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Is the Crying of Lot 49 Partially about Disneyland?
Ok, so, I was recently rereading The Crying of Lot 49 last night, specifically Chapter 3, and I do feel I have a strange hypothesis about sections of that chapter that may be a complete projection, but the more that I look into the content of the sections I will parse out in particular, and the more research that I do, the more evidence seems to fall in place that sort of freaks me out and confirms my theory. Being freaks yourselves, I thought this would be the place for me to project my world, so to speak, and see if what I’m seeing is in any way based in reality or if I’m instead way off base. My hypothesis is that Chapter 3 of The Crying of Lot 49, and specifically the Lake Inverity/Bone charcoal/Tony JaguaFangoso Lagoon section might be subtextually about Disneyland. I have struggled to find much about these particular sections of this chapter related to Disney. I own J. Kerry Grant’s A Companion to Lot 49, have scoured the Pynchon Wiki, read the reddit post discussion for Chapter 3 of this book, and tried Googling as much about it as I could, and I haven’t found anything to suggest Disneyland, so this is either a relatively new idea or one that is inaccurate as hell. Oh, boy! To begin, I will say, I am fascinated and obsessed with Disneyland and Disney World which is maybe why I found some of the information I found within Lot 49 to begin with. One could say I have a perverse fascination with the 2 theme parks which has led me to all manner of revelations. In the same way that Pynchon, being from what I can tell, a heretical Catholic, has a perverse fascination with the sacred through the filter of the profane, I am somehow deeply attracted to and obsessed with all things Disney even though I think they are essentially a fascist, culturally banal, destructive force. Similar to how I believe Oedipa may have with Disneyland in the novel, I “fell in love with it (41).” What can I say? The first half of Chapter 3 which I will focus on, involves Oedipa’s continued revelations. She gets her first peek at WASTE, the Tristero, the posthorn, and the Boeing-esque Yoyodyne is introduced. The plot of the novel really starts to thicken, or to put it a different way, the tapestry, the maaswork, really starts to come together, narrative threads criss-crossing every which way in all directions at once. A resource that was helpful for much of my understanding of this chapter and even just in how I read much of Lot 49 in general is Charles Hollander’s article on the novel: “Pynchon, JFK, and the CIA.” I’ll post it below. https://www.vheissu.net/articles/hollander_49.php Chapter 3, according to Hollander, is where some of the first hints of JFK’s assasination are placed. According to Hollander, this chapter uses allusion, parody, analogy, and enthymeme to encode its secret message about the JFK assassination. Mike Faloppian’s Peter Pinguid Society’s Dallas chapter certainly suggests this. I mention this, partially, to say that, in a way, I could maybe call what I’m trying to figure out here “Pynchon, Disney, and the CIA,” since in many ways what I’m wrestling with is what I perceive to be many hidden references to Disney's shaddy dealings throughout 40s and 50s Californian history. Disney World, in particular, does have a direct history of involvement with the CIA with regard to how it acquired its real estate holdings, for example, which interestingly enough is what a chunk of this chapter is about when it comes to its references to Inverarity (not Disney World, but real estate holdings in general, Inverarity's more specifically). The first section of the chapter that gave me some strange vibes regarding Disneyland was the section where Metzger, Oedipa, and the Paranoids go to Fangoso Lagoon, “one of Inverarity’s last big projects (40).” I will quote some of these sections below where these vibes first made themselves known. “Somewhere beyond the battering, urged sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills, somehow implicit in an arrogance or bite to the smog the more inland somnolence of San Narciso did lack, lurked the sea, the unimaginable Pacific, the one to which all surfers, beach pads, sewage disposal schemes, tourist incursions, sunned homosexuality, chartered fishing are irrelevant, the hole left by the moon’s tearing-free and monument to her exile; you could not hear or smell this but it was there, something tidel began to reach feelers in past eyes and eardrums, perhaps to arouse fractions of brain current your most gossamer microelectrode is yet too gross for finding (40-41).” This first quote stood out to me because it reminded me of the printed circuit Oedipa sees in Chapter 2. At the beginning of Chapter 2, Oedpia looks out at the landscape and sees it as deeply controlled, planned, almost machine-like or circuit-like. I don’t think this is a wildly different passage from that one. It, like the previous seciton forces the reader to ask the question: how did America come to be how it is now? This is an important question Lot 49 is always forcing its reader to ask. How did the deep conservatism or fascism creep in? Would the answer not be the subject of this book? Communication systems. What company is in charge of some of the most monopolized forms of our communication systems to this day? Disney, of course! Is this an accident? Was it planned? The malignant, magic forces referenced in Chapter 1 may have made it so, may have “urged [the] sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills (40).” Surely