Dalton Trumbo & the Abuse of Power

A documentary on Dalton Trumbo was on PBS last night. 90 minutes, and fantastic. Man, he could write! And apparently couldn't stop writing, no matter what. I hope you got a chance to see it; if not, definitely put it on your Netflix cue. I had put it on mine when I first heard the film was coming out; I plan to see it a 2nd time. If there's a book of selected letters by Trumbo, I want it.

The program put me in mind of an-going meditation on the abuses of power.

Some weeks back the radio program This American Life had an episode about how mildly slimy Egyptian business man was caught in the post-9/11 web anti-terror hysteria. He has been arrested for conspiring to sell arms to an undercover agent. The arms came from the govt, as had the money. According to the program, the Egyptian had not previously sold arms to anyone, and had no known connection to any terrorist groups. He was bested by his economic need and his vainglory; not by any desire to overthrow the govt. Now he sits in a Federal Prison in Jersey.

The program acted like this was something new. But I couldn't help but think of the stories Abbie Hoffman told about guys agitating for violence who turned out to be undercover agents. I vaguely remember a riff in Revolution for the Hell of It in which Abbie explained how easy it was to spot these guys.

The use of agent provocateurs is older than the term. Neither incident is unique in the annals of world govt.

I think it was Jefferson,or one of his heros, who said something like, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Another truism about power is that those who have it will typically strive to get more, and to hold on to that power for as long as possible.

I consider this a typical human flaw. I can be as easily tempted by power as Barack Obama or Dick Cheney.

The Founding Fathers sought to create checks and balances that would hold the temptation of power in check. Those checks and balances have been tested, sometimes to survive sometimes to be eroded. Their ideals, I think, were tempered by the fact that only landowners had the right to vote - so our Republic began as a sort of oligarchy. Perhaps not as bad as old King George, but still far from De Tocqueville's classless ideal.

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Trumbo

This American Life: Arms Trader

Ode to my Silvertone

O guitar, I sold you,
first guitar I ever had.
I sold your string set too high,
higher than the valleys
in my left fingertips.
I sold the missing bridge knob,
and the broken strap peg.
I sold the mahogany.
I sold your faint sunburst.

You were the first guitar I ever had,
purchased by my dad
in the famous dreams of my youth
when my heart was an alternating bass
when I was an apostrophe
curled around your feminine curve.

I sold your f-holes and the bridge
warmed and patinaed by
my long slender fingers
and my young anxious hand.
I sold the dark blue felt gig bag
with "Harptone" scrolled in yellow
crackling at a 45° angle.

But o, guitar, I could not sell highschool nights
balancing you on my knee
with the song book spread on my bed.
I could not sell the hours practicing,
the songs played for friends,
the folk operas written,
the march of my right hand fingers
as I learned my first L Cohen song.

O, guitar, I could not sell
playing my first song for my father.
I could not sell
performing a talking blues
at senior year assembly.
I could not sell
your ancestors
and the poetry they sang.

O my well-mannered lover
o mistress of 3-fret by 6 string boxes
o mystery of F & B7 &
other wickedness
O mother of each guitar
yet to come.
I could not sell you,
I could only pass you on
to minister to a new troubadour.

Your Law Is My Delight

Psalm 119:77
I am very willful. I expect things to go my way, and pout when they don't. I suppose myself to be "smarter than the average bear", and expect to learn new things easily. If I don't pick it up in one sitting, I'm likely to drop it rather than persevere.

For example, I play the guitar, and would like to expand the picking patterns I use. Problem is, learning new patterns requires practice and patience.

I am more likely to question a rule than not. "Because" is not a sufficient reason. If it seems that I am surprisingly law-abiding, it's only because I dislike confrontation more than I dislike unreasonable rules. I obey, resentfully.

It's hard for me to imagine delighting in any law. So many people today strive so much for "self fulfillment", I don't suppose that I'm alone. Don't most people obey the law out of fear of punishment?

This verse comes from the longest poem in the Book of Psalms. It is a veritable love song to Torah Law. Not only the Big Ten, but over 600 more (collected in Leviticus and Deuteronomy). Another line in the same psalm exclaims, "Oh, how I love your law."

