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I'm anti-pundit. Yes, even your pundit. I don't even like the word: Pundit.

I'm pro-science. It's only science when it's acknowledged as more likely or less likely. It's only science as long as the proof continues to be tried and true.

I believe that the future is created from a combination of the past and actions performed in the present. This means anything is possible, only some of those things require more energy to become real.

Yet, for some crazy compulsive reason, I wrote an entire book of what can only be described as "divination." See the bulk of it here, if you're curious. 
Even though I've come to realize I'm a pretty crappy writer, I still have had my moments. I recently finished typing one of my more finished notebooks, an incomprehensible mash up of beatnik noise and goofball archetypes, titled "The Temptation of Hermes Trismegistus"

When I came upon this line, which is repeated, probably inadvertently, twice in the book, I was proud of the concise and unexpected poetry of the phrasing. I saw at once that it had become, throughout my life, one of the dozen or so key phrases of my life, and the more I examined it, the more I saw within it.

I'm not sure the photo has anything to do with anything, though.
 

After all the sexy cheesecake images I include, I thought I'd throw in something for the "ladies."

Fritzi examines my intentions for bias and sexism!
Gee whiz, Aunt Fritzi! I'm doing the best I can!
At least I'm polite, right?
Even if I sneak a peek at a tempting ankle on display, I invite others to admire the view before I ogle the objectified anatomy myself.
By way of apology, I offer here a Calendar Girl whom we can all admire for her sassy good humor and selfless wit.
 
I hear you loud and clear! What was that?
Don't ghost me, bros and sistahs, REPLY! Or better yet, give me a friendly call on the phone.
 I'm YOUR FRIEND! 
Mackenna's Gold!
A forgotten mega-flop from the dying days of ultra-racist Westerns (1969, to be precise,) Mackenna's Gold features a very irritated Gregory Peck phoning in a hackneyed character who is vaguely coerced into helping a murderous bandit, played with the least amount of menace possible by Omar Sharif, find a lost canyon of Apache Gold.

I was instantly in love with this movie, which I watched in high definition Panavision splendor on the Criterion Channel, because of the incredible landscape shots that open it. I love the American West so much that I can't be reasonable about it. My heart hurts with inexpressible longing whenever I see that landscape, wild and immense, barren and savage, even if the landscape is spoiled by ultra-racist depictions of "Indians" acting all noble and savage-- in this movie by actors so white they had to paint them various shades of brown, including Ted Cassidy and her majesty Julie Newmar, who trots around in frumpy buckskins (aside: how horribly hot do clothes look in Westerns?) until her big, murky nude scene, swimming around trying to kill a blonde rival with a knife.

My mind wasn't on the dumb story, but was intrigued enough by the promise of the great landscapes promised by a quest for a lost canyon, so I followed it. They did their best to entertain us, including a long scene with a large group of great actors doing cameos (Edward G. Robinson, Raymond Massey (his last film), and Burgess Meredith, who did not say "Phooey!"), many little scrapes, misfortunes, battles, and chases, but when you think of films of greatness, that actually made money in 1969--Henry Hathaway's True Grit (1969), Tom Gries' Will Penny (1968), Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West (1968), Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch (1969)-- it becomes obvious this kind of movie is only for those of us willing to excuse the faults of a movie as long as we can wallow in the beloved past. That's me, plus an excuse to glory in the landscapes I love. So I was enjoying it.

Until the shocking, tragic ending, that is. This was not the intention of the makers of this expensive flop. It lost about 10 million dollars at the box office. And the tragic ending was surely responsible for more than a few of those dollars, plus: they demolish, with explosives, an entire canyon somewhere, as you can glimpse in the gif above. I was watching this jaw-dropping crime against nature, and found it hard to believe, since they clumsily mixed in models and matte shots with they few precious frames of film they got of blowing up a canyon. But I looked it up on IMDB, and yes, they bought a canyon and blew it up. 

How horrible is that? Never complain to me about digital effects in movies. The old days, when they tortured and maimed animals, drove trucks all over the desert, and even blew up canyons? Much worse.

 

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