Every once in awhile I google people I knew...like from Yale or whatever...and so today I'm listening to LaunchCast Radio Broadway Station and for some reason Okwui Okpokwasili comes to mind...so i google her and see the old links come up of her in stage shows (she was always so good on stage and had the most amazing voice. I remember she portrayed Judas In a college production of Jesus Christ Superstar and I had never heard it sang better...she rivalled the original Judas on the cast recording that's for sure!) and then i see her listed in MSN movies! I'm like OMG!!!! So i check it out and lo and behold she's got a small part in the new movie "The Interpretor"!!!!! She's the tour guide! And so now she has a listing on imdb! How cool is that!?!
This makes 4 people I knew from college that have been in movies (or a TV show) PLUS! One guy that I knew but didn't know me that is a big time music guy for the movies. Chris Beck. He was a Spizzwink(?) and a Whiffenpoof.
his imdb listing here
The others are Nick Gilhool ..... Obi Ndefo ..... and Gabe Olds ... yep went to school with all of them and knew them and they knew me...so now you can do 6 degrees of kevin Bacon and use my name lol
5/7/05
5/5/05
A Story from Joe Lansdale!
OMG! You have to read this!!! Read it all the way thru please before you become offended. ( I haven't posted one of his stories in awhile!)
JoeRLansdale.com
Letter From the South, Two Moons West of Nacogdoches
For Mignon Glass
Dear Hawk:
Your letter stating that you can’t believe I’m not a Baptist, due to the fact that my morals and yours are so similar, astonishes me. How can you think only Baptists are good people and lead happy lives? You’ve known me longer than that, even if most of our contact has been through letters and phone calls.
Well, I might ask you the same in reverse. How can you accept such a silly pagan religion? And if you must consider a religion, why not look back to your heritage, instead of taking on a Hebrew mythology?
And how in the world can you believe being a Baptist makes you happier than others?
I’m quite happy, thank you. I mean I have my ups and downs, but from your cards and letters, our occasional phone calls, so do you. Don’t we all?
In answering your question about why I don’t believe more fully, I might add that I’ve been a student, if not a scholar, of religions all my life, and I find nothing to recommend the Baptist over any other religion, no matter what the origin. Only the Aztec and their nasty custom of human sacrifice could be worse, and I’ll tell you, though it’s off the subject, I think the old Chief of this country is crazy as hell to sell them the makings for a nuclear reactor. I don’t care what sort of diplomatic gesture it was meant to be. Those heart-cutters get up here on us and it’s the last pow-wow, buddy. With just sticks and stones, practically, they ran the Spaniards off, so I sure don’t want to see them with the ability to make the big shitty boom machine, if you know what I mean.
They’re tougher than us, I admit it. I say let’s let our technology be our muscle, and not let those mean pyramid builders have an equalizer, because with their attitude about war and sacrifice, they’re going to be a whole hell of a lot more equal than we are.
But that’s off the point, as usual.
On to why I’m not a Baptist. Well, first off, let’s keep this simple. Consult history text if you don’t believe me, though that won’t keep you from twisting them around to suit you, or from picking just those that say what you want them to say (I remember our argument before on the civil war with the Japs, and I’ve got to add, though I shouldn’t bring it up again, how you can side at all with those bastards after what they’ve done to our people on the West Coast is beyond me), so perhaps my asking you to examine historical text isn’t sound advice on my part, and you’re sure to take it as an insult.
But history does show, Hawk, that John the Baptist was not the only religious nut running around at this time, and it was only fate that gave him the honor (a dubious one, in my book) of becoming the "Messiah." I mean, a dramatic death like decapitation and having the head put on a silver (Does the text actually say silver? I can’t remember and am too lazy to check) platter, and then the fact that the execution was performed at the bidding of a dance-hall floozy of the time, and the head presented to her as a gift, does have a certain element of showboating, and that’s just the sort of thing people latch onto. High drama.
It always occurs to me that Jesus of Nazareth, mentioned briefly in your so-called "Holy Book," and I believe he was a cousin or something to John if memory serves me, was as likely a candidate for martyrdom as John. Except for fate, he might well have been the one your congregation worships.
