Saturday Night at the Oldies: Some ‘Song’ Songs

Mose Allison, The Song is Ended

Punch Bros., Dink's Song

Dave van Ronk, Dink's Song

Arlo Guthrie, Percy's Song

Fairport Convention, Percy's Song

Doors, Alabama Song

Roberta Flack, Killing Me Softly with his Song

Bob Dylan, Song to Woody

Chad and Jeremy, Summer Song

Simon and Garfunkel, 59th Street Bridge Song

Brook Benton, The Boll Weevil Song

Rupert Holmes, The Pina Colada Song

Chicago under Democrat ‘Control’

Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Born in Chicago  

I was born in Chicago in nineteen and forty one
I was born in Chicago in nineteen and forty one
Well my father told me
Son you had better get a gun.

True then, truer now. 

And you still be ridin' with Biden? How stupid can you be? How self-destructive? How willfully self-enstupidated? And of course the scourge is not upon Chicago alone but upon every Dem-'controlled' city, county, state, and jurisdiction.

Chicago shooting gallery

The humorous meme is now a reality:  ammo vending machines are coming to stores.  That's no joke.

I'm a staunch supporter of 2A rights, but this cannot be a good development. What's next? Ammo sales at drive-through liquor stores? "Would you like a box of ammo to go with your bottle of Hornitos tequila?  Today's special is Federal 115 gr FMJ 9 mm hollow point."  

To vote Democrat is to vote for more crime and the defunding of professional law enforcement  The more crime,  the more the burden of personal defense is placed on the citizen. But the average citizen is unlikely to get the proper training and to devote the time needed to become proficient in the use of firearms.  The upshot is more accidental negligent discharges. In a well-functioning society, the laws are enforced and the criminal element is kept in check so that the citizen can go about his business without the need to, and the grave responsibility that comes with, 'packing heat.'  

And you are still a Democrat? WTF is wrong with you?

Related: Shooting Up Chicago

Why the Collapse of Philosophical Studies in the Islamic World?

Leo Strauss sketches an answer in his "How to Begin to Study Medieval Philosophy" in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, ed. T. L. Pangle, University of Chicago Press, 1989, pp. 221-222, bolding added:

For the Jew and the Moslem, religion is primarily not, as it is for the Christian, a faith formulated in dogmas, but a law, a code of divine origin. Accordingly, the religious science, the sacra doctrina, is not dogmatic theology, theologia revelata, but the science of the law, halaka or fiqh. The science of the law, thus understood has much less in common with philosophy than has dogmatic theology. Hence the status of philosophy is, as a matter of principle, much more precarious in the Islamic-Jewish world than it is in the Christian world. No one could become a competent Christian theologian without having studied at least a substantial part of philosophy; philosophy was an integral part of the officially authorized and even required training. On the other hand, one could become an absolutely competent halakist or faqih without having the slightest knowledge of  philosophy. This fundamental difference doubtless explains the possibility of the later complete collapse of philosophical studies in the Islamic world, a collapse which has no parallel in the West in spite of Luther.

I like the "in spite of Luther."  What is Strauss getting at? I turn to Heiko A. Oberman' s magisterial Luther: Man between God and the Devil (Yale UP, 1989, tr. Eileen Walliser-Schwarzbart). On p. 160, Oberman speaks of the new Wittenberg theology that Luther formulated "against the whole of scholasticism": "The whole of Aristotle is to theology as shadow is to light."

Why do I like the "in spite of Luther?" Because I am averse to Protestantism for three solid reasons: it is anti-monastic, anti-mystical, and anti-philosophical (anti-rational).  No doubt the RCC is even more corrupt now under Bergoglio the Termite than it was in Luther's day; so if this maverick decides he needs a church, he will have to make the journey to the (near) East.  Go east old man! (I plan to report later on Vladimir Lossky's The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church.)  But here's a bit more Oberman to nail down my point about Protestantism (or at least Lutheranism's ) being anti-philosophical:

The knowledge that there was an infinite, qualitative distance between Heaven and earth became an established principle for Luther as early as 1509: all human thought, as noble, effective, and indispensable as it might be to solve problems in the world, does not suffice to fathom salvation because it cannot cannot reach Heaven.  Questions of faith must be resolved through the Word of God or not at all. The temptation — or compulsion — to sanctify the words of an and believe in them is satanic. When God is silent, man should not speak; and what God has put asunder, namely Heaven and earth, man should not join together.

