Showing posts with label pole dancers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pole dancers. Show all posts

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Edward Snowden: fancy dancer?




This is the boy that talks and talks (and talks).

At first you think you're dealing with a high school kid, like in that movie, what was it called, Catch Me If You Can. He's sort of cute and unshaven, yet not unkempt, so he appeals to a wide spectrum of people. He comes across well.

It could be argued that he's only acting to expose a glaring social wrong that should have been addressed back in George Orwell's glory days. Like the frog in warm water that is gradually boiled, we have been anaesthetized by the religion or drug of galloping consumerism and the near-total dominance of technology. It's not that we don't care - we don't even notice any more that everything we say, think, eat, sleep or do is being monitored and manipulated ALL THE TIME.

It's just possible that somebody has to make us care.





But heroes have flaws. This guy, I swear to you - and this is purely intuitive - there's something wrong here, something "off", or at very least something so highly orchestrated that it bothers me. It takes a lot of work to appear so sincere, so articulate, so relatively casual. Not a trace of ranting or raving. But I think the truth is that he craves and even requires this sort of global attention to survive.

There is no way in the world Snowden could have done this phenomenal whistle-blowing all by himself: he would need a global network of assistants, accomplices, whatever. So why is he speaking as if he alone knew how to access a buried trove of forbidden information, taking a life-threatening risk in bringing it all to light?





Isn't he playing into the American ideal of the solitary hero, the lone cowboy who doesn't need anybody's help because needing help is WEAK?

Is he on "our side" or not? What exactly IS "our side", and why are so many right-wing pundits pounding their pulpits and denouncing him as some sort of devil-worshipping-pro-gun-control nut case?

What is it about him, besides the odd-sounding British name and the feeling he has dive-bombed down from out of nowhere? It's the eyes. They shift and shift. Is he just nervous? Why does the calm correct voice not match the face?





This is why I posted the gif, to illustrate the discrepancy. What can it mean?

My sense is that it will all come out over the next few weeks or months, and the truth will be layered and convoluted. Lots of people think he will be killed, but the truth is he wants us to think that. And when it comes to the movie deal, he can write his own cheque. Mission accomplished?

Oh, and. . . don't they say you can judge a man by the company he keeps?





Thursday, December 1, 2011

Pardon me miss, but I've never done this



(From a musical called Little Me, unknown.)


FRED




Pardon me, miss, but I've never done this
With a real live girl.


























Straight off the farm with an actual arm
Full of real live girl.




Pardon me if your affectionate squeeze
Fogs up my glasses and buckles my knees,








I'm simply drowned in the sight and the sound
And the scent and the feel
Of a real live girl.



SOLDIERS

Nothing can beat getting swept off your feet
By a real live girl.
Dreams in your bunk don't compare with a hunk
Of a real live girl.



























Speaking of miracles, this must be it;
Just when I started to learn how to knit.
I'm all in stitches from finding what riches
A waltz can reveal
With a real live girl.






[Whistle]
Real live girl.
[Whistle]
Real live girl.
























I've seen photographs and facsimiles
That have set my head off in a whirl,
But no work of art gets you right in the heart
Like a real live girl.








Take your statues of Juno,
And the Venus de My-lo.
(Me-lo.)
When a fellow wants you-know,
(We know.)




Who wants substitutes? I'll o-
Verlook everyone in the book
For a real
Sexy Sally or Suzabel.
Take your Venetian or Roman or Grecian
Ideal,
I'll take something more "uzabel."



Girls were like fellas was once my belief;
What a reversal, and what a relief.





I'll take the flowering hat and the towering heel
And the squeal
Of a real live girl.




























[Dance]
Real live girl.
[Dance]
Real live girl.

Go be a holdout for Helen of Troy,
I am a healthy American boy.





I'd rather gape at the dear little shape
Of the stern and the keel





Of a full-time vocational,
Full-operational
























Girl.