I knew I’d seen Steve Bannon somewhere long ago. I paid an intense but brief session of attention to the Biosphere 2 calamities more than 20 years back because it seemed like some muddled sci-fi story come to life. Biosphere 2 did not have clear, compelling explanations of its mission, and it seemed as much con job as science. Had no clue how common its tone and temperament would become in American culture and politics.
I’ve been fascinated by the manuscript ever since I heard about it as a romantic book-boy out in the sticks. I mentioned it early on in this blog. But I looked at my reproduction around the time I did that post and was disillusioned — how could I have thought the text was a made-up language? It’s merely decorative script-babble. Plus, the mysterious, secret-knowledge manuscript was a lot more common fantasy back in the ’60s and ’70s. I’m almost cynical enough now to put down the Voynich as being too famous for being famous.
Can’t be said often enough about a peculiar phenomenon I have never understood. The sex-terrified reactionaries of the ’50s wanted rock and roll to just go away — by banning if necessary. Send that monster Elvis into the Army. Send that threat to white women Chuck Berry to jail.
And damned if it didn’t work in a funhouse-mirror way. The rock of the British Invasion and later (up to a point) is annoyingly present (just consider the nonstop soundtrack we had to put up with while the car was worked on this Sat. — maybe the single most painful part was the inclusion of “I Wanna Be Sedated” like it was the hit it shoulda been). But the whole original wave of rockers is neglected except for oldies moments.
C’mon everybody (ahem), you can program that stuff right in with the Boss and related acts.
… you lose a cherished object you’ve had since childhood. You suffer mightily. Then you wake up and realize you never had any such object.
A. A good dream?
B. A bad dream?
C. More evidence the brain enjoys playing pranks on itself?
The whole end-of-the-Mammoths tale has fascinated me for ages. The peculiar island-isolation discovery was a very rich development. Errrr — human beings are down to one species, too. Wish I could understand the octopus/dolphin/elephant thoughts on this.
Reading a New Yorker article about the “purge” of old-timer Oscar voters I ran across a reference to a late-’50s novel called Home Before Dark. Sounded intriguing, so I decided to see if it was, if not in print, available at all. Turns out there’s a humongous number of books titled Home Before Dark:
1.Home Before Dark (Carolina Moon) by Christy Barritt
2.Home Before Dark by Susan Wiggs
4.Home Before Dark: The Collected Cedar Hill Stories by Gary A. Braunbeck and Deena Warner
5.Home Before Dark by Bryant M. Kirkland
6.Home Before Dark by Ian Beck
7.Home Before Dark by Lilly Maytree
8.Home Before Dark… by Kim Vogler
9.Home Before Dark by Bluey Rogers
10.Home Before Dark by Polly Asbury
11.Home Before Dark: A Family Portrait of Cancer and Healing by David Treadway and Kate Treadway
12.Home Before Dark by Sue Ellen BRIDGERS
13.Home Before Dark by Margaret Johnson
14.Home Before Dark by Charles MacLean
15.Home Before Dark by Jo Hammond
16.Home Before Dark by Eileen Bassing
I agree this is an incredibly important article and must be read. Makes sense of several key mysteries — including how Trump won without spending bupkiss on standard advertising. And indeed, the creepy icing on the freaky cake is that the article has not yet been officially translated from the original German.