:: The Blurst of Times ::

:: 8.09.2004 ::

[Title]

So, while I fought it for awhile as a glimmering fad, I have decided the 'titling an entry' idea is a good one and will from now on adhere to that concept here at flextimer. So now, when I'm writing lots, you can read all my clever titles; then when I stop writing for months on end, you don't have to read an entire paragraph each time to know that nothing's changed, you got the title to go off of.

Also, while we're on the topic of this page, I'd like to make a sincere apology to everyone out there. Here at flextimer, we try to maintain and deliver a high standard of product for you, the reader. Adn we'd like to think that most of the time we accomplish that. Now, I'm not going to say we're writing in the calibur of The Sun or possibly Fox News (whose credibility and integrity are by far unparalleled and unquestioned in my mind), but we're trying to keep it at least as real as, say, the World Herald. But today it was brought to my attention that I had erred in my last post and defamed an otherwise worthy movie in comparison to another. The Beach was nothing like Lord of the Rings, as I enjoyed Lord of the Rings enough to see it (essentially) three times. No, my friends, I had hoped to compare The Beach to Lord of the Flies. A completly different concept there. For everyone who read that adn became so instantly disgusted with my opinions and ideas that you immediately vomited all over your monitor and keyboard, I apologize. For those of you who became so upset that you vowed you would never read another word of what appeared here, I can only hope that someday, down the road, we can bury this hatchet and resume the good ol times. And for those of you who didn't really notice it because you really just skim through this stuff, especially when, Fred, dammit, you're just getting way too wordy, god how can you go on and on about some movie and frankly, what do you know about movies because you're so far out of that loop you couldn't tell a gaffer from a best boy. For those of you who did that - wel, fuck you.

But I digress.

Today's entry will officially be titled...

Fred Flextimer, International Literati

Yep, we're gonna do some book reviews.

Ragman by Pete Hautman. Let me begin this review by saying that I hate the concept of 'a gun is fired and the people react by not understanding what is going on.' To wit: 'He heard the noise of a car backfiring just as the first red blooms appeared on Rita's breast. "That's a hell of a nosebleed," he thought, when he heard the second and third report. HE felt a dull pain in his leg as a second blossom opened on Rita's sun dress.' No offense, Hautman, but you're an idiot. A gunshot really sounds nothing like anything else in the world. I've heard a gunshot. I've heard a number of gunshots. They sound a lot like... gunshots. Not car backfires, not someone slamming a door. When someone get's shot, they don't take a James Cagney-esque stutter step around and grab their chest and reach for the sky. People usually crumple and cry. There is little dignity in being gunned down. There is rarely the Hollywood slo-mo shot accompanying the event. So, suffice to say, I might have liked this book more if the last five pages hadn't gone as I just described, but in the end, a book best gotten from the library, not the book store.

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel DeFoe. I can't remember the last time I read a book with such a white supremest slant. It's the equivalent of reading a Ptolemeic version of the universe - or watching Back to the Future 2, where it's so wrong that you have to laugh, but you forgive them because they just didn't know any better. While the discussions of ethics, religion, and social structure and equality ought to be very impressive when written through the eyes of someone spending thrity years alone on a deserted island, this book frankly (no pun intended), misses the boat. For 200 pages he goes on about how he cultivates and land and animals on the island, then when he meets a man again for the first time in 25 years (it happens to be a black 'savage' of the Carribean) he 'tames' the man, teaches him Christianity, proper grammer and to refer to him [Crusoe] as 'Master' and be his servant. Nice. Way to grow beyond the confines of typical 18th century anglo-european thought. Obviously, the world would have been better off if you had died alone on that island and the story had never been found. And to have the nerve to write the man thanked Crusoe and pledged himself over to be his servant until the day he died. Rubbish, I say.

[Which brings us to an interesting side note: I read in the paper today a quote: 'I will continue fighting. I will remain in Najaf City until the last drop of my blood has been spilled' I think that's the AP quoting radical Shiite cleric al-Sadr. Also read today in RC: 'that he would take my side until the last drop of his blood was spilled' That's Caruso quoting one of his servants. Creepy. Everyone is all about that last drop of blood.]

Beowulf by... who knows. This was the best book I've read in a while. It was quick, simple, understandable, poetic (kind of, I'm sure before it was translated it was more poetic), meaningful, unpretentious, and fantastical. I could ask for little more in a book. Granted, it was no Inferno, but it was better than the Aeneid. Predictable, but that's okay, because it had a timeless honor to it. I'm now anxious to read Grendel (what I assume is a parallel story).

Alright, that's long enough. Take care, y'all.

By the way, if you work at Land Design in Denver and you're talking shit on me, I'm going to fucking kill you.

"Gimme that, your automobile. Turn off that smokestack, and that goddamn radio..."
:: Freddy F. at 9:44 PM [+] ::

Comments:

Oh wait... Lord of the "FLIES?" I don't really see the relation. But there was that scene where Leo thought he was in a video game, and Lord of the Rings was made into a video game, so ummmm... yeah.

# posted by  RICK : 3:52 PM

 

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