Putin

Peace, Love And Understanding

Yeah, Another Blogger116 Comments

So, here we are at the start of another year. Perhaps 2026 will prove to be more agreeable for humankind than 2025 was. But that’s a major longshot, seeing that a propensity for violence is embedded in the genetic material of way too many people, males above all. Vladimir Putin is a perfect example of an individual filled with real nasty DNA. Male, and also a f*cking monster, he shows no inclination to end Russia’s attack on Ukraine. And let’s not forget Donald Trump. (Man, we can’t. He’s unforgettable! Right, Venezuela?) Like Putin, he is a hugely destabilizing figure. Duh! A megalomaniac, a bigot and a convicted felon, and contemptuous of all who dare to disagree with him, this guy is trying his damnedest to put a submission hold on democracy in the USA. I could cite dozens of other examples of horror shows being staged on our planet. But I’ll spare you the wordage.

As you might guess, based on the above paragraph, the negative aspects of the world’s state of affairs are on my mind a lot. They are in sharp contrast to teachings of the hippie movement of the 1960s, which shaped my outlook on life. Or maybe that outlook already was in place back then and merely wanted to be reinforced a bit. Whatever the case, I’m a sucker for peace, love and understanding, three key tenets of hippiedom. And for four of the others too: kindness, inclusion, fairness and open-mindedness. Alas, alas, alas, only in the dreamiest dreams will that septet become guiding principles of any nation, let alone all nations. There is far too much intolerance and greed throughout the world for that to happen. Still, it’s important to champion and manifest those virtues. The more inroads they make, the happier the future of our species, and of most other species on Earth, will be.

I’m an old guy, about one-quarter of the way through my 79th journey around the Sun, a reality I can’t fathom at all. How the hell did I become near-ancient? Anyway, I don’t know if it’s surprising or not, but I’ve always remained true to the societal and world views I held when I was in my 20s, a period during which I wouldn’t have guessed that, decades later, my face would decide to form more wrinkles than are found in a box of prunes. Political-spectrum-wise, I haven’t swung to the right, not even a little, and never will. And I’ll add, by the way, that I’m not a pacifist. Violence and warfare at times are just and necessary. And I’ll also add that I take comfort in the knowledge that a healthy number of readers of this publication have pretty much the same takes as me on the matters I touch upon in this article.

Nick Lowe, an astute British rocker, is the composer of the great song (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding. He and the other members of his then-band Brinsley Schwarz recorded it and released it in 1974, with Lowe handling the lead vocals. Initially, it didn’t go anywhere. Since then, however, the song has gained an enormous amount of traction and been covered by numerous artists, most famously by Elvis Costello And The Attractions. Lowe’s opus has reached iconic status, a fact, I’ve read, that completely amazes Lowe, as he had no expectations whatsoever for his creation. There’s no doubt in my mind that the composition’s popularity has mushroomed because its message is the truth. There’s nothing funny about peace, love and understanding. They are where it’s at.

Without further ado, I present to you the Brinsley Schwarz version of a song that has its heart in the right places. Get ready to be rocked and inspired.

A TV Series, A Confectionery, A Song

Yeah, Another Blogger136 Comments

“Neil, how come you usually write about things you enjoy, rather than about those that, in your opinion, bite the big one?” I asked myself the other day.

“Well,” I answered, “I’ve ripped into people I loathe. Trump and Putin, primarily. And I’ve discussed situations that worry me or piss me off. But there’s no denying that my natural orientation is to comment about aspects of life that ring my bell.”

“I understand,” I replied. “There’s no reason right now for you to mess with your natural orientation. So, let’s take a look at some of your recent bell-ringers. And, maybe, your readers then will tell you what they’ve been into of late. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong!”

Okay! First up is a miniseries my wife and I watched two months ago: Escape At Dannemora, seven episodes in length and available on Paramount+ and elsewhere. It had been on our to-be-viewed list for a couple of years. Fortunately, we finally got around to it. It bowled us over. I place Escape in the pantheon of miniseries I’ve encountered, along with The Queen’s Gambit, Anxious People, The Investigation, Godless and a handful of others.

Escape At Dannemora came out in 2018, three years after the true events from which it draws its inspiration. Set in the town of Dannemora, in rural upstate New York, the show aims its beam at David Sweat and Richard Matt, convicted murderers imprisoned in Dannemora’s Clinton Correctional Facility, and at the married prison employee (Joyce Mitchell) who became emotionally and sexually involved with them. Ultimately, Mitchell helped them escape from jail.

Escape At Dannemora is not a docuseries. Anything but. All, or nearly all of its dialogue is imagined. After all, it’s not as though conversations between Sweat, Matt, Mitchell and the story’s other principals were recorded. And what dialogue! Completely realistic. No artificial ingredients. I’d never heard of the scriptwriters (Brett Johnson, Michael Tolkin, Jerry Stahl), to whom I now publicly tip my hat. As I do to Paul Dano (Sweat), Benicio del Toro (Matt) and Patricia Arquette (Mitchell), the actors who employed the scripted words to create characters as nuanced as French pastries. Ben Stiller directed the production with economy and precision. As couldn’t be more obvious, I highly recommend this show.

My dad loved halva, a moist, semi-sweet treat that, as I learned from doing a bit of research for this piece, originated well over a thousand years ago in Persia (present-day Iran). Unlike him, I wasn’t infatuated with the product, but ate it now and then while growing up. Halva disappeared from my diet, though, when I was in my 20s, maybe earlier, for reasons I’m not sure about. Possibly my obsessions with pizza and Cheez-It crackers left no room for halva, a product that isn’t easily found in stores in my country (the USA), and which the majority of the world’s population likely never heard of.

And probably I’d never have had halva again were it not for my pals Cindy and Gene, who bestowed sesame-based halva, the variety I am familiar with, upon me and my wife Sandy twice in the last several months (there are other types of halva in addition to sesame-based, as the Wikipedia article, the link to which is in the above paragraph, explains).

“This a weird gift,” I thought to myself when I saw what Cindy and Gene had presented to us on the first occasion. Man, how wrong I was!  Halva was the perfect gift. That wouldn’t have been the case with the too-dense halva made by the Joyva company, the brand I knew in my youth. But the halva they’d chosen, from the Seed + Mill firm, is incredible. Its sesame paste is perfectly balanced with chocolate and salt. And the texture, light and slightly granular, is wonderful. Hallelujah, I’ve been blessed!

And finally: Some songs have the power to bring you up short and make you say, “Holy shit, this is fantastic!” I Want To Know, by the quite obscure rhythm-and-blues group the Gay Poppers, did such to me two weeks ago when the tune burst forth from SiriusXM Radio’s Carolina Shag channel.

I Want To Know came out in 1960, and the Gay Poppers were from North Carolina, USA. Not much else about the song or about the group can I find online. Except that the recording at some point became popular in parts of the dance-club world. It makes me want to dance, because its beat won’t quit, and because the Gay Poppers’ vocal prowess damn well is off the charts. Without further ado . . .