Thus not even Augustine, especially Augustine the neo-Platonist, could become the new, infallible authority, because that would merely have been replacing one philosophy with another, substituting Plato for Aristotle. [. . .]

The alternative is clear: whatever transcends the perception of empirical reality is either based on God's Word or is pure fantasy. As a nominalist Luther began making a conscious distinction between knbowledge of tge world and faith in God . . . . (pp. 160-161, emphasis added)

A quick question: given sola scriptura, where in the Scriptures does God deliver his verdict on the  problem of universals and come down on the side of nominalism? And if Holy Writ is silent on the famous problem, then it is "pure fantasy" and Luther has no justification for his nominalism. 

And what about sola scriptura itself? Where in the Bible is the doctrine enunciated?

Romanists 1; Lutherans 0. And this despite the undeniable corruption of the RCC in those days that triggered Luther's protest.

What are Modes of Being?

The following has been languishing in my unpublished archives since December 2009. Time to clean it up and send it out. If it triggers a bit of hard thinking in a few receptive heads, and therewith, the momentary bliss of the sublunary bios theoretikos, then it has done its job. 

Don't comment unless you understand the subject-matter. 

…………………………

Many contemporary philosophers are not familiar with talk of modes of being. So let me try to make this notion clear. I will use 'being' and existence' interchangeably in this entry. I begin by distinguishing four questions:

Q1. What is meant by 'mode of being'?
Q2. Is the corresponding idea intelligible?
Q3. Are there (two or more) modes of being?
Q4. What are the modes of being?

My present concern is with the first two questions only. Clearly, the first two questions are logically prior to the second two. It is possible to understand what is meant by 'mode of being' and grant that the notion is intelligible while denying that there are (two or more) modes of being. And if two philosophers agree that there are (two or more) modes of being, they might yet disagree about what these modes are.

With respect to anything at all, we can ask the following different and seemingly intelligible questions. What is it? Does it exist? How (in what way or mode) does it exist? This yields a tripartite distinction between quiddity (in a broad sense to include essential and accidental, relational and nonrelational properties), existence, and mode of existence.  There is also a fourth question, the Why question: why does anything at all, or any particular thing, exist? The Why question is not on today's agenda. 

My claim is that the notion that there are modes of being is intelligible, not that it is unavoidable. But we might decide that the costs of avoiding it are prohibitively high.  'Intelligible' means understandable.

What might motivate a MOB (modes-of-being) doctrine? I will sketch two possible motivations.

A Vote for Sleepy Joe . . .

. . . is a vote for Cackling Kamala. 

She may be a cackling clown, but she is a 'person of color.' Indeed, she is of two 'colors,' Tamil Indian and Afro-Jamaican. She is thus doubly qualified for high office, and trebly to boot considering that she is of the female persuasion. It's a three-way intersection. If only she were, in addition, a transgendered lesbian illegal immigrant!

The only drawback visible to me is that she gives salads a bad name.  Your typical salad, as a comestible composed of comestibles, evinces gustatory coherence. Her famous 'word salads,' however, are notoriously bereft of semantic coherence.

My mind drifts back to John Searle's remark anent Jacques Derrida: "He gives bullshit a bad name." 

Reading Now: The Blake Bailey Bio of Charles Jackson

Bailey has been called the literary biographer of his generation. That strikes me as no exaggeration. He is fabulously good and his productivity is astonishing with stomping tomes on Richard Yates, Charles Jackson, John Cheever, and Philip Roth. I have yet to find a bad sentence in the two I've read.

Jackson's main claim to fame is his novel, The Lost Weekend, perhaps the best booze novel ever published. That's not just my opinion. The novel appeared in 1944 and  was made into a  film-noir blockbuster of the same name.

Jackson (1903-1968) was a big-time self-abuser, his drugs of choice being alcohol and Seconal. (We called them 'reds' in the 'sixties.)  Jackson died, at age  65, a total physical and mental wreck. 

The mystery of self-destruction, so common among novelists.

See also: Reading Now: Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano

…………………….

