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yallemagne · 4 years ago

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More Stuff That Happened In Godspell 1973

SPOILER WARNING!!!

This includes the scene after God Save The People all the way through Turn Back O Man.

They find a junk yard and that is their new home, I love these hippies so much

Jerry hops into the hood of a car, tells Merrell to wake him up at noon, he’s disturbed by Joanne because she needs his help with her clothes and— the character dynamics here already!!

Jesus applies everyone’s clown makeup. Judas’ awkward smile when he does his hhhh. All the while, Jesus tells them that he comes “not to abolish the law, but to complete.” I love how they integrate actual stuff from the bible without it being pretentious

Jesus is a spooky man, I love

Impromptu junkyard jam session in place of Learn Your Lessons Well but keeping the tune

The Pharisee and the Publican!!! Told by Lynne with Black Church flourish, I love this woman

Oh No!! Joanne is in jail!!

Parable of the Unforgiving Servant!

Judas is like “WAIT A MINUTE” in typical Judas-style, standing on a windowsill.

Jeffrey throws Jerry in jail, but it’s okay bc Robin sentences him to torture

Day By Day! They start cleaning up the junkyard!

JUDAS JUGGLING!

Jeffrey and Jerry on a teeter-totter

Jeffrey fucking scales a fence in a millisecond, I love, and then Jerry helps him off the fence, I love

Jesus: So, if someone slaps your right cheek, turn and offer up your left one! Judas: “Oh, Jesus Chri-“ Gilmer: *covers Judas’ mouth* SLOWLY I TURN! STEP BY STEP! INCH BY INCH!

Jesus fucking slaps Judas! WOAH!

Judas almost slaps Jesus but plays charades

Jesus’ stern face is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed and it’s adorable

Jedas hug!

Parable of the Sheep and Goats! The way they tell the parables is very kid-show-like, you’re right, Mia

Jerry is an impressive vocal magician, they’re all rather good with silly voices actually

Jesus comes back for the goats- JUDAS WAS WITH THE GOATS! SYMBOLISM!

Chanting Jesus’ part from Learn Your Lessons Well in a tunnel,,, hhhh

Jesus: “No man can serve God-“ Everyone: “WHAT?!” Jesus: “… and money!” Everyone: “OHHH! MONEY!”

Bouncy bouncy Jesus

“Take me to Tiffany’s.”

Turn Back O Man- sexy song warning against indulgence and war

hhhh the Mae West impression

“Ooo! Stop it!”, Jerry, I love you

“Hard as a rock!”

Jesus draws a heart <333

Jesus’ expressions towards Joanne here,,, he’s like ��okay sweetie, calm down the flirting”

All the others’ faces just,,, in the staircase

Jesus and Joanne literally turning back and being forced down the stairs

Everyone just collapsing

“Play it, honey!” I just love her Mae West impression so much

Parable of the Good Samaritan narrated by Jeffrey, I love the instruments he uses to represent each character in the parable

I also just love Jeffrey in general

They all celebrate the Good Samaritan, but WAIT

Jesus magics up a bird

“It’s a secret!”

Judas breaks the fourth wall to tell us what Jesus is trying to say. I think he’s specifically letting the audience in on the secret, which is sweet. Jesus interrupts him and Judas gets sad he was mistaken

TIME TO CHEER JUDAS UP!

FIREWORKS! Judas gets startled

FLOWERS! Judas gets overwhelmed with gifts from the disciples :,)))

Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, narrated by Judas…

Judas: “Now, even the doggy-doggies used to come to Lazarus and lick his open running sores.” Jerry: “Blegh!” Judas: “Sorry.”

Hades is,,, ohhhkay that’s how it be

ABRAHAM, I love Abraham

Gilmer: “Remember, my child, that all the good things fell to you while you were on Earth, and all the bad to Lois.” Jerry: “Lazarus.” Gilmer: “Abraham! Glad to know ya! And now it is he who has conciliation here, and it is you who are in ah-goh-knee!”

I love the pronunciation of agony

“Look. If they don’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they ain’t gonna listen to nobody! Even if somebody should rise from the dead!”

Foreshadowing for Jesus coming back from the dead? Or perhaps a refutation of it happening here?

It’s actually regarded as a fable that Jesus came up with to teach his disciples, so Judas being the one to narrate it is interesting

#godspell #jesus christ #judas iscariot #godspell spoilers #godspell 1973 #hhh they are so wonderful #david haskell #victor garber #katie hanley #jeffrey mylett #lynne thigpen #robin lamont #gilmer mccormick #joanne jonas #merrell jackson #jerry sroka

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ducktracy · 5 years ago

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63. bosko the musketeer (1933)

release date: august 12th, 1933

series: looney tunes

director: hugh harman

starring: johnny murray (bosko), rochelle hudson (honey)

the final bosko cartoon nears closer and closer! bosko and honey fantasize what it would have been like to be a musketeer.

quite an impressive shot of all those flowers! it’s even more dizzying in motion. bosko is leaping through a field tossing flower petals (as bosko does), singing “she loves me, she loves me not”. very jazzy and cute! it’s hard to feel down while listening to a happy, triumphant song accompanied by bosko and bruno dancing around.

honey is also in the dancing mood, sweeping her valuables with glee—even a fish that she plucks out of its fishbowl! i guess you gotta commend her for keeping things clean. merrily does she dust a portrait of bosko, putting the duster on her head and puffing our her chest. she quips “you can be had”, a famous line of mae west’s.

bosko bursts into hee house, just as she’s dusting a picture of the three musketeers. i know it’s to get the plot moving SOMEHOW, but the thought of having a giant portrait in your house of the three musketeers and appropriately labeled as such as HILARIOUS LOL. she croons to bosko “ain’t they grand, bosko?”

as always, bosko tries to upstage any competition, scoffing “shucks, that’s nothing!” he snags an unbrella out of the umbrella rack and pretends to sword fight with an invisible foe.

honey sings “you would be a soldier”, which serves as a transition into an imagination sequence with bosko sword fighting. although the quality is bad, the animation is very good. lots of things happening at once, swords flying everywhere. bosko runs to a keg and turns the nozzle, spraying beer in the face of his enemies.

content with his feat, bosko swaggers into a bar, and as we close in on his mouth a card pops up advertising “the three musketeers”.

sure enough, the three musketeers are gathered in front of a fireplace, singing. bosko introduces them as “athos, amos, and andy”, amos and andy referring to the minstrel radio show of the same name. i love that they kept “athos” though, who was actually one of the three musketeers LOL.

