Our culture has a fetish for putting old wine in new bottles. We reboot old TV and movie franchises, comic books, games, everything. We crave both novelty and familiarity, and like to get both at the same time if we can. Yiannopoulos is that in spades. He’s the racist, homophobic, sexist uncle you dread talking to at Thanksgiving, but he wears eyeliner and pearls.
This was my Dad, seven decades ago: He shattered his leg jumping out of a plane just like that one during the Second World War. He studied chemistry. He built rockets, and helped U.S. intelligence figure out how the Soviets were building theirs. He shepherded me to adulthood. He faced racism, both subtle and gross, his… Continue reading Why I Take Trump Personally
Charles Krafft had me asking the question of how far artists can go round the twist before screwing up impressions of their work. Now comes Michelle Shocked. I’d never been a huge fan of her work, which doesn’t mean I didn’t like it if someone put it on a stereo. I just never bought any… Continue reading Michelle Shocks