery O’Connor: Friends Don’t Let Friends Read Ayn Rand (1960)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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5 Free Short Stories by Nadine Gordimer

By now, you know that Nadine Gordimer has died. She was 90 years old. Back in 1991, when she won the Nobel Prize, The New York Times made this announce­ment:

Nadine Gordimer, whose nov­els of South Africa por­tray the con­flicts and con­tra­dic­tions of a racist soci­ety, was named win­ner of the 1991 Nobel Prize in Lit­er­a­ture today as her coun­try final­ly begins to dis­man­tle the sys­tem her works have poignant­ly explored for more than 40 years.

In a brief cita­tion, the Swedish Acad­e­my, which con­fers the awards, referred to her as “Nadine Gordimer, who through her mag­nif­i­cent epic writ­ing has — in the words of Alfred Nobel — been of very great ben­e­fit to human­i­ty.”

The acad­e­my also added that “her con­tin­u­al involve­ment on behalf of lit­er­a­ture and free speech in a police state where cen­sor­ship and per­se­cu­tion of books and peo­ple exist have made her ‘the doyenne of South African let­ters.’ ”

Yes­ter­day, The New York­er com­ment­ed that, although she wrote 15 nov­els, it was “through her short fic­tion Gordimer made her pres­ence felt the most.” Gordimer pub­lished her very first short sto­ry, “Come Again Tomor­row,” in a Johan­nes­burg mag­a­zine in 1938, when she was just 15 years old. Thir­teen years lat­er, there came anoth­er first — the first of many sto­ries she pub­lished in The New York­er (“A Watch­er of the Dead”). Although many of Gordimer’s New York­er sto­ries remain locked up, avail­able only to the mag­a­zine’s sub­scribers, we’ve man­aged to dig up sev­er­al open ones. Above, you can watch Gordimer read her 1999 sto­ry called “Loot” while vis­it­ing Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty in 2005. The text has since been re-pub­lished on the Nobel Prize web site. Below, you can also lis­ten to author Tes­sa Hadley read “City Lovers,” first pub­lished in The New York­er in 1975. The sto­ry “focuss­es on a love affair between a white man and a ‘col­ored’ woman in Apartheid South Africa. It’s deeply polit­i­cal in its details—the man is a geol­o­gist at a min­ing com­pa­ny, the couple’s affair is ille­gal, and they cov­er it up by pre­tend­ing that she is his ser­vant. ”

Oth­er Gordimer sto­ries avail­able online include “The First Sense” and “A Ben­e­fi­cia­ry”, pub­lished respec­tive­ly in The New York­er in 2006 and 2007. “The Sec­ond Sense” came out in The Vir­ginia Quar­ter­ly, also in 2007. If you, dear Open Cul­ture read­ers, hap­pen to know of any oth­er Gordimer sto­ries pub­lished online, please let us know in the com­ments sec­tions below, and we’ll add them to the roundup.

Relat­ed Con­tent

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

Read 18 Short Sto­ries From Nobel Prize-Win­ning Writer Alice Munro Free Online

10 Free Sto­ries by George Saun­ders, Author of Tenth of Decem­ber

Neil Gaiman’s Free Short Sto­ries

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices

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Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock (1969)

What must it have been like to have been at Wood­stock? Like, real­ly have been there, not just watched the film or the 2009 movie about Wood­stock, not just have gone to any of the sev­er­al mil­lion mud­dy, drug­gy out­door fes­ti­vals that pro­lif­er­at­ed in Woodstock’s wake, but real­ly been there, man? I’ll nev­er know. The real expe­ri­ence of the 1960s can feel as for­ev­er irre­triev­able as that of the 1860s. But, wow, am I glad for the devel­op­ment of mov­ing pic­tures and live audio record­ing in that 100 years.