bosko declares “all for one, and one for all”, prompting the three musketeers to launch into another chorus. elsewhere, bosko uses his sword as a bottle opener and uncorks a bottle of alcohol labeled “new deal, 3.2%”, an obvious reference to prohibition being outlawed in roosevelt’s new deal. bosko pours the beer into the first musketeer’s mouth, the second one swallowing, the third one doing some sort of silent burp. funny gag, but reused so many times it doesn’t take me by surprise.

the bar crowd cheer on the musketeers’ singing, including a guy honking his roast chicken like a horn.

of course, there’s always that one guy. a grizzly brute scoffs and swallows his turkey in one bite, so you know he means business. he also uses a bystander’s teeth to open a bottle of beer, taking a few hearty swings.

remember honey? she receives a grand fanfare as the door opens to reveal her standing there. she seems awfully full of herself, crooning “here i am, you lucky people!”

she does a very endearing, fun to watch and upbeat tap dance routine. bosko’s getting a kick out of it too, asking an old man next to him “boy! ain’t she keen?” he then proceeds to slap him on the back, knocking out the guy’s dentures.

the turkey swallower enjoys it, too. he rubs his hands together and jeers before picking honey up and planning to kidnap her. shocker, i tell you! honey cries and begs bosko to come to her aid.

a simple “HEY!” from bosko allows honey to run off scot free as bosko confronts the kidnapper. he calls him a viper, and together a sword fight is prompted. i love the above gag of the swords shaking hands before the duel!

cue an extended sword fight scene. bosko snaps the kidnapper’s sword in half, and he summons a caddy to get him a new one, using his beard to sharpen it up. genius! bosko, on the other hand, resorts to a pencil sharpener.

with the fight back on, the kidnapper uses a bow to fire his sword, which snags a woman’s skirt. it’s no hoop skirt at all (i can tell you how much of a bear they are to wear, i’m so glad they’re out of fashion” but literal chicken wire beneath her—little chicks running around her with a chicken at guard. i wasn’t expecting that, good gag.

as they near a lit fireplace, bosko slams his foot down on the handle of a shovel, sending hot coals flying directly into the villain’s pants. he runs for the hills and honey claps for her savior, the background dissolving back into honey’s house. even after bosko is so triumphantly posing with his umbrella, honey laughs “oh, bosko, i don’t believe that!” smugly, bosko answers “vas you dere, charlie?”, a reference to vaudeville performer jack pearl and his character baron munchausen. the character of the baron didn’t last long—reading in the youtube description, there’s a similar case with joe penner’s short lived catchphrase of “wanna buy a duck?”, which would be used in porky’s duck hunt. iris out.

for the second to last bosko cartoon at wb, i’m a little disappointed! this felt like an entry from early 1932. it was just a bit boring and easily forgettable. the gags that were good were good, music delightful like always, animation impressive, but it just felt a bit stale and transparent. the kidnapper barely even has honey in his clutches when bosko swoops in, and she just goes missing for the next 2 minutes as they fight. nevertheless, it has its ups and downs. i’ll provide a link as always, but don’t feel obligated to watch it this time around.

link!

#lt #bosko the musketeer #reviews #long post #racism tw

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nikolaiis · 6 years ago

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THE DICE ROLLER --;;

( JON BERNTHAL, CISMALE ) has NIKOLAI SOKOLOV been acting strange lately? i’m sure the incident still has the THIRTY EIGHT year old MOB ENFORCER on edge. he’s known around treeville as LOYAL & PROTECTIVE – but can be VIOLENT & HEADSTRONG if you get on his bad side. HE couldn’t have done it, though, because during the incident they COMPLETED MOB WEAPON INVENTORY

hello it’s mae again & apparently i just can’t help myself; this here is nikolai sokolov, an enforcer in the trons’ mob, @viviantrons‘s bodyguard, and pretty much the antithesis of everything clair is, so i look forward to the challenge ! you can read his bio below the cut or you can read it here.

general aesthetic--;;

tensed fists and jaw; blood between teeth and fingers; tattoos that cover the corporeal form; eyes that have seen too much but haven’t seen it all; calloused from wielding knives yet soft enough for playing cards; violent and headstrong and all the things that shatter at dusk

check his pinterest here

biography--;;

tw: car accidents, death, mob related activity, drinking, gambling, guns

Nikolai grew up predisposed for things he did not understand, and he took life by the horns and made it his. His grandfather, Vycheslav Yegorovich Sokolov, immigrated to the United States from Yaroslavl when he was twenty-one in 1950. He brought his pregnant wife with him, and began a modest life in New York City. Shortly after their arrival, their son was born: Vasili Vycheslavovich Sokolov. In an effort to make a better life for his son, Vycheslav leaned into his father’s contacts in the States. He ran small gambling rings out of a laundromat, collecting some off the top as he went. He amassed a small fortune, which - thanks to the war efforts and careful investments throughout the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s - rose and fell in value. With this fortune, he put Vasiliy through school, where he graduated with a degree in business management and hospitality.

Vasiliy continued his father’s work, moving to New Haven, CT and opening up a small hotel. He used the hotel as a cover and location to host his father’s business deals and poker games. Father and son remained independent from organized crime, though they lent favors here and there if it suited them. While in university, Vasiliy met his eventual wife, Helga Lundqvist. She was a clever mathematician, and he brought her into the fold on the side. She studied probability, patterns, human behavior with risk and reward. Helga became the assistant to Vasiliy with his hotel, occasionally running games herself. They continued in this life, carefully toeing the line with law enforcement and bigger gangs from larger cities, and eventually they married in June 1978.

Nikolai was born in 1981, three years after his parent’s marriage. His sister, Sophie, followed four years after he in 1985. They were practically raised in the hotel, the only place they truly found peace. Their parents were separated by different work environments; while Vasiliy remained the face of the business, Helga was running all of the games, keeping tabs on who they could and could not trust. Vycheslav warned his son to keep a low profile; scarred from the devastation his friends and allies had suffered during the Red Scare, he did not wish harm upon his grandchildren. Vasiliy acknowledged his father’s wishes, but still amassed a security detail upon his daughter’s birth.

Sophie was headstrong and Americanized, shirking the separate lessons her parents tried to put her through. She had her mother’s wit, and used it to her advantage, dipping and weaving through her parents’ influences. While Nikolai attended the same college his father had, Sophie ran to the west coast, wanting to be as far from home as possible. Their parents sent Nikolai after her, and he went, grappling with his own secret.

