Shut Up Little Man

Shut Up Little Man!: How Vitriol Went Viral In 1987 Peter was gay; Raymond was a homophobe. They were also, for some mysterious reason, roommates. Creative putdowns proliferated. Their story is now a documentary in theaters today.

By Jason Feifer 5 minute Read 

Peter and Raymond were middle-aged men with severe drinking problems and a bitter hatred for each other. Peter was gay; Raymond was a homophobe. They were also, for some mysterious reason, roommates. They fought loudly, frequently, and creatively. “I can kill you from a sitting position!” Raymond would yell. “You’re a rotten little liar man. Lady. Pardon me–lady!” Peter would retort.
In 1987, two college grads moved into the apartment next door–a dump of a place with thin walls, the rooms soon filled with Peter and Raymond’s rage. The guys were freaked out. Then they started recording the rows on tape cassettes, figuring they might need them to share with the police. Eventually, though, the fights stopped being scary and started being funny. And so the guys did what anyone today might do with such material: They shared it. 

And so began a viral sensation in the analog age.The tapes (all 14 hours of them) became known as “Shut Up Little Man!” referencing one of Peter’s favorite insults. Friends copied them for friends. A music label put out a CD. Comic books were made. A play was produced. Devo recorded a song.
Today, a documentary by the same name opens in 30 markets nationwide, tracking the phenomenon’s rise and then going a step further: Though both Peter and Raymond are now dead (and only one of them was ever made aware of their strange popularity), director Matthew Bate unearths the story behind these men and their relationship, putting the tapes into a more sorrowful context. 

In the YouTube era, that discovery–that a viral hit is often far more complex and sad than we’re willing to consider–resonates more than ever. We spoke to Bate (who also directs TV commercials) about what this Patient Zero can tell us about the nature of viral, and its role in our culture.

We think of “viral” as a modern sensation, made possible by the Internet. But Shut Up Little Man! was the very model of viral. Do you know of even older examples?

Yeah: Christianity! That went viral. I mean, I’m sure this happened all over the place–they just aren’t well known anymore. I hadn’t heard of Shut Up Little Man! until recently, but there are still fans of it. On Facebook, fans have this ongoing quote game, where someone will lay down one quote and then 50 people will carry on this weird Shut Up Little Man! conversation.

Was there something about the old technology that gave it longevity? I can’t imagine anyone will be talking about today’s viral memes in 20 years.

I think it’s a matter of the sheer volume of material. A Star Wars Kid clip, or a Christian Bale rant, are usually two or three minutes long. And they can be amazing. When you listen to the Christian Bale thing, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Christian Bale was going apeshit! But that’s all you want now. The attention span of people is generally under two minutes. And a two-minute viral video is perfectly digestible and forgettable.
Meanwhile, the Shut Up Little Man! tapes went on for 14 hours. You can fully enter this universe. For the fans that become really obsessed, it’s like a seemingly unending gold mine of quotes and moments that people seem to study.

Does Shut Up Little Man teach us anything about the nature of going viral?

I saw it as an early warning sign of what was to come–the increasingly more cannibalistic nature of popular culture. The source material itself is incredibly captivating stuff. Their dialog and relationship is so bizarre. But as you learn more about these guys, it all changes. First it’s hilarious, then it’s tragic, then should you ask if you should even be listening to this stuff.
That leads directly to the Star Wars kid, that little fat kid who recorded himself pretending to be Darth Maul, or whatever he was doing, and the video went viral. From what I understand, he’s gone through psychological torment. It’s had a very negative effect on his life. The difference, though, is that the Star Wars Kid filmed himself. It’s an interesting phenomenon of the modern age, that we create these little videos, these little Frankensteins, that can turn back and haunt us.
So to enjoy a viral hit, are we willfully ignoring the obvious humanity behind it? I mean, it was clear something very tragic was going on with Ray and Pete, but nobody seemed to stop and consider it.

Yeah, I think we’re collectively guilty of enjoying this stuff. Entertainment is schadenfreude, and schadenfreude has become big business. It always has been, in a way. There must be something in us. We laugh at Buster Keaton. We laugh at a man slipping on a banana peel and falling on his face. And now we have the real version of this–people on the streets in real-life situations, falling off of BMXs or falling on their faces. 
 So what’s consistent between the tapes of the 1980s and the videos of today? What makes them such hits?

There’s an element of voyeurism–we want to see a sneak peek of something that we shouldn’t. It’s a bit naughty. But this is a very difficult thing to answer. I direct advertisements when I’m not making documentaries, and there was a time when advertising companies would all say, “We want this thing to go viral.” I’d say, “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a magic formula.”
And it’s not like you can just film some stranger and then make that the advertisement. So what did you do?

It’s very difficult. Because when advertising idiots get together in a room to create magic, it just doesn’t work. But in advertising, I think that the viral thing came and went. It was like a buzzword for a while that advertising people were interested in. Then they understood that “going viral” is incredibly difficult. It’s not just something that you can decide upon. It’s something that’s self-generating, it’s something that seems to capture the collective minds. We send it to one another.
So what’s an advertiser to do now?