the Walt Disney Company has done as much as any to reinforce suburban 3-bedroom forms of existence that have had a stranglehold on our cultural existence for so many years, than just about any, right? But this was just where I started to get the first inkling of vibes about Disneyland. To continue with another quote: “They came in among earth-moving machines, a total absence of trees, the usual hieratic geometry, and eventually, shimmying for the sand roads, down in a helix to a sculpted body of water named Lake Inverarity. Out in it, on a round island of fill among blue wavelets, squatted the social hall, a chunky ogived and verdigrised, Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino. Oedpia fell in love with it (41).” This is where my paranoia really got going. Much of the description of the passage above does not sound like a man-made lake or lagoon. Far from it. Lake Inverarity is described as “a round island of fill,” that contains a “social hall,” and as a “Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino.” That sounds much more like Disneyland than just a man-made lake created by a real-estate developer? Also with Oedpia being a consistent parody of housewives in suburban America, it would make sense that she would fall in love with Lake Inverarity if it is, in fact, Disneyland. Plus, there might be another hint in the name Lake Inverarity itself, since it is the only holding named after Inverarity specifically, just as Disneyland is named after Disney himself. I don’t believe that Inverarity is a direct analogy for Disney specifically, but I do believe he is instead an analogy for any of the unseen hyper-capitalist forces that have come to dominate our culture, Disney clearly being one example. And just a side note before I continue with some of my evidence. It would make complete sense, this being a novel about Southern California, its real-estate development, and history, that Pynchon would eventually have to get to Disneyland. It is a property in Southern California, that especially between 1955 and 1965 had to have HUGE influence. How could he not incorporate it even if it was only referred to passively or encoded into the references of the text (much in the same way Hollander argues that Pynchon does the same for JFK’s assassination). There is another passage that REALLY got me convinced about my above theory, the section where Manny DiPresso is discussing the bone charcoal “used in the R&D phase of the filter program. Back around the early 50’s.” Here it is: “Presently the bodies sank and stayed where they were till the early ‘50s, when Tony Jaguar, who’d been a corporal in an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta and knew about what was at the bottom, decided among some colleagues to see what he could salvage. All they managed to come up with was bones. Out of some murky train of reasoning, which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything; and stories about Forest Lawn and the American cult of the dead; possibly some dim hope that Senator McCarthy, and others of his persuasion, in those days having achieved a certain ascendancy over the rich cretini from across the sea, would somehow refocus attention on the fallen of WWII, especially ones whose corpses had never been found; out of such labyrinth of assumed motives, Tony Jaguar decided he could surely unload his harvest of bones on some American someplace through his contacts in the “family,” known these days as Costa Nostra. He was right. An import-export firm bought the bones, sold them to a fertilizer enterprise, which may have used one or two femurs for laboratory tests but eventually decided to phase entirely into menhaden instead and transferred the remaining several tons to a holding company, which stored them in a warehouse outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana, for maybe a year before Beaconsfield got interest (47).” When I read “which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything,” I could not think of anything but Disneyland. In his historiographic metafictions, Pynchon often superimposes historical realities onto present ones in order to make political, social, and religious commentary that would otherwise be inexpressible. An easy example is the fact that Gravity’s Rainbow is a novel about 1960’s America set in Britain during World War II. In the above passage, if Pynchon is superimposing the strange, seemingly random history of “an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta.” and is using this as an analogy, to project a world that speaks to his present day, I don’t know how Pynchon couldn’t be referring to Disneyland. The novel is set in Southern California, the place where Pynchon lived in 1965. Wouldn’t Disneyland, the rise of tourism, how that was changing the landscape of America and hijacking the “family,” its communication systems, propaganda, and culture, wouldn't all that have been on his mind? I have a few more quotes and then a possibly even more major revelation before I feel I can finally feel I’ve made my point. Later on in the Lagoon, the Paranoids start smoking pot, and the following happens: “[B]y holding up the glowing roaches of their cigarettes like a flipcard section at a football game, to spell out alternative S’s and O’s, attracted the attention of the Fangoso Lagoons Security Force, a garrison against the night made up of one-time cowboy actors and L.A. motorcycle cops (49).” I believe this “one-time cowboy actor” reference to be a reference to Ronald Regan, a fixture of southern California and one-time cowboy actor, and yet