Picturing women

Like Squadron Cmdr. C. Wade McClusky, Jr. @ Battle of Midway, sometimes you just get lucky!  Past several weeks have seen bevy of lovely lady portraits which instruct one how best to spotlight beauty inherent in one form of grace - a good woman.

Rule #1: Happy-looking women are not truly beautiful

To right is Frances Conroy - fine actress who has made living looking washed-up.  Literally case, by the way, in minor role as laundry woman Mom to Billy Bathgate film protagonist.  Eye-catching look aside, nary a soul would bet $ this mature gal is prepping for D. Carnegie seminar and/or cheerleader reunion. 

Right, wrong or indifferent, happiness connotes giddiness, which, in turn, is associated with a girl, not a woman.  Ergo, Barbie doll zone is excluded - rightfully, I might say - from beauty pantheon.

Rule #2: Age - within reason - enhances beauty

Young women can be fetching, but hard to be truly epitomy of best in non-Y chromo category.  How dare say you, sir?  Proof, I kindly submit, is in form of Paulina Porizkova to left.  As '80's ( ... '90's?) supermodel, quite sexy, but, 20 years down the line, allure factor up more than compound interest on my Berkshire Hathaway shares!

Rule #3: Irregularities are friend, not foe, of feminine allure

Scottish golf teacher once opined, "If you've got an irregular flaw, get rid of it, but, if it kicks in like clockwork, then polish it to a high shine!". 

Point is that imperfection can be quite useful if harnessed properly or, in this milieu, depicted flatteringly.  Such is case with recent zaftig Olympic sensation, Leisel Jones (above left), from Down Under & spankin' freckles on the lass.  Would this photo be nearly as memorable without them?  Shan't think so, me laddie.

Rule #4: Teeth - showing, not having - are vastly overrated

Know stereotype, beyond twirling hair and/or throwin' head back, is that a full set of Dentyne chompers only enhances.  Think, though, know reason for said discovery - closed mouth allow ladies to express more emotion thru their visages.  "Eyes are window to the soul" ... saying goes and doubly so when woman involved.

Rule #5: Ladies look best with pearls about the neck

Demonstrated thricely in this entry + underscored right per portrait from little known Leonid Krivitsky, is gold-plated fact that nothing enhances a woman's beauty more than some nice pearls about the neck.  Diamonds can be pretty, but - between luster & textural appeal possessed - pearls are to women what chapstick is for lips - something which is never a bad idea to have laying around.

Thus it has been idiosyncratically written, but might I ask for 15 mins. + a nice/hot roast beef sandwich before stoning commences!

Sat. 07 July 2012 TV survey ... maybe Marshall McLuhan was (partially) wrong?

"The medium is the message" opined, famously, my fellow Canuck, Mr. (Herbert) Marshall McLuhan.  During academic career capped by appointment to Tim Horton Chair for Linguistics + Yeast-Raised Donuts @ Univ. of Toronto [just kidding re staple of Canadian diet], Prof. McLuhan unleashed concept that content was secondary in new electronic age to that which conveyed it, i.e. message was transmuted by medium.

Perhaps mainstream TV fare of inbred relatives bitch-slapping one another for new refrigerator w/ ice dispenser and/or infomericals hawkin' acne cure + excess celluite reduction w/ only two daily tablets, still hue to above.  My, admittedly, iconoclastic survey today would give evidence that content still can prevail on margins.

1.)  C-SPAN2 Book TV focus on David Pietrusza

For 3 delightful hours ( ... and available still via web replay) this witty non-academic was allowed to expound upon his considerable body of work ['Silent Cal', left, being amongst orbit of subjects tackled] in manner which would have made ole Billy Buckley's 'Firing Line' look truncated by comparison.  Besides inanity of cranks calling-in to expound uselessly on their cabal/plot du jour, the format is about as stricken of artifice as my old accomodations in 'The Big House' were plush.  :)  Understood programming such as such will never be Nielsen jump-starter, but point is it does exist for the politically Jacques Cousteau-motivated amongst us.

