All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.
Happy holidays.
Sheer genius:
A friend of mine has come up with the perfect solution for the Chinese menu problem. He redistributes the sheaves of menus that get left under his doormat to finance companies all over the country that are offering him a new un-asked-for credit card, using the postage-paid envelopes supplied by the finance companies. This way one unwanted deluge cancels the other, and he has a little glow of righteous pleasure every time to drops his contribution in the mailbox.
[Via New Yorkish]
The best site I found was actually a collection of materials for a Korean history course at the University of Washington. The images collected there are outstanding, whether they’re of the Silla-period Sokkuram Buddha, Koryo celadon, or Choson paintings. And the photos of the Japanese occupation and the 1980s democracy movement are wrenching.
The Daily News reports that many of the rescue and cleanup workers who served at Ground Zero are now suffering from unusual cancers, including pancreatic cancer, which is almost always fatal. According to Dr. Charles Hesdorffer, an oncologist at Columbia Presbyterian, “In all instances, the cancers developed in young, otherwise healthy individuals with no personal or family histories of cancer.”
Well, at least it was a heterosexual marriage, so it didn’t erode any sanctity or anything.
I feel dirty now.
Anyway, I just wanted to quote the songs in full and let you make what you want of them.
Peace Like a River (1971)
Peace like a river ran through the city
Long past the midnight curfew
We sat starry-eyed
We were satisfied
And I remember
Misinformation followed us like a plague
Nobody knew from time to time
If the plans were changed
If the plans were changed.You can beat us with wires
You can beat us with chains
You can run out your rules
But you know you can’t outrun the history train
I’ve seen a glorious day.Four in the morning
I woke up from out of my dreams
Nowhere to go but back to sleep
But I’m reconciled
Oh, oh, oh, I’m going to be up for a while*
American Tune (1973)
Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
But I’m all right, I’m all right
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from homeAnd I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
or driven to its knees
But it’s all right, it’s all right
We’ve lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
we’re traveling on
I can’t help it, I wonder what went wrongAnd I dreamed I was dying
And I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flyingWe come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
and sing and American tune
But it’s all right, it’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrows going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some restI’m trying to get some rest
So when I read today in Ambiguous.org that the Rhode Island chapter of the National Organization for Women is sponsoring a program called Freedom Fridays: Wear Red as an antiwar protest, it set off certain alarm bells. According to the website, red was used as a code by Norwegians in World War II who were protesting the Nazi occupation. But in American political consciousness, the color red represents something else entirely. And the idea of secret Reds has a nasty history indeed, including both the baseless Red-baiting of the McCarthy era and the post-Soviet revelations that Communist spies were indeed deeply embedded in the American government in the 1940s. I can just imagine the headlines in the Conservative press when they get a hold of this: “Secret Reds Subvert War on Terror!” “New England Feminists Encourage Antiwar Communism!”
Remember, my left-leaning friends, that we’re working for an election here — one in which we’ll have to inspire middle-of-the-road undecideds to lean our way — not a revolution. Secret cabals of Reds will not help the cause.
The choice of Singh sends all the right messages. Because he was the architect of India’s successful economic reforms, the business community will be reassured that the return of Congress does not mean a return to state industry and quasi-socialism. He is also squeaky-clean, a rarity among Indian politicians. As a non-Hindu, he is a living demonstration of India’s secular inclusiveness and a rejection of the BJP’s Hindu nationalism. And as a Sikh, he is proof that the painful events of 1984 are firmly in the past, both for India and for the Congress Party.
Plus, of course, the elevation of a Sikh to the highest office in the land may well usher in a golden age of bhangra dancing, which has to be one of the coolest things ever.