It's
the famous final scene.”— Bob Seger, "The Famous Final Scene," from his Stranger in Town LP (1978)
A cultural "omniblog" covering matters literary as well as theatrical, musical, historical, cinematic(al), etc.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Quote of the Day (Richard Feynman, on the ‘Way Nature Works’)
“Trying to understand the way nature works involves
a most terrible test of human reasoning ability. It involves subtle trickery,
beautiful tightropes of logic on which one has to walk in order not to make a
mistake in predicting what will happen.” —Nobel-winning physicist Richard P.
Feynman (1918-1988), The Meaning of It All: Thoughts of a Citizen Scientist (1998)
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
This Day in Presidential History (FDR Urges ‘Arsenal of Democracy’ for Britain)
December 29, 1940—Two months after campaigning on a
promise not to involve America in another overseas war, Franklin D. Roosevelt took an enormous step toward doing just that
by urging his countrymen to become an “arsenal of democracy” by shipping arms
to Great Britain in its struggle against the Axis powers of Germany, Italy and
Japan.
The military might displayed by these dictatorships
was immense, but so, at the time of this foreign-policy “fireside chat,” was the American isolationist movement—a
force that crossed partisan, religious and ethnic lines, taking its initial cue from George Washington’s 1796 Farewell Address
admonition to “steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the
foreign world,” reinforced by the nation's disillusionment with WWI.
That movement was also deeply suspicious of FDR's
intentions. While normally choosing his words with enough care to allow him
wiggle room in case of a policy reversal, Roosevelt felt the necessity, in an
October 1940 campaign address in his close race against Republican Wendell
Willkie, to make the kind of categorical assertion that his enemies would
remember for decades: “I shall say it again and again and again: Your boys are
not going to be sent into any foreign war.”
(That statement makes the short list of Presidential
utterances regarded by supporters as unfortunate bows to necessity and by
naysayers as blatant lies, along with George H.W. Bush’s “Read my lips: no new
taxes” and Barack Obama’s “If you like your doctor, you'll be able to keep your
doctor; if you like your health care plan, you'll be able to keep your health
care plan.")
FDR had just demonstrated, in his precedent-breaking
third-term victory, that he still held enormous sway with the electorate. But
it would take all his mastery of men to shift America’s diplomatic posture away
from isolationism. In solving the immediate problem of confronting Fascism,
though, he would shove the nation decisively toward what historians Thomas K.
Duncan and Christopher J. Coyne of George Mason University have called “The
Permanent War Economy.”
Roosevelt was one of the great Presidential
phrasemakers (e.g., “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself,”
“rendezvous with destiny,” “date that will live in infamy”). But in this
instance, it was Harry Hopkins, his
former Secretary of Commerce (and continuing devoted informal adviser), who
suggested the most enduring phrase in the radio address, and Hopkins who would
help implement the legislation it championed as the President’s unofficial representative to
the U.K.
Unlike his predecessor at Downing Street, Neville
Chamberlain, Winston Churchill had found in FDR a congenial transatlantic
partner in his policy concerning Hitler. The British Prime Minister, then, had
no hesitation in spelling out, in a long letter read by FDR on a Caribbean
cruise early in December 1940, the dire straits in which his country found
itself. A little less than one
year after declaring war on Germany—and only a bit more than half a year since
Churchill himself had assumed the reins of power—the U.K. was running out of
money to pay for war goods.
FDR had arranged a “Destroyers for Bases” swap in
early September, but American law still limited the transfer of weapons. His
Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, had expressed frustration over Congressional
foot-dragging in coming to the aid of Britain. (Congress was “doing an immense
amount more harm than good and [members] restrict the power of the Commander in
Chief in ways in which Congress cannot possibly wisely interfere. They don’t
know enough.”)
Churchill’s massive missive catalyzed FDR to push
for the Lend Lease Act to get munitions into the hands of Britain and Canada.
In one sense, the President was doing what he had been since the start of the
New Deal: not consciously implementing a long-range program, but dealing, on an
ad-hoc basis, with an immediate problem as realistically as he could. But, even
as he attempted to defuse the fears of isolationists at the start of his speech
by saying it would not be “a fireside chat on war,” he was pointing toward its
ultimate import by labeling it “a talk on national security.”
“We must be the great arsenal of democracy,” he
urged. “For us this is an emergency as serious as war itself. We must apply
ourselves to our task with the same resolution, the same sense of urgency, the
same spirit of patriotism and sacrifice as we would show were we at war.”
By his own lights, his proposal—to pull out all stops,
through Lend Lease, to ensure Britain had enough resources to survive against
Nazi Germany—was the only feasible way to ensure that America would not become
directly involved, as he put it, in “a last-ditch war for the preservation of
American independence and all the things that American independence means to
you and to me and to ours.” But in the process, he was uniting the military,
big business and labor in a defense-mobilization effort that would survive the
end of WWII, through the Cold War and the War on Terror, as the military-industrial
complex.
FDR can be best understood now as a
crypto-interventionist. He had to proceed carefully because of neutrality
legislation passed by Congress in the last decade. But events overseas gave an
assist to his persuasive rhetoric: His fireside chat had “particular power and
urgency,” noted David McCullough in his biography of Harry Truman, “because
German bombers were pounding London” in the Blitz.
The march of Nazism across Europe began to tilt the
balance, in the following year, as the President took one unneutral step after
another to supply Great Britain and the USSR in their fights against Hitler. It
culminated in the fall of 1941, when the U.S. had become involved in an
undeclared shooting war in the North Atlantic against Germany.