2.)  U.S. Women's Open on NBC

Between the advertisements visually littering most professional venues & lack of any aesthetic appeal save retro-themed ballparks or "the mighty tundra of Lambeau Field", most sporting events start-off (pardon pun) w/ 2 strikes.  Golf can escape such because of beauty in design of course played.  This weekend wonderful example exists w/ highlighting of Pete Dye's Blackwolf Run layout in Kohler, WI.  Though lacking aesthetic fireworks of next door's Whistling Straits, many a golf writer has commented that Blackwolf is actually superior track.  Also should be noted that despite Korean players dominating field & being festooned w/ more endorsement patches than average Formula One race car, companies ponying-up for 38th parallel swingers are mostly unknown to U.S. audiences ergo crass visual commercialism avoided by-and-large.

3.)  Errol Morris' 'The Fog Of War'

When your humble scribe was a testosterone-fueled pup, surefire strategy was inviting some comely lass of academic bent [ ... think black leggings, beret & complaints re battlin' "middle class sensibilities"] to art house 'fill-um'.  This move was 3x-winner: Showed your gal you were serious (sic egg-headed) chap, ensured you didn't waste 2 hrs.+ feigning interest in something which would make Eugene O'Neill wretch & fed $'s to worthy artists.  In larger metropoles, probably there still exist these type of places but old men such as I neither have leisure time nor inclination to patronize.  Fortunately endless permutations of cable channels necessitate that even documentary fare gets decent rotation on programming guide & I've had chance - this past week - to drink deeply (again) from above due to 3x shown in 5 day period.  In terms of cinematic technique, Mr. Morris' take on ex-Sec. of Defense makes 'My Dinner With Andre' look like DeMille production.  Quite literally 90% of movie is single shot of R.M. speaking directly into camera ( ... and E.M. allowing gent's own words to twist endlessly in the wind latter fella's historical memory, but I digress).

As the great 'Bard of Baltimore', H.L. Mencken once titled one of his best books, would not arge that above certainly is Minority Report.  That said, nonetheless pleased to find codicil to McLuhan's dictum in hinterlands of today's electronic media.

p.s. re M. McLuhan:  In fact-checking above, struck by note that Canadian prof had life-altering encounter reading work of G.K. Chesterton & cited such as impetus to return fully to Catholic Church.  Only know G.K.C. in passing, but once bumped into Robert Bork @ old D.C. National Airport as learned jurist perused bio of English writer.  Hmmn?

Mornings in Marcell, Mn: An appreciation

Serendipity of internet rears its heads with almost same frequency as I encounter pleasant + cogent coffeehouse waitstaff, but occasionally the mighty Shiva shakes loose a real beaut.  Such is case most delightfully @ http://shadowscapetruth.blogspot.com/.

Effort of one Mr. D. Swanson, happened upon only while searching-out some background on lovely Graycliff G2 Turbo (6" x 60) I enjoyed.  Gent's a professional photographer livin' in way north part of the Gopher state; makes my winter sojourns to Fairmont look like springtime in St. Louis by comparison.

Recommend perusing blog when time permits leisurely stroll as there's much to savor between finely rendered nudes, cigar write-up's & non-McGovernite political musings.  Chap definitely has a 'clean' eye - nary a tarted-up hussy crosses the lens.  Ladies highlighted all have similar aesthetic appeal, best to say, of F. Lloyd Wright structure depicted in naturalistic setting.

Images here just a visual tapas of sorts, but fellow advertises his services for array of different occasions.  On my regular read list & suggest my burgeoning number of blog cadres line-up for standard imbibing of this Mn man's highly enjoyable efforts.

The People have spoken ... let zaftig lasses reign!

Wow. This new Blogger format is more revolutionary than anything down the pike since Copernicus was a pup!  I was able to organize old pieces quicker than Mitt Romney puts on his secret underwear union suit each AM ... and that's pretty gosh darn speedy, bud!  Seriously, I was prompted to get back in the saddle, so to speak, after receiving lovely note from one of my cult followers.  Did not realize, however, that software fueling this Faulkner-esque effort had changed.  Usually - being premature crank by nature - I associate anything altered w/ immediate degradation in quality along lines of today's models v. yester year's pin-ups. Here, however, I'm pleasantly surprised.