His mother’s teachings had awakened nothing but his addictive personality. He loved the games, the rush of tallying up the wins and losses, the thrill of placing a winning hand down with a blank face. He wasn’t the ideal son, lacking cleverness but having ample amounts of headstrong belief in himself and his abilities. In essence, he was sent to watch over his sister, and make sure she was alright.

He followed Sophie, remained in San Francisco as her. She was in school nearly full time, and while he had to break her out of a few unsavory situations (some involving jail) a few well placed threats and well timed phone calls back home amounted to good favors.

Here’s where Nikolai begins to lose himself.

Untethered from his parents’ influences, Nikolai finds himself in love with every substance out there. He’s too dull to run the games by himself, he’s too easily distracted by what he knows he would do rather than by what is actually happening on the table. But he’s strong. He can handle himself in a fight. He can also handle his alcohol. In the years of trailing his sister around, he begins to collect his tattoos, begins to get mixed up in things he’s far too out of his depth with.

A few times, it is Sophie who must rescue him from himself.

Sophie graduated college and refused to return to Connecticut. She loved her American life, loved her American friends, and wanted to stay far from the reaches of her parents. They agreed, provided Nikolai stay and look after her, though by now Sophie is the one mostly looking after him.

At about this time, Sophie found a new job in Santa Barbara, working as a publicity assistant for an up and coming fashion brand. Nikolai moved with her, down to the beachside city, and settled in with her. They lived there for four years, and life seemed okay. Across the continent, Vycheslav warns his son to reel his children in. Neither party listens.

It’s an accident, is all it is. Nikolai thinks she’s safe to go on a trip with some friends from work, while he stays in the Santa Barbara. Sophie packs her bags, tells Nikolai not to worry, that she’ll be back in a few days.

If he’d been more alert, he may have noticed that she’d packed a fair amount more than would be needed for a few days. He would have noticed that she’d been coming back later and later - not that he would have noticed, as he was hardly home himself. He would have noticed the hickies and starry look in her eyes; he would have noticed the scent of cologne and aftershave. He would have noticed the ring.

Sophie left to elope, fully intending on returning home after a few weeks. Instead, due to brake failure, her and her fiancé were killed on the highway by an errant eighteen-wheeler.

It’s an accident, but it costs Nikolai his family and his parent’s money. He’s making some of it back with his games, but not enough to afford where he and Sophie were staying. Not enough to warrant being allowed to stay in Santa Barbara. He packed up his car and drove, and kept driving, until he ran out of gas in Treeville.

He spent the last little bit of money that he had at the nearest casino. He wins that hand, and the next. He keeps winning, and winning, and winning, until he’s woken up with the crack of a gun against his head. Nikolai didn’t remember parking his car, wandering around town until he found a mansion that was rich enough to spark some kind of drunken memory. Memories of home, of living in the hotel, of his mother’s games. He’d somehow gotten in, he’d somehow broke into the house, before he was taken down in the foyer. Now he’s facing an impressive stone faced man in a bathrobe, and he remembers his grandfather.

At thirty years old, Nikolai gets the only job he’s actually qualified for. Blake Trons offers him a position in his mob, and he accepts. For seven years, he stays comfortably in the middle of the pack; not the go-to man, but not the worst. He’s tested, time and time again, and sometimes he lets his temper get the better of him.

At thirty-seven, Nikolai is offered the job he had failed at before. Blake tells him to watch over his daughter, and watch he does. He doesn’t anticipate tolerating her. He doesn’t anticipate liking her. He certainly doesn’t anticipate falling for her.

At thirty-eight, Nikolai still has the job he failed at before. He’s still failing, but in a different way. But moping doesn’t bring Sophie back; it doesn’t make Vivian look at him again.

#treev:intro #tw: car accidents #tw: death #tw: mob related activity #tw: drinking #tw: gambling #tw: guns #hoooooo buddy here we are!!!

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justfangstvdto · 7 years ago

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Open Coffin | Chapter 17: “Never Be Afraid Of Darkness”

Pairing: Kol x SalvatoreSister!Reader

Chapter Summary: (flashback chapter) A look back in time to the reader's adventures when she first arrived in New Orleans following Mae's invitation to join her organization.

Warnings: not necessarily crucial to the story ( This chapter is skippable but you might miss a few references in future chapters),

Word count: 2998

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Open Coffin Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

New Orleans 1913

The city is buzzing like nothing you have ever seen before. Music as far as the ear can hear, topless cars driving by without rush, every corner different than the one before and people as carefree as the wind - it's truly magnificent. New Orleans is at ease beating with his own heartbeat uncanny from the cities you stepped foot in.

“I knew you would make the right decision.” Her voice reaches you first before you can even see her descending among the crowd.

Unlike the first time you met, close to a week ago people don't seem to avoid her. They don't cross the streets, they don't stare, they just move past her, not fazed by anything. She seems to be much more at ease here.

She´s home.

And that cradles the green-eyed monster within yourself. Especially now that you´ve been on your own for the last months.

“That was fast, you do have eyes and ears everywhere.” You say, more or less impressed by how far information travels for someone like her.

“And now you do too, considering you´re willing to join us.” She says, your gaze drifting by her, which she seems to take as a sign of indecisiveness “Not to worry, you do not have to stay if you don't like it.”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

“Follow me then.”

She leads you along St. Peters street as you could gather from the street sign.

A cinnabar- orange colored building stands taller than the others on the intersection, it´s multiple floors creating a shadow that's drowning out the daylight on the street. In one of the windows of said house, a figure stands, presumably a man judging by the top hat. The mystery man lingers for but a moment before he closes the curtains.

“I would stay away from that house. Nothing but trouble.” Mae says, returning to your side.

You didn't even notice you stopped walking.

“This is your first time in the crescent city, correct?” She asks looking over her shoulder, and you answer with a nod “ Then I´ll have to give you a tour sometime. You ain't gonna find nobody better to show you around than me. I´ve been here since the very first day, laying down the first stone in Spring 1718.”

1718...that would make her close to 200 years, if not much older.

She crosses the street in a hurry, greeting what looked like traders in front of a shambled bar, the dirt crawling up the cracked walls fading with the orange bricks. You look up to catch a glimpse of the sign above the door, but it's empty. Strange. There seems to be no name set for the bar yet.

When Mae opens the door, the smell of spilled spirits, cigars and old wood dances around you, seeping into every pore. She greets several people sitting on tables, some with revolvers on the table, some reloading them with wooden bullets, others so preoccupied with their gambling they don't even bother to look up.