Dave Lull writes,

My late friend Roger Forseth  wrote about Charles Jackson in an article for Dionysos: The Literature and Intoxication Triquarterly: ““Why did they make such a fuss?’: Don Birnam's Emotional Barometer,” a copy of which you can find here and a slightly edited version of which was reprinted in his posthumous book Alcoholite at the Altar: the Writer and Addiction: the Writings of Roger Forseth, which was reviewed by Frank Wilson here.

It's great to hear from you, Dave.  The Forseth article to which you linked is very good, and so is Wilson's review of Forseth's book. I ordered the book. The clincher for me was our mutual friend Patrick Kurp's Amazon blurb:
When I learned that Roger, on alternative nights, read one of Shakespeare's sonnets or a letter by Keats, my first reaction was: how sensible. This is a man who knows how to enjoy himself and understands what's important, an impression confirmed when we exchanged thoughts on such mutual enthusiasms as Coleridge, Auden, and Raymond Chandler. His scholarly work on alcoholism and American writers will prove invaluable to future scholars and readers, but I will always think of Roger as the man who knew what to read before turning out the light. Patrick Kurp of Anecdotal Evidence
As I recall, it was via Kurp's blog that I first made your acquaintance, years ago. 
 
This, from Wilson, also  made me want to buy the book:
Like them, he [Forseth] had had a drinking problem, complete with bouts of delirium tremens. He is quoted here as saying, during the last year of his life, that “the problem with alcohol is a philosophical problem dating back to Plato’s Symposium and Phaedrus, how to manage the desire for intoxication, for ecstasy. I started writing about this late…I think I had to wait until the alcoholism experience penetrated my theoretical mind.”
 
I've had a similar thought. It is the misdirected desire for fullness of life, ecstasy, joy that drives some of us to reach for the 'joy juice.'  "All joy wants eternity," sang Nietzsche's Zarathustra, "wants deep, deep, eternity." I myself am too bloody rational to overindulge: I know what the sauce does to the brain and the liver, and that knowledge keeps me within strict limits.  On the other hand, I consider the teetotaler an extremist.  It's all a matter of self-knowledge. For some, alcohol is the devil in liquid form. For others it is a delightful adjunct to a civilized life.  Know thyself!  If you discover that you cannot handle the hooch, then it is your moral obligation to abstain from it.  If you become an alky, then it's on you and your despicable refusal to control yourself.  If you compound the folly  by drunk driving, then  I want the book thrown at you. 
 
Is alcoholism a disease? You can guess my answer.I should dig up and dust off my old posts on the question.  Of course, it is undeniable that the stuff affects different people in different ways. But once you discover how it affects you, then it's on you and your free will.  Man up and take responsibility for your actions.  
 
 

Me and My Marriage; Merton and his Monastery

My marriage is a good fit for me, no ambivalence, no regrets. Her limitations were known beforehand and accepted, and mine by her. There was full disclosure from the outset about what I am about in this world. 42 years into it my marriage is steady as she goes 'til death parts us as impermanence will part every partite thing. I will play the nurse when and if her need requires: duty will defeat disinclination. I will enter the space beyond desire and aversion as I attend to the needs of her body and mind. Kant taught me the sublimity of duty, and Buddha the need to master desire and aversion. And Christ? Matthew 25:40. "What you have done unto the least of my brethren, you have done unto me."

Thomas Merton was uneasy behind the walls of the cloister: the Siren songs of the '60s reached his ears after his initial enthusiasm and true-believership wore off.  Tempted by the extramural, he went back and forth, his desire to be a contemplative in tension with his incipient activism and the rejection of his early contemptus mundi. (See The Journals of Thomas Merton, vol. 4, p. 34, entry of 21 August 1960, also p. 101 and p. 278.)

Did Merton enter the monastery too soon, before he fully tasted the futility and nonentity of this world? Or did he live in full authenticity and existential appreciation of the antinomian character of this life of ours, which is neither  futile, nor empty of entity, nor affirmable without reserve?

Whatever the case, I love the guy I meet in the pages of his sprawling seven-volumed journal. Yes, he is something of a liberal-left squish-head both politically and theologically, but "I am large; I contain multitudes." (Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself")

Tom Merton  is a window into the '60s for serious students of a decade far off in time but present in influence, good and bad.

A Platonist at Breakfast

Amazing what one can unearth with the WayBack Machine. This one first saw daylight on 3 March 2005. 