Adverts now are more project-based. It’s less about coming up with some amazing 30-second advert, and it’s more coming up with a 360-degree campaign, which might include a 10-minute documentary that appears on Facebook, and has characters out of which the 30-second commercial can come from. It’s a different approach now.

Is it better that they stopped chasing the viral hit? Was that bogging down creativity?

Hmm. I don’t know. I really hate making adverts. I never spent much time thinking about it. It just annoyed me. They’d never come up with Pete and Ray. How do you come up with a viral sensation? It’s a weird, morally nebulous accidents that occur in broom closets and schools and apartments. If we had a formula for that, God, I’d be talking to you from my Learjet somewhere in the Bahamas. 

-The Fast Company

Greatest Movie Scenes

Rocky III

"Yo Adrian, I did it!".

Robert Forster 1941-2019

Robert Forster, Oscar-Nommed Star of ‘Jackie Brown,’ Dies at 78

 

 

Robert Forster, a prolific character actor who was nominated for an Oscar for Quentin Tarantino’s “Jackie Brown” and appeared in more than 100 films, died Friday in Los Angeles of brain cancer. He was 78.
Tarantino created the bail bondsman character Max Cherry with Forster in mind, and the role netted him his first Academy Award nomination.
Most recently Forster reprised his “Breaking Bad” role as Ed in “El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie,” which was released Friday, and appeared in Steven Spielberg’s “Amazing Stories” and in “Werewolf.”
David Lynch cast the actor with a distinctive weathered look in “Mulholland Dr.” and in the rebooted “Twin Peaks” as Sheriff Frank Truman.
“I’ve done a lot of genre pictures in my career…I’ve always liked them,” Forster told the Bleecker Street blog upon the release of 2018’s indie drama “What They Had.”

Forster played Tim Allen’s father in “Last Man Standing,” a rare comedy appearance, and played the father of a comatose mom in Alexander Payne’s “The Descendants,” which was nominated for ensemble acting prizes by SAG and the Gotham awards.
Born in Rochester, N.Y., Forster started his career on Broadway in “Mrs. Dally Has a Lover” before John Huston cast him in “Reflections in a Golden Eye” opposite Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando.
He appeared in “Medium Cool” for director Haskell Wexler and starred in the TV series “Banyon” — reportedly the role that Tarantino remembered when casting him in “Jackie Brown” — and appeared in movies including “Alligator,” “Olympus Has Fallen” and “American Perfekt.”
Forster is survived by his children: Bobby, Elizabeth, Kate and Maeghen; his grandchildren: Tess, Liam, Jack and Olivia; and long time partner, Denise Grayson.

Variety

Marlboro Man

The original 'Marlboro Man' has died at 90. Bob Norris himself never smoked.

His image graced thousands of billboards and magazine ads, always with a Marlboro cigarette.

Philanthropist and rancher Bob Norris, best known as the original "Marlboro Man," died earlier this week. He was 90.

Famous for a face that graced thousands of billboards and magazine ads, always with a Marlboro cigarette in hand or dangling from his lips, Norris served as the recognizable smoking cowboy for 12 years — though he never smoked a single cigarette himself.

  Norris was first approached by ad executives on his 63,000 acre ranch outside of Colorado Springs after he was spotted in a photo with his friend, actor John Wayne, his son, Bobby Norris, told NBC News affiliate WWBT.

When asked whether he would be interested appearing in Marlboro cigarette commercials, Norris apparently shrugged.

"And he said, 'Well I'm kind of busy right now,'" Bobby Norris said of his father, laughing. "He says, 'Why don't you come back next weekend if you're serious, and they did. They came back next weekend."

For the first ad, apparently about 2,000 pictures were shot of Norris with the notable cigarette.

Never a smoker himself, Norris had told his children that he didn't want to see them hacking a butt either.

Son Bobby Norris told WWBT that his father's opposition to the habit eventually led to his children's asking, "If you don't want us smoking, then why are you doing cigarette commercials?"

Norris quit his career as the Marlboro Man the next day, his son said, bringing an end to the photo shoots after 12 years.

Beyond his career as the face of one of the country's biggest tobacco brands, Norris enjoyed a career as a successful rancher and philanthropist, especially for animal causes.

His wife of 65 years, Jane Norris, died in 2016. The couple, who met in college in Kentucky, are survived by their four children and 13 grandchildren as well as lessons he taught his family, his son said.

"There's no gray area between right and wrong," Bobby Norris said, describing one lesson from his father. "You do the right thing even if it costs you."

