Jobs had been teaching us to say goodbye to all that for decades — we just didn’t know it.
… in these final years, when the auditorium lights in would go down and the crowd would go wild for Jobs, who increasingly greeted his followers and touted the latest neat, new thing even as he wore the look of a person who was not going into that future with us.
He would be getting off here; we were to proceed without him … Let it go and look ahead was the message all along. Hank Stueval in the Washington Post
It was J.D. Salinger who taught me how to write. Not the man, but a person who seemed perfectly real to me—Salinger’s startling gift to literature, these people, their human vitality—Seymour, the oldest of the Glass children. Buddy, his brother, reads aloud, as it were, the letter that comprises Seymour, Read the rest of this entry »
The past that Frank Capra helped invent. The past the seemed to ennoble America—when what we know now is that we are nothing special. People who can go either way.
Tom Englehardt provides a sobering look at Obama that is painful and important to face.
In other words, if you can’t go to court and get the punishments you want, the solution is simply to create courts jiggered in such a way (and surrounded by enough secrecy) that you’ll get the decisions you desire. If that isn’t a striking definition of American justice, I don’t know what is.
the post formerly titled “When This Battle Is Over”
From the 1969 LP, “Accept No Substitute”. This is the only film of D&B on you tube and the only music video they ever filmed for Electra records. Delaney & Bonnie first met Eric Clapton when the pair served as Blind Faith’s opening act. Prior to their marriage and collaboration, Delaney had been a well-regarded LA session musician, and Bonnie had the distinction of being the only white Ikette.
What was I thinking. This, I hope, sets things right.
… what middle aged cranky beatle fan it was who wrote it.
John Lennon replies. 1969.
I was reading your letter and wondering what middle aged cranky beatle fan it was who wrote it. I resisted looking at the the last page to find out. I kept thinking who it was, Queenie? Stuart’s mother? Clive Epstein’s wife? Alan Williams? What the hell, its Linda!
It was