He, however, in spite of his many similarities to John, had the misfortune to suffer less than a martyr’s death. He was hit and killed by a runaway donkey cart and knocked up on the curbing with his, how was it put in the book ... ? Can’t remember, but something like "with his flanks exposed." Words to that effect.
I believe it was Jesus’s inglorious death, more than anything else, that jockeyed him to a lowly position in the race toward Messiahism (did I make that word up?). He certainly had all the goods John did. Nice fanaticism, pie in the sky, promises of an afterlife, etc. But it seems to be in our natures to prefer bloody, dramatic demises such as decapitation to a relatively minor death by runaway donkey cart, the latter casualty being all the more jinxed by the fact that he ended up draped over some curb with his ass exposed, his little deep, brown eye winking at the world.
If we were more open-minded, a religion might have formed where Jesus was worshipped, and instead of the little bleeding-head-on-a-platter medallions many of your congregation wear, they might be adorning themselves with little buttocks with donkey-cart tracks across them.
Just a thought. Don’t get mad.
The other thing you mention is the Platter of Turin. And I admit to you that it is indeed mysterious and fascinating. But I’ve never seen nor read anything that convinces me that whatever is making itself manifest on the platter – and I also admit it does look like a head with a bleeding stump – is, in fact, the likeness of John the Baptist. And even if it is his likeness, and somehow the trauma of his death caused it to be forever captured in the platter, that still does not mean he is the Messiah.
Consider the statue of Custer at the site of the Battle of The Little Big Horn. Many have reported (and I believe it has been filmed) that it bleeds from the nose, ears and mouth from time to time. To some, this was interpreted to mean that Custer was a Saint and that the statue could cure illnesses. I know from our letters in the past that you hardly believe Custer a Saint, quite the contrary.
What I’m saying is this: there are many mysteries in the world, Hawk, and there are many interpretations. You need only choose a mystery and an interpretation to suit you.
Well, got to cut this short. Got to get dressed. There’s a meeting tonight. They’re having another public execution, and it’s about time. Bunch of niggers are going to be crucified along Caddo Street and I don’t want to miss that. Those stupid black bastards thinking they’re good as us makes me ill. I’ve had my hood and robes starched special for the occasion, and I’m actually getting to light one of the pitch-covered niggers placed at the end to provide light. I also get to lead the local Scout troops in a song. I’m excited.
Oh, almost forgot. If you haven’t read about it, we finally got that trouble-maker Martin Luther King, and he’s the main feature tonight. I know from your letters that you have a sort of begrudging respect for him, and I must admit his guerilla activities conducted with only twenty-two men throughout the South have been brilliant for his kind. But after tonight he’ll plague the South no more.
As I said, wish you could be here, but I know you’ve got a big pow-wow going up there and I wish I could see it. Like to see your tribe strip the skin off those White Eyes slow and easy. They’re worse than our niggers, and I’m only glad the last of them (far as we know) have been eliminated down here.
Another thing just hit me about this Baptist business, and I’ll go ahead and get it off my chest. Here we are getting rid of the whites and the niggers, and you and some others have adopted their silly religion. I admit that our own is pretty damned dumb (Great Heap Big Spirit, Ugh), but doesn’t that kind of thing, accepting their religion, give the lowlifes a sort of existence through us? Think about it.
Guess while I’m badmouthing them, might as well admit I’m against the trend to drop all of their ways, as some of the traditional methods just don’t translate as well. This two-moons-and-two-suns bit is ridiculous. With automobiles that method is no longer correct. What used to be a two-day trip is now only a matter of hours. And this switch over from their language to ours, the use of Cherokee writing for all tribes, is going to be a pain. I mean, we’ll all be speaking our tribal languages, translating the writing to Cherokee, and when we all get together how are we going to converse? Which language will we pick? Cherokee for writing, because of their good alphabet, makes sense, but which will be the superior tribal language, and how’s it going to go down with folks when one is chosen over all the others?
Oh to hell with it. This old gal is going to have to get to stepping or she isn’t going to have time to get dressed and moving.