Mae continues through an archway and halts in front of yet another door, knocking against it in an alternating pattern. The small opening on the top is pulled back, a pair of eyes looking through them, their color not recognizable by the dim lighting.

“Lots of secrecy for someone that recruits people on the streets.” You say, just as the door snaps open, a woman on the other end holding the door open for you to step through.

“Believe it or not, we´re not the most favored bunch in this community. Or anywhere else really.” She says, walking into the open courtyard-like room, the ceiling beams high up her head “Welcome to our HQ.”

Several heads turn at your and Mae´s arrival, curious eyes scanning you up and down, a collective habit as it seems. The walls are made of patched up bricks that stretches out to the entire length of the room. The edged staircase on the left is accompanied by a dark red wallpaper, the sound of a lone guitar player in the back bouncing off of them.

It all has a shambled feel, which actually is much homier than you'd anticipated.

“I can give you the grand tour later if you want. But this precious one is our training area, gotta know how to defend yourself if you´re gonna have a run in with the big dogs.”

The fighting area is empty, but the scratched and slightly cracked floor is evident enough that fights must occur regularly.

“So that's what you're doing here? A fight club?” You ask her, trailing your fingers along the improvised stringed fighting area boundaries.

“I wish. But no. People come to us when the mortal or supernatural law fails and they need someone to take out the trash.”

Take out the trash, huh? How very inviting.

“You´re hired guns then?” You ask, the revolvers and the all over somewhat brute environment making much more sense. Not that you´d have any prejudices, of course not, but this is different than what you've expected.

The question is, is it different good or different bad?

“You could say that. Though, our currency, however, is not money, it´s blood, magical components and most importantly information. Gotta keep all species happy.”

“All species? There are witches, vampires AND werewolves living under one roof?”.

You never heard of such a thing. There has always been a mutual segregation among the species, how come it seems to work here only?

“Granted we lack a few in the werewolf department, but yes, we´re abiding the ancient rules. We´re one big dysfunctional deadly family. You´ll fit right in.” Mae gives you a wink and continues on to another bar counter.

“Howdy boss. What can I do you for?” A dirty blond-haired man asks her, drooling with a southern drawl. The dresshirt he´s wearing is crinkled and greased and the suspenders are slightly off. All in all, he doesn´t seem to care much about it, unlike the somewhat uptight men you´d see dressed outside of these walls.

If your mother would be here now, she´d go ballistic. There was nothing worse than a wrinkled dress-shirt. She would always make sure there were no wrinkles anywhere to be found after you pressed the clothes in the slick stones.

“Howdy? Seriously? Where are we, the wild west?” You mutter, the words slipping out of your mouth before you have a chance to catch them.

“Aren't you precious?” The man laughs loudly, a few tousled strands of hair falling over the side of his face which he ruffles back with his palm “Name´s Shank.” He says and extends his other hand.

“Y/N Salvatore.” You reply and shake his hand.

“Ah, the girl I heard so much about.” He says, his pale grey eyes lingering “I ain´t gonna lie, you´re much scarier in person.”

“Me scary? I think you got the wrong person.”

He cocks the side of his eyebrow and knowing smiles as if he's see something lingering within that you couldn't.

“Care for a drink?” Shank asks, not dwelling on his silent discovery.

“It's already noon, so why not?” You shrug your shoulders “Bourbon, neat. Please.”

“A Bourbon girl, I like you already. Coming right up.”

Shank generously fills the glass and sets it on the table all the while preparing another one, presumably for Mae. He slides her glass over the slick surface, landing directly in her hand. The liquid filling the crystal glass is as crimson red as her lipstick.

“Now to your potential mission. You remember what I told you?” Mae asks and you nod “You're gonna observe him.” She says and slides a drawn portrait over the wooden table. “Kol Mikaelson, part of the original family, the first vampires ever created. He's the black sheep of the family and most likely cooking up a revenge plan. I need you to observe him, watch where he goes what he does and who he talks to. He's dangerously reckless, so you have to proceed with caution.”

“Black sheep of the family and dangerous? Right up my ally.”

“Thought as much. With your family history and all.”

There it is again. Her strange knowledge of you and your life. How long has she been following you?

“You seem to know an awful lot about me when I know nothing about you.” You say, swirling the bourbon in your glass, avoiding to look at her.

“Then shoot. What do you want to know?” She asks, ready to receive any question.

You contemplate on several questions that are worth asking, but one in particular interests you the most, especially because you just lost yours; Family.

“These people here are your family, right? Your chosen one at least. What happened to your real one?”

“Hitting the hard questions I see.” Mae sighs “Well, my family and I had a mutual understanding. They wanted me gone and I wanted them dead. So I killed them.”

She killed her own family. Who knows what else she's capable of? Perhaps it was a mistake coming here. You look around, searching for any type of exit you could slip away easily when nobody's watching. But there is none. The only exit is the one you came in, walking by several filled tables.

“You killed your own family? Just like that?” You ask her, having no choice but to continue listening to her story.

“Not entirely voluntarily. I was falsely charged with an act of crime that only someone of my kind could commit. And me being the only freak in the village, they blamed me and destined me to be hanged.”

“I assume your village has never seen a vampire before?”You say, the word village indicating that she must be much older thanas you first thought.

“No. I wasn't a vampire then.” She shakes her head, her I was what people call a shiphoner - a witch without an own source of power. My people, or coven as you could say, only housed a few of us, but by then I was the only one left.”

“But yet you´re still here, so I assume they didn't go through with it?”

“Oh, no they did. Their hatred of the unknown was proof enough. I was dangling in the wind, with death gripping my feet.” She stops to take a sip of her crimson liquid “ But unlucky for them the ropes were dripping with power so I used them to free myself. And then I burned everyone. Guilty, innocent, old and young. I turned every witness to ashes.”

The memory of that event seems to rattle her. She tightens her grasp around the glass while her face remains unchanged. Lucky for you, you´ve always been paying attention to the glimpsed other people would ignore. A cruel present your father's violent outbreaks have gifted you.

“That's terrible.” You say, just imagining the cries of the dying and rush of guilt after the rage had calmed send a shiver down your spine.

“I ain't no saint, Y/N. Nobody here is.” She replies.

“No, I mean that they just blamed you for it, because you weren't like them.”