One software update is I can track how many 'hits' per entry and, therefore, derive rough approximation of that which satiates most my followers. The verdict, in this regard, is crystalline ... my cadres dig, respectively, rubenesque gals, golf & Tiger trashing. Somewhat taken aback cigar chat fared so poorly, but - like Sarah Palin once said - even the nicest pair of pantyhose can get a run in 'em if you use as garrote on political foe.

So pledge, henceforth, to litter future pages w/ veritable Sizzler Buffet of tasteful zaftig gal images both as nod to my peeps' preference & in honor of subject matter. Tiger-bashing, unfortunately, will come/go as Mr. Woods' (poor) behavior merits. Current success mitigates any juicy entries as that hypocritical gent usually doesn't let down guard till after perpetual level of success temporarily abandons him. Saying is if God really was interested in money, then explain why He gave it to those who are rich? Same is case for golf talent, sad to say, vis-a-vis TW.

Until next time & special thanks, again, to Mr. John O. for his note.

David Lynch takes over Sunday NY Times magazine!

How else can one explain today's KY 'Photo Essay' other than short of a palace coup, of sorts, @ the paper of record? Don't get me wrong; I love cornbread, a good poke at the inbred & bourbon. However this black & white jaunt thru the Bluegrass state is just plain mean; see montage right. All these folks probably would've been turned away as 'Coal Miner's Daughter' extras because - although film wanted authentic - 100% holler denizen would be a bit much for silver screen. Appears this clan has had the shack enrobed by kudzu for a more eco-friendly effect, so got to give them some props for that. Parlor game, too, in evaluating this image is determination of relationship between the far two figures as that of mother/son, brother/sister, cousins of some strip or proverbial 'D', i.e. all of the above. [Okay, admittedly that's a cheap shot, but I couldn't resist.]

Seriously, there is a pictorial way to show people of lesser (almost no) means & allow them, also, a modicum of dignity. Think of or look back upon Walker Evans' seminal Let Us Now Praise Famous Men from his WPA days. This high exposure jaunt, however, is a casting call strictly for appalachian underbelly. Gander due right at this macabre scene and then tell me the subtext is anywhere near Norman Rockwell's psychological zip code? No, it doesn't need to be 100% apple pie, the flag & a Chevy pickup to be considered bona fide 'Americana', but come on here. The Good Lord in Texas aside, what in the hell are these mullet-heads thinking by posing for this, truly, last family photo? [Admittedly cheap shot #2: "Jesse, who we gonna git now to be our date @ the Possum Dance next September? Grandma can't do the Achy-Breaker in her PowerGlide chair!"]

Not that we can't ... or shouldn't ... have a little fun at others' expense. Who amongst us, for example, wouldn't - for lady to right's photograph - possibly affix caption of "Now where in the hell did I put my teeth, Clem?". Would said Y chromosomer appreciate such mirth? Probably not, but a new clothes dryer presently appears to be higher on her personal bucket list, so other priorities must prevail. Personally, I'd be more interested in finding out what has, seemingly, got up her dander something more fierce than the astringency off the spring's initial ramps' harvest? This particular blonde lady looks more fixed-to-be-tied than the neighbor's goat that recently ate the remaining five pounds of her kinfolks' government cheese allotment from last year. [Sorry, but it would appear that admittedly cheap shot #3 is officially in the books with that last line.]

The creme de la creme, so to speak, of this pictorial output, indubitably however, is at right. Collection this fine of real man pulchritude + brains, you can't get short of TV's 'Jackass' fan club membership base. My (not) Almighty, just look at these prize winners! If they stumbled into a New York City Dale Carnegie seminar, dollars will git ya donuts that half the crowd would flee & remainder would pistol-whip the organizer for a refund. Old-timer to far left is your standard issue 'Geezer'. In old days, this would be gent manning pump @ 'filling station' where you stopped during trek down America's so-called 'blue' - for their color on most maps - highways. As for his supposedly 4 blood descendants to right, image is nothing short of a sliding scale downwards along Darwinian curve. Lad 2nd from right, by the way, obviously in training for holler clerical pursuits as evidenced by his early work handling snakes being job requirement. [Racks-up #4 in admittedly cheap shot category, for those keeping track.]