Not only can we see the throngs of hap­py hip­pies mak­ing their way across Max and Miri­am Yas­gur’s dairy farm in the ini­tial few min­utes above, but we do not have to smell them! Seri­ous­ly, the footage lead­ing up to Jimi Hendrix’s Wood­stock per­for­mance is fun, includ­ing a brief glimpse of Jer­ry Gar­cia hang­ing out with the peo­ple. But you’re here to see Jimi, so, if you can’t wait, skip to ahead. The crowd cer­tain­ly waited—waited three days for Hen­drix to close the fes­ti­val Sun­day night with his band Gyp­sy Sun & Rain­bows. Then they wait­ed some more, all night, in fact, until Hen­drix final­ly took the stage at 8:00 a.m. that Mon­day morn­ing, August 18, 1969. I imag­ine every­one who stayed would say it was well worth it. Part 2 of the video is here.

The per­for­mances, as you know, are leg­en­dar­i­ly blis­ter­ing and include Hendrix’s famous­ly scream­ing, feed­back-drenched “Star-Span­gled Ban­ner.” See it above like you nev­er could if you were knee-deep in mud and stand­ing behind a crowd of thou­sands in the sum­mer sun. Hear it above in audio from Inter­net Archive, who also have mp3 and ogg vor­bis ver­sions of each song for free down­load. And hear a radio doc­u­men­tary about that per­for­mance below. Enjoy!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

‘Elec­tric Church’: The Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence Live in Stock­holm, 1969

Jimi Hendrix’s Final Inter­view on Sep­tem­ber 11, 1970: Lis­ten to the Com­plete Audio

Jimi Hen­drix Unplugged: Two Rare Record­ings of Hen­drix Play­ing Acoustic Gui­tar

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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Slavoj Žižek Charged With Plagiarizing A White Nationalist Magazine Article

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Any­one who does any sort of research-based writ­ing knows how easy it is for an occa­sion­al close approx­i­ma­tion of another’s prose to slip into a sum­ma­ry. Such instances rarely con­sti­tute pla­gia­rism, but they can occu­py an uncom­fort­able gray area. Recent alle­ga­tions against Sloven­ian the­o­rist Slavoj Žižek, how­ev­er, charge the whole­sale theft of entire pas­sages of text, almost ver­ba­tim. It’s an unusu­al sto­ry, not least because of the source mate­r­i­al Žižek alleged­ly lifted—an arti­cle in Amer­i­can Renais­sance, iden­ti­fied by the South­ern Pover­ty Law Cen­ter as a white suprema­cist pub­li­ca­tion.

As Crit­i­cal The­o­ry reports, the first hints of a pos­si­ble bor­row­ing came on July 8 from Steve Sail­er, writ­ing for the The Unz Review (an alter­na­tive out­let with its own some­times pecu­liar pre­oc­cu­pa­tions when it comes to race). Sail­er points to a por­tion of Žižek’s 2006 arti­cle “A Plea for a Return to Dif­férance (with a Minor Pro Domo Sua)” that is unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly lucid and, well, un-Žižek-like. The text in ques­tion sum­ma­rizes Kevin MacDonald’s anti-Semit­ic evo­lu­tion­ary-psy­chol­o­gy book The Cul­ture of Cri­tique. The day after Sail­er’s obser­va­tion, blog­ger Deogol­wulf tracked down a review of the Mac­Don­ald book by Stan­ley Horn­beck in Amer­i­can Renais­sance and placed Žižek and Hornbeck’s prose side by side. Observe the sig­nif­i­cant sim­i­lar­i­ties and minor dif­fer­ences here.

In a July 11th arti­cle break­ing the sto­ry, Newsweek wrote that it had con­tact­ed Deogol­wulf and Sail­er for com­ment, but nei­ther respond­ed by the time of pub­li­ca­tion. How­ev­er, James Williams, senior man­ag­ing edi­tor for the jour­nal Crit­i­cal Inquiry, which pub­lished Žižek’s arti­cle, did, say­ing Žižek “absolute­ly” bor­rowed from Horn­beck. Had they known, said Williams, “we would have cer­tain­ly asked him to remove the ille­gal pas­sages.” Horn­beck also respond­ed, call­ing the bor­row­ing “con­temptible.”

