Words like “stunning” are cheap and too easy to toss out. But even then, around 2002 when the novel was published, I was in my late thirties and had tons and tons of books under my belt (as a reader), and you’d think I’d be sufficiently world-weary.
But I hadn’t been there, done that–to use a phrase popular around the turn of the millennium–enough to be fully prepared for Miéville’s dark, twisted, baroque worlds of Bas-Lag and New Crobuzon in The Scar and Perdido Street Station.
Robert Novak, Patron Saint of Supercilious Old Bastards
Being somewhat in the market for a new car and being somewhat of a guy who is getting (snort!) older, I figured the first order of business was to determine which cars I should not buy.
That compelled me to reflect on the class of cars that I call Cantankerous Old Bastard Cars. First, let’s define Cantankerous Old Bastard:
The Old Bastard is pushing sixty, divorced, and monied. He is–as he likes to tell people often–successful. Two kids, grown, out of the house. Often he is a lawyer, a word which he pronounces in a gravely, Jilly Rizzo-type East Coast voice as: loyah.
Reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and white-collared dress shirts help complete the picture.
Now that Cadillacs no longer define the crusty old man, what kind of vehicle are we looking at?
3. Jaguar XJ Series
Jaguars have famously been absolute mechanical pieces-of-shit. Where else can you spend $73,000 for the privilege of owning a car that leaves you stranded in the broiling heat near Wendover, Utah? Jaguar, of course! Even Jaguar itself admits that its “old reputation for having spotty quality lingers from long ago and hurts us.”
But if you’re an Old Bastard, you need an appropriately haughty car. A car with a predatory beast as a hood ornament, announcing to the world: I, too, am a predator! What better than a Jaguar XJ series?
2. Corvette
Corvette? Old Bastard-type car? Gee, no kidding. You say?
When I lived in Washington, DC, we would occasionally hear about Robert Novak, the now-dead Washington columnist and patron saint of all Old Grouchy Bastards, terrorizing people with his black Corvette.
In one incident reported in The Washington Post, Novak screamed at a pedestrian: “’Learn to read the signs, asshole,” before speeding away. In the worst incident in July 2008, Novak hit-and-ran a pedestrian around 1700 K Street. Asked later about the event, the self-proclaimed “compassionate conservative” said, “He’s not dead. That’s the main thing.”
Johnny Carson also drove one of these. Need I say more?
1. Mercedes SLK
The Mercedes SLK is a touchy subject because, unlike Corvettes, it doesn’t reach out and grab you, shouting, “Old Bastard Car!” It takes awhile to notice this; some empirical data-gathering.
If you had asked me several years ago, I would have said, “Well, it’s a sporty enough car. Looks like anyone would drive one.”
But in years since, I have yet to see anyone under age 60 driving an SLK. The SLK is interesting, too, in that you’ll find the Old Bastards’ female counterparts driving them, too. Perhaps as spoils of a divorce?
My theory? The Mercedes SLK is for a certain class of discerning men who may even be aware of the taint of Old Bastardom, and are seeking to avoid it. They know about the cultural associations of ‘Vettes (and besides, Corvettes are just old-school Detroit iron). But a Mercedes? And one with a trim back end, as the SLKs have? Just perfect.
I think the best thing about Emily Shur’s photo essay is its title: Nature Calls.
But come on, I’ve got this one beat. For years, my parents in Medford, Oregon have had a church down the street with a cross that doubles as a cell phone tower…or cell phone tower that doubles as a cross. However you choose to view it.
This cross at a church in Medford is doubling as a cell tower. Verizon Wireless approached the First Christian Church and the congregation agreed. So the church got permission from the city and built a new cross that connects people’s faith and their phone calls. The church receives a monthly stipend from Verizon, which parishioners say will allow them to do things they could not otherwise afford.
I cannot get this out of my head. I had heard about Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg breaking out in a huge, visible sweat when Walter Mossberg and Kara Swisher of The Wall Street Journal asked him about privacy problems that Facebook has brought onto its users recently.
Mossberg and Swisher, I should mention, did not grill Zuckerberg. They were simply asking questions. Yet Zuckerberg was still unable to control himself.
He repeatedly says that he’s okay, and that he will not remove his famed hoodie (he supposedly never removes it). Finally, Mossberg, as mild-mannered as ever, just says this:
Mossberg: Can you explain this personalization thing you did and why you did it and what’s the value of it to your users.
Zuckerberg: Maybe I should take off the hoodie.
Swisher: Take off the hoodie.
Then about a minute of futzing while Zuckerberg removes the hoodie, complicated by the lapel mic and wires. Mossberg and Swisher even help him with the removal.
Wait, wait. As if that’s not sublime enough, after the hoodie is off, Swisher notices a mysterious symbol on the inside-back:
Swisher reads some of the words, and then:
Swisher: …this weird symbol in the middle that is probably for the Illuminati.
Hausu (1977) is a Japanese film that blog Dangerous Minds calls “a mixtape compiled by a demented Carl Jung–immersive, repellent, hysterical and visionary.”
