Harry´s Blog

by Charles Marowitz      (see also Swans Commentary)

Watching the explosive, maniacal, smug faces of the people attending Rush Limbaugh’s recent address at the Conservative Political Action Conference sent shivers down my spine. It was the reincarnation of Father Coughlin, Huey Long, and the Inquisition all rolled into one. Mean, vindictive, hostile, and cruel faces exploded with cheers and applause whenever some banal patriotic sentiment was proclaimed and clearly, had Obama or any of his team been physically present, they would have had to fear for their lives, so vengeful was the opposition ranked against them.

It is impossible — and useless even if it were possible — to dispute the ideas discharged like cannonballs into the midst of such a mob. They weren’t what you might call “ideas.” They were bombastic bursts of political clichés, one more antediluvian than the last, and detonated for maximum effect; not what you might call coherent planks in a political platform. It gave jingoism an entirely new dimension and reminded one of Dr. Johnson’s incontestable maxim: “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel” — although in Limbaugh’s case, it was also the first shot out of his rusty musket.
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Gratitude is due to Nimrod
for making all this possible.

I consider my translation activities as an extension of my own poetic output.
There are occasions when I identify with the poems I translate so closely
that I feel that the poets speak for me.

Ilse Aichinger

Zugehörig

Meine schwarzen Pferde,
die ich weiden sehe,
die für mich davonweiden
ins Holz, in die Algen,
meine Tiere,
die mich hindern
zu bestehen, die entzwei reiten,
was kommt,
die das kennen,
weil sie meine sind
und sonst nichts.

Belonging

My black horses
that I see grazing,
grazing away for me
into the wood, into the seaweed,
my animals that keep me
from being, that trample under foot
whatever appears,
know nothing but this
because they are mine
and nothing else.

Thomas Bernhard

Gefangen

Der Rabe schreit.
Er hat mich gefangen.
Immer muß ich in seinem Schrei
durch das Land ziehn.
Der Rabe schreit.
Er hat mich gefangen.
Gestern saß er im Acker und fror
und mein Herz mit ihm.
Immer schwärzer wird mein Herz,
denn es ist von schwarzen Flügeln
zugedeckt.

Imprisoned

The raven shrieks.
He has captured me.
I must go through the land forever
in his cry.
The raven shrieks.
He has captured me.
Yesterday he perched in the fields and froze,
and my heart with him.
My heart blackens more and more
because it is enfolded
in his black wings.

Heinrich Eggerth

Die Rache des Odysseus

Seine Frau glaubte tatsächlich
die Sage von seinem Mut,
sie zweifelte nicht an seinem
Glück, seiner Schlauheit,
sie hielt in tatsächlich
für geistvoll und tüchtig.
Er blickte sie an, von der
Seite. Dann revanchierte er sich
und glaubte an ihre Treue.

Odysseus’ Revenge

His wife did indeed believe
the myth of his courage, she
did not doubt his
good fortune, his cunning,
she indeed considered him
clever and diligent.
He looked at her obliquely
and then he got even with her
by believing in her fidelity.

Stephan Eibel Erzberg

einstimmig

der revolver sitzt locker
die kugel auch
aus diesem grunde
wird niemand erschossen
die kugel kränkt sich
punkt

harmony

the pistol’s primed
so’s the bullet
and that’s why
no one’ll be shot
the bullet’s piqued
period

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Mike’s Letter

This is from a letter I received some years ago from the late Emile (Mike) Capouya, who was my friend and mentor. I inserted it in my non-fiction novel, “Der Auschluss: Memoiren eines Neununddreissigers” (Memoirs of a 39er: a novel of sorts).

“In the course of your literary adventures, you take up with terrible people, partly due to good will and naiveté, and partly because you feel compelled to embrace whatever possibilities seem to present themselves in such questionable individuals. Blank is a good example of the kind of man you would do well to avoid, and you have often given me accounts of other associates who make him look good.”

Mike went on.

“You seem to have come to the point where you can begin to see that your long struggle has been misguided. You are a worthy member of a noble calling, a novelist, a poet, a playwright, a translator and you have never trafficked in trash. You are unfit to be a star because you are not a clown, a showman or an inspired ham. The fact that some good writers are household names, is under our conditions a coincidental; most of the household names are clever-stupid people.”

German Translation

“Im Laufe Deiner literarischen Abenteuer hast Du Dich mit furchtbaren Leuten eingelassen - teils aus Gutmütigkeit und Naivität, teils, weil Du glaubst, alle Möglichkeiten, die sich Dir bieten, ergreifen zu müssen. Blank hättest Du besser aus dem Weg gehen sollen, und Du hast mir öfters von anderen Verbindungen erzählt, die sogar ärger waren.”

Und Mike fuhr Fort:

“Du scheinst an einem Punkt angelangt zu sein, an dem Du endlich begreifst, daß Dich Dein langer Kampf in die Irre geführt hat. Du bist ein würdiges Mitglied eines edlen Berufsstandes - Romancier, Lyriker, Dramatiker, Übersetzer - und Du hast Dich nie mit Schund befaßt. Du bist nicht zum Star geeignet, weil Du kein Clown, kein Schmierenkomödiant bist und Dich nicht in Szene setzen kannst. Die Tatsache, daß einige gute Autoren in der Öffentlichkeit bekannt sind, ist ein Zufall, denn die meisten bekannten Autoren sind geistreich-stupide Leute.”

