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EMMA THOMPSON TO WRITE ‘MY FAIR LADY’

The British actress will write the screenplay for a remake of “My Fair Lady.” The new version will draw on additional material from “Pygmalion.” New York Times

“My Fair Lady” is merely a masterpiece, the wonderful synthesis of Shaw’s wit and a glorious musical score. Has there ever been a better musical? But I am sure that Emma Thompson can improve it. And when will she be repainting the Sistine Chapel?

Couldn’t she be content to “improve” Shaw’s lesser works? No one would mind her writing a screenplay for “Captain Brassbound’s Confession”. Better yet, she could venture into originality. The world is ready for a new Gidget movie…Moon Doggie gets a surfing scholarship to Cambridge. Gidget follows him there, and finds herself being wooed by both Bertrand Russell and Virginia Woolf. …Yes, Ms. Thompson can even cast herself as Gidget. Just leave “My Fair Lady” alone.

Of course, that hope is futile because I can predict Ms. Thompson’s real goal. She intends to play Professor Higgins. I suppose you could rationalize a gender-reversed perspective. Emma Thompson did go to Cambridge where that sort-of-thing is part of the curriculum. So, her Henry Higgins picks up Eliza Doolittle(Colin Farrell) and attempts to teach intelligible English to the urchin. (I only wish someone tried that in real life with Farrell.) In this “My Fair Lady”, you could cast Maggie Smith as Colonel Pickering, Keira Knightley as Freddie Eynsford-Hill, Helen Mirren as Alfred Doolittle and Charlotte Rampling as Edward VII.

I will be rooting for Kaiser Wilhelm (Uma Thurman) to kill off half of the characters in this travesty. In reality, that would have happened. Did you think that Freddie or Colonel Pickering would still be alive by 1919?

If you’ve heard one town crier, you’ve heard them all: claiming a possible link between flea-infested rats and the bubonic plague. Some of you, in a panic over these wild rumors, might consider practicing hygiene. That is your choice. No one, however, should force you to be clean. Your filth is your right, and the facts are on your side.

Just consider these questions.

I. Is there really a bubonic plague?

Perhaps, half of the people in your village have suddenly died. Does that coincidence make it a plague? Did you check every corpse for boils? Of course not. So, why blame a disease, when the cause could have been a witch’s curse or the Jews poisoning the wells?

As for the rumors of the alleged plague devastating all of Christendom, how can you believe anything that troubadours sing? They indulge in gossip and sensationalism; what a sad commentary on the 14th century that a once honorable profession has strayed from entertainment into journalism.

II. Is there a link between vermin and disease?

According to tentative preliminary speculation, some Moorish doctors in Spain have noticed a correlation between their personal hygiene and their patients’ survival. These findings may only indicate that doctors are unhealthy for patients. Furthermore, the research was conducted by heathens who, in any case, are going to burn in Hell.

A study of history would refute any connection between hygiene and health. Methusaleh never bathed and lived to be 969 years old; Nero bathed and died at 31. In our own times, many sainted hermits have lived more than 80 years, garbed only in their lice.

III. Are rats and fleas unhealthy?

On the contrary, they are essential to your spiritual and physical well-being. The presence of rats means the absence of cats, those familiars of Satan. Every rat in your home is a guardian angel.

Fleas are invaluable in drawing off the foul humors of the blood. Without those beneficial bites, you would die of vapors or require the emergency application of leeches. And just imagine how expensive healthcare would be without fleas.

IV. What is the real motive behind the Hygiene Lobby?

Hygiene is an unnatural act, but we can respect a person’s right to indulge in it in private. If we can tolerate their fetish, however, they should not begrudge us our natural state. Why are they trying to force hygiene on us?

It certainly is not for our own good. If there were a moral justification for hygiene, baptism would be as frequent as mass. In fact, hygiene is part of an alien agenda to subvert and replace our society. The type of people, who want you to be clean, also want you to be literate. Feudalism isn’t good enough for them; they want a Renaissance, and these neo-pagans intend to clean your body and clutter your mind. Don’t let them.

