Gatsby gets the green light

A new film version of The Great Gatsby is in the works. It’s going to be filmed in Australia by Baz Luhrman, who gave us the frantic and over the top “Moulin Rouge” with two stars who couldn’t sing—but did anyway.
The movies love remakes such as King Kong, True Grit, Arthur, The Count of Monte Cristo plus all the foreign films they purloin for Hollywood purposes. They’re usually never as good as the original (because they’re not original!). It’s like illustrating a snake and then painting legs on it for good measure.
Gatsby is my favorite book so I’ll be in the audience just as I was for the Alan Ladd and Robert Redford versions. They were films packaged for their era and the new one will have attractive stars of the day, a hot director, costumes and a hip music score. The only thing missing will be the literature, the moral and the language. The melodramatic parts will be front and center.
One of the real stars will be absent: New York City (they don’t have one in Oz). Sometimes I think that the only one who could do justice to Gatsby is Woody Allen.
And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Fusion food is in

The new Korean Taco is all the rage in LA as is the Asian Burrito.
Marrying cuisines is now L’amour toujours de jour.
There’s a new restaurant on Melrose called Maximillian and Carlota’s to honor the ill-fated French rule in 19th Century Mexico.
Favorites include the always popular Taco Vin and The Montmarte Margarita. I know an inventive Master Chef in Carlsbad, California who has a way with a huevo and has created French Toast Zorro (avec spicy chorizo.) Ay Caramba! Formidable!
So far there have been no nuptials for English and Mexican food. But hope springs eternal for Canterbury Tamales or Pride and Pozole.
Bon appetit Amigo!

Farenheit 401k

Ray Bradbury told us of a future world where the firemen torched books in Farenheit 451, the temperature that paper ignites. Today it’s Wall Street that torches the stocks and bonds of firemen, teachers and everyone in the middle class with a 401k account. And it isn’t fiction. Nest eggs are going up in smoke by the trillions—with a T. What to do? Fight fire with fire. Extinguish Wall Street. Dump your broker and your 401k plan. Shred your credit cards. You will nevermore fear the economic volcanoes erupting around the world. I once heard a very wise Unitarian minister speak from the pulpit. He said, “Brother, if you want to be free, pay cash.”

Double, double, toil and trouble

The D words are here, and I don’t mean the ones Cole Porter used like Delectable, and Delovely. I mean debt, default, downgrade and that old standby, deficit.
Our leaders, those doofuses and Masters of the Diatribe, have talked us into a fine mess, as Hardy kept reminding Laurel.
These dodos have even sent the Dow plunging down. They must feel so patriotic. They’re probably comparing themselves to Nathan Hale only they’re saying: “I regret that I only have one country to give for my life”. Maybe we can’t get a New Deal out of this bunch but surely we can get a better deal. We need an economic DDay where a vast army of doers storm Washington to give a victory to the people. There is a sad little song for today with a chorus that goes like this: “I’m aware my heart is a sad affair, there’s much disillusion there, but I can dream, can’t I?” Dream on McDuff, dream on.

A new National Anthem

Actually it was written years ago for Bing Crosby by Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke but it is a perfect fit for Washington in the 21st Century. I hear America singing:

Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a mule?
A mule is an animal with long funny ears
He kicks up at anything he hears.
His back is brawny but his brain is weak
He’s just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
And by the way if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule.

Or would you rather be an elephant?
An elephant’s an animal that flaunts his long trunk,
He roars all day and all of it is bunk.
He sips his tea and slurps his gumbo,
But if you see yourself as just like Jumbo,
You may grow up to be a Dumbo.

A fish won’t do anything but swim in a brook,
He can’t write his name or read a book.
To fool the people is his only thought,
And though he’s slippery he still gets caught
But if that’s the sort of life is what you wish
You may grow up to be a fish.
And all the monkeys aren’t in the zoo
Everyday you meet quite a few
So you see it’s all up to you,
You can be better than you are,
You could be swinging on a star!