The G23 Grandfather Of The Duncan

As if an Art Daily page went through the looking glass,
the first hyperlink herein goes a-googling from
above his photo to the images of award-winning photographer: Adrian Dennis

Able Seaman Fiona MacLennan (L) and Able Seaman Megan Ryan (R) pose for a photograph beside the original bell of the 16th century Tudor warship Mary Rose aboard HMS Duncan,
the latest Type 45 destroyer, ahead of the public opening of the new Mary Rose Museum in Portsmouth, southern England on May 30, 2013 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Despite Seaman MacLennan's sparklingly un-British white teeth, this is not an award-winning photograph.

But...
The succulent shadows of a 2012 London Olympic event won a photography prize for Mr. Dennis

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<The relics from the Mary Rose, the flagship of England's navy when it sank in 1545 as a heartbroken King Henry VIII watched from the shore, have finally been reunited with the famous wreck in a new museum offering a view of life in Tudor times.
The day-long event will mark the symbolic journey of the ship's bell as the last artifact to be placed into the new Mary Rose museum ahead of it's public opening >>>>>>>>>>

Mr. Dennis photographed the bell that launched one thousand folk songs and the MAY 31, 2013 ISSUE
of ArtDaily.org would gave him the royal treatment, figuratively speaking.

<<<<<<<<<<Restoration staff working on part of the hull of the Tudor warship Mary Rose during a press preview of the new Mary Rose Museum in Portsmouth...Skeletons, longbows, tankards, gold coins and even nit combs are going on display alongside the remains of the pride of Henry's fleet. Thousands of the 19,000 artifacts excavated from beneath the seabed can be seen in the new 27 million GBP (41 million USD, 32 million euro) Mary Rose Museum.
AFP PHOTO / CARL COURT.

Aint it just like them history-hugging Brits
to name a museum Mary Rose.
Then they go and build it for less than
the price of one Jackson Pollock painting
How un-American is that?

Aint they got any respect for union labor?

But I am willing to bet the house that if
Fiona MacLennan and Megan Ryan were found aboard the original Mary Rose Warship,
King Henry VIII woulda chopped off their heads.

Blogger's Notes
By order of Chancellor Caryl Hobbes, the Lewis Carroll School of Logic dedicates this page to Judith King who bears no relation to King Henry.
Long may her head sit squarely on her beautiful shoulders in the shadows of the Shenendoah Mountains.

The italic text is verbatim Art Daily.

19, 1948 = 58,400,000

Number 19, 1948
Jackson Pollock

...sells for $58.4 million at Christie's...

According to Lewis Carroll School of Logic mythology, Mr. Pollock originally
named this painting for the day it was completed: November 19, 1948.
But the abstract artist, known as both "Jack the Dripper" and "Jack the Drinker,"
mispronounced the month...Number 19, 1948...

The sub-title of this page could have been
"Christie's Arithemtic" or "A Lewis Carroll Equation."
The title did not become valid until May 30, 2013.
The only possible mispronunciation of that month is "Me."

To the best of our knowledge, the white gloves of the handlers in the photograph
were not included in the purchase price.

AP photographer = Alastair Grant

Jean Bach, Art Kane & Jazz History

Jean Bach was so imbued with the jazz life, she could hear
a minor seventh chord before it was played.

Unfortunately, Ms. Bach had the kind of singing voice that,
according to its source, was better left unheard.

But when Jean was in the audience for a Billie Holiday
performance, the fabled jazz documentarian could identify
the color of Billie's underwear just by listening
to the first song of the first set:

If Billie Holiday opened with Stormy Weather, then her panties 
were black lace.  But when Billie sang Strange Fruit, 
she wore red satin bra and undies.


Being such a jazz enthusiast, it was easy for Ms. Bach
to live for ninety-four productive years.

At the age of seventy-seven, Jean Bach was the producer
of A GREAT DAY IN HARLEM, an award-winning
documentary about sixty jazz luminaries who gathered
in front of a Harlem brownstone for a 1958 photograph
taken by a twenty-three year-old "amateur."