She seems to be surprised at your words as if she expected you to judge her for actions that were fueled by betrayal. But you´re not innocent either, so why would you judge her based on one of presumably many mistakes? You didn´t burn an entire coven, sure, but you still have blood on your hands. Much more than you´d ever thought possible when you first turned.

“The world is a terrible place, Y/N. But nothing much has changed in that regard, has it? Even the mortals segregate when they should reunite.”

She´s got a point. There is a war seething among humans right now. Another nasty comment, another dirty look might be the final straw Reuniting instead of segregation is the only solution. On the supernatural and human side.

“That is why I set the foundation for the empire you see today. We are united here. Vampires, Werewolves, witches, sometimes even mortals. You don't have to be ashamed of who or what you are.” She says and hits the exact point you´d always struggled with; being ashamed of what you are. A blood-sucking monster.

There is power and most of all truth in her words, a power that for once seems graspable and truth that should be as clear as day, yet for most, it's overshadowed by a casing of prejudice and taught hatred. You haven't met anyone as free from said casing in a long time. Perhaps ever.

A few hours have passed since you arrived at the Headquarters, and you spend your time roaming the halls before you found yourself in the extraordinarily organised library. There are files upon files of vampires reaching back to the earliest supernatural creatures - the Mikaelson family. All files of the Mikaelson siblings either had a drawn portrait or photograph. All but the infamous Klaus Mikaelson.

Perhaps that's a good thing. You heard terrible tales and you would rather stay away from him as far as possible.

You flip through Kol´s file, interested to learn as much about him as possible before agreeing to your mission. Besides his handsome features, he seems to have travelled a similar path away from his siblings.

As you flip to another page, a small piece of paper appears, floating from the high ceiling. It lands directly on the page. It reads:

Meet me in my office

-Mae

You close the files, carrying them with you to her office.

When you open the partly glass door, the smell of burned paper escapes the room.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Oh, Y/N..I...got rid of a few belongings. Burning bridges, closing doors - however you would like to call it.” She smiles, her usual striking hazel eyes dull and overshadowed with sadness.

A folded picture on the floor catches your attention, the edges torn and the image on the topside faded.

“I think you missed something.” You pick the picture from the floor, without looking at it handing it to her.

“Oh. That's not…thank you. ”She says, her gaze flickering to the photograph in her hand. She traces her fingers along the outlines of herself next to Klaus at the opening of the Opera House in 1859. She looks at the camera while Klaus looks at her, the image frozen in time.

“Must be a special picture.” You say, pulling out of the trip down memory lane.

“It was. Now it's simply a fading photograph, a reminder that the person you´d take a bullett for can easily be the person pulling the trigger.”

She clears her throat, shaking off whatever bothered her about the picture and hands you a stack of cards with a crow printed on the front, contrasting with the light paper.

“This is our calling card. Leave this at any of your potential missions and everyone knows it was us that did the deed.” She explains

“A crow, huh?”

“That's what the locals call us. Crows or bringers of death. Appropriate don't you think?”

You turn the card around, reading the Latin phrase that´s written on the back “What does this mean?”

“Not fluent in Latin I see? It means “never be afraid of darkness” - an old sentiment I thought fitting.”

Never be afraid of darkness. If only someone had told you that all the times you were locked in the basement for protecting your brother, maybe it would´ve brought you some comfort. But still as silly as these simple words may sound, there is indeed comfort in them.

“You know, I don't get it. Out of what reason do you want me to follow this Kol Mikaelson? There as to be a reason?”

“I was close to his family. And despite past grievances, I don't want to see them hurt. Kol, fairly so, has a thirst for revenge and I need to know what he's cooking up so I can interfere.” Mae says, rounding her table to lean on the front “I know this all might be a lot, but give us a chance if you dare. You won't regret it.”

“I'll think about it.” You reply, not knowing if you should stay, despite how eerily comfortable you already feel. Perhaps it will clear up in time.

“That's all I ask.” She says “ Now how about I show you around? There's a lot to see in our Crescent City.”

The feeling of a excitement washes over you as you step into the blinding heat of the day, a feeling you thought you buried long ago with your humanity. But perhaps after all the grievances in the past, especially with your brothers recently, it´s time for a fresh start. Here in New Orleans.

Maybe it was the right call coming here after all. Maybe, just maybe being surrounded by darkness doesn't seem so bad for once....

A/N: Did anyone catch what building I hinted at in the beginning? That's right, the Mikaelson Compound. But who was that at the window...hmm.. ;)

I realize that this does not really contribute to the current happenings of the story, but I felt like there should be a little more background. And I´m a sucker for flashbacks anyway.

Open Coffin Tags: (send me an ask if you want to be tagged) @shadyladyperfection @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @christinalibertymikaelson @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14 @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @superwholocksociopath474 @pacifyprincessxo @mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @tvdplusriverdale @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @trymexo @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer @spunky-89

#kol x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #tvd imagine #the originals imagine #Kol mikaelson #tvd #the vampire diaries #the originals #open coffin

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chiseler · 7 years ago

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VENUS IN GORILLA FUR

Von Sternberg's films with Dietrich are all unique and great, and all crazy. Some of them almost work as stories (Shanghai Express comes closest, arguably), but Sternberg wasn't really interested in stories, or character, or so he would declare. His artistic sensibility was formed by Vienna's Volksprater, the sprawling funfair where Harry Lime takes his gullible pal for a spin on the big wheel in The Third Man, and evolved to make him an early and profitable collector in abstract art. Plus, his film training was in the lab, dealing with film on a purely photochemical basis. If he could have made films by placing each individual grain in the right place, you get the impression he might have gone for it.

Blonde Venus (1932), the fourth of six Marlene Dietrich vehicles which propelled her from German near-obscurity to American mega-stardom then almost back to obscurity again, has a plot that just about sustains momentum.

To begin with, we see Herbert Marshall, a somewhat superannuated medical student, stumble upon Marlene and some friends bathing nude in the Vienna woods (Mendelssohn accompaniment). This is taken from an incident in Sternberg's boyhood, recounted in his autobiography, when he accidentally barged in upon a bevy of nude bathing beauties. Where Marshall teases Dietrich with what are supposed to be cool remarks, and kind of comes off as a jerk, in reality little Joe was chased off by his water nymphs, screaming imprecations at the terrified and humiliated kid. Humiliation went on to be the central emotion of his cinema.

Flash-forward a few years, and Marshall and Dietrich are man and wife, with a child in the adorable form of little Dickie Moore. But Marshall has given himself radium poisoning in his lab work -- he can undertake an experimental cure in Europe but the cost is astronomical.

