 Elm Street
Pitching the bull at bethshort dotcom the other night has brought me back to the whole Kennedy thing, again. Certianly this is our greatest and most baffling unsolved murder. And the road show contiunes to play to rapt internet audiences, and even in my absence have aquired an interesting academic patina, having moved to winter in up Minnesota with the emminent Dr. Fetzer. Hence the metaphysical approach. And there you have it. But wait, there's movie news here: Some very interesting study with the Zapruder film, however which has frozen up the work worse than the winter we're having in the Short case, by asking the terrible question; "If the Zapruder film was faked, where does that leave the original Warren Commission doubters?
Nowhere, that's where. If it's true, and it seems to be, the plotters have surely had the time to do anything their crude technology allowed to it, but to what end? Is the stabilized version some kind of high tech fake? Maybe, I surely don't think the limo driver shot anybody, but I do think he stops the limo very suddenly, and doesn't hit the the gas pedal again until Kennedy is good and dead. Why? I can't imagine. I also also saw the film of the Secret Service agent being ordered off the bumper of the limo, standing down, and protesting in a gesture familial to any Federal employee, at Love Field. Run goverment like a business? Huh? Try running it like a government for a change. Nyet? Start here.
The Men who killed Kennedy documentary was, to me, the closest to the truth of the JFK assassination. The final three chapters are particularly compelling, the one presenting fingerprint evidence was my favorite. Who dosen't like fingerprint evidence? Not me. Of course the death of JFK achieved it's own mythic literary apex with the publication of the discrepancy concerning the sheets they wrapped the body in Dallas not being sheets at all, but rather a plastic body bag when they arrived at Bethesda Naval Hospital for an hastily arranged post mortem on the deceased president. Neither was he in the same casket. As a dead one he, with an head wound, would attend also. They wrapped Tim Finnegan in sheets, too, and laid him out on the table but he shook them off in his curious craythur wake.
Oliver Stone is another hero in the piece. The most important film ever made, JFK is a spectacular attempt to tell the whole story as we, the doubters, knew it must have happened. The film deserves propers for so many things, we forget about the ton of shit he's had to take for it from every rightwing nut in from the rain. From priggish reactionaries like Michael Medved to the nearly autistic Arkansas project cast-offs like Gerald Posner for what is at this time still the singe finest, clearest and most cohesive narrative version of the proven conspiracy as it actually unfolded in Dallas and elsewhere, given the limitations of the medium for useful polemic ibid. Yup, death threats, too. It's already been shown in most high schools and will some day represent uncontested fact, rather than admitted fiction. For this reason it should already be considered for the best film ever made, and soon. Citizen Kane? Please.
The thing about a murder conspiracy at such an high level, that forces the entire government into the maintainence of the cover story. This goes on willing through the politically adaptive sorts and the winers will find something else to whine about unless real proof emerges, in which case they will attempt first to shout it down in the press. As such it's ongoing. It was basicly picked up by the GOP when they put Nixon in, another of the plotters, the killing continued and will until the assassination eyewitnesses list finally has a death from natural causes. The body count has risen to over two hundred in Texas alone. The Southern strategy, I'd be worried that collapse of the Bush presidency might begin a whole new round of shootings across the south when who pipes up, but the bridge over troubled water, the effing New York Times.
November 22,2007 would see the Gray Lady, the newspaper of record, of all things, weigh in with yet another new interpretation of the suddenly suspect film lending it's considerable Whitewater/Heftybag credibilty to the millionth reassertion of the absurd lone nut theory. Don't you believe it. Part of the old Eastern liberal media establishment? Haw! They're just warming up for the Hitlery death count? The return of the vast rightwing conspiracy? Surely. The whole right "wing thing" is all over Zapruder's film, wherein you watch as expert rifle marksmen maKe Jack flap his wings and do the chicken dance. That's before they set him back up like a varmint with a tap on the back of his head from behind and then blew the right side of his head out with a tampered with .22 shell from the right front for pre-fasctist photogenics.
Arrah, and there's trouble here, Cherie! Massachussetts? Welcome to a truly great state of mass. Never get out of the scull. The laid back sixties on Boston commons: Like L.A. today; a town so Tim Ed Lee Leary, they called the river Charles and the bank BoB. Harvard hovered above Cambridge, MA. The Boston Strangler was an Albert D'Salvo. Yet they framed him as the Green Man of arcana. Birth home of the trancendentalist movement past the park in American philsophy, by which the nation was raised above slavery and enslaved to wages. New England was the home of parisimony as we know it over here. Their witchy glamor was truly dark and unescapable as they fanned out to fight off the European fascists who had by then joined with yellow imperialists in Nippon, and were threatening the shipping lanes, resulting in some temporary Anglophilia during the war. Bette and Jack? I couldn't find it.
Bette was dirt poor and not a very ambitious sort, she had dropped out in ninth grade, and seeming had only wanted a wedding ring and a marrage license. A midge too far, any bum'll do...While Jackie Bouvier had all the desired qualities of father abandonment and no money seen in the mid-American century to which Bette never lived to see Saw. But she was always there. She was and is noir itself, the very riddle of the Black Dahlia. Why? Even a child knows there's no such thing as a black dahlia. Her place is as well defined and cut as deeply in our secret cultural history as her namesake Lizzie. Jack had his own set of parental luggage. An important subject again, with a woman president being proposed for next year. Bless her. Incidently, Brad Delp's suicide last year has gone down hard with the classic rocker set. That we're still troubled by it reason enough to watch those geezers, and if they express any suicidal ideations, get them some help.
 Z230: Kennedy does the Chicken Dance.
8:05:28 AM 
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