Best to you,
Running Fox
JoeRLansdale.com
Letter From the South, Two Moons West of Nacogdoches
For Mignon Glass
Dear Hawk:
Your letter stating that you can’t believe I’m not a Baptist, due to the fact that my morals and yours are so similar, astonishes me. How can you think only Baptists are good people and lead happy lives? You’ve known me longer than that, even if most of our contact has been through letters and phone calls.
Well, I might ask you the same in reverse. How can you accept such a silly pagan religion? And if you must consider a religion, why not look back to your heritage, instead of taking on a Hebrew mythology?
And how in the world can you believe being a Baptist makes you happier than others?
I’m quite happy, thank you. I mean I have my ups and downs, but from your cards and letters, our occasional phone calls, so do you. Don’t we all?
In answering your question about why I don’t believe more fully, I might add that I’ve been a student, if not a scholar, of religions all my life, and I find nothing to recommend the Baptist over any other religion, no matter what the origin. Only the Aztec and their nasty custom of human sacrifice could be worse, and I’ll tell you, though it’s off the subject, I think the old Chief of this country is crazy as hell to sell them the makings for a nuclear reactor. I don’t care what sort of diplomatic gesture it was meant to be. Those heart-cutters get up here on us and it’s the last pow-wow, buddy. With just sticks and stones, practically, they ran the Spaniards off, so I sure don’t want to see them with the ability to make the big shitty boom machine, if you know what I mean.
They’re tougher than us, I admit it. I say let’s let our technology be our muscle, and not let those mean pyramid builders have an equalizer, because with their attitude about war and sacrifice, they’re going to be a whole hell of a lot more equal than we are.
But that’s off the point, as usual.
On to why I’m not a Baptist. Well, first off, let’s keep this simple. Consult history text if you don’t believe me, though that won’t keep you from twisting them around to suit you, or from picking just those that say what you want them to say (I remember our argument before on the civil war with the Japs, and I’ve got to add, though I shouldn’t bring it up again, how you can side at all with those bastards after what they’ve done to our people on the West Coast is beyond me), so perhaps my asking you to examine historical text isn’t sound advice on my part, and you’re sure to take it as an insult.
But history does show, Hawk, that John the Baptist was not the only religious nut running around at this time, and it was only fate that gave him the honor (a dubious one, in my book) of becoming the "Messiah." I mean, a dramatic death like decapitation and having the head put on a silver (Does the text actually say silver? I can’t remember and am too lazy to check) platter, and then the fact that the execution was performed at the bidding of a dance-hall floozy of the time, and the head presented to her as a gift, does have a certain element of showboating, and that’s just the sort of thing people latch onto. High drama.
It always occurs to me that Jesus of Nazareth, mentioned briefly in your so-called "Holy Book," and I believe he was a cousin or something to John if memory serves me, was as likely a candidate for martyrdom as John. Except for fate, he might well have been the one your congregation worships.
He, however, in spite of his many similarities to John, had the misfortune to suffer less than a martyr’s death. He was hit and killed by a runaway donkey cart and knocked up on the curbing with his, how was it put in the book ... ? Can’t remember, but something like "with his flanks exposed." Words to that effect.
I believe it was Jesus’s inglorious death, more than anything else, that jockeyed him to a lowly position in the race toward Messiahism (did I make that word up?). He certainly had all the goods John did. Nice fanaticism, pie in the sky, promises of an afterlife, etc. But it seems to be in our natures to prefer bloody, dramatic demises such as decapitation to a relatively minor death by runaway donkey cart, the latter casualty being all the more jinxed by the fact that he ended up draped over some curb with his ass exposed, his little deep, brown eye winking at the world.
If we were more open-minded, a religion might have formed where Jesus was worshipped, and instead of the little bleeding-head-on-a-platter medallions many of your congregation wear, they might be adorning themselves with little buttocks with donkey-cart tracks across them.
Just a thought. Don’t get mad.
The other thing you mention is the Platter of Turin. And I admit to you that it is indeed mysterious and fascinating. But I’ve never seen nor read anything that convinces me that whatever is making itself manifest on the platter – and I also admit it does look like a head with a bleeding stump – is, in fact, the likeness of John the Baptist. And even if it is his likeness, and somehow the trauma of his death caused it to be forever captured in the platter, that still does not mean he is the Messiah.