Radium poisoning was a hot topic at the time, since the manufacturers of luminous watch dials had been cheerfully poisoning their female staff, with horrific consequences. The lawsuits made the news, and Ben Hecht made a comedy out of it all called Nothing Sacred. Everyone knew there was no cure, but in this movie there is.

Dietrich goes back to work as a nightclub entertainer to help hubby, and her act proves to be the legendary "Hot Voodoo" number where she emerges from a gorilla costume in front of a chorus line of blacked-up "native girls," dons a Harpo Marx with with fake arrows through it, and intones, with an arrogant, "I'm-really-too-good-for-this" sleepy smirk, the following --

Those drums bring up the heaven inside me

I need some great big angel to guide me

Hot voodoo, makes me wild

Oh fireman, save this child

I'm going to blazes

I want to be bad!

The blissed-out stripping away of mock gorilla hide is, apparently, the Birth of Venus, and it somehow suggests a goddess entering our world, while also serving as a sort of cabaret version of the story of Darwinian evolution.

The film spends some time setting up a rival artiste called "Taxi," then does little with her, and there's a tension between Sternberg treating this partially black milieu with respect or at least paying it the compliment of attention (Hollywood's Mitteleuropean emigres generally displayed more progressive attitudes on race than the home-grown directors) and maybe using the dark faces as decadent local, ahem, color.

A comic stuttering bartender is credited as a possible Clarence Muse on the IMDb, but it ain't him. I think it may be Charles R. Moore, who played a few humorous stereotypes for Preston Sturges later.

Anyway, Dietrich's act excites the attention of smooth politician Cary Grant, passing through that early phase of his career that consisted of gazing worshipfully at Paramount blondes Dietrich and Mae West. He pays for Marshall's op, but this breaks up the marriage because when he gets back from Europe, health restored, he mistrusts his wife. The movie now turns into a custody battle over little Dickie, which Dietrich attempts to win by taking to the road.

Wanted posters start to appear, hilariously showing Marlene in her Harpo wig and arrows. It would have been even better if it had been the gorilla costume.

Dietrich, a mother herself, had wanted to make a film about this aspect of femininity, and Sternberg had knocked together a scenario, but then Paramount had had to threaten them with legal action to force them to go through with it. Making for a slightly tense set, I imagine. This was after Sternberg's wife had sued Dietrich for alienation of affection. Cary Grant later told Peter Bogdanivich that he could see what the pair were "up to" and that he "wasn't going to get mixed up in that."

Future Charlie Chan actor Sidney Toler cameos as a sleazy detective on Marlene's trail, and even better, Hattie McDaniel is a maid in a plausibly deniable house of ill repute in New Orleans. Like nearly all African American actresses, McDaniel was pretty much forced to specialize in maids, but though her physique (round) and physiognomy (round-eyed) suggested stereotypes, her personality leant itself to intelligent skepticism, and this frequently comes across in her roles. So Hattie is on to the deceptive Toler from the start.

Nevertheless, Dietrich gives up her son, and the money Marshall gives her to begone, in the sort of fit of perversity Sternberg's characters are always falling prey to.

It's left to Cary Grant to play cupid, making this about the last time he himself wouldn't get the girl, and certainly the only time he lost her to Herbert Marshall, or anyone called Herbert for that matter.

Dietrich's film about motherhood didn't convince the critics. Irene Dunne and Margaret Sullavan could play self-sacrificing moms, but this German siren? However (smotheringly?) devoted Marlene may have been to her real child (who cameos in The Scarlet Empress, playing Marlene as a kid), she couldn't transmute that into a compelling screen narrative. Little Dickie Moore is essentially a MacGuffin to motivate the plot's toing and froing, as featherweight a device as Marshall's non-fatal fatal illness. The film succeeds as Sternberg intended it to, as a record of the mediated play of light on various textures including a certain woman’s face moving in rhythm with an atmospheric soundtrack.

That beat gives me a wicked sensation

My conscience wants to take a vacation

Got voodoo, head to toes

Hot voodoo, burn my clothes

I want to start dancing, just wearing a smile...

by David Cairns

#David Cairns #The Chiseler #marlene dietrich #Blond Venus #Sternerg #pre-Code #Classic Movies

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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Stephen Curry's pro golf debut was a huge success for both him and the entire sport

Steph's two rounds playing with the pros impressed everyone and was a rare successful attempt at "growing the game."

When Stephen Curry received an exemption to play in a Web.com Tour event, the biggest fear was that he'd get blown out to sea. He'd shoot two rounds in the 80s, finish in last by five, six, or some larger and uglier number of shots, and embarrass himself at the Ellie Mae Classic.

The over-under for his lowest score was 76.5, and that seemed reasonable. There had been 23 starts by athletes from other sports on the Web.com Tour and the scoring average was 79.4. Jerry Rice played in this event three times and bombed gloriously, shooting in the 80s with regularity, finishing last by eight shots once and withdrawing another time after being 23-over through his first 27 holes. John Smoltz, often hailed as one of the top athlete golfers and boasting a plus-handicap at one point, got a start on this Tour and shot 84.

Steph's first shot of the tournament went completely off the grid and landed in the cup holder of a golf cart and you were already nervous that this experiment was going to get ugly in a hurry.

Of course @StephenCurry30 first tee shot of @elliemaeclassic swished the bottom of the bucket! Of a golf cart! @WebDotComTour #freerelief http://pic.twitter.com/zgq2OHNwkL

— The Truck (@truckkarma) August 3, 2017

He made three bogeys in his first six holes and the excoriating takes from golf purists were already in the oven.

Then he went out and posted 74-74. That should surpass anyone's expectations, even the most optimistic homer. The 74 on Thursday, when the pressure and scrutiny was its most intense and Curry admitted he was most nervous, could have been even better. He threw away a couple shots coming into the clubhouse and could have posted a 73 or 72. And when it looked like it might go bad, Steph held on and avoided the astronomical number. He hit some wayward shots and found himself playing out of the junk quite often, but there were no snowmen or quadruple bogeys or even triple bogeys.

Steph has a good swing, played as the top guy on his high school golf team, is obviously a great athlete, and actually works at the game in his spare time. But it's spare time — he's not a pro and he doesn't grind on this all year like the pros and top amateurs. So the 74-74 was still unexpected. He should be relieved and happy with it. He didn't just avoid embarrassment, but actually impressed. It was fantastic and don't let anyone say otherwise.