Blaming the media for your misfortunes–especially the self-inflicted ones–is a time-honored tradition dating back 1300 years to my beloved Byzantines. In just a 50-year period, c. 630 to 680, the Byzantine Empire had lost two-thirds of its territory: the provinces that we would recognize as Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Libya and Morocco. Incompetent generals were partially responsible: try not to station your troops downwind from a sandstorm and Arab arrows. But the Arab Conquest could also be attributed to Islamic Charm.

Many Christians in the Middle East and all the Jews actually preferred the Arabs to the Byzantines. Constantinople had never been light with taxes, but it was even heavier with its dogmatic if erratic religious policies. Every week, it seems, Constantinople was issuing a different interpretation of the Trinity and all Christian subjects were expected to keep up with the theological fashion. That would have exhausting for a dutifully orthodox Greek, but it was exasperating for the Christians of Syria and Egypt who generally adhered to a different Christian denomination. Most of Egypt’s Christians were Coptic, many of Syria’s Christians were Nestorians; but in Constantinople’s view, they were all heretics. The Byzantine government had occasional persecutions with a few martyrs, but lacking a consistent ferocity, the Byzantines were more aggravating than intimidating. They only succeeded in making the Arabs look like the lesser of two evils.

The Moslems promised religious tolerance and also less taxes; but for their polygamy, they could have been Libertarians. Syria and Israel barely resisted. Jerusalem, the city that defied the might of Babylon and Rome, nonchalently submitted to ragged bedouins without siege equipment. Alexandria threw open its gates, welcoming a flabbergasted Arab cavalry patrol that never expected to take the second city of the Byzantine Empire.

So, how did the Byzantines react to these humiliating losses and defections? They blamed the media, of course. The denounced media, however, was not left-leaning scribes or town criers with liberal biases. No, the accused culprit was art, specifically religious paintings. What could be more obvious! Why were the Arabs winning? Their Islamic faith forbade the making and worship of graven images, a prohibition derived from the Bible. Yet, the Christian churches were adorned with art and every Byzantine home had an icon or two of Christ and a favorite saint. This veneration of icons smacked of paganism. All those prayers before graven images were an affront to Heaven. If you are praying to an icon of St. Michael, you might as well be praying to an idol of Ares. No wonder God was siding–temporarily–with Moslems. If aesthetic deprivation was good for Islam, then it should be even better for the true religion. (The Byzantines never considered emulating the Islamic practice of circumcision.)

The Arab threat had not ended against the Byzantine Empire; the Caliph wanted Constantinople for his capital. By 717, the Arabs had a wealthy empire and could send a powerful army and fleet to attack the Byzantine capital. Constantinople withstood the 12-month siege, but the Emperor Leo III was not complacent about his victory. God had given the Empire a second chance, and Leo would restore his realm by a puritanical austerity. In 730, Leo ordered the churches of the Empire to remove, cover or destroy all art that depicted the human form. Unadorned crosses would be the sole art permitted in the Empire’s churches. Additional edicts prohibited icons in homes. This aesthetic suppression is known as iconoclasm–the breaking of icons.

The policy was very unpopular. Church leaders protested and risked persecutions. Many individuals refused to turn over or destroy their household icons. One province successfully revolted against iconoclasm. An iconophilic bishop raised a local militia to defend his diocese’s art. The Byzantine governor backed down and gave up any further attempt to enforce iconoclasm. So, that successful rebellion has preserved for us some of the best examples of early Byzantine art, and you can see those glorious mosaics today in that renegade province–Italy. As for the bishop, he apparently enjoyed raising armies, wielding power and defying Constantinople. He certainly established a number of precedents for his successors. The political independence of the Papacy begins with a bishop’s devotion to religious art.