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Herbert Kuhner

Van Gogh’s predominant color is yellow, yellow as bright as the sun when it’s at its brightest.

In spite of the fact that his brother Theo was an art dealer, he never had an exhibit and he sold only one painting. He lived in the good old days of art, and many of his contemporaries did well. I don’t want to name them here, because every man named would share the shame of not having helped him.

Now, when art is in its last throes, and the charlatans and hucksters are driving the knife in, Van Gogh’s paintings are sold and auctioned off for millions. This is an obscenity. Van Gogh’s work has become just another commodity.

Like many geniuses, Van Gogh could not master life. And as far as love is concerned, he fell for the wrong woman time and time again.

Toward the end, an art dealer recognized the value of his work and waited to be able to exploit him posthumously.

The man’s daughter offered to pose for Van Gogh in the nude. Posing was not her only intention. She wanted to reveal herself as a prelude to being deflowered. She had fallen in love, and passion had given her the courage to be foolhardy.

But instead of opting for the joy of viewing her nudity, painting her and taking the love she offered, he refused.

The pretext was that her father would not approve, which certainly would have been the case. The art dealer had plans for his daughter. And they did not include modeling in the nude or squandering her virginity on the moribund artist. Nor did he wish to delay the artist’s departure.

The truth is that Van Gogh was too far gone to respond. Instead of taking another chance on life, he chose death.

Herbert Kuhner

My very best friend has a picture of George and Laura in his office. I let him know that as long as that photo remained in that place of honor, I’d have one of that charming couple Adolf and Eva H. in my bedroom.

Okay put Adolf down, but lay off Eva! Wasn’t her love as pure as can be? Adolf may have been a monster to others, but he was Eva’s ideal. Isn’t that what true love is about?! Loving someone in spite of all his imperfections. Well, needless to say, Adolf isn’t exactly my favorite historical figure, so I’ll leave that romance be.

Back to George! He’s an anathema to me, and I can’t stop using him as negative subject-matter.

Strangely enough, the friend I mentioned is not the only friend I have who has such a lapse in taste. But I should make a resolution to stop rubbing it in. Don’t the Bush adherents suffer enough? Do they need me to make matters worse?

Herbert Kuhner

Concerning Sarah Palin and Choice:
“We’re proud of Bristol’s decision to have her baby.”
That’s fine, but Palin wants to remove “choice” as an option
and John McCain has pledged to appoint Supreme Court justices
who would overturn Roe vs. Wade.

Not all conservatives are on the anti-abortion tack.
CC Goldwater tells about her granddad:
“My grandfather (Barry) would never suggest
denying a woman’s right to choose.
My grandmother co-founded Planned Parenthood
in Arizona in the 1930’s, a cause my grandfather supported.”

McCain made sense in ‘99: “But certainly in the short term,
or even the long term, I would not support repeal
of Roe v. Wade, which would then force X number of women
in America to [undergo] illegal and dangerous operations.”
That made sense, but the tune has very definitely changed.

Pat Robertson, a deceased preacher-man explained God’s wrath:
“The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this (9/11)
because God will not be mocked.
And when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies,
we make God mad. I really believe that the pagans,
and the abortionists, and the feminists,
and the gays and the lesbians
who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle,
the ACLU, People for the American Way - all
of them who have tried to secularize America -
I point the finger in their face and say,
‘You helped this happen.’”

Senator Tom Coburn of Oklahoma has a drastic view:
“I favor the death penalty for abortionists
and other people who take life.”
And Coburn on “the pink menace”:
“The gay community has infiltrated
the very centers of power in every area across this country,
and they wield extreme power …
That agenda is the greatest threat to our freedom that we face today.
Why do you think we see the rationalization for abortion and multiple sexual partners?
That’s a gay agenda.”

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(Let’s listen to Joe the Plumber!)

No fool can be as much a fool
as the wise man off keel.

Granting that adage, we unfortunately cannot cast all wisdom aside. What we need is wisdom without wise men.

In the US there are sentiments against “eggheads” Anti-intellectualism is on the move in seven-league boots, which is nothing new.

The simple Joe has it over the wimpy grad.

The salt of the earth is the spice we like most.

There’s a way to keep things under control. Not everyone in academe has to be an egghead. We can dilute the elite with an army of non-eggheads. I hate to use the antonym “lowbrow.” It sounds so low.

Elena Ceauşescu was a school dropout. One of the courses she failed was “needlework.”
But look, in spite of her flawed schoolwork and needlework, she rose to the heights. She even received a PhD, and after she got it, she went to night school in order to catch up.

Elena’s career didn’t stop with that achievement. She rose to the heights of academe, and the honors came flowing her way.

Are there any objections? Didn’t she look the part? She may have been a bit rough-hewn, but she behaved in a gracious and sophisticated manner - to those who were her “peers” - as well as to those who were on the right side of her.

What’s that! Someone ventures to say that she wasn’t the real McCoy!

How about canning that!

Do we really need those dopey eggheads? Does everyone have to have a bona fide education?

It would be great if we could have some common-sense lowbrows next to the eggheads in academe. We need to keep them in line - and on keel.

The Egghead as Heavy

Film villains who played gangsters could make it big like Cagney, Bogie and Edward G. Ditto for villains who played monsters like Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff. Then there was the Erich von Stroheim who was the man you loved to hate. After his career as a director went on the skids, with a little help from himself, the war came as a windfall. He cashed in on propaganda films, along with the newly-arrived emigrés, since Europeans with nasty accents were needed to play Nazi officers.

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