But no, he can't play professionally

Steph exceeded expectations, but he still finished ahead of just three pros and one amateur in a field of more than 150 players. Pros have bad days and get blown out to sea, too. Steph never had a chance to make the cut, but finishing DFL was also not a lock.

the 11 guys he beat yesterday ALL had bad rounds (for them). 1-2 will again today & finish behind Steph. Was always unlikely he'd finish DFL

— Jake Nichols (@jalnichols) August 4, 2017

Steph beating four players over just 36 holes in one event on the Web.com Tour does not mean he could be a pro golfer. It's two rounds. We've see Rory McIlroy get roasted by top college players and ams at the occasional major. That's the fickle nature of the game and it's always dangerous mining grand theories from small sample sizes. The week-to-week and year-over-year consistency is what separates Rory from a top amateur or great player on the Web.com Tour. Steph's first two rounds were incredible, but taking it as a sign that he could play professional golf, even on the Web.com Tour, is deluded.

We're now done with the wet blanket portion. This is perfectly fine! Steph's 74-74 is still an amazing accomplishment and he's quite good at other pursuits. No golfer is going to an NBA D-league game and doing the equivalent of Steph's 74-74, even Dustin Johnson, who, as you may have heard on every single broadcast, can dunk a basketball. Steph is better at golf than 99 percent of the world and better at basketball than (arguably!) everyone.

The sponsor's exemption debate

When the announcement came that Steph got a spot in the field, the usual uproar about undeserving sponsor's exemptions exploded. This occurs every year, multiple times per year, on every Tour. It happens when John Daly, who has no chance of winning on the PGA Tour, gets a sponsor's exemption. It happens when Mike Weir gets a sponsor's exemption. It happens when some local player with local following and little change of making a cut gets an exemption.

While many pros and golf media praised the inclusion of Steph, there were haters and losers upset that he was taking a spot from a pro, probably better at golf, who was grinding to make a living in the game. The Web.com Tour may not be the highest Tour in golf, but it's pretty close and a spot in one of its events is a valuable commodity that could, theoretically, go a long way to jumpstarting or resurrecting a career.

But sponsor dollars are a major part of what makes the Tour, and all golf tours, run. There are no Tours for anyone to get a shot unless sponsors back the events, and so they justifiably get a few spots to invite players they want and think will heighten the interest in their event. So while it may be divisive at times, it's a necessary and sensible practice. The use of this exemption for Steph came off as well as any I can remember because of ...

An impact beyond scores

Steph made a dang regular season Web.com Tour event the biggest thing in golf for a couple days. On Thursday, all anyone on golf twitter cared about was tracking Steph's round. This was concurrent with the WGC Bridgestone Invitational, one of the PGA Tour's most lucrative and prestigious events, that had 49 of the top 50 players in the world in the field. The interest he created for the Ellie Mae Classic and Web Tour was enormous, both on the ground and watching from afar. No other fringe pro or other exemption was doing to do this. Eventual winner Martin Piller even called it the "Steph Curry Invitational" on Sunday.

This is the crowd following @StephenCurry30, on Thursday morning at https://t.co/gZ56s2K2Mk event. No way this is bad for golf http://pic.twitter.com/GtHDNdCgeh

— Ron Kroichick (@ronkroichick) August 3, 2017

And the fans and press weren't the only ones obsessively tracking what was going on either. Most of the pros were too, even the best in the world at that WGC in Akron wanted to know what was happening over on the west coast. Jordan Spieth tracked it and praised Steph's success.

"I think it's pretty special for a two-time MVP to be able to shoot 74 at a pro event and beat other pros," said Jason Day. "I mean, we play our whole lives and the guy plays basketball and he beats some of the pros. It's very impressive to see."

The best in the world were watching, talking, and tweeting about this.

Gutsy day from @StephenCurry30, proved A LOT of people wrong. Dude has game! And I'm sneaky glad he bogied 18 so I didn't tie him today https://t.co/duASL4GEb5

— Justin Thomas (@JustinThomas34) August 3, 2017

1st golf scoring I checked out today from all tournaments was @StephenCurry30 @WebDotComTour.

— Padraig Harrington (@padraig_h) August 3, 2017

The interest obviously went beyond just the golf world and became a wider sports story. It's one of the most valuable uses of an exemption like this that you'll ever see.

Every tentacle of the golf industry — media, fans, players, governing bodies, equipment companies — attaches the phrase "grow the game" to every damn initiative or idea or event. It's now a marketing trick and often a trope used to cloak one's insecurities about the game's place in sports and its future.

The phrase is used so much that it doesn't really have any meaning. But if it does have any definition anymore, Steph's impact playing this pro event and performing well is it.

Photo by Lachlan Cunningham/Getty Images

The horde follows Steph at Stonebrae.

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oruttitdaspring2017 · 8 years ago

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Reading #3 : Allergy to Originality by Drew Christie

Portrait of Drew Christie (below):

CRITIQUE

FEEL:

This was a very interesting reading in that the author, Drew Christie, used two mediums –

a traditional short text Op-Ed piece, and,

a simply executed, but sophisticated – also short – animation.

I felt that Christie was striving to achieve an ironic, but intellectual approach.

He is dramatizing a creative world that is seemingly short on unique output.

All in, I felt entertained, impressed, and informed -

Christie communicated a serious quantity of ideas with deft strokes, literally and figuratively.

ELEMENTS & PRINCIPLES: Christie’s main thrust is through the animation, but the text is equally effective at both generating interest and presenting his ideas in a concise fashion. The text nicely sets the stage for the viewer:

LINE: Because the animation consists entirely of contour drawings, LINE is the dominant element. The slight shaking of the hand drawn images in the animation holds the viewer attention. The images are simply and relatively realistically drawn, presenting a folksy, small-town honesty. This is amusing, given the overall level of conceptual sophistication.

SHAPE: There are easily recognizable SHAPES utilized throughout the animation. Christie uses basic shapes and figures to give the viewer the impression that this could be any small movie theater in Smalltown, USA.

COLOR: Christie leverages a small number of COLORS to attract the viewer’s attention. There are essentially only two muted colors, red and yellow. The background is a very light tan, and gives the appearance of actual drawing paper. The overall use of color is restrained and judicious, but the effect is eye-catching and entertaining.

FORM: The setting is a movie patron talking to a ticket clerk. The FORMS are convincing to portray the physical aspects of the sidewalk, theater entrance, and two human figures. The contour drawings employ perspective throughout the animation, which adds to the credibility of the scene.