 







Art Kane, who had never before taken a picture as a professional
before that Great Day, was that photographer.

Having the likes of Thelonius Monk, Charlie Mingus, and Dizzy Gillespie
standing on a stoop amidst a vast pyramid of jazz musicians, was a baptism
of desire for a kid named Kane.

Here are some desirable fruits of his career.



A flag worth saluting



Bob Dylan



Jim Morrison



The Rolling Stones



WHO KILLED DAVEY MOORE



This is Art Kane




The GREAT DAY IN HARLEM hyperlink
rewards the linker with the first ten minutes
of the film.

Irrational Hours & Calendar Dozens

I need better words than my own to go here, and then to follow on down.
For example,

There is enough failure in the system to fuel everybody's ego and guarantee the creamy lubricant of propaganda.

Sven Golvenstein, an ancient Judeo-Swede watchmaker, said that
but no one listened because he was the only Yiddish-speaker in the Alps.
All he did was make & collect.

He put time on your hand or your kitchen wall. Then Sven collected
fine sums for his labor. Golvenstein charged extra when a timepiece
included the irrational hour between six and seven.

When the sun neither sets nor sits but inches its way
down and up microscopically.

But if I wrote that in Yiddish it would sound Chinese to you, maybe.

***

Her words are better than mine but her last one was goodbye.
I would quote my mother or father, if I knew who they were.
I would quote you if you were here but you are there.
Wherever that is.

***

But I can pull back the calendar to 1939 when I had a year to live
and my name was Fitzgerald. But call me Scott.

I wrote the Great Gatsby and we got FDR. Kafka wrote the Metamorphosis and Germany got Hitler.

***
Then I can tack on a dozen full calendars and it is 1951 and I bussed
all the way–with bat & glove–from Minneapolis to New York.
Some say I am the second coming of Jackie Robinson
but I don't go to Brooklyn nor the Bronx because I am no Dimaggio.
I go to the Polo Grounds in Manhattan, land of the Giants.
Somebody says Play ball and that is what I will do.
They put the #24 on my back and expect me to carry the team.

Amazing athlete. He can hit, run, field, and rattle the opposition. Amazing, downright A-Mays-ing.

But call me Willie.
I do not know what to say so I say Hey, as in Say, Hey...
and they call me the Say Hey kid.

***
Let us tack on a dozen more and call it the winter of 1963.
All I can do is believe what they tell me and give my trust
to the Warren Commission, as if it were the Book of Genesis.
One bullet became a ballet, pirouetting through a President,
pretzeling down through a Governor and then
prancing across a hospital gurney.

***
Give me one shy of a dozen calendars and let it be the summer of 1974.
Let us play a game of before and after.
Before this eleven-spot, a President was assassinated.
Now another one resigns. He drowned with guilt when someone flooded the water gate.

I could write more but it is better to not have expletives deleted.

Jean Bach, R.I.P.

Jean Bach does not appear in this 1958 photograph
which was the basis for the film A Great Day In Harlem.
But she produced the movie and other jazz documentaries.

If her other films are half as good as A Great Day In Harlem
then there is ample evidence that there is ample intelligence
on planet Earth.

She passed away today but empirically proved a point:
Jazz appreciation is a sign post of longevity.

Jean Bach was ninety-four years old
and tomorrow will be a great day in Heaven.


"As a teenager she knocked on Duke Ellington’s door
and established a lasting friendship."

Jean Bach is photographed here with Bobby Short.

Amongst the jazz legends in the other photo are Count Basie,
Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, Charles Mingus,
Marian McPartland, Gerry Mulligan, Dizzy Gillespie,
Maxine Sullivan, and Thelonious Monk.

It was the first professional photograph taken by Art Kane
en route to his legendary career with a camera.

I will (again) point with pride to the top of the Jazz Pyramid.
That is Art Farmer from Jefferson High School, Class of '46.

