LET'S BE COPS

Seeing the church with the purple shutters in the middle of Wayne always raises my spirits and never more than in late summer when the heat seems finally to be receding.

Jane’s instincts were right; they usually are when movies are concerned.

Let’s Be Cops is terrific.  If one wanted to make a serious critical judgement, and not simply immediately say how consistently funny it is and how skillfully it plays with and avoids genre stereotypes and clichés, I’d say it’s the quintessential portrait of diminished expectations among the post-college set during the Obama era.

Enjoying it and knowing the critics loathe it increases enthusiasm, but only slightly.  It’s just very sharp and funny, with a minimum of cheap vulgarity, even though it operates at the extremes.

It isn’t that the Anthony Wayne Theater is so great, but I’d still like to live there 100% of the time.  That was the original plan and it needs dusting off.

Don't Drop That Dubstep (Link)

Happy Birthday, John Buchan

 

DANCING WIDDERSHINS

Mr Anthony Lammas, whose long legs had been covering ground at the rate of five miles an hour, slackened his pace, for he felt the need of ordering a mind which for some hours had been dancing widdershins. For one thing the night had darkened, since the moon had set, and the coast track which he followed craved wary walking. But it was the clear dark of a northern April, when, though the details are blurred, the large masses of the landscape are apprehended.   
  

He was still aware of little headlands descending to a shadowy gulf which was the Firth. Far out the brazier on the May was burning with a steady glow, like some low-swung planet shaming with its ardour the cold stars. He sniffed the sharp clean scent of the whins above the salt; he could almost detect the brightness of their flowering. They should have been thyme, he thought, thyme and arbutus and tamarisk clothing the capes of the Sicilian sea, for this was a night of Theocritus. . . .


Theocritus! What had he to do with Theocritus? It was highly necessary to come to terms with this mood into which he had fallen. 

From:  John Buchan, The Free Fishers, 1934.