Nov. 9, 2019, 2:37 PM EST

By Phil McCausland

NBC Obituaries

Walter Mercado

Puerto Rican Astrologer Walter Mercado Dies

 

Walter Mercado, the popular astrologer who endeared himself to millions of Hispanic television viewers for more than three decades, died Saturday in Puerto Rico. He was 87.
Sofía Luquis, a spokeswoman for the Auxilio Mutuo Hospital in San Juan, confirmed Mercado's death with The Associated Press and said he died from kidney failure.
Mercado was well-known across Latin America and in the United States for his horoscope readings and predictions.
His career as an astrologer began by chance when he was asked to fill in on a whim for a Telemundo program in 1969, according to CNN. Prior to becoming an iconic psychic, Mercado worked as an actor and dancer.
Mercado's reading of the horoscope was a hit and in 1970 he began his regular broadcast segment reading horoscopes and offering predictions for Telemundo Puerto Rico, according to The Miami Herald.
The way in which Mercado delivered his predictions was just as beloved by his fans as the messages themselves. Mercado was a fan of grand colorful robes and outfits accented with gems and brooches that dazzled. With his trilled "r's" and dramatic readings, Mercado made an art form out of his work.

Speaking about his style with The Miami Herald, Mercado once said, "I have always liked to speak to people very directly. I have used astrology to send positive messages: 'You can do it, even if you fall, get back up again.'"
His broadcasts reached an estimated 120 million Latino viewers daily for more than three decades. Mercado's flamboyant character stood out in contrast to much of what was being broadcast across Latin America television at that time.
At the end of his program, Mercado would sign off by saying "Pero sobre todo, mucho, mucho, mucho amor," or "Above all, much, much, much love."

NPR

Places of Yesteryear

The Embassy Theater 1, 2, 3

The Embassy Theatre was opened by Loew’s Inc. on August 26, 1925 with Eric Von Stroheim’s “The Merry Widow”. Designed by famed theatre architect Thomas Lamb in a French Renaissance style, seating was provided for 556, all on a single floor. Decorative details were the work of the Rambusch Studio, and murals on the walls were by Arthur Crisp. The entrance on the east side of Broadway, Times Square, is a long narrow corridor, lined with polish wood panels. The concept of the Embassy Theatre was to provide movie entertainment to a refined audience, and initially when first opened almost all the staff were female. The Embassy Theatre was equipped with a Moller 3 manual, 15 ranks theatre organ, which remained in the theatre until around 1927. In 1929 the Embassy Theatre was taken over by Guild Enterprises, and on November 1, 1929, it became the first movie theatre in the United States to operate as an all newsreel theatre, renamed Embassy Newsreel Theatre. In 1949 it became a first run movie theatre again. Later renamed New Embassy 46th Street Theatre on August 13, 1968 the World Premiere of “Targets” starring Boris Karloff was held at the New Embassy 46th Street Theatre. It was finally renamed Embassy 1 Theatre (the nearby former Mayfair/DeMille Theatre had been renamed Embassy 2, 3, 4 Theatre). In 1987, the interior of the Embassy 1 Theatre was designated by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. The Embassy 1 Theatre was closed as a cinema in 1997. Renovations were carried out and it reopened in 1998 as the Times Square Visitors Center. Sadly this closed in June 2014. Contributed by Ken Roe Cinema Treasures

Note: My second job, and the only job I was ever fired from (circa 1990)

The Goddess Bunny

aka Sadie Crisp aka Johnnie Baima
Sandra "Sandie" Crisp (born November 25, 1960), also known by her stage name The Goddess Bunny, is an American entertainer, drag queen, actress, and model.^[1]
Crisp is transgender and was born stricken with polio and was subject to the malpractice of multiple doctors resulting in the further disfigurement of her body. She grew up in various foster homes for disabled children. During her childhood, she routinely endured physical and sexual abuse from members of her foster care families largely due to her gender identity and disability. 
wiki 
The Goddess Bunny Documentary

 

And the award goes to...

Ellen Burstyn for Requiem for a Dream

2001
Who Won: Julia Roberts (“Erin Brockovich”)Who Should’ve Won: Ellen Burstyn (“Requiem for a Dream”)Who Else Was Nominated: Joan Allen (“The Contender”), Juliette Binoche (“Chocolat”), Laura Linney (“You Can Count On Me”)

Julia Roberts dishes up some plucky charm in Steven Soderbergh’s whistleblower docudrama “Erin Brockovich” — the film that got Hollywood to take the seasoned romcom movie star seriously. But no brassy courtroom verbiage compares to Ellen Burstyn’s indomitable performance as starry-eyed spinster housewife Sarah Goldfarb. Yes, there’s that famous “red dress” monologue where she spills her broken guts to her drug addict son (watch it after the jump), but let’s not forget all the manic pill-popping, amphetamine-addled delusion that showcases her fearlessness as an actress — while at the same time dragging us down to hell.