Did Žižek know­ing­ly pla­gia­rize Amer­i­can Renais­sance (does Žižek even read Amer­i­can Renais­sance)? Accord­ing to Žižek him­self, the answer is no. In an email to Crit­i­cal The­o­ry, he writes that the close resem­blance between his arti­cle and Hornbeck’s review is the result of a sum­ma­ry of MacDonald’s work giv­en to him by an unnamed “friend.” Here’s more from Žižek’s email. (Note: he uses the word “résumé” here in the sense of “sum­ma­ry”):

With regard to the recent accu­sa­tions about my pla­gia­rism, here is what hap­pened. When I was writ­ing the text on Der­ri­da which con­tains the prob­lem­at­ic pas­sages, a friend told me about Kevin Macdonald’s the­o­ries, and I asked him to send me a brief resume. The friend send [sic] it to me, assur­ing me that I can use it freely since it mere­ly resumes another’s line of thought. Con­se­quent­ly, I did just that – and I sin­cere­ly apol­o­gize for not know­ing that my friend’s resume was large­ly bor­rowed from Stan­ley Hornbeck’s review of Macdonald’s book.

“The prob­lem­at­ic pas­sages,” Žižek con­tin­ues in his defense, “are pure­ly infor­ma­tive, a report on another’s the­o­ry for which I have no affin­i­ty what­so­ev­er.” He adds at the end, “I nonethe­less deeply regret the inci­dent.”

It is true that unlike, say, Sen­a­tor Rand Paul—who appar­ent­ly passed off almost whol­ly pla­gia­rized arti­cles as his own orig­i­nal work—Žižek does not take any cred­it for MacDonald’s ideas and sum­ma­rizes them only in an attempt to refute them. Nonethe­less, as Newsweek notes (in an unfor­tu­nate choice of words), for con­ser­v­a­tive crit­ics, Žižek is “a big scalp” and the mat­ter a very seri­ous one. Zizek’s “slop­py cita­tions,” writes Crit­i­cal The­o­ry, have come under fire before—notably in his feud with Noam Chom­sky, who caught Žižek mis­at­tribut­ing a racist quote to him. (Žižek “admit­ted the mis­take and apol­o­gized.”) This case seems much more severe for the length of the pas­sages lift­ed as well as Žižek’s fail­ure to check and cite his source. Charges of aca­d­e­m­ic pla­gia­rism fre­quent­ly go to press. But with such a pub­lic fig­ure (and film star) as the flam­boy­ant Marx­ist Žižek, and such inflam­ma­to­ry far right source mate­r­i­al, this par­tic­u­lar­ly regret­table incident—unintentional as it may be—makes for some par­tic­u­lar­ly sen­sa­tion­al­ist head­lines.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Slavoj Žižek Responds to Noam Chom­sky: ‘I Don’t Know a Guy Who Was So Often Empir­i­cal­ly Wrong’

Vice Meets Up with Super­star Com­mu­nist Cul­tur­al The­o­rist Slavoj Žižek

Slavoj Žižek’s Pervert’s Guide to Ide­ol­o­gy Decodes The Dark Knight and They Live

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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Flannery O’Connor’s Satirical Cartoons: 1942–1945

Sci-fi author B.C. Kowal­s­ki recent­ly post­ed a short essay on why the advice to write every day is, for lack of a suit­able euphemism, “bull­shit.” Not that there’s any­thing wrong with it, Kowal­s­ki main­tains. Only that it’s not the only way. It’s said Thack­er­ay wrote every morn­ing at dawn. Jack Ker­ouac wrote (and drank) in binges. Every writer finds some method in-between. The point is to “do what works for you” and to “exper­i­ment.” Kowal­s­ki might have added a third term: diver­si­fy. It’s worked for so many famous writ­ers after all. James Joyce had his music, Sylvia Plath her art, Hem­ing­way his machis­mo. Faulkn­er drew car­toons, as did his fel­low South­ern writer Flan­nery O’Connor, his equal, I’d say, in the art of the Amer­i­can grotesque. Through both writ­ers ran a deep vein of pes­simistic humor, oblique, but detectable, even in scenes of high­est pathos.

