Isn't She Lovely

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If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"You know, Saudi Arabia has a lot of poverty also. Regardless about what you hear about the viceroy and people being rich, et cetera."
                                   -Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal bin Abdul Aziz al Saud


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

The next time life jumps out from behind a rock and kicks you in the nether regions, remember, it could always be/get worse.

What OPEC does, what it exists to do, is illegal in America and no shortage of other countries. Price fixing by any other name is price-fixing. However, if you're a sovereign nation there's nothing stopping you from forming a club (in more ways than one) and openly colluding with the other members to stick it to the rest of the world.

In fact, you don't even have to hold secret meetings in the back rooms of sleazy saloons 'cause you're embarrassed about it.

You can set up your headquarters in Vienna, Austria (where price-fixing is illegal) and maintain a website to let everyone know what you're up to and not have to worry about even the usually useless United Nations giving you grief. I mention the UN because if you didn't know better, you'd think that's the place a global price-fixing cartel might be of interest. 

But OPEC isn't really what I want to talk about.

However, while doing some research on what I do want to talk about -- the kafala system in general, Saudi Arabia specifically -- I came across/was reminded of the preceding. All will become clear, your honor, I'm establishing a pattern of conduct.


As many of my Gentlereaders are no doubt aware, recently an unnamed family in Saudi Arabia (If any news source names the family its news to me) became infamous for tying their Filipino maid, Lovely Acosta Baruelo, to a tree for leaving some furniture out in the hot sun. They were apparently returning the favor.

Saudi Arabia, a (founding) member in good standing of OPEC, is also one of a number of Middle Eastern countries that participates in the kafala system. According to Wikipedia the kafala system "...is a system used to monitor migrant laborers, working primarily in the construction and domestic sectors..." in various and sundry nations in the Middle East.

The same Wikipedia entry goes on to state that according to a 2008 Human Rights Watch report "the combination of the high recruitment fees paid by Saudi employers and the power granted them by the kafala system to control whether a worker can change employers or exit the country made some employers feel entitled to exert 'ownership' over a domestic worker" and that the "sense of ownership ... creates slavery-like conditions."


2,500,000
"...over 2.5 million domestic workers in the Gulf countries, the majority of whom are female and hailing from Asia and Africa..."

I went looking for numbers and found one in a story published on the website of the Pulitzer Center.

About: "The Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting is an award-winning, non-profit news organization that partners with journalists and newsrooms to support in-depth reporting on critical global issues to educate the public, promote solutions, and save lives."

Question: Why are all those Muslims fleeing North Africa and the Middle East knock, knock, knocking on the Infidels doors when they have oil-rich brothers and sisters living in their neighborhood? Neighbors who are apparently suffering from such a severe shortage of Humbles that they have to import them? 

Answer: The same reason people are fleeing the corrupt gummits, crony capitalists, and drug cartels in Mexico and points south. "When ya ain't got nothin', ya got nothin' to lose." -Robert Allen Zimmerman

[For the record I'm not an open borders guy, I'm a put your own house in order, good (virtual) fences make good neighbors guy. Perhaps the United Nations could help.]  


Why Pick On Saudi Arabia? 
After all, there's no shortage of nations in their corner of the world who prefer a culture that combines an interesting mix of life as lived in the Middle Ages with modernity... 

[Announcer: Yes, you can have it all. Beheadings and slavery, skyscrapers and swimming pools, vacay in the new Middle East!]    

Well, we've had full diplomatic relations since 1933 and in exchange for being a good customer, they've often (but not always) served as our local proxy. Friends don't allow friends to drive drunk. Friends don't allow friends to enslave. 

Drill, Baby, Drill! Or better yet, Free the Atom, Revive Nuclear Power! (but that's another letter). Poppa loves you. 

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 

Wascally Wabbit

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Who the Hell is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"He was our greatest living painter, until he died." -Mark Twain


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

Recently, a sculpture? created? by Jeff Koons, a three-foot-tall chrome rabbit that was deliberately designed to look like a balloon rabbit -- and cleverly named Rabbit -- sold at auction for $91,100,000. By the time you great-grandstickies come of age it'll probably be worth ten times that.

