There, all better.
Perspective and sense of humor recovered. Thanks mostly to Arts & Letters Daily and South Park. More on the former latterly. Yes, I really did say that.
And why “A Nadie”?
Because it’s Saturday night, that’s why, and that particular canto provides perfect background and chorus for girls and Saturday nights everywhere.
I have it by Liliana Felipe, on a CD lagniappe that came with a book by Laura Esquivel. The book was “lent out” on some continent or another, but I still have “A Nadie” and several Puccini fragments that are equally knife to heart.
I remember Esquivel and Ofelia Medina doing a spot of street theatre in DF a number of years back, and I wonder what the evening might be like if Esquivel were to be providing the refreshments and Isabel Allende were to be, oh, perhaps serving them [great food, great party, just in case you haven't read Aphrodite].
Mother of god, it really is Saturday night.
Perhaps I should pretend to be serious for just a moment.
In one of my recent rants, I mentioned that there was “one at least” who might feel it necessary to counsel the learning of history along with the snogging of icon. When, much to my delight, I saw someone else, this very week, providing some very detailed history of the icon in question.
The mustachioed one of the “let’s pretend a large poster appeared…”
GA in LJ [and that’s not rocket science, my dears], holding forth on certain aspects of Mr. Stalin’s biographical details. Now, he chose to emphasize internecine betrayals over domestic butchery, but then again he knows his audience much better than I do, and I imagine he also knows what they might find most horrific.
Assuming, of course, that any of the acolytes would be reading him, since he seems to have taken on the role of principled gadfly, refusing to be kicked out of the party but also refusing to keep his thoughts, and words, to himself.
A party of two, then.
Well, it would appear that I can't provide links again this evening, so the far above mentioned referenced shall have to wait, which might be a very fine thing, for someone at least.
Or even better, not. Slate cleared, no more bait ever taken.