Had Hitler not
declared war on the U.S. after Pearl Harbor, thereby fulfilling his diplomatic
promise to his Axis partner, Japan, the United States would have faced the
thorny question of whether to take the last fateful step—a declaration of war—in which
FDR’s policies had increasingly inclined the U.S.
Quote of the Day (Edith Wharton, on Being Alive)
“In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy
sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one
is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big
things, and happy in small ways.”— American novelist and short-story writer
Edith Wharton (1862-1937), A Backward Glance: An Autobiography
(1934)
Monday, December 28, 2015
Song Lyric of the Day (Billy Joel, With Advice for Steve Harvey)
Then
I might have just what it takes
If
I don't make no bad mistakes and
I've
gotta get it right the first time.”— Billy Joel, “Get It Right the First Time,”
from his LP The Stranger (1977)
I’ve always said that the promotion of beautiful
women is an ugly business, and it’s being proven all over again in the case of
poor Steve Harvey. Before, the genial comedian-Family Feud host must have thought that
hosting the Miss Universe pageant would be a neat way to extend his “brand.”
Guess again. Harvey forgot the muted warning of
Billy Joel that he could only show he had “just what it takes” if he didn’t
make any “bad mistakes.”
But when Harvey read the wrong name—Miss Colombia—from
his “reveal card,” all bets were off. The consequent catcalls made Harvey
perhaps the most ridiculed emcee of a major TV event since David Letterman’s
disastrous 1995 Academy Award appearance (“Oprah? Uma. Uma? Oprah”). (The
fallout from the latter—including the talk-show host’s frequent inclusion among
the worst emcees in Oscar history—are spelled out in this piece by Matthew Jacobs for the Huffington Post.)
Do you recall Letterman ever hosting the Oscars
again? Neither do I. If Harvey doesn’t experience similar unforgiving treatment,
it’ll be because pageant owner WME/IMG just inked a deal with him for at least
three, maybe as many as six or seven, years, according to ETOline.
It doesn’t mean that WME/IMG didn’t roll their eyes
at the follow-up, let alone Harvey's original screwup. Okay, they may have thought, Harvey
made a mistake. But who hasn’t? And anyway, he corrected himself moments later.
And he announced—right on the air!—that he
would “take responsibility for this!” A standup guy, if you’ll pardon the pun.
True, but only up to a point, because several consequences ensued almost immediately upon Harvey’s all-too-human error:
True, but only up to a point, because several consequences ensued almost immediately upon Harvey’s all-too-human error:
*Those moments
provided the opportunity for Miss Colombia to wave and pose with the crown.
It was also an opportunity for thousands of her countrymen to glory that the
crown rested on her pretty head, rather than on their traditional continental
rival, Miss Venezuela. (The latter has gone on to become Miss Universe seven
times, versus twice for Miss Colombia.) On the social media, those precious
moments were long enough for that image to be broadcast wherever guys feel
their senses quicken at the sight of a pretty woman or wherever younger lissome lovelies dream of making a fortune off the fantasies of these guys. In other
words, in every corner of the globe.
*Those moments
made it all the harder for Miss
Colombia to yield a crown that had been HERS! Oh, the anguish! Here was a
prize that who knows how many contestants have worked years to achieve. The
crying that audiences see invariably from winners comes from sweet relief.
Except that in this case, nobody would have blamed Miss Colombia for crying
twice—first from relief, then from rage that her emotions had been out there
for all the world to see, all for nothing. (I mean, check out the image accompanying
this post. There’s a temptation to think that this shot comes from the
interview stage of the contest, where the contestants are asked their opinions
on world events and other assorted matters. But from the look on Harvey's face, I’d
say this is after the reveal card debacle. There's an overwhelming message in the expression on his face: You done hating me yet?)
*Those moments
brought to the surface a phenomenon almost as eagerly awaited by a certain
lowlife type of guy as the swimsuit competition: a catfight. In a move
signaling a new form of cooperation within the European Union, Miss Germany
disclosed in an interview that neither she nor the other contestants had wanted
the eventual winner, Miss Philippines, to win. (Even the latter, on this YouTube clip, had a look on her face that seemed to say: You people sure about this now? Because I don’t like hand-me-down
crowns! No, instead of closing ranks behind the latter, Miss Germany hailed
her counterpart across the Rhine, Miss France, as the one who should have been
The One. All that sweetness and light, that all-for-one spirit, was revealed to
hide a collective ruthless competitive streak that Tonya Harding might have appreciated.
*Those moments
served as only a prelude to another event that must have made the pageant
organizers wonder if Harvey might be so impulsive as to be error-prone in
almost any conceivable format. In a tweet sent out shortly after his
mistake, Harvey apologized for any embarrassment caused to the two young ladies
involved. But whatever points were added for sensitivity could only be
subtracted for boneheadness, for Harvey referred to “Miss Philippians” and "Miss Columbia." Miss Philippians? I don’t recall any
such person referred to in St. Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians. Miss Columbia? I wasn't aware that the Ivy League institution had gotten into the beauty pageant business. Neither was
anyone else, as Harvey had to immediately send out another tweet apologizing for the spelling mistakes in his first.
Get it right the first time? Heck, Harvey sounds
like he might have trouble getting it right the second time. If the pageant
organizers think so, too, there might not be
a next time.