 

O’Connor’s visu­al work, writes Kel­ly Ger­ald in The Paris Review, was a “way of see­ing she described as part of the ‘habit of art’”—a way to train her fic­tion writer’s eye. Her car­toons hew close­ly to her autho­r­i­al voice: a lone sar­don­ic observ­er, supreme­ly con­fi­dent in her assess­ments of human weak­ness. Per­haps a bet­ter com­par­i­son than Faulkn­er is with British poet and doo­dler Ste­vie Smith, whose bleak vision and razor-sharp wit sim­i­lar­ly cut through moun­tains of… shall we say, bull­shit. In both pen & ink and linoleum cuts, O’Connor set dead­pan one-lin­ers against images of pre­ten­sion, con­for­mi­ty, and the banal­i­ty of col­lege life. In the car­toon at the top, she seems to mock the pur­suit of cre­den­tials as a refuge for the social­ly dis­af­fect­ed. Above, a cam­paign­er for a low-lev­el office deploys bom­bas­tic pseu­do-Lenin­ist rhetoric, and in the car­toon below, a cranky char­ac­ter escapes a horde of iden­ti­cal WAVES.

O’Connor was an intense­ly visu­al writer with, Ger­ald writes, a “nat­ur­al pro­cliv­i­ty for cap­tur­ing the humor­ous char­ac­ter of real peo­ple and con­crete sit­u­a­tions,” ful­ly cred­i­ble even at their most extreme (as in the increas­ing­ly hor­rif­ic self-lac­er­a­tions of Wise Blood’s Hazel Motes). She began draw­ing at five and pro­duced small books and sketch­es as a child, even­tu­al­ly pub­lish­ing car­toons in almost every issue of her high-school and college’s news­pa­pers and year­books. Her alma mater Geor­gia Col­lege, then known as Geor­gia State Col­lege for Women, has pub­lished a book fea­tur­ing her car­toons from her under­grad­u­ate years, 1942–45.

More recent­ly, Ger­ald edit­ed a col­lec­tion called Flan­nery O’Connor: The Car­toons for Fan­ta­graph­ics. In his intro­duc­tion, artist Bar­ry Moser describes in detail the tech­nique of her linoleum cuts, call­ing them “coarse in tech­ni­cal terms.” And yet, “her rudi­men­ta­ry han­dling of the medi­um notwith­stand­ing, O’Connor’s prints offer glimpses into the work of the writer she would become” with their “lit­tle O’Connor petards aimed at the walls of pre­ten­tious­ness, aca­d­e­mics, stu­dent pol­i­tics, and stu­dent com­mit­tees.” Had O’Connor con­tin­ued mak­ing car­toons into her pub­lish­ing years, she might have, like B.C. Kowal­s­ki, aimed one of those petards at those who dis­pense dog­mat­ic, cook­ie-cut­ter writ­ing advice as well.

via Geor­gia Col­lege/The Paris Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Art of William Faulkn­er: Draw­ings from 1916–1925

The Art of Sylvia Plath: Revis­it Her Sketch­es, Self-Por­traits, Draw­ings & Illus­trat­ed Let­ters

The Art of Franz Kaf­ka: Draw­ings from 1907–1917

Rare 1959 Audio: Flan­nery O’Connor Reads ‘A Good Man is Hard to Find’

Flan­nery O’Connor: Friends Don’t Let Friends Read Ayn Rand (1960)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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Roger Ebert’s Final List of His Top 10 Favorite Films

roger-ebert-list

Image by Sound Opin­ions, via Flickr Com­mons

Roger Ebert seems to have resent­ed star rat­ings, which he had to dish out atop each and every one of his hun­dreds upon hun­dreds of reg­u­lar news­pa­per movie reviews. He also empha­sized, every once in a while, his dis­dain for the “thumbs up” and “thumbs down” sys­tem that became his and Gene Siskel’s tele­vi­sion trade­mark. And he could hard­ly ever abide that run-of-the-mill crit­ic’s stand­by, the top-ten list. Film­go­ers who nev­er paid atten­tion to Ebert’s career will like­ly, at this point, insist that the man nev­er real­ly liked any­thing, but those of us who read him for years, even decades, know the true depth and scope of his love for movies, a pas­sion he even expressed, reg­u­lar­ly, in list form. He did so for, as he put it, “the one sin­gle list of inter­est to me. Every 10 years, the ancient and ven­er­a­ble British film mag­a­zine, Sight & Sound, polls the world’s direc­tors, movie crit­ics, and assort­ed pro­duc­ers, cin­e­math­eque oper­a­tors and fes­ti­val direc­tors, etc., to deter­mine the Great­est Films of All Time.”