-IndieWire

Valerie Harper

Valerie Harper, Who Played Beloved TV Sidekick Rhoda, Dies At 80

One of TV's most beloved sidekicks has died. Valerie Harper, best known for playing Rhoda Morgenstern on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, died Friday in Los Angeles. She was 80.
As the blunt, self-deprecating Rhoda, Harper created one of the most beloved sitcom characters of the 1970s. The Mary Tyler Moore Show was a ratings powerhouse, centered on best friends Rhoda and Mary Richards, two single women making their way through life, love and career.
Rhoda was the perfect foil for the buttoned-up Mary, played by Mary Tyler Moore. "Rhoda had this wonderful quality of saying the unsayable," Harper told NPR in 2010. She would say things "that Mary Richards would not say because she's too much of a lady or, you know, it's not polite. Rhoda, the New Yorker from the Bronx, would just say it straight out."

The show set high standards for every sitcom that followed, and generations of TV writers and actors cite it as a major influence, including Tina Fey, Lena Dunham and Modern Family star Julie Bowen. Robert Thompson, who teaches television and popular culture at Syracuse University, says Harper and Moore were one of the great comedy teams of all time: "We had Lucy and Ethel — they were kind of the Romulus and Remus of TV girlfriends — and we get a lot thereafter: Laverne and Shirley, and Cagney and Lacey. But Rhoda and Mary, when they were on stage together, even though they weren't dancing, it was kind of like watching [Fred] Astaire and [Ginger] Rogers. They just worked perfectly together."
Harper's daughter Cristina Cacciotti tweeted her father Anthony Cacciotti's statement saying, "My beautiful caring wife of nearly 40 years has passed away ... Rest In Peace, mia Valeria."

Moore show co-star Ed Asner extolled Harper's acting talent and called her "a great friend ... Goodnight, beautiful. I'll see you soon."

Valerie Harper was born in Suffern, N.Y. Her father was a lighting salesman, her mother was a nurse and her first love was ballet (she originally wanted to be a dancer). Harper got her first job as a dancer with Radio City Music Hall when she was a teenager. In the late 1950s, she worked as a chorus girl in Broadway musicals; later, to hone her comedy chops, she did improv with Second City. But Rhoda put Harper in the spotlight.

In her memoir, I, Rhoda, Harper writes that she was "determined to define [Rhoda's] style" and help soften her sharp edge. Rhoda may have joked about being frumpy and hating to diet, but she was also fashion forward: She wore hippie-chic outfits with colorful head scarves and hand-crafted jewelry, wide-legged pants and long vests, but also sleek, contemporary dresses and suits in bold colors and prints. Harper writes that "Rhoda's gypsy-woman look became an intrinsic part of her quirky character," even though Harper herself "had never in my life worn a head scarf."
Beyond the punchlines, The Mary Tyler Moore Show was a breakthrough for women on television and much has been written about the show's impact on feminism. As career-minded, single women in their 30s, Mary and Rhoda's self-worth wasn't shaped by men. Harper told author Mollie Gregory (Women Who Run the Show) that the characters "were created and written as multifaceted human beings with all kinds of talents, frailties, quirks, and virtues. The women were not written as foils or props for men."

After winning three Emmys in a row, Harper's sidekick stepped into the spotlight. The spinoff Rhoda opened with this introduction: "My name is Rhoda Morgenstern. I was born in the Bronx, N.Y., in December 1941. I've always felt responsible for World War II. The first thing I remember liking that liked me back was food." The show debuted to huge ratings in 1974. (Many consider the wedding episode, in which Rhoda gets married, a TV sitcom classic.) Rhoda gave Harper her fourth Emmy.
After years doing sitcoms, Harper began taking on more serious roles: She co-wrote and starred in All Under Heaven, a one-woman play about writer and Nobel laureate Pearl Buck, and she portrayed the late Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir in Golda's Balcony, another solo show. But Harper will be remembered most for her impeccable comic timing, a skill that earned her praise as the glamorous, hard-living actress Tallulah Bankhead in the play Looped. In 2010, Harper told NPR she had some reservations about repeating some of Bankhead's salty language. "The f-bomb was all over," she said. "And every time I did a show, I'd say, 'Don't bring the kiddies to see Rhoda.' "

Harper earned a Tony nomination for her performance in Looped. New York Times critic Charles Isherwood wrote that Harper "is not really a natural fit for the role — both the sandpaper voice and the flouncing hauteur seem applied from without — but she gives an enjoyably big, blustery performance, nailing every last laugh with a professionalism that the real Bankhead would surely admire."
In 2009, Harper had a cancerous tumor removed from her lung, and in early 2013, doctors told her the cancer had spread to areas surrounding the brain and that she probably wouldn't make it through the spring. In typical Harper fashion, she remained upbeat in interviews. As a guest on the TV talk show The Doctors in March 2013, she said, "More than anything I'm living in the moment. I really want Americans — and all of us — to be less afraid of death and know that it's a passage. Don't go to the funeral before the day of the funeral. While you're living, live."
Long after The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Valerie Harper often talked about how grateful and lucky she was for landing the role of Rhoda. Millions of viewers felt exactly the same way.