Yet, for all the unpopularity and defiance of iconoclasm, it remained the policy of the Empire from 730 to 787. Why? Because the Byzantine armies started winning, pushing back barbarians in the Balkans and Moslems in Asia Minor. Evidently God really was an iconoclast. In 787, however, the dynasty of iconoclast rulers ended with the death (possibly suspicious) of a young emperor; his widow Irene (possible suspect) wanted to rule in her own right and so she courted popularity by restoring art to the churches.  First as regent for her son and then, after disposing of that annoying offspring, Irene lasted on the throne until 802.  Her reign and the aesthetic restoration did not coincide with any catastrophes to the Empire–at least for a while.

Iconoclasm can be regarded as an aesthetic disaster. Very little Byzantine art survived the period. Greek artists, many of whom were monks, actually were in danger. Some ended up imprisoned; a few were executed. Ironically, a number of Byzantine artists found haven in the Arab world. The Caliphate had no prohibitions against art in the Christian churches in its realm. The Byzantine artists were free to paint whatever they wanted in Arab-controlled Damascus and Jerusalem. Other Greek artists ventured west. They found work with a family of nouveau riche–Pepin and his son Charlie–who wanted to be classy. So Iconoclasm may have been the beginning of French art.

NEW YORK TIMES REJECTS McCAIN OP-ED

Dear _____

Thank you for your interest. Unfortunately, we find your article does not suit our needs at this time.
When submitting an article for publication in the New York Times, please remember the following rules.

Within the first paragraph mention your Ivy League school, a Pre-Raphaelite artist and, when applicable, any sexual orientation. For example, an essay on the International Monetary Fund could begin, “In my Junior year at Yale, I fantasized a tour of London based on the delirium tremens of Dante Gabriel Rossetti.” Please note that the International Monetary Fund was not mentioned here and indeed could be omitted from the entire article. This would be irony–and we just love that.

Please remember that any submitted article must contain the following words or phrases: post-modernist, bildungsroman, louche, byzantine, angst and “the alleged works of William Shakespeare.”

Following these precepts will elevate you above those presumptuous parvenus whose slush pile entries are just a needless risk of papercuts. And even if your article is still rejected, think of it as being slapped in the face by Marcel Proust. You can feel a little more significant just by the mere contact.

Rambling 1:

Republican lobbyists are trying to extort contributions to the George W. Bush Presidential Library. The Bush Library sounds about as logical as the Gore Vidal Bowling Alley.

Rambling 2:

As you know, this is the 1494th anniversary of the death of Pope Symmachus. During the time of his pontificate (498-514), the chief talent of a pope was sychophancy. Italy was ruled by the Ostrogoths, and the Pope had to play up to the guys with the swords. At the same time, he couldn’t be too nauseatingly obvious about it. After all, at the time the unquestioned leader of Christendom was not a threadbare bishop in ransacked Rome but the Emperor in Constantinople.

However, Symmachus seemed more sincere in his grovelling to the Ostrogoths; so the Byzantine partisans conspired against him. They accused Symmachus of fornication. The Pope successfully defended himself by saying that he only had one mistress. In Italy, that evidently counts as celibacy.

Rambling 2 postscript:

Here is a surprise. The Catholic Encyclopedia’s article on Pope Symmachus omitted any reference to the fornication controversy.

Rambling 3:

The South could have avoided the Civil War with a little corporate tact. Instead of referring to its “guest-workers” as slaves, it should have used a more congenial term like “associates.” If Simon Legree had simply described Uncle Tom as an associate, a stakeholder or a team mate, why would Mrs. Stowe or Mr. Lincoln object to such a productive partnership?

On this day in A.D. 64, Rome would have made a great music video for “Light My Fire.” This is not to compare Nero with James Morrison, although I am not sure who would suffer more by the comparison. If you believe “Quo Vadis”, then Nero started the fire if only to give himself a topic for an epic poem. But then you would also have to believe that Deborah Kerr would really prefer a frigid corpse like Robert Taylor to the adorable Peter Ustinov.