“Why do I val­ue this poll more than oth­ers?” Ebert asks. “It has sen­ti­men­tal val­ue. The first time I saw it in the mag­a­zine, I was much impressed by the names of the vot­ers, and felt a thrill to think that I might some­day be invit­ed to join their num­bers. I was teach­ing a film course in the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chicago’s Fine Arts Pro­gram, and taught class­es of the top ten films in 1972, 1982 and 1992.” His dream came true, and when he wrote this reflec­tion on send­ing in his list every decade, he did so a year near­ly to the day before his death in 2013, mak­ing his entry in the 2012 Sight & Sound poll a kind of last top-ten tes­ta­ment:

Decid­ing that he must vote for “one new film” he had­n’t includ­ed on his 2002 list, Ebert nar­rowed it down to two can­di­dates: The Tree of Life and Char­lie Kauf­man’s Synec­doche, New York. “Like the Her­zog, the Kubrick and the Cop­po­la, they are films of almost fool­hardy ambi­tion. Like many of the films on my list, they were direct­ed by the artist who wrote them. Like sev­er­al of them, they attempt no less than to tell the sto­ry of an entire life. [ … ] I could have cho­sen either film — I chose The Tree of Life because it’s more affir­ma­tive and hope­ful. I realise that isn’t a defen­si­ble rea­son for choos­ing one film over the oth­er, but it is my rea­son, and mak­ing this list is essen­tial­ly impos­si­ble, any­way.”  That did­n’t stop his cinephil­ia from pre­vail­ing — not that much ever could.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roger Ebert Talks Mov­ing­ly About Los­ing and Re-Find­ing His Voice (TED 2011)

The Two Roger Eberts: Emphat­ic Crit­ic on TV; Inci­sive Review­er in Print

Roger Ebert Lists the 10 Essen­tial Char­ac­ter­is­tics of Noir Films

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Johnny Cash Reads the New Testament

The best gospel recordings—by Aretha Franklin, The Sta­ples Singers, The Carter Fam­i­ly, even Elvis—hum with a deep sin­cer­i­ty that can be tru­ly mov­ing, despite the unin­ten­tion­al­ly fun­ny earnest­ness of bal­lads like “He Touched Me” (not to men­tion some of those album cov­ers). You can add to the list of South­ern gospel greats the name of John­ny Cash, who, like Elvis, got his start singing gospel and returned fre­quent­ly to the hymns of his youth. Unlike the King, how­ev­er, Cash also returned to the fold in the 1970s, part­ly influ­enced by his wife June Carter.

Cash would record a total of eight solo gospel albums with Colum­bia Records over his career, and a sort of old-time gospel great­est hits with The Mil­lion Dol­lar Quar­tet (Cash, Elvis, Jer­ry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins). He wrote a 1986 nov­el­iza­tion of the life of the Apos­tle Paul called Man in White, and a song of the same name (below), and in 1990, the aging star record­ed the entire New Tes­ta­ment, New King James Ver­sion. Hear the Gospel of Matthew above, and lis­ten to it on Youtube. Run­ning over 19 hours, the record­ing was repack­aged in 2008 as a DVD called Chap­ter and Verse, with a slideshow and a CD of 14 of Cash’s gospel record­ings.

Like his life and career, Cash’s reli­gious jour­ney was tumul­tuous, but once he’d kicked his addic­tion, he became some­thing of a “staunch, con­ser­v­a­tive Bible thumper,” writ­ing in the intro­duc­tion to The Man in White, “Please under­stand that I believe the Bible, the whole Bible, to be the infal­li­ble, indis­putable Word of God.” His the­o­log­i­cal views may have tem­pered over the years, but they remained staunch­ly Evan­gel­i­cal to the end of his life. That said, Cash “was a pri­vate man and pre­ferred to keep his faith to him­self,” once declar­ing, “If I’m with some­one who doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t talk about it. I don’t impose myself on any­body in any way, includ­ing reli­gion.”