 NPR

Read more »

João Gilberto

Brazil mourns death of musician João Gilberto 

 Brazil is mourning the death of João Gilberto, one of the country’s greatest musicians and composers, a reclusive genius in a nation of extroverts whose work recalled happier, more optimistic times for a deeply divided nation.
Gilberto’s funeral will be held on Monday at Rio’s Municipal theatre. It is not yet clear whether members of the public will be allowed in.
The death on Saturday of the 88-year-old bossa nova legend – whose Girl from Ipanema, recorded with his then-wife Astrud Gilberto, became perhaps Brazil’s best-known song worldwide – was marked in newspaper headlines, in musical tributes and in homages from many of Brazil’s greatest living artists.

 

 But it also played into politics: the far-right president Jair Bolsonaro’s brusque description of Gilberto as a “famous person” appeared to brush aside the legacy of a Brazilian genius whose work was celebrated all over the world.

“The final flicker of the old flame,” read a headline in Rio de Janeiro’s O Globo newspaper. “One of the greatest geniuses of Brazilian music, the creator of bossa nova influenced generations of artists with his ‘different beat’.”
Gilberto Gil, the singer and former minister of culture, described Gilberto as an “extraordinary genius” in a video on Facebook dedicated to “João, music, poetry and love”. The composer Caetano Veloso tweeted photographs of himself with Gilberto and called him “the greatest artist with whom my soul made contact”. “With his voice and his guitar, he reworked the function of speech and the history of the instrument … he was a musical illumination,” Veloso wrote on Facebook.
Gilberto’s daughter, Bebel Gilberto a singer, commemorated her father on Facebook. “How much fun we had! Thank you for everything … the attention to every little harmony and melody in any song, to leave the moment in life, to be kind to be honest, to be a family man, to be the GREATEST Dad anyone could ever dreamed of,” she wrote.
At Rio’s Triboz jazz club, Ricardo Silveira, a guitarist, opened Saturday night’s show with two Gilberto songs, one of many tributes that focused on Gilberto’s role creating the sound of bossa nova – the lilting, gently romantic, yet musically adventurous sound that encapsulated a young, optimistic Brazil of the late 1950s and early 1960s. The Girl from Ipanema, recorded by Astrud Gilberto with the American jazzman Stan Getz, was a worldwide hit and won a Grammy in 1965.
Others remembered how Gilberto famously turned up in a suit at the hippy apartment in Rio where the 1970s group Os Novos Baianos lived to teach them melodic tricks and elevate their psychedelic samba rock into something much more profound, .
“Me and my brothers in Os Novos Baianos received many precious lessons in the early hours,” said Baby do Brasil (Bernadete de Carvalho Cidade), one of the band’s vocalists, who became an evangelical preacher.. “The maestro João Gilberto, a mark in our music.”
O Globo printed photographs of a recent seafood dinner shared by a gaunt Gilberto, his lawyer Gustavo Miranda and companion Maria do Céu Harris at a restaurant in Rio.
Ruy Castro, whose book Chega de Saudade is regarded as the definite history of bossa nova, addressed complaints about Gilberto’s decision not to perform after 2008, pointing out he had left a legacy of 17 albums. “João Gilberto spent the last decades playing for the walls of his apartment, set on a musical mission, by definition, crazy and impossible – to perfect perfection,” Castro wrote in the Folha de São Paulo newspaper.
Amid all this praise, Bolsonaro’s abrupt comment on Saturday sounded like a dismissal. “He was a famous person, our sentiments to the family, OK,” he said, according to Folha.
Some leftists noted that Bolsonaro had heaped much more praise on MC Reaça (Talees Fernandes), a rightwing rapper who recorded campaign songs supporting Bolsonaro.
The leftist congressman Marcelo Freixo used the remark to refer to Bolsonaro’s nickname of “legend”. “Today we lost a true Brazilian legend. João Gilberto helped to form our culture,” he tweeted.
Fred Martins, a Lisbon-based Brazilian singer, said Brazil had been left orphaned. “In a difficult moment for the country, João represented the best Brazil could dream of,” he said. 

The Guardian

Photo of the Day

Chevy Chase and John Belushi

Old News

Isadora Duncan

Film of the Day

Still Mine

2012 Film
Starring James Cromwell and Geneviève Bujold

 'All I wanted to do is build a house'

It was the fifth house that Craig Morrison built with his own hands, and the last. He had built things with his own hands for 70 years, often using lumber he produced at his own small sawmill. Now he would build a modest, single-storey house where he could look after his wife, Irene, suffering from Alzheimer's. He would do the work himself, of course. Didn't everyone in New Brunswick? "I'm not flush with money," he explains now. "I didn't want to go into debt."

Thus it was that Mr. Morrison broke ground three years ago - at 88 - for a bungalow on land overlooking the Bay of Fundy near St. Martins, a seaside village east of Saint John. And thus it was that Mr. Morrison got into trouble with the law for the first time in his life.

In the past two years, building inspectors have hauled Mr. Morrison into court six times, each appearance more harrowing than the last. A couple of weeks ago, the provincial agency that employs building inspectors demanded that the court forcibly remove Craig and Irene Morrison from their home, that the house be bulldozed, and that Mr. Morrison be found in contempt of court - meaning, almost certainly, imprisonment.

