Just another dumb-ass yuppie in search of authenticity
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Me and Hank
Me and ol' Hank Adams, we're purty proud of something we just ginned up at The American Street. Check 'er out.
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
As usual, it's good stuff, Neddie.
But, dude: WHAT ABOUT THE VIRGIN?!
Sheesh. Trust Neddie to stare a nubile goddess in the flesh and come up for air yapping about globalization.
All I can say is that you pretty much proved his point:
"Adams began to ponder, asking himself whether he knew of any American artist who had ever insisted on the power of sex, as every classic had always done; but he could think only of Walt Whitman; Bret Harte, as far as the magazines would let him venture; and one or two painters, for the flesh-tones. All the rest had used sex for sentiment, never for force; to them, Eve was a tender flower, and Herodias an unfeminine horror. American art, like the American language and American education, was as far as possible sexless. Society regarded this victory over sex as its greatest triumph, and the historian readily admitted it, since the moral issue, for the moment, did not concern one who was studying the relations of unmoral force. He cared nothing for the sex of the dynamo until he could measure its energy."
Me and ol' Hank Adams, we're purty proud of something we just ginned up at The American Street. Check 'er out.
1 comment:
As usual, it's good stuff, Neddie.
But, dude: WHAT ABOUT THE VIRGIN?!
Sheesh. Trust Neddie to stare a nubile goddess in the flesh and come up for air yapping about globalization.
All I can say is that you pretty much proved his point:
"Adams began to ponder, asking himself whether he knew of any American artist who had ever insisted on the power of sex, as every classic had always done; but he could think only of Walt Whitman; Bret Harte, as far as the magazines would let him venture; and one or two painters, for the flesh-tones. All the rest had used sex for sentiment, never for force; to them, Eve was a tender flower, and Herodias an unfeminine horror. American art, like the American language and American education, was as far as possible sexless. Society regarded this victory over sex as its greatest triumph, and the historian readily admitted it, since the moral issue, for the moment, did not concern one who was studying the relations of unmoral force. He cared nothing for the sex of the dynamo until he could measure its energy."
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