If I were Jean Bach's age, I could have been Art's math teacher.

One Of The Masters (CR #903)

The key element in any attempt at humor is conflict.
Our brain is suddenly jolted into trying to accept something that is unacceptable.
The punch line of a joke is the part that conflicts with the first part, thereby surprising us
and throwing our synapses into some kind of fire drill.
-Gary Larson



*****************************************************









Charlie Parker's private Hell



The real reason dinosaurs became extinct

I Saw Bo Diddley In Washington Square

The sky it was orange
The trees they were there
There were oceans of people going somewhere
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

It was just like a painting
A day at the fair
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square



He sang a song for those
Who don’t have a prayer
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square



There were heroes and villians
Paupers and theives
There were preachers from TV
Who rolled up their sleeves

There was much dirty laundry
In need of repair
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

There were hipsters and pop stars
And posers galore
The kind of a day
Politicians adore

A blind man was laughing
Asleep on the stair
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

The Salvation Army was lost in the fog
The emperor of ice cream was walking his dog
The members of congress were chained to a chair
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

The arms of the infants were raised in the air
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

There are millions of people
Who will swear they were there
The day I saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square

Willie Nile
The Day I Saw Bo Diddley In Washington Square

Blogger's Note
Another Willie Nile page + song is  here.

"Not One Of The Big C.A.T.s"

"This is Pythagoras."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really."
"I once had a Siamese named Pythagoras."
"I knew that."
"You know so many things, Marcel."

"Do you know where Etta Seamster and Daniel DiMaria are?"
"They are where ever they want to be."
"We should all be there."
"But they are happy with Chancellor Hobbes."
"So am I."

"And Pythagoras the Siamese is not one of the big CATs."
"If you say so."
"And I will say more."
"Can I photograph you and your funky t-shirt."
"No, you may not, Paul. But here is a picture of the t-shirt."



"I'm considering changing my name to Monk Dutramp."
"Thelonius Dutramp sounds better."
"You're right, it does but I have been thinking more like a monk."

"And I feel like we are on a mountain top instead of on the Long Beach jetty."
"You have climbed to the right place, my son."
"Almighty Monk, my ears are all yours."
"Open them wide, please."
"Consider it done."

“Jesus regretted being thought of as the only begotten Son of God."
"Why?"
"He had two brothers and two parents. In the family of the Big CATs,
Allah and Buddha were the equals of Jesus. The earthly differences between them
is more due to geography and marketing.”
“Did you say cat or cats?”

“I said C-A-T-s, as in plural. There was no singular Creator of All Things.
No single solitary man could have created this vast universe without a partner.
In the embryonic days of existence, oceans and rivers were easy for the
Creators of All Things: all they had to do was add water.
The sun and the stars were self-standing light fixtures. But mountains were a problem."
"How so?"

"Because God the Father, sitting at the drafting table, used simple folds of paper as a model.
Meanwhile, from across the room came a chant of ‘Boring! Boring!’
That was Mrs. God."
"You mean Godette?"

"Exactly. She said ‘I have an idea of for how to shape the mountains.’
This was a woman beautiful enough to make Marilyn Monroe look like Marilyn Manson.
She placed a silken red sheet on the floor.”
“Did a red sheet become a mountain?”

“No, But what was stretched out on the silken red sheet was the stunningly gorgeous naked body of Godette.
Her pose was what artists would someday call an Odalisque
Her body had the kind of curves that make a man dream in stereo. All God could do was say ‘Wow!’”
“And then there were mountains.”

"Hallelujah! Have a good day, Paul."
"It is always a good day when I see you, sir."
"You may climb down the mountain now."


The next Marcel DuTramp page is here

Yes We Cane!

We cane
Get there
From here

Only because
We got here
From her

Landlord Or Tenant

Pain can be either
your landlord or tenant.

If the former,
then every step you take
is in his domain.

If the latter,
spend as much time as possible
with the other tenants.
Maybe you can get him to move out.