Mr. Morrison worked long hours into his 92nd year, fixing the inspectors' long lists of defects. But for the court, he made his position clear: He would not vacate the house. If the court found him in contempt, he would go to jail.

In a memorable account of these proceedings, New Brunswick Telegraph-Journal writer Marty Klinkenberg reported Mr. Morrison's lament: "I thought this was a free country, that we had liberties and freedoms like we used to have, but I was sadly mistaken. … All I wanted to do is build a house, and I was treated as if I was some kind of outlaw."

Building inspector Wayne Mercer found many things wrong with Mr. Morrison's house - although it wasn't obvious that the building-code infractions he cited made it particularly unsafe. He noticed that Mr. Morrison's lumber - custom-sawn - did not carry the requisite stickers. The windows did not carry the requisite stickers, either. The roof trusses and floor joists, he thought, were questionable. He wanted the ceilings torn out, drywall removed and wall studs replaced.

"[The inspectors]seemed to find fault with everything I did," Mr. Morrison said. "They were out to get me because I was doing it with my own land and my own lumber and my own trusses and floor joists in my own time."

At one point, a professional home builder, Raymond Debly, volunteered to do an independent inspection. He determined that the house exceeded the requirements of the National Building Code. It was "built like a fort." The lumber, old-growth spruce, was superior to any lumber on the market. ("Some stamped lumber," he said, "shouldn't be used to build a doghouse.") The floors were double strength. ("You could walk an elephant across them.") And the trusses were fine. ("They were built the old-fashioned way," said Mr. Debly, himself 80, "the way we did it in the '60s.")

Mr. Morrison's long struggle with an implacable bureaucracy came to a merciful end in a Saint John courtroom on Nov. 1 when Mr. Justice Hugh McLellan ordered the planning commission to negotiate a settlement with Mr. Morrison, saying, "I'm not going to order a 91-year-old man to jail and have his wife placed in a nursing home." The planning commission subsequently agreed to allow the Morrisons to live in their home, without further molestation, until they die.

Son of a lumberman and cattle rancher, Craig Morrison comes from self-sufficient stock, the sturdy people who built this country with their own hands. He raised seven children (and has 14 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren). Yet, government inspectors almost took him down.

This is a true Canadian story, a cautionary tale of the tremendous power of the state over the individual in an age of pervasive bureaucracy. It is, indeed, a profound parable of irretrievably lost independence and casually forgotten freedoms.

The Globe and Mail

 Craig Morrison Obituary

MORRISON, CRAIG - It is with sad and heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Craig Morrison, husband of Irene (Chestnut) Morrison, of West Quaco, NB, occurred at the Saint John Regional Hospital on Monday, February 11, 2013. He was born on May 8, 1919, in West Quaco, NB, the son of the late Glen and Hattie (Mosher) Morrison. Craig is survived by his loving wife Irene; four sons John Morrison and his wife Laura of St. Martins, NB, Dean Morrison and his wife Alvina of AB, Ben Morrison and his wife Susan of AB, Craig Morrison and his wife Joan of AB; three daughters Ruth Walker and her husband Daryl of Sussex, NB, Edie McGrath and her husband Earl of St. Martins, NB, Linda LeBlanc and her husband Jim of St. Martins, NB; 17 grandchildren; 16 great grandchildren; several nieces, nephews, cousins and many friends. He was predeceased by his brother Ludolf. Craig will be remembered as an energetic man who enjoyed fishing, farming, lumbering, gardening, construction and was also an active baseball fan. Most recently Craig had the opportunity to get his story known in a film titled “Still” due to be released this spring.
He is resting at Reid’s Funeral Home (506-832-5541), 1063 Main Street, Hampton, NB, with visiting on Thursday from 3 to 5 and 7 to 9 PM. Funeral service, conducted by, Rev. Leander Mills, will be held from St. Martins United Church at 11:00 AM, on Friday, February 15, 2013. Interment will take place in West Quaco Cemetery. Donations to the Alzheimer Society or to the memorial of the donor’s choice would be appreciated. Condolences to the family may be made through www.reidsfh.com

Irene Morrison Obituary

MORRISON, IRENE - It is with sad and heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Irene Elizabeth (Chestnut) Morrison, wife of the late Craig Morrison, which occurred at the Dr. V.A. Snow Center on Thursday, August 22, 2013. She was born on April 19, 1926 in Damascus, NB, the daughter of the late George and Elsie (Hayward) Chestnut. Irene is survived by four sons John Morrison and his wife Laura of St. Martins, NB, Dean Morrison and his wife Alvina of AB, Ben Morrison and his wife Susan of AB, Craig Morrison and his wife Joan of AB; three daughters Ruth Walker and her husband Daryl of Sussex, NB, Edie McGrath and her husband Earl of St. Martins, NB, Linda LeBlanc and her husband Jim of St. Martins, NB; 17 grandchildren; 16 great grandchildren; twin sister Isabel Wanamaker; several nieces, nephews, cousins and many friends. She was predeceased by her husband of sixty-six years, Craig; brother Ted Chestnut and niece Joyce Scribner.