As in every­thing else Cash record­ed, his con­vic­tion comes through in his read­ing above. While he didn’t preach, he did prac­tice what he under­stood to be the val­ues of his faith, stand­ing up for the poor, impris­oned, and oppressed and against the pow­er struc­tures that con­stant­ly beat them down. Cash’s humil­i­ty and com­mit­ment to prin­ci­ple have inspired mil­lions of peo­ple who share his beliefs and mil­lions who don’t. To learn more about this lit­tle-dis­cussed side of the Man in Black, lis­ten to the one-hour radio doc­u­men­tary below from Pub­lic Radio Exchange.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

Two Prison Con­certs That Defined an Out­law Singer: John­ny Cash at San Quentin and Fol­som (1968–69)

The First Episode of The John­ny Cash Show, Fea­tur­ing Bob Dylan & Joni Mitchell (1969)

Har­vard Presents Two Free Online Cours­es on the Old Tes­ta­ment

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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Watch 1970s Animations of Songs by Joni Mitchell, Jim Croce & The Kinks, Aired on The Sonny & Cher Show

The Son­ny and Cher Show aired in the years right before I was born. Not only do I have no mem­o­ry of it, of course, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an entire episode, either in re-runs or on the inter­net. Nev­er­the­less, I imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nized the style of the show’s ani­ma­tor, Eng­lish artist John David Wil­son, when I encoun­tered these music videos Wil­son made for the singing com­e­dy duo’s vari­ety hour. Though a much less famous name, Wilson’s work seems to have ani­mat­ed the 70s in the way that R. Crumb’s illus­trat­ed the 60s. The open­ing sequences to icon­ic pro­duc­tions Grease and The Car­ol Bur­nett Show are Wilson’s, as are ani­ma­tions for Laugh In and cheesy Sat­ur­day morn­ing kids’ show The Hud­son Broth­ers Raz­zle Daz­zle Show (best known now, per­haps, because of Hud­son broth­er prog­e­ny Kate Hud­son). Though Wilson’s career stretch­es back to the 50s—with work on Mr. Magoo, Peter Pan, and Lady and the Tramp—and into the 90s, with Fer­n­Gul­ly: The Last Rain­for­est, he seems to belong to the decade of “I Got You Babe” more so than any oth­er.

Drawn “in a sim­plis­tic, funky-look­ing style” and with goofy sound effects added (prob­a­bly by the Son­ny and Cher pro­duc­ers), Wilson’s ani­mat­ed films for Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yel­low Taxi” (top), Jim Croce’s “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” (above), and The Kinks “Demon Alco­hol” (below, sung by Wayne Car­pen­ter) enhance songs already rich with nar­ra­tive. This, the blog Media Fun­house points out, was by design: “Wil­son was wise to con­cen­trate on the ‘sto­ry songs’ of the time, in order to cre­ate repeat­ing char­ac­ters and have the view­er ‘con­nect’ with the piece in a very short span of time.”

In most cas­es, Son­ny and Cher’s vocals were dubbed over the orig­i­nal tracks, but in many of the ani­ma­tions that sur­faced on VHS in the eight­ies and now appear on Youtube, the orig­i­nal songs have been restored, as in the two above. If you grew up with the show, you’ve sure­ly seen at least a cou­ple of these ear­ly music videos, a form Wil­son is wide­ly cred­it­ed with pio­neer­ing. Begin­ning in the sec­ond sea­son, Wilson’s com­pa­ny, Fine Arts Films, pro­duced a total of four­teen ani­mat­ed shorts for the show.

The sto­ry-songs above of envi­ron­men­tal degra­da­tion, tough street char­ac­ters, and the depths of addic­tion seem so very char­ac­ter­is­tic of the peri­od, though Wil­son cer­tain­ly ani­mat­ed more light­heart­ed pop fare, such as Melanie’s “Brand New Key” (sung here by Cher). For more of Wilson’s ani­mat­ed music videos, see Dan­ger­ous Minds or Media Fun­house, and for the full range of Wilson’s long career in ani­ma­tion, check out the web­site of the pro­duc­tion com­pa­ny he found­ed, Fine Arts Films.

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Joni Mitchell Per­form “Both Sides Now” on the First Episode of The John­ny Cash Show (1969)

Watch the Funky, Oscar-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Film Fea­tur­ing the Music of Herb Alpert & the Tijua­na Brass (1966)

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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