Blogger's Note
"Landlord Or Tenant" is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.

Mrs. Madhatter & My Italics

I was perfectly normal for the first twenty-nine years of my life,
I lived on a normal diet of hallucinations.
An unusually intelligent and cultured upbringing enabled me
to conduct my life decently blindfolded, but lately
my life seems to be shaking.
Doctor, I think I’m going sane.

On my word of honor as a medical man
you are as insane as anybody in this room...
These Truths, which you describe as
disturbing your night dreams and your day thoughts, will soon pass.
Why not go to New York on a shopping binge...
You will be your happy smiling insane self in no time.


Dawn Powell
Angels On Toast

The next Dawn Powell page appears in the GoodFather of Math...

Wayne Miller, R.I.P.

Sometimes, I get email from Caryl Hobbes,
Chancellor of the Lewis Carroll School,
and all I do is share it with you.

"We just lost a great photographer."


I will let the work of Wayne Miller speak for itself.

Interactive Pineapple

Sounds like a good name for a gay rock band...


LONDON- A plane flies above a giant interactive pineapple...in front of the Palm House at Kew Gardens on May 23, 2013, during the IncrEdibles summer festival.
AFP Photo/Carl Court


©

The First Electric Pickle

In 1900, there was little electric street lighting. A commonplace sight at dusk in almost any American city was the appearance of the city lamplighter with his ladder...Nor was there much illuminated advertising but New Yorkers could marvel at a fifty-foot Heinz sign on the site of the future Flatiron Building: green lights formed a giant pickle. HEINZ was written across it in white bulbs. Slogans such as 57 Good Things for The Table flashing on and off below.

Frederic Lewis Allen
The Big Change



Photo courtesy of NYC Vintage Image

If I Were A Ball

What if, instead of a Paul, I were a Ball, as in Alan Ball

And I had a very hip high school English teacher who introduced me to
Dawn Powell's My Home Is Far Away



Then I might be inspired to create an award-winning TV show called Six Feet Under

But when hypothesizing,
Certainty is certainly something
With which I do not speak.

The next Dawn Powell page is here...

Everything Is A Dream (CR #893)

The truth is in the panels

............MUTTS............

Potato Field Statue

Less than three months on the job and he already has a statue.


Giuseppe Imperatore artist and sculptor (L) Barbato De Stefano (C) and Antonio De Stefano adjust the vestments of a statue depicting Pope Francis in a small field of potatoes–to symbolise the Italian Piemont region, where the Bergoglio family comes from–in Cicciano, a small village in southern Italy on May 20, 2013. The statue was shown the day before during the local festival and the inhabitants want to bring it to Pope Francis at the Vatican in June.
AFP PHOTO/MARIO LAPORTA

Verbatim text from Art Daily


©

A Perfect Sixth

Thirty two years ago today, I was in New Orleans doing
what most people do when they go to that city.
I got drunk.

It was an easy thing to do after inducing three barloads of people
to sing Happy Birthday and ply me with free alcohol.

I had never seen any of those wonderful people before
nor have I seen any of them since.

I was in the process of moving from New York to California.

For one year, I could tell people my age was a "perfect fifth"
as in 2x2x2x2x2

You can do the math.


I was only eighteen when I first heard this song



By far, the easiest song to sing along to on the Beatles'
Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band album
but When I'm Sixty-Four was also the most irrelevant.

It was impossible for a teenager in 1967
to conceive of ever reaching that age.

Sometimes, inconceivable things happen.
And now I am a "perfect sixth"

I would rather think in terms of having
four inner sixteen year-olds.

DorkMaster333 (A Short Story)

DorkMaster333–that was his hashtag–claimed the number represented his IQ.

To the delight of his 333,000 followers in the TwitterSphere,
he could swing from the rafters above
the loftier levels of logic.

But while performing a quadruple conundrum
on a promiscuous premise,
he broke his cerbellix.

