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Showing posts with label Jack Neworth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack Neworth. Show all posts

Friday, 27 September 2013

History repeats: The Republicans are saying the same thing Marie Antoinette said, "Let them eat cake."


This is a column by Jack Neworth.  He's comparing today's politicians to Marie Antoinette, when she said: "Let them eat cake." Now the Republicans want shamelessly pass a bill to cut the food-stamp program. it's a very well thought out column.  
I’ve tried to stay clear of politics lately to avoid running the risk of receiving a reader e-mail that begins with, “Dear Idiot.” But, to quote Al Pacino from “Godfather III,” “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
Last week, while I was blithely writing about pizza, House Republicans were blithely passing a bill cutting food stamps by $40 billion and kicking 3.8 million people out of the program by 2014. “Why of course,” I muttered to myself, “socking it to the poor is the solution. How else can we pay for all our wars, like Iraq?”
The cuts are supposed to save $40 billion over 10 years. Meanwhile, in Iraq, the Bush administration admitted losing $17 billion in a few weeks. Just lost. Gone. Disappeared. And they weren’t even ashamed. Imagine how many kids in America who go to bed hungry at night that $17 billion could have fed. Shameful.
Keep in mind, every time a bridge in the U.S. collapses (which is almost daily) we’re completely rebuilding Iraq’s infrastructure. Only in America. (Actually, only in Iraq.)
Currently, income inequality in America has never been greater. The middle class is essentially disappearing and the top 1 percent own 40 percent of the country’s wealth. Mystifying as it might seem, the answer for many is to cut benefits to the poor in a bizarre “reverse Robin Hood.”
Among those in favor of these cuts are folks who call themselves Christians. It’s ironic because one of the themes Jesus stressed over and over was helping the poor. I’m reminded of the Woody Allen joke, “If Jesus ever returned to Earth and saw what was being done in his name he’d never stop throwing up.”
As I sit back and watch this attack on the poor, I recall someone in history who was famous for her cavalier attitude toward the hungry — Marie Antoinette. For those unfamiliar, Marie was queen of France from 1770 to 1792. (Before that she had a series of odd jobs like duchess and dauphine, etc.) While at first she was admired by the populous for her charm and beauty, she soon became hated because of her lavish spending during times of famine.
Actually, it was worse. France was badly in debt because of the Seven Years’ War. (What will history call our conflict in Afghanistan, the “13 Years War?”) When told the poor were rioting because they had no bread to eat, Marie was reported to have said casually, “Let them eat cake.” For some reason this didn’t go over very well with the masses.
In retrospect, it’s safe to say that, given a chance, Marie might have chosen her words a little more carefully as she helped cause the French Revolution. Hubby Louis XVI was deposed and the monarchy was abolished entirely on Sept. 21, 1792. And, eight months after her husband’s execution, Marie was tried, convicted and, on Oct. 16, 1793, was executed by guillotine. (Giving rise to the expression, “Don’t stick your neck out.”)
But Marie packed a lot of laughs into her 37 years. She was married at 14, played the harpsichord, spinet, clavichord and harp, sang French songs and Italian arias and was an accomplished dancer. (If she were around today she’d be ideal for “Dancing with the Stars” or “Real Housewives Without Heads.”)
So maybe Marie was rather careless with her words, what with the infamous “let them eat cake” crack. But maybe not. Many historians speculate that the quote might have originated with angry French peasants and spread throughout the realm via the TMZ of that era. (Imagine Harvey Levin in the late 18th century. No thanks.)
Given Marie’s lack of “simpatico” with the masses, here are some tips she might offer today’s poor about the challenge of getting along without food:
• Call it “fasting.” (So much nicer than “starving.”)
• Think of “minuscule portions” as the latest diet craze.
• Share a lentil with a friend.
• Less food, less dishes to clean.
• Think of “dumpster diving” as exercise. We could call it, “pilates for the poor.”
• No embarrassing moments with food stamps at the checkout stand.
• Skinny people live longer.
• Forget lugging groceries from the car. (Assuming you have a car.)
• Enjoy all the extra hours you’ll have without meal time.
• And feel good; you’re not losing a dinner, you’re paying for a foreign war.
To see Al Pacino’s rant in “Godfather III,” go to YouTube and type, “Just when I thought I was out.” He practically eats the scenery, which, now that I think of it, might be the Tea Party’s advice to the poor.
- See more at: http://smdp.com/laughing-matters-marie-antoinettes-top-10-tips/127422#sthash.oIIzGngq.dpuf

Friday, 1 February 2013

Super Bowl XLVII - SURPER BOWL 47

TO MY READERS:  I came across this article in Santa Monica's Daily News Press.  I found it amusing.  In the meantime I learned things that I didn't know about them.  In my household my family members are not interested much to watch the Super Bowl.  I like to watch the commercials.  In any case have a great Super Bowl Sunday.