Huh.

This is a record price for a living, artist?

Huh.

[Alright, I'll bite, what's with the question marks and the, huhs?]

Hey, Dana, glad you asked. First, the huhs. Huh, in this context, is a word in need of a new punctuation mark of some sort to clarify its meaning.

[Huh?]

Well, according to Merriam-Webster huh expresses surprise, disbelief, or confusion, or as an inquiry inviting an affirmative reply. But the first three definitions indicate that there's at least a soft question mark or exclamation point implied. Perhaps both. The fourth calls for a hard question mark.

[Uh-huh.]

However, there's a -- huh -- that means: that's interesting, or weird, or crazy, or notable, or... but in a neutral way. There's no surprise, disbelief, confusion, or inquiry involved. There needs to be some sort of punctuation mark that indicates this neutrality.

Frequently, this huh in need of a new punctuation mark denotes that whatever the huh is referring to, rationally speaking, makes no sense. This is how I use it above. It shares more of its DNA with hmmm that it does with its fellow huhs. 

[Uh-huh, moving on... what's with the question marks?]

I could've used quotation marks but due to my aversion to the use of air quotes I try to only use quotation marks for actual quotes. My use of question marks above is meant to show that, at least as far as Rabbit goes, Mr. Koons is not an artist and Rabbit is not a sculpture. He didn't create it in an artistic way, he designed it in an industrial one.

Of course, those are just my semi-humble opinions, based on what I discovered when I went a-googlin' to verify that the alleged auction was not a hoax, a goof, or a humbug. I was hoping that this was one of those fake news stories everyone is up in arms about at the moment. That it was designed to manipulate people into smiling, as opposed to ginning up outrage.

Nope, it's real.


Jeff Koons designed it. Other people built it in his factory studio. Rabbit is one of many such creations credited to Mr. Koons and cranked out this way. Of course, Mr. Koons employees don't mass produce stuff. They're artisans after all, not deplorable factory workers aching from repetitive stress injuries and hoping to live long enough to retire for a few years before they wake up dead.

Makes sense. After all, if there were lots of chrome balloon bunny rabbits in the world Christie's Auction House probably couldn't get more than a million bucks apiece.


Speaking of Christie's, I found the following description of the work of Mr. Koons on their website.

"Conflating ideas of horror and exuberance, innocence and obscenity into something that is both vacuously monumental and exultantly celebratory, the American multi-media artist holds a mirror up to the modern world — and, like a reflection in the surface of one of his iconic ‘inflatables’, his work reveals society and human nature in all its grotesque contradictions."

I continued my research and discovered the following quote from Alexander Rotter, chairman (chairman?) of post-war and contemporary art for Christie's. "Rabbit is the most important piece by Jeff Koons and I want to go even a step further and say the most important sculpture of the second half of the 20th century."

Huh, well that explains everything... I smack myself in the forehead hard enough to blacken my third eye. Okay, now I get it!


To be fair to Mr. Koons, I confess I had somehow never heard of him prior to the recent auction that made the national news so I went looking for more information. After all, I'm certain that there are far more people in the world who have never heard of me than have never heard of him. 

Perhaps he is a world-class perpetrator of humbugs that rival P.T. Barnum's best work.

In short order, I discovered that in 1990 Mr. Koons gifted the planet Earth with "...paintings, sculptures, and installations..." that "...celebrated, in explicit sexual terms, his union with wife Ilona Staller, Italian porn star...". 

The quote above is from an article at artdaily.org. Warning: don't click on the link if you're easily scandalized as it features a painting that includes a naked Mr. Koons and a nearly naked Mrs. Koons... frolicking?

I also discovered, from the article, that "Among the awards he has received are Officer of the French Legion of Honor; the Artistic Achievement Award from Americans for the Arts; and the Skowhegan Medal for Sculpture."

Huh. Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 

Iconoclasm

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Who the Hell is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring

"I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums." -Steven Wright 


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

In last week's letter, I mentioned that smartphones, theoretically, make it possible to act when someone throws the oft used phrase, you can look it up! at your psyche.

For the record, although late to the party, I admit to now owning one, a smartphone I mean. I also admit to the opinion that overall, they do more harm than good, particularly culturally speaking.

