Finocchio

Twelve Books That Changed The World

Melvyn Bragg will host a series on UK television discussing 12 books that changed the world.  The books are:

Darwin - The Origin of Species (1859)
The First Rule Book of the Football Association (1863)
William Shakespeare's First Folio (1623)
Newton - Principia Mathematica (1687)
Adam Smith - The Wealth of Nations (1776)
William Wilberforce - Speech to the House of Commons (May 12 1789)
The King James Bible (1611)
Patent Specification for Arkwright's Spinning Machine (1769)
Mary Wollstonecraft - A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792)
Michael Faraday - Experimental Research in Electricity (1855)
Marie Stopes - Married Love (1918)
Magna Carta (1215)

OK, So The Spelling Bee Was Fun

Even more than Al Sharpton's appearance onstage in the "25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee," Bill Irwin's on-camera reaction was a nice touch.  (Many of us also knew that that the Internet is for both theater and porn).

Please: No More Deep Throat Jokes!

Like many other drama queens around the country, I have been watching the Tonys, and I have one observation (not very interesting) and one plea (please, please, no more Deep Throat jokes).

No Place Like Home

We have been worrying ourselves silly these last five months over the travails of Martha.  Our pastels have seemed paler somehow, our linens less crisp.  Our eyes would well up with tears each time we saw sans serif type.  We have been imagining nasty, nail-breaking work, drab gray surroundings.  After all, we know the destruction prison wrought for poor Oscar. 

At last, she has been released, and it feels like Spring.  "The experience of the last five months in Alderson, West Virginia has been life altering and life affirming," she writes. 

"Right now, as you can imagine, I am thrilled to be returning to my more familiar life. My heart is filled with joy at the prospect of the warm embraces of my family, friends and colleagues. Certainly, there is no place like home."

Welcome home, Ms Stewart.

A Stone's Throw

In an amused fit of bravery, Tom Scharbach at PurpleScarf has ventured into the deserts of what he terms "the Jesus channels," and reports on the gilded lilies of the video pulpit:

"Well, Jesus. The televangelists are a sight to behold.

I don't think that I've seen such a collection of jewelry, hair dye, swishy ties, pastel suits, rhinestones, fastidious grooming, and wrist waiving princesses in my whole like as I saw in ten minutes of clicking around the Jesus channels.

And this was the male televangelists. For God's sake, Tammy Faye looks butch by comparison."

As a child, I remember visiting my house-bound great-grandmother on Sunday afternoons.  In the parlor, volume turned low, a small television would be tuned to her favorite evangelist.  Preening histrionics and extraordinary, tasteless vanity.  Rings on every finger, a gaudy powder-blue tuxedo, rouged cheeks and a soot-black toupee.  Evenings, she would thrill to Liberace and the fussy silliness of Lawrence Welk.

America has always been a profoundly inconsistent place.  Is it surprising that fiery preaching and strident condemnations should strike the same chords as closet-case jitteriness?

Meanwhile, Back In Springfield

Patty is just the tip of the iceberg.

(hat tip CertainDisaster)