Four out of five doctors recommended surgery
though none of them quite knew
what a cerbellix was.

DorkMaster333 preferred the fifth doctor, Cornelius Quirk.
Doctor Quirk said: "Absolutely nothing could be done."

Thus, the DorkMaster mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing.

He changed his tag to "DorkMasterZero."

His 333,000 followers did the only logical thing possible.
They immediately forgot this Dork.

Blogger's Note
All pages subtitled "(A Short Story)" are the copyrighted property of
the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.

Ladder Day For Botero Square

Once a year
In Fernando Botero Square
Employees bathe
The sculptures there

They do so
With tender love & care

Three of the cleansed
Are featured here

EVA

CABALLO
Horse

MUJER CON ESPEJO
Woman With Mirror

Photographer = Raul Arboleda

©

Two Mantras & Three Panels (CR # 888)

The first mantra............The middle panel............The second mantra

If this is not a cool cat then this is not Patrick McDonnell's MUTTS

The Original Enigma

Unearthed by Mark Twain, the Biblical scolder scholar,
the She referred to in this ancient extract from Adam's Diary is EVE.

The It is he who became ADAM.

At the time of this extract,  Eve was living in the Garden of Eden
which is where she found It.

It isn't a fish. I cannot quite make out what it is.
It makes curious, devilish noises when not satisfied,
and says "goo-goo" when it is.
It is not one of us, for it doesn't walk;
it is not a bird, for it doesn't fly;
it is not a frog, for it doesn't hop.
It is not a snake, for it doesn't crawl.

I feel sure it is not a fish,
though I cannot get a chance to find out
whether it can swim or not.

It merely lies around, and mostly on its back,
with its feet up.
I have not seen any other animal do that before.
I said I believed it was an enigma,
but she only admired the word without understanding it.

In my judgment it is either an enigma or some kind of a bug.
If it dies, I will take it apart and see what its
arrangements are. I never had a thing perplex me so.

As for Adam's Diary, click here.

As for a very Huckleberry Twain page, click here.

Monkey With Autograph: Sold!

Garry Winogrand Park Avenue, 1959

Not the monkey but the photographer
signed this auctioned print in pencil
on the reverse side of the photograph.

Someone had a winning bid of $31,250

Would that someone have bid higher
if Mr. Winogrand's silver gelatin print
were autographed by the monkey?

©

Dawn Powell Revisited (With Illustration)

The children had learned that in any spot where women were at work they were bound to scold about everything. Another point was that any time women were at work meant a clear field for mischief or adventure in other quarters.

Dawn Powell
My Home is Far Away


Artist = Guthrie Robson

The next Dawn Powell page is here...

Great Gatsby Revisited (With Confession)

I wrote "The Great Gatsby" and we got FDR.
Kafka wrote "The Trial" and they got Hitler.

This quote has been making the rounds at the Scott & Zelda Fitzgerald Museum

I found the quote in a novel called The Bill of Ladle
and passed it along to Willie Thompson, the museum's curator.
I failed to tell the curator that the main character of the novel
admits to having falsely attributed the words to Scott Fitzgerald.

The author of The Bill of Ladle, which is only available from THE GODFATHER OF MATH, takes full responsibility for the quote. And there is nothing false about that sentence.
I should know because I am that author.

Jonathan Winters, R.I.P.

I was once asked what I am afraid of most. I said
"A man or a woman without a sense of humor."

If your ship doesn't come in, swim out to it.


He died last month but I prefer Dick Cavett's words
to anything I could say about Jonathan Winters

No more Jonathan Winters.
What did we do to deserve this?

I’m just antique enough to remember when Jonathan first hit. Or at least for me.
It was the Jack Paar “Tonight Show” and no one had ever seen anything remotely like it.

A slightly chubby, amiable, Midwesternly looking man who could have been an accountant or a bus driver, nicely dressed in dark suit and tie, stepped out, a bit timorously, from behind the curtain and, on the spot and before our eyes, created a whole mad little world...