Historians believe that the Great Fire was just a natural calamity, the unfortunate flammable nature of Rome’s crowded wooden tenements. Yet, the Imperial government found a scapegoat for the conflagration: a small cult of Jewish schismatics. The cult’s numbers would not have totalled enough for an interesting persecution, and the group was so obscure that it should have escaped notice. Only the other Jews were somewhat familiar with it, and they didn’t like it much. However, the Romans barely tolerated any Jews. Nero took a particular pleasure in baiting them, sending increasingly more rapacious and cruel governors to ravage Judea. (The province finally revolted in 66.) So, given their general unpopularity in the Hellenized world, Jews would have made a much easier scapegoat for the Great Fire.

Why did the Imperial government overlook the easier target, and sift through all the Jewish sects to persecute one particular group? As we know from this cult’s earliest writings, the group was apocalyptic and awaiting the imminent end of the world. Its Rome congregation, witnessing the imperial city in flames, must have seen this as proof of the end times. With that impression, they would have celebrated the conflagration as their theological fulfillment. So, although they had not started the Great Fire, they were probably cheering it on; and their pagan neighbors would have resented that. The subsequent complaints led to the cult’s arrest and prosecution. The Roman government really thought that these pyrophiles were guilty, in thought if not deed.

As it turned out, the world did not end. Neither did that cult; it simply rescheduled its promised Apocalypse to an unspecified time.

Among Eastern Orthodox Christians, it is a custom to keep a votive candle always lit next to the family’s household icon. We Americans have a similar devotion of keeping the television perpetually on. As a child of my times, I couldn’t be expected to eat lunch at home without the accompaniment of the TV. And I can justify my habit by the cultural tutorial I gain.

At least, I am catching up on series that didn’t really interest me in the first place. For instance, by now I have seen every episode of “Crossing Jordan”, the adventures of a crime-solving, sexy coroner. (But aren’t they all?) Of course, after I have watched about five episodes, I had a pretty good idea what every show would be like. It seems our heroine–Jordan– has an unfortunate tendency to wake up drunk next to a corpse and there is always incriminating evidence against her. (The severed head in one hand and the bloody axe in the other could give people the wrong impression.) She then will spend the rest of the episode proving her innocence.

After a five-year run, “Crossing Jordan” was cancelled by NBC. I am surprised that the History Channel did not pick up the show. Think of all the historical murders that our heroine could solve. “Jordan wakes up in a car in Sarajevo. Next to her are the bullet-riddled corpses of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Archduchess Sophie; and our heroine is holding the murder weapon. Can she solve the crime before Austria-Hungary and Germany declare war on her?”

Of late, my lunchtime viewing is “Law and Order.” First, how can I avoid a series that been on the air for 230 years and has 98 spin-offs? But the show has a titillating appeal–its “ripped from the headlines” plots. The writers glean the news for names and storylines, and blends them into a sensational recipe–and two months later, there is an episode where Ben Bernanke kills Heath Ledger over incriminating photos of France’s First Lady Carla Bruni. So, two New York detectives have to first talk their way into the French Consul by claiming to be bidet salesmen. After beating a French attache into a confession, they then learn their mistake and that Bernanke was seen murdering Ledger. (Jerry Orbach apologizes to the semiconscious Frenchman by doing a Maurice Chevalier imitation.) And that is just the first 30 minutes. Then, you get to see amazing and horrifying machinations of lawyers. For example, 40 witnesses saw Bernanke strangle Ledger; but Bernanke’s lawyer suppresses their testimony on the grounds that they were violating Mr. Bernanke’s privacy. Although the murder indictment is throw out, the District Attorney manages to convict Bernanke of using the Federal Reserve Board as a front for a porn ring.

And if that particular episode had good ratings, Dick Wolf would plan a new series where Ben Bernanke kills another celebrity each week.

Melbourne, Australia was named for the British Prime Minister at the time: William Lamb. And Australia has been known for its sheep ever since.

However, since the British are status conscious, Lamb (1779-1848) is better known by his title: Lord Melbourne. (Actually, Viscount Melbourne would have been the name sewed in his underwear when he was at Cambridge.) His father was the intriguingly-named Peniston Lamb, Lord Melbourne. However William apparently inherited only his dad’s title because Mrs. William flagrantly cheated on her husband. She had a notorious affair with Lord Byron–exhausting and intimidating the omnisexual poet.