She is resting at Reid’s Funeral Home (506-832-5541), 1063 Main Street, Hampton, NB, with visiting on Sunday from 2 to 4 and 6 to 8 PM. Funeral service, conducted by, Rev. Leander Mills, will be held from St. Martins United Church at 11:00 AM, on Monday, August 26, 2013. Interment will take place in West Quaco Cemetery. Donations to the Alzheimer Society or to the memorial of the donor’s choice would be appreciated. Condolences to the family may be made through www.reidsfh.com

Life on Mars

American horror Story- (S4 Ep. 2) Jessica Lange

Compromise

 Eartha Kitt on Love and Compromise.

Literary Pick (***)

Not a fan of anything remotely sci-fi, but in the end, I understood.

Quote of the Day

I drink to make other people more interesting.

-Ernest Hemingway

Quote of the Day

I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.

Confucius was a Chinese teacher, editor, politician, and philosopher of the Spring and Autumn period of Chinese history. 

Born: September 28, 551 BC, Lu

Died: 479 BC, Lu

Full name: Kong Qiu

Children: Kong Li, Kong Rao

Muhammad Ali

Muhammad Ali 
Born: January 17, 1942, Louisville, KY
Died: June 3, 2016, Scottsdale, AZ

Muhammad Ali, the Greatest, Dies at 74
The legendary boxer leaves a legacy unmatched in sports—a charismatic champion of free speech and civil change


Muhammad Ali, one of the most influential athletes in American history and a three-time heavyweight champion who fought as well with his mouth and mind, has died. He was 74 years old.
The Associated Press, citing a statement from his family, said Ali died Friday. He was hospitalized in the Phoenix area with respiratory problems earlier this week.
A private funeral is scheduled for Thursday in his hometown of Louisville, Ky. On Friday, a procession will carry Ali’s body’s through the city, followed by a memorial service open to the public at the KFC YUM! Center, the AP reported.
Ali called himself “The Greatest,” and many agreed. Among boxers, he certainly ranked among the elite, having won the heavyweight title three times in his 21-year career. But it was his life outside the ring that inspired the strongest adjectives. He was the prettiest, the brashest, the baddest, the fastest, the loudest, the rashest.
He openly attacked American racism at a time when the nation’s black athletes and celebrities were expected to acquiesce, to thank the white power structure that gave them the opportunity to earn wealth and celebrity, and to otherwise keep their mouths shut. Ali’s mouth was seldom shut. He joined the Nation of Islam at a time when the FBI and many journalists labeled the Muslim group a dangerous cult bent on destroying America. He challenged the legitimacy of the Vietnam War and refused to enlist in the military at a time when few prominent Americans were protesting, an act of civil disobedience that led to his suspension from boxing for more than three years.

In a career full of seemingly magical feats, Ali’s greatest trick may have been his transformation—from one the nation’s most reviled characters to one of its most beloved. It was in that journey that the boxer left his marks—including welts, cuts and bruises—on American culture. He was born Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr. on Jan. 17, 1942, in Louisville, Ky., the son of a sign painter and a domestic worker. His paternal grandfather, Herman Clay, was a convicted murderer. His paternal great-grandfather, in all likelihood, was a slave.
The young Cassius Clay was a poor student who struggled to read the printed word, probably as a result of dyslexia, according to his wife, Lonnie Ali. He discovered his talent for boxing by accident, at the age of 12, when he told a police officer that his bicycle had been stolen. The police officer invited Cassius to join a group of young boxers, black and white, who trained at a gymnasium in downtown Louisville.
Team sports held little interest for Cassius, according to his brother, Rahman Ali, who was born Rudolph Clay. Cassius couldn’t stand the notion of wearing a helmet where his face would be obscured or being one of only 10 men on a basketball court or 22 men on a football field.
Cassius wanted nothing more than to be famous, according to his childhood friend, Owen Sitgraves of Louisville, who remembered Ali jogging to Central High School every day beside the bus that carried his classmates.
“He did it for the attention,” not just the exercise, Sitgraves said in a recent interview. In 1960, while taking time off from high school, 18-year-old Cassius Clay won the gold medal as a light heavyweight at the Olympic Games in Rome. He turned professional soon after and won his first 19 fights before earning a chance to fight for the heavyweight championship against Charles “Sonny” Liston in 1964. Liston was the most feared fighter of his time, and reporters covering the fight predicted almost unanimously that Cassius Clay would lose.