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(Courtesy NFL)
JANUARY 31, 2013 5:32 PM
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(Courtesy NFL)
In case you’ve just come out of a coma, this Sunday is Super Bowl XLVII. Julius Caesar would instantly know how many years that represents, but personally I find it annoying. It’s all because Pete Rozelle, the late NFL commissioner, following Super Bowl III felt using Roman numerals would give the game some class. (He clearly saw himself as the Nero of the NFL.)
For those also Roman numerically-challenged XLVII is Super Bowl 47. Super Bowl 99 will be XCIX and 98 will be XCVIII. Sheesh. No wonder the Roman Empire fell.
Ironically the first Super Bowl was in 1967 and was played in Los Angeles. I say “ironically” because we haven’t had a professional football team here since the end of 1994. (Unless, of course, you count USC.)
The NFL says we won’t get a team until we build a new stadium. I’ve got an idea. Why not, when the lease is up, use the land at the Santa Monica Airport? There’s tons of space and it’s freeway close.
OK, maybe it’s a bit far fetched, but at least it’s better than perennial City Council candidate Jon Mann’s idea of turning it into a giant pot farm. (Though I still like the notion of calling it Stoner Park.)
Since 1967, how upscale has the Super Bowl become? In that first game the most expensive ticket was $12. Today it’s $1,250 face value. Actually some desperate fans will wind up paying scalpers $5,000 a ticket. Meanwhile corporate suites go for a mere $300,000. (Ah, the perks of being a 1 percenter.)
In 1967 a 30-second TV commercial cost $42,000. Today it’s $3,850,000. That’s a lot of Bud Light and Nachos Bell Grande that has to be sold. (But fortunately we Americans are up to the challenge.) Speaking of expensive, in a commercial I’m looking forward to, the luscious Kate Upton is pitching Mercedes. Surprise, surprise it’s reportedly quite steamy. So steamy that I can just picture a Mercedes showroom the day after the Super Bowl as a salesman talks to a prospective male customer. “What sold you on Mercedes? Was it the elegance, high resale value or the state of the art technology?” “Uh, well actually it was Kate Upton’s breasts.”
Sunday’s game is being played in New Orleans and for only the second time in history, the Super Bowl coincides with Mardi Gras. (They’re calling it “Super Gras.”) Given the two “holidays” do you think there will be much partying on Bourbon Street? Nah.
The Big Easy expects 1 million visitors and an economic windfall of more than $1 billion. (Plus the cost of all the beads drunken guys on hotel balconies in the French Quarter will throw to drunken girls on the street who will then flash their boobs. While I live in a high rise, somehow I don’t think it would work in Santa Monica.)
Unfortunately on media day this past Tuesday Sports Illustrated broke a story linking Raven’s linebacker Ray Lewis to performance enhancing drugs, specifically deer-antler spray. (I couldn’t make this stuff up, folks.)
Apparently a growth substance in deer antlers is the strongest in the mammal world. I say “unfortunately” for two reasons. One, the last thing the NFL needs is a performance enhancing drug controversy. And two, I somehow don’t think the extraction of the antlers is voluntary on the deer’s part. Apparently, the spray is most effective under the tongue. So if you see a super buff athlete near you spraying something into his or her mouth, there’s a  chance it’s not Binaca.
But beneath the glitz and glamour of the NFL, an $11 billion industry and the Super Bowl, the most-watched TV program of the year, there is an even darker story than PEDs. Whereas the Romans fed the Christians to the lions, today we feed them to linebackers.
I’m referring to chronic traumatic encephalopathy, fancy words for the damage repeated concussions have on the brain. CTE causes dementia, memory loss, aggression, depression, and, as in the recent case of Junior Seau and many others, suicide.
After years of promoting the game’s “biggest hits” on TV highlight programs and through DVD sales, the NFL has finally taken steps to reduce concussions. (Being sued by 6,000 former players and their families might have been of some motivation.)
My solution is to make football single platoon as it once was, wherein athletes play both offense and defense. Because of conditioning issues, the humongous size of the players would reduce dramatically as would the damage they inflict. I have a feeling this idea will be greeted with the same “enthusiasm” as my “build a stadium at the Santa Monica Airport,” but at least I tried.
Hurry, get the chips and dip, the Super Bowl kickoff is less than 48 hours away. Depending on who you’re rooting for, go Ravens or go 49ers, or, in my case, go Kate Upton.
Jack can be reached at jnsmdp@aol.com