Consider the statue of Custer at the site of the Battle of The Little Big Horn. Many have reported (and I believe it has been filmed) that it bleeds from the nose, ears and mouth from time to time. To some, this was interpreted to mean that Custer was a Saint and that the statue could cure illnesses. I know from our letters in the past that you hardly believe Custer a Saint, quite the contrary.
What I’m saying is this: there are many mysteries in the world, Hawk, and there are many interpretations. You need only choose a mystery and an interpretation to suit you.
Well, got to cut this short. Got to get dressed. There’s a meeting tonight. They’re having another public execution, and it’s about time. Bunch of niggers are going to be crucified along Caddo Street and I don’t want to miss that. Those stupid black bastards thinking they’re good as us makes me ill. I’ve had my hood and robes starched special for the occasion, and I’m actually getting to light one of the pitch-covered niggers placed at the end to provide light. I also get to lead the local Scout troops in a song. I’m excited.
Oh, almost forgot. If you haven’t read about it, we finally got that trouble-maker Martin Luther King, and he’s the main feature tonight. I know from your letters that you have a sort of begrudging respect for him, and I must admit his guerilla activities conducted with only twenty-two men throughout the South have been brilliant for his kind. But after tonight he’ll plague the South no more.
As I said, wish you could be here, but I know you’ve got a big pow-wow going up there and I wish I could see it. Like to see your tribe strip the skin off those White Eyes slow and easy. They’re worse than our niggers, and I’m only glad the last of them (far as we know) have been eliminated down here.
Another thing just hit me about this Baptist business, and I’ll go ahead and get it off my chest. Here we are getting rid of the whites and the niggers, and you and some others have adopted their silly religion. I admit that our own is pretty damned dumb (Great Heap Big Spirit, Ugh), but doesn’t that kind of thing, accepting their religion, give the lowlifes a sort of existence through us? Think about it.
Guess while I’m badmouthing them, might as well admit I’m against the trend to drop all of their ways, as some of the traditional methods just don’t translate as well. This two-moons-and-two-suns bit is ridiculous. With automobiles that method is no longer correct. What used to be a two-day trip is now only a matter of hours. And this switch over from their language to ours, the use of Cherokee writing for all tribes, is going to be a pain. I mean, we’ll all be speaking our tribal languages, translating the writing to Cherokee, and when we all get together how are we going to converse? Which language will we pick? Cherokee for writing, because of their good alphabet, makes sense, but which will be the superior tribal language, and how’s it going to go down with folks when one is chosen over all the others?
Oh to hell with it. This old gal is going to have to get to stepping or she isn’t going to have time to get dressed and moving.
Best to you,
Running Fox
5/4/05
Blogthings - You Are 15 Years Old
|
You Are 15 Years Old |
|
15 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax. |
5/1/05
New Orleans!
Wow! I just dl this song by Tom waits and it really sums up how i feel! Kinda had me tearing up...I miss New Orleans so!
I WISH I WAS IN NEW ORLEANS
Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there
I'll drink you under the table, be red-nosed, go for walks,
The old haunts what I wants is red beans and rice
And wear the dress I like so well, and meet me at the old saloon,
Make sure that there's a Dixie moon, New Orleans, I'll be there
And deal the cards roll the dice, if it ain't that old Chuck E. Weiss,
And Claiborne Avenue, me and you Sam Jones and all
And I wish I was in New Orleans, 'cause I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
New Orleans, I'll be there
I WISH I WAS IN NEW ORLEANS
Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there
I'll drink you under the table, be red-nosed, go for walks,
The old haunts what I wants is red beans and rice
And wear the dress I like so well, and meet me at the old saloon,
Make sure that there's a Dixie moon, New Orleans, I'll be there
And deal the cards roll the dice, if it ain't that old Chuck E. Weiss,
And Claiborne Avenue, me and you Sam Jones and all
And I wish I was in New Orleans, 'cause I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
New Orleans, I'll be there
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