another thread in the patchwork connections to Disney. On October 24, 1947, Walt Disney and Ronald Regan both testified against communism, naming particular individuals they found nefarious communists within the film industry (another communication industry, one could say) before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Which got me thinking, with all the mob references in the above section about Lago diPeta and the bones, was Disney ever involved with the mafia or mob, with “Costa Nostra?” I didn’t find much, but I did find something extremely interesting, which also led to one final even more strange realization. Read the link below, it lays out the story of Willie Bioff, a mobster who attempted to but failed to help break up Disney’s Union Strike in the 1940’s. https://babbittblog.com/2016/10/09/disney-and-the-mob-willie-bioff/ This may seem unrelated to Pynchon’s “parable of power,” but earlier in the chapter when Mike Fillopian is discussing Russia and America, clearly also, yet again using a historical detail as a historiographic metafiction, superimposing a historical reality onto a present one, in this case, that of the cold war, when Fillopian mentions “After the confrontation, appalled at what had to be some military alliance between Russia...and a Union that paid lip service to abolition while it kept its own industrial laborers in a kind of wage-slavery (36),” its fairly clear which side of the picket-isle Pynchon would have been during an animator strike of Disney in the 1940s, or any strike for better treatment, for that matter. In Lot 49, Pynchon has written a "parable of power" about the various ways the circuit board of American life has reinforced the indentured servitude of supposed abolitionists, which in our modern world, could easily be a stand in for the structures of neo-liberalism. And nothing on this earth is more an example of banal neoliberal capitalism than Disneyland, nothing (except for maybe Epcot, of course). This is a lot of information, and I may not have done a very good job of connecting it all or being as explicit as I could have at explaining how specific references hint at Disney throughout the chapter, and this has already become too long, HOWEVER, I have one final piece of information that blows my DAMN MIND that is likely coincidental, but which I still could not believe I found. Inspired by the book and wanting to find more connections in the tapestry, I started doing research into Disney’s involvement with the FBI and found some public records about his direct involvement with them on the FBI's website. Walt Disney was a SAC (Special Agent in Charge) for the FBI, according to these documents, for a period of time, interestingly enough, in the late 50s. There are literal letters to Disney from J. Edgar Hoover himself to Disney in these documents. I’ll post them below along with a number of other links that discuss Disney’s connection to the FBI, the last one being particularly fascinating in its connections to the novel. https://vault.fbi.gov/walter-elias-disney/walter-elias-disney-part-01-of-03/view http://www.schaakstukkenmuseum.nl/?p=2195&lang=en http://jfk.hood.edu/Collection/Weisberg%20Subject%20Index%20Files/F%20Disk/FBI/FBI%20Press%20Use%20Of/Item%2009.pdf https://www.mouseplanet.com/8987/The_Mickey_Mouse_Club_FBIs_Most_Wanted I very much suggest looking at the Mouse Planet link above. If you have read The Crying of Lot 49 and know who Baby Igor and Metzger is, I VERY MUCH SUGGEST IT. Upon reading this and looking at all the other material, I discovered that there was a child-star, mentioned specifically in these documents, that was to be the child used in a set of documentaries Disney was to make as propaganda films for the FBI specifically, promoting them to the public in 1958. This child’s name was Dirk Metzger. I shit you not. His name was METZGER and he was a child star whose father was in the military. READ THE ARTICLE. His daddy, his doggy, and HIM! And guess what, look at what his profession became after being a child actor in these films? Guess it was: he became a lawyer!!! Baby Igor himself! In the flesh!? Look at the article. It’s all there. I can’t fucking believe it!? Now, I admit, this is all probably just a coincidence. Being 14 in 1958 would put Metzger at being only 21 or so in 1965 when the Crying of Lot 49 came out, so it is unlikely that this is exactly what I think it is, a direct, real, historical correlation, but who knows? Pynchon lived in California at the time. Who knows whom or what he may have come across... Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe Disneyland is nowhere to be found in the California of The Crying of Lot 49. Maybe this is all, as Hilarius would say, a Rorsoch blot. Maybe I’m simply hallucinating. I will say though, either way, I do think the political exigence of The Crying of Lot 49 has done its work on me. Even if this is only an ink blot, a world I’m projecting rather than one that is actually there, I have certainly done more thinking about Disney, its union-busting, suburban-infused. McCarthy-ian underbelly than I have, maybe ever, and that power, and Pynchon's parable of power he wrote in reaction to it, is something that is very much alive and with us today, it is a power that is still creating indentured servitude and whose malignant, “formless magic” is igniting all around us. Hopefully I, like Oedpia, have gotten a little closer to understanding how it works and counting its line of force. Maybe, “If the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance no proof against its magic, what else?”