Of course - staying w/ David Lynch theme - there's got to be some 'eye candy'. As Laura Dern was systematically, repeatedly & luridly deflowered by 'Sailor' character in some epic fillum I can't recall (except, curiously, for that aspect) many years ago, there is always beauty still to be found in nature. Much like strip-mining mars the spring hillside struggling to come to life again, lass at right already has lost her innate allure due to some extremely ill-advised + thug-inspired tat-ting. Guess pictorial point is that pillaging of countryside for mineral bounty, isn't only crime down the Appalachian mountain range being perpetuated vs. under-protected. Somehow I don't think the aesthetic of 'Coal Ash Trollope' will ever inspire a Dior collection, so this young gal's plight particularly unfulfilling from anyone's perspective. At best, we can only hope that her belly lettering won't look like mangled roadside signage after unwed child #4 makes his/her appearance in this blessed world. [Calling for cheap shot tab @ five for the day ... remember, please try the veal.]

To paraphrase from epic of another time/place, "The horror, the sheer horror ..."

Z.L.P. (Zafig Lady Parade) on LPGA

Lingering in last post’s vein of acronyms + pro golf observations, your humble scribe has detected an unexpectedly delicious dual polarity firming-up on U.S. ladies professional golf circuit. Specifically I refer to discernible fault line gaping between non-Y chromo golfers’ opposing physiques & ethnicity: female gymnast-size Asians vs. Rubens-sculpted non-Orientals. This is battle of proportions not seen since Adm. Nimitz & Yamato slugged it out over a jut of Pacific terra firma called Midway!

Yes, the female pro tour is still known for trying to hawk the Barbie-like body images of Paula Creamer, Natalie Gulbis, Morgan Pressel, etc. as their main PR image. Michelle Wie - this week’s non-winner yet again - is hybrid (pardon golf pun) case in that she straddles Asian & surfer-girl ‘bod’ boundary. There are even European entrants as part of LPGA effort, for example, as likeness of Sandra Gal (right) can attest. The fact LPGA today is fully-stocked (especially vis-à-vis So. Koreans) by diminutive ( ... + hyper-smiling) gals with surname permutations usually including Choi, Lee, Kim and/or Park, is not an argument one needs to illuminate and/or enunciate except for most severely quasi-Helen Keller amongst today's golf fans.

There’s heifer-size shift, however, happening right by stack of clean plates at head of LPGA's buffet line which Sizzler Steak House masses are not yet appreciating – big gals are taking over, baby!

This is a ‘girl thing’ too, by the way. Though previously known as home to many landed sea mammals – including most notably Masters’ winner Craig Stadler (trying to don green jacket), whose girth + ‘70’s ‘stache literally got him permanent nickname of ‘The Walrus’ – men’s pro tour has gotten progressively ‘buff-er’ since Tiger’s advent. There are a few holdover chubs + upcoming odd ball on occasion, but lion’s share of stiff (golf) shaft wielders are junior Jack LaLanne’s.

Before I plunge down neck line of this weighty issue, let me first state I have been a certified ‘Size 8 (or more) Female’ fan club member for many a moon now. This sea change does nothing but float my LPGA-enjoyment boat that much higher. Mea culpa as to my rhetorical motives aside, I thought best to make the case for this delectable development by spotlighting some of these curvy up-and-comers from undetected, till now, Peter Paul Rubens’ subsection of ladies’ Daytona, FL qualifying school.

