The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age

Personal Information

Superpowers
Defies gravity Can spit really far Almost touch my toes Can cut a fly's legs off with a beer cap from 20 paces Know how to say useless stuff and prattle on in a dozen languages Don't know when to shut up
Favorite Quotes
To be for or against the Plague, it's much the same thing. Fiddledee, how a body shure do get around - just 2 weeks ago I was in Mississippi and now I'm all the way to Tennessee... Eat or Be Eaten Better to be pissed off than pissed on.
Biography
Born in swaddling clothes (designer, of course) at the confluence of big waters, my first recorded words were "Dad, can I have the keys to the car?" Raised a Southern Pedestrian, my musical talents were recognized at an early age, leading to my being exiled to the shed out back with a stack of books that became my eddykayshun - advanced readin', writin' & ritmytick, creating a major quandary of "what will I do, oh what will I do?" (Gunslinger) As an old black man advised in song, "You Gotta Move", so move I did, traveling the byways sideways even a lot of driveways, picking up sticks and psychological tics, even movin' to Beverlee through a quaint misunderstanding of the seriousness of TV series, until finally I blew up so big the carry nation incarnation tarnation couldn't hold me no more, so I fixed my sights on yonder sitar, and like Queequeg and Paul Bowles and one of those abducted kids by the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I ventured forth to the larger world, pickin' and grinnin', doin' me some reckonin' and naughts from naughts, occasionally rightin', building me some buildings and wiring and just trying to understand the babble comin' out of people's mouths and heads, I finally ended up in what Rummy quaintly calls "New Europe", which ain't so new from what I sees, but that pit in my stomach from lack-of-moving-sickness finally disappeared, and instead I sit behind a whopping big desk stacked with missives from all the chiefs with big whampum around the world telling me "what's going on". Which seems like a load of boolshit to me, but I guess that's what keeps me busy and entertained now, separatin' the weeds from the chapstick. So my name is Perry Keys, or Peracles to you, and since my mammy always said, "say please and thank you", I added the please, but I'm holdin' back on that thankee until I feel you've earned it. But do welcome, and I hope we's a gonna have a real good time. It all starts with, "I wuz born a poor young white chile livin' in the South..." and we cycle through again, like Nietzsche and his infernal regurgence. So enjoy, and let's spin a spell...

It's Magic: Make America Grate Again

In what looks like the most amazing Rick-Roll of all time, we have to come to grips with the possibility that Trump is creating his own October Surprise with the results he wants. While some have speculated it was his wife who gave up his 20-year-old tax form, it would be much easier for him to do it. The recording? Pull it out of his archive.

Why would Donald go to such effort to self-destruct? Because he was never a real candidate to begin with. Everything he's done was a hyperinflated version of what a real stupid conservative Republican might do - turning up the IOKIYAR meme to 11 was sheer brilliance. Or at least good fun.. That's right, Donald Trump is the political equivalent of Spinal Tap - Spinal Trump, anyone? - compleat with little miniature stonehenges and a bizarre appearance at the Armory. And a tribute to fat bottom girls. 

Donald Drops the Mic

Seems Donald's falling back on the "sun was in myeyes, rock in my shoes, moderator up my ass" level of excuse making. While it's possible someone screwed up the audio levels, it's also possible that someone just doesn't know how to talk into the mic (or put it close to their mouth) - see pic below. (I presume he or his team checked the podium before the debate - my real guess is he wasn't yelling as assertively as usual). Unforced error #14.

Hillary & the Paradox of Teamwork

The trend towards greater teamwork has been extolled in business & management schools for well over 2 decades now, But still when we consider executive pay, leadership, innovation and other qualities, we're laying on sparse praise to the team, hard praise to the leader. It's not the team that makes Facebook - it's Zuckerberg (at the exclusion of even his co-founders). The ghost of Steve Jobs still hovers over Apple, but it's Tim Cook that reigns, not some more amorphous "team". When we talk about Microsoft's success, it's what Bill Gates and Paul Allen did, and what Steve Ballmer and later didn't do.

Pages

Bloggers

AM
Ben
Cho
DF
GFS
HSG
MJS
NCD
rha
TJ
Tom
wws