Lord Melbourne was Prime Minister from 1835 to 1841. And he finally found a woman who appreciated him. She was a shy, awkward teenager named Victoria who found herself in a complicated and very public job. The kindly Melbourne guided and encouraged a grateful Victoria. She would think him as a father-figure, and would remember him as one of her two favorite prime ministers (the other being the charming Disraeli).

I don’t know of any town named for Disraeli, although it would be appropriate for a suburban development on Chicago’s North Shore.

Phil Gramm serves as John McCain’s economic advisor. Gramm earned that confidence by his ability to calculate the 15% tip on a restaurant bill. (This is not to say that Gramm ever left a tip himself; he no doubts tells the waitress, “If you weren’t inferior, I’d be waiting tables for you.”)

Gramm does have a PhD in economics from the Texas Barbers’ and Drivers’ Training. His thesis was “Ten Ways to Cheat a Blind News Vendor: Free Markets and Free Playboys.” The most remarkable feature of the thesis was his use of the word “Jew” as a verb.

And what better way to express our esteem of Phil Gramm than to celebrate Bastille Day.

Here is my tribute to my favorite Revolution. (Let’s face it: Centuries of Bourbon arrogance and incompetence seem much more aggravating than a half-penny tax on tea.)

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2007/07/14/bastille-day/

Musing I:

The University of Chicago, where the idea of fun is to translate Wittgenstein into Vulcan, is in the throes of controversy. The University has announced that a new research center will be named for Nobel laureate Milton Friedman. Friedman was a champion of the Free Market; he believed that World War II could have been more efficiently resolved by the forces of the marketplace. (He had graphs to prove that he was more valuable as an economist than a lampshade.) However, a number of the University’s faculty members object to Friedman’s name on a research center, saying that it is an implicit endorsement of a short, ugly version of Marie Antoinette.

Here is a compromise. Honor Dr. Friedman with an institution whose role at the University would complement the practical value of his ideas: the University of Chicago’s Milton Friedman Gym.

Musing II:

To celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary, Karen and I went to a fancy North Shore restaurant. It really is not my kind of place. For all my esoteric erudition, I have the taste buds of a 16-year-old. I could happily subsist on soda pop, pizza and ice cream. None were on the menu. I would describe the food as Seurat cuisine: dots of food priced as if they were masterpieces. At a nearby table, a woman was nursing her infant. That child was the only one in the restaurant who received a full meal. I wonder if the management charged the mother a corkage fee.

When I got home, I ate a quart of ice cream.

Musing III:

I am surrounded by Gaelic-sounding communities: Highland Park, Braeside, Glencoe, Bannockburn. I can assure you that Nostradamus was not on that zoning committee. Someone definitely confused the two types of Jacobites. My type would have asked, “Do you vant cuffs on your kilts?”

Nonetheless, this Scottish motif–however misdirected–continues to influence the realtors on the North Shore. A new development of luxury homes is called “Tarns of the Moor” and it actually advertises its Scottish legacy. Perhaps the kitchen is only large enough for a kettle of oatmeal or the doorbell plays all eight verses of “Will Ye No Come Back Again”. My knowledge of Caledonian architecture could be faulty, but I don’t think that most 18th century Scottish cottages had three car garages. In fact, those cottages were not as large as these garages. Perhaps a truer evocation of “Tarns of the Lake” would have three Scottish families living in the garage, and an abusive English landlord in the main house.

If only the local realtors chose their developments’ names with demographic accuracy, they would be advertising the suburban charms of Shtetl Fields, Pushcart Promenade and Rhinoplasty Lane.

Musing IV:

I suddenly realized why William Kristol seems so familiar. That gasping laugh at his own jokes, the rigor morted smile, the bulging creepy eyes: William Kristol is Peter Lorre without the accent.