However, it's not the tool, it's how you use it, and...

[Hah! I call bullpoop, sir! You spend an inordinate amount of time online. Granted, most of your web surfing involves the pursuit of unspeakably dull content or listening to music that our culturally cutting edge social media "influencers" would find to be, well, also unspeakably dull. Still...]

I repeat, Dana, it's not the tool, it's how you use it. As I started to say -- there's a huge difference between taking selfies and/or sharing your fascinating life loudly enough with everyone else in the tiny, uncomfortably upholstered, over-heated or under-cooled waiting room -- and using your phone to access an ever-growing, electronic version of the Library of Alexandria. 

[The what?]

Nevermind.

[Snob.]

Heavy sigh. Anyways...

[It's not anyways, snob, it's anyway. Everyone knows that!]

It's a charming literary device I use all the time to honor the work of David Milch's classic, Deadwood. Now, just get the hell out of here, I've had enough!

SOUND OF DOOR SLAMMING IN MY HEAD


My Dear Stickies and gentlereaders, please forgive the digression. My apologies. What I set out to do was point out that when I was out and about in the world recently I was asked if I found it interesting that iconoclasm (although that particular word was not actually used) has become a fad here in the home of the free and the land of the brave.

Knowing that my knowledge was somewhat limited concerning both the word and the phenomenon it describes, when I had a private moment I whipped out my trusty smartphone and discovered that according to Wikipedia iconoclasm is "the social belief in the importance of the destruction of icons and other images or monuments, most frequently for religious or political reasons."

Now,

I confess that I'm cis-gendered and enthusiastically heterosexual -- a chubby, pasty-faced, melanin-challenged, old man culturally branded with a scarlet letter P due to my unwillingness to repent for, or even acknowledge the legitimacy of, what passes for original sin in certain circles these days, white privilege.

[You may remember that for a minute or two I thought I was an African-American lesbian woman (who looked remarkably like Halle Berry) named Coco trapped in the body of... etc. This went away when I overcame my addiction to mayonnaise sandwiches. Who knew?] 

And,

As you would expect, I have trouble staying woke (in more ways than one) but I do my best.

However,

I'm afraid I don't have much sympathy for those who declare themselves to be traumatized by statues that most Americans were mostly oblivious to prior to the Church of Equity and Social Justice reviving the perennial struggle over freakin' INANIMATE OBJECTS! 


Sorry, I've gone off the rails again. Perhaps just a bite of a mayonnaise sandwich, just a taste to calm my nerves... No, I must be strong. Remember the nightmare that was rehab. Concentrate.

Anyways... when I unexpectedly encountered the word iconoclasm, not a word you encounter all that frequently (at least not yet), the phrase verbal iconoclasm, unbidden, popped into my head.

I think this is a good name for a disturbing phenomenon loose in the world that manifests as no-platforming, the banning of "hate" speech, microaggressions, political correctness, etceteraness -- particularly in America since free speech is enshrined in our Bill of Rights.


Statue smashing (or shrouding, or dismantling), like censorship and book burning, is a time-honored tradition with roots extending back literally thousands of years.

In fact, although my artistic knowledge is rated by The Journal of Fine Arts Majors as Philistine +, I'm endlessly fascinated/appalled by documentaries about the destruction of art in Catholic churches and the like by Protest-ants in the 16th century.

In certain circles, ISIS springs immediately to mind for some reason, iconoclasm is still quite popular. Recently, in Philadelphia, where the Bill of Rights was ratified, a bronze statue of singer and long-dead American icon Kate Smith (1907 - 1986) was covered on a Friday and removed by Sunday.

A highly placed, anonymous, often reliable source in the Philadelphia Flyers organization told me that it was then cut into pieces and buried in an unmarked grave; an exorcism was performed on the sight it had occupied since 1987.

The Flyers, who had been playing Ms. Smith's rendition of God Bless America during home games for as long as anyone can remember, discovered she had recorded songs that contained some racist lyrics -- in the 1930s. 

I was unable to discover if Ms. Smith's Presidential Medal of Freedom will have to be returned. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. You do NOT have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title.