Jesus said, "I have come to fulfill the Law." When asked to summarize the Law, Jesus quoted two passages from Deuteronomy - to love God with your full being, and to love your neighbor as yourself. When you think about it, this can be more challenging than obeying hundreds of written laws.

After all, if you have a written law, you know exactly what's expected of you. But how, exactly do you love your neighbor as yourself? What does loving God with your full being look like?

However, in addition to this challenge, Jesus led by example. When it came time be obedient unto death, we can hardly say that Jesus' obedience was motivated by fear. What punishment could be worse than suffocating on a cross under the mideastern sun?

Jesus' obedience was motivated by love - love of God and love of humanity.

What would it look like if we were obedient as a loving response rather than from fear of punishment?

Can the love of the Law become the Law of Love?

I Wanna Be Your Blues

This poem was originally posted in this very space; now you can hear a performance with appropriately bluesy guitar. You may read the text at my poetry site.

Power of a song

Grant that the lip-sticked pig is gone for good. Nice of her to have SNL write her resignation speech, though.

Na Na Na

Just a song before I go, something to cheer you in case the heat has got you down.

NOLA immigre Theresa Andersson (originally from Sweeden) has the most talented feet in music.

I Can See For Miles

Petra Haden & the Sell Outs perform the classic Pete Townsend tune. Impressive acapella work.

My Last Poem

This video is for Natalie, who commented that she wished she could hear the poem. The text of the poem is available at my postcard site.

You Tube Premier

There's a couple of stumbles here - who knew I'd be so unsure in front of a camera? - but I think the point of the medley comes across. Shot with a Flip Ultra.

Crow Time

You live in my heart
but now
you're a victim of crow time —
struck dumb by green patches
fenced in by brown & gray —
and by the mystery of ashen urns.
Sky pure black, sparked by dove stars
and the moon is a sliver balancing
a firm ball of light
on its thin point — &
I'm reminded of your simple black hair,
sparks hidden in its strands.

You live in my eyes,
but still
you're a hostage to crow time —
lost amid men with broad shoulders
and women who live up to men's lies —
and until you notice your own smile,
you're doomed to servitude suffering.
Some trees with minor leaves
frame the cemetery evening,
but even now I can't help
thinking of you, thinking
of your warm woman's heart beating
like wind-blown love.

You live in my hands,
which are still scented with crow time —
though you may be far or
you could be across the midnight street —
and here where silence is an answer
I could think of you
studying my smooth hands
or weeding the wild moss on my chin.
Trees, stars, moons —
all the lies of romantic bleeding —
must have betrayed me.
Now you've gone.

You live in the memory of your head
pressed against my hair —
only the honor of crow time
could tempt us apart.

15.March.1980 (with some changes)

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This one's for Dr. O and seattlecrows.

Idée d’jour

Truth, in matters of religion, is simply the opinion that has survived.
– Oscar Wilde, writer (1854-1900)

Hard to Live With

Mandolin blues. What a concept.

Idée d’jour

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
— J. Krishnamurti, author, speaker, and philosopher (1895-1986)

Life is for Sharing

Tip o' the tam shander to Brother Dave.

Jonquils, 09Feb28

Once filled with spring dreams, today they are sighing, bending their heads to the west.

Idée d’jour

What monstrosities would walk the streets were some people's faces as unfinished as their minds.
– Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

Hazards of Love

I really like the sound of this track, what I presume to be the second "single" from the album of the same name. I've listened to the 30 sec snippets available on iTunes, and the album as a whole sounds interesting. It's a "concept" album, similar to their previous album, The Crane Wife. The difference being that album had two stories told over a series of tracks, with 2-3 tracks being outside those stories; the description of this album indicates it's all one story told over the course of 17 tracks.

Let me know what you think of this track.

Lenten Cross

Herewith, the traditional wooden cross set up on Shrove Tuesday, to stand in the courtyard through Lent.

Pie Jesu

Andrew Lloyd Weber at his best. According to the originating page, Ms. Westenra was 15 when this was filmed.

Golden Morning Lake

Two of four.