SPACE: The patron is shown walking and then engaging with the clerk in a specific setting. The use of SPACE gives a sense of an authentic street, movie theater, and ticket booth. There is a definite sense of depth, but in a basic way to keep the viewer amused with the scenario.

BALANCE: Christie has a small number of viewpoints, but they are essential for the viewer to stay engaged with the characters. We see the theater in the street with a pedestrian, but we also get face-to-face with the two characters. Christie BALANCES the forms within the narrative to shift attention back and forth, from characters to setting to referenced images, such as a piece of art or Bob Dylan.

MOVEMENT: The clerk does not move, except via animation shakes. Also, his lips don’t move very much either even though he speaks a lot. This use of non-movement is very amusing – maybe he is an android. The patron walks and gestures in a convincingly human manner. The contrast in MOVEMENT is effective is supporting Christie’s ersatz Turing Test.

IDEA: Christie is leveraging a scenario where a movie patron is frustrated that Hollywood seems to only produce unoriginal fare. This is Christie’s overarching theme – not only movies, but every creative idea is not creative at all:

The banter between the characters, as well as the supporting text piece, is deceptively simple. Christie is raising, in my, opinion, many issues.

For instance, it is clear that all unoriginality is not all bad.

Or, plagiarism is bad but not so cleanly defined and adjudicated.

Or, we humans have been unoriginal for eons.

The items for debate are not limited to only these. We can delve – image by image – and discuss, for instance, the artistic merit of Duchamp’s Readymades (see below).

Although many questions remain, we have been entertained and informed in a creative way, and, we can debate from a more enlightened view.

HOW: This is a nicely executed animation of basic drawings:

As such, it appears a fair amount of actual paper and ink was utilized.

The dubbing of voices and music is entertaining. These details support the narrative.

I would guess that both a sound studio and an animation studio were used, given the high quality.

INTERESTING STUFF

One of the all-time most popular radio hosts was Paul Harvey (above). He had a distinctive voice with very idiosyncratic speaking mannerisms (cue SNL skits). Reading and seeing Christie’s piece – particularly the voice overs – made me think of Harvey, even though it is dissimilar in style and content. What I am getting at is The Rest of the Story, which was one of Harvey’s most popular segments. Christie’s piece is concise, even though chock full of ideas. I would like to bring up the following items as both filling out things I thought were interesting, and, providing impetus for discussion. So – homage to Harvey – here is the rest of the story:

HOMAGE: Now, there’s a fun word:

If you would like an air of intellectual affectation, you can pronounce it with a silent “h,” a long “o,” and extra long “azh” at the end (ō-ˈmäzh, vice hä-mij).

Interesting – maybe to only me – is that neither Christie nor Wikipedia make direct reference to homage as a source of unoriginality.

I think many artists are exercising the concept of homage when they apply concepts from their forebears. Moves Like Jagger, for example, is apropos.

NEWS THIS WEEK: Christie says in the text, “Unoriginality — or, maybe, excessive originality — being very much in the NEWS THIS WEEK, as students of the creative process and Bob Dylan buffs are well aware.” (my emphasis) I was curious, “What is Christie referencing?”

Well, at the time of Christie’s piece, a journalist was fired by the New Yorker magazine for fabricating quotes from Bob Dylan, of all people.

Additionally ironic, the journalist did this in a book titled, Imagine: How Creativity Works. Indeed.

ANDREI TARKOVSKY (above) and SERGEI EISENSTEIN (below): I thought it would be interesting to see photographic images of these gentlemen:

I can only speculate as to why Christie would use these two RUSSIAN film directors:

Maybe Christie has deep regard for these highly reputed and distinctive directors.

Maybe, because both are foreign and no longer with us, there would be little to no fallout.

There might be significant fallout from local, living (overly sensitive?) directors.

I thought Christie gave the characters distinctively American voices in very convincing and entertaining fashion. I would be shocked if either director ever spoke in that vernacular.

I thought it interesting and ironic that one of Tarkovsky’s works, SOLARIS, was the subject of an American version with George Clooney.

In any regard, the biographies of both Tarkovsky and Eisenstein are well worth reading.

ROGETING: I read both of the Wikipedia entries – plagiarism and originality – mentioned in the animation -

I thought it interesting “the practice of plagiarizing by use of sufficient word substitutions to elude detention (sic) software, known as ROGETING, has rapidly evolved as students and unethical academics seek to stay ahead of detection software.”

I had a well-worn Roget’s Thesaurus (like below) at one time.

I would think even Rogeting will not be sufficient against the ever-enabled artificial intelligentsia.

MARK TWAIN: The ticket clerk quotes Mark Twain to some length. I was curious to read and understand the context -

The quote is from a letter that Twain wrote to Helen Keller as he was ruminating the charges against Keller as a plagiarizer.

The letter contains classic Twain-ian verbal stylings and many pithy ideas.

I thought this quote worthy of further discussion: “These object lessons should teach us that ninety-nine parts of all things that proceed from the intellect are plagiarisms, pure and simple; and the lesson ought to make us modest. But nothing can do that.”

Twain is unquestionably distinctive. His surrender to reality is reassuring to us lesser able fabricators.

DALI: The author of the piece on Twain’s letter ends with a quote from a distinctively real – and unreal – artist, Salvador Dali: “Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing.”

As a fan of Dali, I can see homages in many of his works. The sculpture of Venus de Milo (above), and, the actress Mae West (below), immediately come to mind.

The word “derivative,” as a pejorative, then, is in the eye of the beholder.

Thus, I take the lesson from Dali as authorizing – even mandating – that artists derive their works from forebears.

But, I would speculate that Dali would also disdain works that are dishonest. The distinction is for viewers, and maybe courts, to decide.

DNA: I am somewhat surprised that none of the sources I dug into made any reference to the ultimate “plagiarism�� – genetics (above) -

We are physically hardwired facsimiles of not just our mom and pop but moreover the lineage of all our ancestors, ALL OF THEM.

Simultaneously, though, we are all unique.

OK, identical twins have the same DNA, but that is truly a hyperbolic quibble to the point.

Identical twins do not share identical experiences, for one example.

I am reminded of the quote from Heraclitus: “You could not step twice into the same river.”

Thus, we are all possessed of our forebears, and, possessing our individual days under the sun.

A quintessential quote is – apocryphally and ironically attributed to Twain – “History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme.”

And, so it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut used to say.

The rest is silence. I LOVE SHAKESPEARE!

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