The Flintstones

I didn't see it coming, but apparently no one else did, either, if the interwebs are a reliable indicator for this sort of thing. It was recommended during a segment on the Slate's Political Gabfest podcast. I found it on the Hoopla digital library site (thanks, Aurora Public Library!), and figured I had nothing to lose by checking it out. Boy, howdy, am I ever glad I did.

I speak, of course, of DC Comics' reboot of The Flintstones.

It's more than a little shocking, especially for those of us with no particular fondness or animus toward the original Hanna-Barbera cartoon. Steve Pugh's artwork is in the classic modern "realistic" comic-book style, and he does a competent job of rendering the visual complexity of the town of Bedrock. However, the real genius behind the project is writer Mark Russell, who uses this page right out of history to examine our moment in history. I've been trying to remember when last I came across a biting social satire of this caliber with such an intensely human heart, and the closest I can come is somewhere between the British and American versions of The Office.

A bit of dialogue from Slate's Quarry, as a new Cro-Magnon employee queries Fred Flintstone.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How come you wear a tie?"

"I read an article once that said you should dress for the job you want, not the job you have."

"So how long have you been wearing that tie?"

"Fifteen years."

Everything in our culture gets skewered, but I can forgive all the jabs at religion since Unitarianism ends up taking the hardest hits. So, so good.

Twins

At the end of John 10, Jesus flees from a homicidal mob to Bethany across the Jordan (John 10:40-42 & 1:28). At the beginning of John 11, he is summoned by Mary and Martha to Bethany near Jerusalem. In John 11:16, the Evangelist identifies Thomas as "called the Twin."

In John 10-11, we have twin mentions of twins: the villages Bethany and Thomas the disciple. I have no idea what this means.

Very reasonable packaging

Yup. This was all for a few pairs of girly socks. 

The Devil and Hilary Mantel

First Things

35 East 21st Street

Sixth Floor

New York  NY  10010

Friday, March 3, 2017

To the Editor: 

As I expect thoughtful engagement from First Things, I was surprised and confused to read what Patricia Snow herself called “psychoanalytic criticism” (perhaps the least thoughtful style of literary analysis) in “The Devil and Hilary Mantel” (February 2017). Surprised, that is, until I read Snow’s description of William Tyndale’s protestant doctrines, all of which have found a home in historic presbyterianism’s Westminster Confession of Faith: “Rarely has blasphemy or heresy been so gently proclaimed.”

Protestant readers of First Things expect and accept uncritical endorsement of Roman Catholic conciliar doctrine as the price of admission. I will be gravely disappointed if that price is increased to include shallow insults of protestant conciliar doctrine (especially when packaged in psychoanalytic criticism).

grace and peace,

The Presbyterian Curmudgeon

I Am Not Your Negro

Mrs. Curmudgeon and I took in an early matinee showing of I Am Not Your Negro this morning, filmmaker Raoul Peck's presentation of the thought of James Baldwin. 

Content aside, it's a masterpiece the intensity of which drew me in, as a viewer, in a way which I don't remember experiencing since the much and well-deservedly praised Whiplash. For me, however, the nearest point of cinematic comparison is 2003's American Splendor. Neither film can be neatly categorized, and both, while not entirely new in style, present a model which we can only hope other filmmakers will imitate. American Splendor used actors and the real people they portrayed, along with elements of cartooning, to present something (entirely moving) between a biography and an autobiography of Harvey Pekar. I Am Not Your Negro is only nominally a documentary; in fact, it's an essay in film form.

That it comes off as a unified and incisive essay on race relations in these United States is Raoul Peck's personal triumph, since he edited it together from a number of Baldwin's published works, notes towards a never-completed book, and footage of James Baldwin in debate, lectures, and even an appearance on The Dick Cavett Show. That last, in particular, made me wonder how anyone could not fall in love with Baldwin's mind. Completely off the cuff, in rejoinder to a white academic, he improvises a speech marked by symmetry and repetition of key phrases, and which crescendoes to a shattering climax. It's a feat of rhetorical jazz which I've rarely had the privilege to encounter.

James Baldwin wanted to use Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. to tell the story of the Negro in America (and I wish I could figure out a way to mention his brilliant analysis of the role of Sidney Poitier in 1960s American cinema), but his true central thesis emerges most clearly in the film's final moments. To Baldwin, the Negro is a concept constructed by whites who sought to deny the reality that America is not composed of black and white people, but of one people with a literally shared and commingled blood. He posited that the challenge for whites, and implicitly for blacks as well, is to recognize that truth, that we are not other to one another, but rather are one. As Baldwin says, "Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed if it is not faced."

A word to the historically ignorant

Perhaps you, like I, have heard it asserted that yesterday was the first time ever a Vice-President broke a tie vote in the U.S. Senate to confirm a Cabinet nominee.

To which I can only say, balderdash and folderol! First time ever, my foot!

That is precisely the determinative plot point in Advise and Consent! (The film version, at least. I think the book had somewhat different conclusion.) What are they teaching in high school civics classes these days?

Oh, wait. There are no high school civics classes these days.

Memorials

My essay "Memorials," on the sacraments, is currently featured at The Daily Genevan.

Minor Miracle by Marilyn Nelson

This is the second time this poem appeared in my feed since subscribing to The Poetry Foundation's Poem of the Day podcast. As a poem, it's not much, not even as blank verse. But as a testimony we all need to hear, especially in these dark days, it's something else.

Nat Hentoff

You know the day is inevitable. Since it's been three months since he last published his column, I suspected the end was nearer than when he first enlisted one of his son's help in writing that column. Still, my heart sank when I read news of his death on Saturday.

I started my newspaper reading on the funny pages. Eventually, I noticed there was always a cartoon on the editorial page. Herblock introduced me to politics, and the Washington Post columnists continued my education. Back then, Nat Hentoff's "Sweet Land of Liberty" was a regular feature, and from him I learned how to read the Constitution as a strict constructionist. More importantly, I learned from him how to adhere to one's principles.

Although an atheist, Hentoff had a religion: America. He loved our country, and he loved it because of the principles on which it was founded. Amongst those principles is the unalienable right to life, and so he opposed abortion, despite the chagrin of many of his so-called-liberal colleagues.

Nat Hentoff was one of the very few people whose disagreement made me question my own beliefs. Generally, a person states his or her disagreement and one nods politely before moving on with one's life. Especially when it came to the Constitution, I knew I had to have very good reasons to disagree with him: following Hentoff's lead, I realized that my strict constructionist read of the First Amendment required an equally strict constructionist read of the Second Amendment, no matter how skeptical I continue to be regarding the putative virtues of a heavily armed populace.

For those of us for whom worship of these United States poses a serious temptation to violate the First and Second Commandments, Nat Hentoff was a chief apostle and unwavering conscience.

And he produced albums for Charles Mingus. How cool is that?

Today's breakfast

Medium burger on rye, topped with bacon, cheddar cheese, over-easy egg, and country gravy.

This is a cry for help.