…………………………

I head out early one morning with the wife in tow. I’m going to take her to a really fancy joint this time, the 5 and Diner, a greasy spoon dripping with 1950's Americana. We belly up to the counter and order the $2. 98 special: two eggs any style, hashbrowns, toast and coffee. Meanwhile I punch the buttons for Floyd Cramer’s Last Date on the personal jukebox in front of me after feeding it with a quarter from wifey’s purse.

"How would you like your eggs, sir?" "Over medium, please."

The eggs arrive undercooked. Do I complain? Rhinestone-studded Irene is working her tail off in the early morning rush. I’ve already bugged her for Tabasco sauce, extra butter, and more coffee. The service came with the sweetest of smiles. The place is jumping, the Mexican cooks are sweating, and the philosopher is philosophizing:

"If it won’t matter by tomorrow morning that these eggs are undercooked, why does it matter now?"

With that thought, I liberally douse the undercooked eggs with the fine Louisiana condiment, mix them up with the hashbrowns, and shovel the mess into my mouth with bread and fork, chasing it all with coffee and cream, no sugar.

Who says you can’t do anything with philosophy?

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Gone but not Forgotten

As a sort of intro, The Who, My Generation. "I hope I die before I get old." My English readers will enjoy the video.

Charlie Watts at 80, 1941-2021. Rolling Stones, Sittin' on a Fence.  A lovely tune. Trigger warning!  Under My Thumb. Eerily appropriate these days: Gimme Shelter

Don Everly at 84, 1937-2021. When Will I Be Loved?

Check out this Fogerty rendition. Great video. The myths of the American West. Bob Dylan, Ain't Talkin': Tribute to the Western.

Nanci Griffith at 68, 1953-2021. Boots of Spanish Leather. Bob would be proud.

B. J. Thomas at 78, 1942-2021. I Just Can't Help Believing

Lloyd Price at 88, 1933-2021. Stagger LeePersonality

Chick Corea at 79, 1941-2021. Armando's Rhumba

Mary Wilson at 76, 1944-2021. Our Day Will Come

Amy Winehouse at 26, 1983-2011, Our Day Will Come, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? A member of the 27 Club.

Jimmie Rodgers at 87. 1933-2021. Honeycomb

Phil Spector at 81, 1939-2021.  The Wall of Sound

Charley Pride at 82, 1938-2021. 

Len Barry at 78, 1942-2020. You Can't Sit Down

Jerry Jeff Walker at 78, 1942-2020. Mr. Bojangles

Spencer Davis at 81, 1939-2020. Gimme Some Lovin'

 

‘Arguable’: a Near-Contronym

'Arguable' is a word that a careful writer, one who strives for clarity of expression, should probably avoid.  I have always used it to mean: it may be plausibly argued that.  But then I noticed that some use it to mean: open to dispute, questionable.  These two meanings, though not polar opposites, are inconsistent.  

The two meanings of  the verb 'cleave,' however, are polar opposites: to stick together (intransitive) and to split apart (transitive).  Merriam-Webster:

Cleave is part of an exclusive lexical club whose members are known as contronyms: words that have two meanings that contradict one another. In the case of cleave the two meanings belong to two etymologically distinct words. One cleave means “to adhere firmly and closely or loyally and unwaveringly,” as in “a family that cleaves to tradition”; it comes from the Old English verb clifian, meaning “to adhere.” The cleave with meanings relating to splitting and dividing comes from a different Old English word, clēofan, meaning “to split.” So although one might assume the two were once cleaved to one another only to become cloven over time, such is not the case!

One is never done learning the mother tongue. Mine is English. I fancy myself a worthy son who honors his mother, a mother who is also a mistress whom I will never master. 

Just the other day, my assiduous editor, Tony Flood, pointed out that my use of 'enjoin' in a manuscript he is helping me prepare for publication, though a correct use, was ambiguous in the manner of 'cleave.'  Now I have a keen nose for ambiguity, both syntactic  and semantic, but this ambiguity had escaped me all these years. The verb 'enjoin' can mean  either "to direct or impose by authoritative order or with urgent admonition" or "forbid, prohibit." I had been laboring under the misapprehension that it carried only the first meaning.

All hail to the mistress we will never master, our alma mater, the matrix of our musings, the sacred enabler of our thoughts.

This is why, to keep with the maternal metaphor, the subversion of language is the mother of all subversion.