High Quality Ripper I and II (A SiIvaGunner/GiIvaSunner Metroidvania and its sequel)
So I've been brainstorming a SiIvaGunner Metroidvania and its sequel. There's 2D and 3D exploration, a day night cycle that affects the difficulty, and the sequel has DLC and a boss rush area. Most of the major bosses are KFaD contestants in HQR I and KFaD2 contestants in HQR II respectively. In case you wanna know the boss order and their dungeons, here they are! But first I have to explain why they're ordered in this way. In HQR I, they're ordered by tournament placing, but in HQR II, the veterans are ordered by HQR I order, somewhat, but the newcomers are ordered by winners bracket placing. HQR I 1_ Weird Al Yankovic (Albuquerque) 2_ DJ Professor K (Tokyo-To) 3_ Will Smith (Bel-Air (Mansion)) 4_ Pitbull (Mount Pitbull (Summit)) 5Dancing Alien Team (Dancing Alien Flotilla) 6_Ajit Pai (FCC) 7 Geno (Forest Maze) 8_ Solid Snake (Shadow Moses Island) 9_ Etika (Stanton Island) 10_ ZUN (Gensokyo) 11_ Thanos (Titan) 12_ Wario Bros. (Ratl Ruins) 13_ King Dedede (Castle Dedede) 14_ Reggie Fils-Aimé (Nintendo HQ) 15_ Off the Hook ft. Glenna Nalira (Inkopolis (Night)) 16_ Unregistered Hypercam 2 (Paralyzer Temple) HQR II 1_ Weird Al Yankovic (Albuquerque) 2_ DJ Professor K (Tokyo-To) 3_ Will Smith (Bel-Air (Mansion)) 4_ Pitbull and the Aliens Dancing 5_ Metal Ajit Pai (FCC (B2F)) 6_ Geno (Forest Maze) 7_ Solid Snake (Shadow Moses Island) 8_ ZUN (Gensokyo) 9_ Thanos (Disneyland (After Hours) 10_ Wario Partners LLC (Diamond City) 11_ King Dedede (Castle Dedede) 12_ Nintendo Power (Nintendo HQ) 13_ Off the Hook ft. Paruko (Inkopolis (Night)) 14_ Mariya Takeuchi (Future Funk City (Upper Level)) 15_ Adam Levine (Overexposed Heights) 16_ Johnny Bravo (CN City) 17_ Quote (Balcony) 18_ Papyrus (Snowdin Town (Dungeon)) 19_ Dr. Robotnik (Eggmanland) 20_ Rhythm Masters (Rhythm Heaven) 21_ Eminem (Mount Eminem (Deepest Cave)) 22_ MissingNo. (World -1 (???<<#$@aaaaggutghghhjk)) 23_ HOBaRT (Outback Steakhouse) 24_ Nico Nico (Nico Nico Douga) 25_ Mr. Krabs (Krusty Krab) 26_ Donkey Kong (Kongo Bongo Island) 27_ Jack Bros. (Casino of Envy) 28_ Jack and Elmo (Sesame Street) 29_ Dr. Piccolo (Glassa Medical Hospital) 30_ The Jazz Cats (Barkley's College of SLAM!) 31_ Daft Punk ft. Pharrell (Daft City (Gru's House)) 32_ Law & Disorder (Hope's Peak Academy) 33_ MissingNo. [D A T A E X P U N G E D] (ZZAZZ's Domain) 34_ Law & Disorder [Despair Forme] (Hope's Peak Ruins) 35_ Mariya Takeuchi [Plastic God Mode] (Neon Future Funk City) 36_ DJ Professor K and his Jet Set Radiooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo (Tokyo-To (Gates To NiGHTopia))
[26F] very jealous of my SO's past experiences in every relationship [currently with 26M 1year duration]
tl;dr: I usually end up dating people who have more past sexual experience than I do, and it always REALLY bothers me. Any advice on getting over it? Alright, the TL;DR sums it up, and it's an age-old question that's probably been posted 1000 times on this subreddit. But I'll give some backstory that potentially makes my situation a bit different. I have to add that also, I'm honestly really embarrassed by how emotional I get about this. I KNOW that it's a kind of ridiculous thing to be upset about. I was in an abusive relationship from ages 14-18. I don't want to go into detail because it's extremely painful to talk about, but I was quite mentally and emotionally affected by it for many years. Since then I've had a couple fairly normal long-term relationships, as well as my current relationship to my wonderful boyfriend. I have a "no talking about exes, ever" rule in relationships because I get EXTREMELY jealous. It's... it's really just ridiculous. I remember that one of my previous boyfriends had an ex named Rachel, and I felt sick to my stomach every time I heard the name, even if it was just a character on a TV show. I couldn't watch FRIENDS because it made me too upset! And of course, now that I'm not dating that guy anymore, it seems so ridiculous and crazy... If a boyfriend tells a story about getting pasta with an ex, I won't be able to eat pasta on dates anymore. If a boyfriend went to Vegas with an ex, I feel sick to my stomach any time Nevada, casinos, or gambling is mentioned. If a boyfriend met a girl at a theme park, I'll spend the next several hours in a bad mood every time I hear the word "disneyland". I could go on, but I think you get the idea, which is that I have a pretty friggin' severe overreaction to this kind of thing. This may sound weird, but I think that the way I react to it is similar to the way people would react if they were