When the fight began, however, reporters saw instantly that Cassius Clay was not only bigger than Liston, he was also much faster. Cassius attacked with relentless jabs and combinations until the sixth round, when Liston quit.
“I am the greatest!” the new champion shouted into the microphone of radio reporter Howard Cosell. “I am the greatest! I am the king of the world!”
After the fight, Clay told reporters he had joined the Nation of Islam and embraced the teachings of its leader, Elijah Muhammad, as well the group’s most prominent minister, Malcolm X. At a time when civil-rights leaders such as Martin Luther King Jr. were leading the fight for integration, the Nation of Islam preached separatism, saying white Americans would never give black citizens true equality.
The boxer said he would abandon his so-called slave name and accept the name Muhammad Ali, which had been chosen for him by Elijah Muhammad. As Cassius Clay, the boxer had been deemed a loudmouth who didn’t know his place and didn’t comport himself with the dignity expected of sports heroes. Now, as Muhammad Ali, he was something more threatening. “I pity Clay and abhor what he represents,” wrote Jimmy Cannon, one of the most influential sportswriters of the time. “In the years of hunger during the Depression, the Communists used famous people the way the Black Muslims are exploiting Clay. This is a sect that deforms the beautiful purpose of religion.”


But many black Americans, even those who didn’t embrace the Nation of Islam, saw in Ali a man who was willing to fight outside the ring. “What white America demands in her black champions,” the Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver said, “is a brilliant, powerful body, and a dull, bestial mind—a tiger in the ring and a pussycat outside the ring.”
Muhammad Ali changed that. He became one of the most talked-about men in the world. He criticized Dr. King and other leaders of the civil-rights movement for their timidity. He traveled to Africa and the Middle East, where he was cheered not only for his boxing fame but also for his embrace of Islam. And, in 1967, he stood in opposition to the Vietnam War, refusing to be drafted. On the one hand, he claimed his objection was political—a black man ought not fight for a country that continued to treat him as a second-class citizen. On the other hand, he claimed exemption as a minister in the Nation of Islam, saying his religious beliefs precluded him from fighting.
Courts rejected both arguments, judging him guilty of draft evasion. Boxing officials denied him licenses to fight for more than three years. By the time the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Ali’s conviction, the war in Vietnam had grown wildly unpopular, with protests erupting all over the country, and Ali’s bold anti-establishment stance made him a hero even among people who cared nothing for boxing.

“He was always very political and moral,” said Andrew Young, the former mayor of Atlanta and U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. And while Elijah Muhammad preached separatism, Ali didn’t always adhere to that belief. He loved people and attention too much to ever dismiss anyone for their color or beliefs. The appetite for affection guided much of Ali’s life. It led him through four marriages and countless sexual affairs. It made him a political wild card, too. He offered praise for John F. Kennedy and endorsement for Ronald Reagan while he declined to support the presidential bid of his friend Jesse Jackson.
Ali was the rare man who enjoyed airports because there were so many people there to entertain. When limousine drivers arranged to pick him up on quiet side streets or in alleys, he would rebuff them, saying he wanted to come and go from the busiest spots possible, and he would often stand next to his car until people noticed him. Even at his most subversive, he spoke with a twinkle in his eye, offering poetry and magic tricks, eager to please and torment simultaneously.
In his return to boxing, he lost to Joe Frazier in his first attempt at reclaiming the heavyweight championship. He lost again two years later to Ken Norton, defeated Joe Frazier in a 1974 rematch, and then earned the chance to regain his championship in a fight against George Foreman, who was considered the most devastating puncher the sport had seen since Sonny Liston. In the fight against Foreman, which was held in Zaire, Ali was once again a heavy underdog. Once again, he defied expectations. But while he had been too fast for Sonny Liston in 1964, 10 years later Ali didn’t rely on speed. Instead, he let one of the most powerful punchers in boxing history pound away until Foreman’s arms grew weary and his hope of a quick knockout faded.

“I thought I would knock him out,” Foreman recalled in a recent interview. “I creamed Ken Norton, and Joe Frazier with ease. I thought this would be the easiest of all of them. I had no idea that this guy would be competitive. I beat him up, beat him up, and he survived…Most guys you hit them and they fight back but he covered up. Smartest boxer I ever been in the ring with.”
Once, Ali had described his style as “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” Now he called his strategy “the rope-a-dope,” and he would rely on it in the late stage of his career, absorbing an increasing number of punches.
He lost his title to Leon Spinks in 1978, regained it in a rematch with Spinks later that same year and then announced his retirement.

In 1980, Ali emerged from retirement to fight Larry Holmes and suffered a brutal loss. He fought and lost one more time, in 1981, before truly retiring.
In 1984, Ali said he had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, a degenerative neurological condition. In subsequent years, he traveled widely, raising money for many causes, including the Muhammad Ali Parkinson Center in Phoenix. He also traveled on behalf of the American government on diplomatic missions, including negotiations to win the release of hostages.
In 1996, his hands shaking, Ali lit the Olympic torch to launch the Summer Games in Atlanta. In 2005, President George W. Bush awarded Ali the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

— Jonathan Eig, a former reporter for The Wall Street Journal, is writing a biography of Muhammad Ali, to be published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

-WSJ