Brittany Lincicome: Star of plus size show right now, Brittany is longest hitter on LPGA, ranked #11 as of last week in 2011 money won, but … added Canadian Open – her 2nd win this year - to resume just today. No doubt average fan most often spies her shapely profile only to think ‘Bam’ – her nickname - is really fellow player of Nordic appearance, Suzanne Pettersen, after packing away more than few extra pounds. In reality, the 5’ 10” behemoth is completely different: home-schooled American who turned pro after high school & stylistically unable to find any shirts which stay tucked-in during her powerful follow-thru. Latter heavy cross to bear, but gal swings solidly nonetheless as photo left documents.

Amanda Blumenherst: Not yet fulfilling promise of her convincing 2008 U.S. Amateur win, the 24 year old is 5’ 9” Duke graduate & clocks-in presently @ #110 in world rankings. Her physical sturdiness has been evident since her NCAA days, but she is not nearly as long as fellow blonde bomber above, Ms. Lincicome. Instead a very deft short game has been this gal’s calling card thus far. Researching her briefly on internet, apparently Amanda B. is somewhat fond of minor league baseball or, more specifically, at least 1st baseman playing for Indianapolis affiliate. That this particular fact is amongst easiest found, one cannot help think, partial testament to lesbianism-phobia LPGA fights. It's bit of oddity though – from LPGA perspective – that none of zaftig club-swingers thus far has been identified as possible non-hetero.

Caroline Hedwall: Personal fav, 2010 NCAA Div. I champion while @ OK State (Rickie Fowler’s alma mater) & 2x 2011 Euro tour winner, Ms. Hedwall is on-course antithesis, in demeanor, of her underwear’s namesake (see left) & fellow Swede, Bjorn Borg. If the contest between these lovely lasses was on basis of ‘chunk-i-tude’, Caroline H. would be easy prize-winner. Watching her during just past Evian Masters in France, this buxom putter of suryln-based balls was aggressive in her play, animated when reacting to few wayward shots & very comfortable, it appeared, with her girlish girth. That she probably equals 2 Ai Miyazato’s on butcher’s scale, is all more ironic considering her unabashed + semi-flashy style. All anyone can say to such is succinct, “You go, big golf girl!”.

Lizette Salas: Bursting into national notice merely two months ago due to three solid (albeit not 4) rounds @ U.S. Women’s Open, Ms. Salas is inheritor of Nancy Lopez mantle for full-figured Latinas in sport of golf. Product of USC Trojans & possessor of solid collegiate career, Lizette now is toiling on LPGA Futures tour – equivalent of PGA’s Nationwide circuit. Her story is quite heart-warming; no facetiousness intended. Lizette's upbringing was extremely modest according to news stories, so much so that her Dad had to cobble together a 1st set for his daughter from cast-offs @ course where he worked in Maintenance Dept. Though lacking in certain material comforts, it appears thankfully that – in the words of a great philosopher, Sir Mix-A-Lot – “red beans & rice didn’t miss her” however. Sorry, couldn't resist. [I’ll be here all week; please try the veal.]

As soon-to-die Lt. in ‘Full Metal Jacket’ concludes to his platoon during No. Vietnamese soldier’s ‘birthday party’ scene, “These are great days, bro’s!”. Indeed, my fellow boon rat buddy, indeed.

In all seriousness, it’s a veritable pleasure to see – if I may say so in my semi-full maleness – normal size women excelling in sport, not having to hide behind their clothes & also puttin’-out a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ for all my brothers to admire! That overt chauvinism aside, these large lasses are markedly different than their counterparts of non-metal woods days gone by, e.g. 'Big Momma' JoAnne Carner or Laura Davies. Today's Z.L.P.-ers appear not to care a wit that they aren't size whatever. Form-fittin' duds? Bring it on! These birdie-hunters just want to kick some ass on the short grass, baby! :)

S.T.N.C. - Substitute Tiger Nike Curse

As 2011 ‘regular’ season of men’s pro golf concluded today @ Greensboro tourney [previously best known for being last event won by ‘Slammin’’ Sammy Snead (see left) before shuckin’ his stylin’ straw chapeau for PGA posterity], a vexsome hexing has become apparent now related to all Tiger surrogates whom Nike vainly promoted when their marquee idol’s smutty Ambien exploits originally were exposed.

Specifically to be cited are collectively + positively dreadful 2011 performances by that Nike Golf-sponsored quartet of graphite shaft charisma: S. Cink, Anthony Kim, Justin Leonard & P. Casey.

At least former most duo of group actually made 1st (but not necessarily 2nd) round of ‘playoffs’ by finishing in Top 125 for year. Cink wags-in as multi-finger winner amongst this Leper colony squadron, by coming to rest @ #82 in rankings. ‘AK’ - as countless Vegas croupiers reputedly call Mr. Kim when he rolls large in their little desert town - clearly is pacing himself with #92 slot as of year-end.

The other – besides ‘Lil' Stewey’ Cink - ex-British Open winner of group, Lone Star state's own Justin Leonard, found way not to harness his admittedly best skill – putting – on today’s final green by blowing a nice 13 footer to finish just outside Top 125. If he were a horse, laggard of group – Mr. Casey – still would have fans spying back stretch with binoculars … and waiting crock-pot cook times … for any sight of strong 2011 finish. Casey seemed to get 2x helping of toxic g. ball karma due to his excessive product enthusiasm in a couple of TV spots.

What ties together these 2011 PGA mediocrities is all were propped-up by Nike to primetime ad status once Tiger’s negatives started approximating 5 year job approval ratings of Col. Gaddafi. You remember the ads. Casey opined, on camera, re new Method putter that he “could put this into play tomorrow”. Unfortunately he meant on Hooters Tour. Justin Leonard, in contrast, calmed a wind storm just by removing head cover from new Nike Driver. Bad move by Justin L., however, as helping breeze would have given him extra 25 yards off tee so that Texan now would only be 35 yards behind average PGA tee ball.

Case of 2 'curse' survivors – Cink & Kim – is a bit confused. As to chrome-dome Stewart, Mr. C. 2x-jinxed himself prev. year by besting Tom Watson in last round of British Open, thereby denying Grim Reaper his own perverted joke. That uber-bad mojo though might have acted like 2 negatives multiplied with one another to yield positive. Regardless, Nike hawked Stewart relentlessly during drought of Tiger to burnish appeal of their new clubs, shirts’ moisture-wicking properties + “it’s resin, not rubber” balls. Dude drips manliness, so move understandable.

Regarding case of ‘Marine cut-to-Woodstock shag’ Mr. Kim, he was sidelined early in year by bad dice-throwin’ injury to right hand and, therefore, full impact of curse couldn’t seep into his golf DNA. Mostly, however, A.K. was used as background pretty boy in most of Nike’s non-Tiger focus TV ads, no doubt partially because some of his most recent casino antics allegedly not quite Rev. Billy Graham family hour material.

Said marginal behavior, however, might have been Mr. Kim's 2011 PGA performance’s salvation. Word to wise: Remember such when chance to double-down on some poor ‘schlub’ tossing snake-eyes ever presents itself!

Lesson of this post is a powerful one – other Nike golfers simply ain’t Splenda, baby! Only the ‘Real Thing’ works for ‘Swoosh’ minions in the mythic land of Ben Hogan. The anti-suits from Oregon tried to go square (besides, that is, in Driver design) & keep their golf franchise going by using lemons to peddle some hybrid club lemonade, but spell of Tiger is more powerful than French Quarter voodoo Queen with a mess of blood-marinated chicken hearts during Mardi Gras.

Give up the ghost, Nike CEO Phil Knight, and put Tiger back front-and-center in all future, at least, TV ads – even with that silly ‘soul’ patch on his devious chin. Can't possibly be any worse than conglomerate of sand wedge under-achievers you have presently muggin' in front of lens.

All those T.W. imposters are statistical chum in water now, so Nike hasn’t done any good for the brand with this alternate strategy. Time to admit defeat & embrace your 'inner bad ass' instead. Turn this setback into opportunity by repositioning Nike as sole golf brand with any 'street cred'.

As my philosophical icon, Oliver Cromwell, wrote, “Friends, hear, truly, my words & understand, earnestly, their meaning … for your own (damn) good!”. Nike Golf, your welcome in advance.