trying to stay in a relationship with someone who had cheated on them. It's like my subconscious just can't make the temporal distinction between "things that happened during my current relationship" and "things that happened five goddamn years before my current relationship". I just keep obsessively, involuntairly, picturing whoever I'm dating with someone else. And it upsets me, but I can't stop doing it. Ironically I'm not even a jealous person within the confines of a relationship: I'm never upset by boyfriends spending time alone with female friends, or saying that other women are objectively attractive, etc. It's just this one weird hangup I have about exes. Now, I know that most monogamous people don't like the mental image of their SO being with exes. It's natural for people to be a bit uncomfortable with that mental image. But as you can see, I take it WAY TOO FAR. And for some reason, it's even worse when I find out that I'm dating someone who's had a one-night stand (or multiple one-night-stands) in their past before they started dating me. I get so upset about it that it's honestly embarrassing, so let's just say that it involves crying, a lot of crying, and a deep feeling of revulsion. I KNOW that there is nothing wrong with two consenting adults having a one-night stand. There's nothing to be ashamed of. There's nothing for me to be disgusted by. I'm actually a very liberal person: several of my friends are in the lgbt/poly and/or kink communities, and I'm totally fine with judgment-free discussions of other people's sex lives. I'm the kind of person who high-fives her guy friends when they talk about trying a new type of bdsm play, not the kind of person who's disgusted by extremely vanilla sexual activites! ...except, apparently, when they're things that my significant other has done. I just found out that my current boyfriend has had multiple one-night stands and it's upset me so much that I've spent the past couple of days crying. It feels like he's not the same person anymore, somehow. I've never had a one-night stand and I've also never wanted one, so it's hard for me to put myself in the shoes of people who have had them. My mind just can't reconcile his calm, respectful personailty - the guy who's always so careful to not trigger memories of my past abuse, who's always so focused on consent and making sure I'm comfortable with everything -** I can't reconcile it with him describing the times he desperately spent entire nights trying to put on an act to convince "gross chicks" to have sex with him because he was just so horny that anything would do.** (I'm not making assumptions, this is how he described it to me! Also, I made that line bold because I think it's an important line in this massive wall-of-text. I keep having that thought flashing across my mind - how could he be the same person?) I can't even wrap my mind around what it would feel like to desire sex just for the sake of sex, and it gives me this weird incredibly-hard-to-describe feeling. I just... I'm not sure how to even put it into words. It "triggers" me a bit, because it reminds me of my awful ex who always looked at me with this look like he was hungry and also like I was just an object. I get this mental image of my boyfriend having that same hungry look while staring at some girl and thinking of her as just an object who can satisfy him, too. It awakens this primal feeling of fear and disgust in me. Fear of the unknown. And disgust because it makes me feel lesser, somehow, like maybe he sometimes looks at me with hunger instead of love and I don't feel okay with that even though I know I should (because who doesn't physically desire the person they're dating?) I think the problem is also very much caused by jealousy in the sense that I'm jealous of people who are mentally "normal" enough that they feel a desire for one-night stands. I'm jealous of people who spent ages 18-25 having a normal interest in sex instead of the misery that I went through. I'm jealous that, years ago, my boyfriend was hanging out at parties trying to pick up chicks while I was sitting at home crying and trying to figure out a way to get out of the abusive relationship I was in. It's stupid that I'm jealous of people who have had something that I've never even wanted, but I feel like I've missed out on life somehow by never having that experience. Even though, I know that if I was single right now, I wouldn't even want to have one. Can anyone relate? Does anyone have advice? I hope I haven't made myself sound like a horrible person by writing this post. Like I said, I know that one-night stands are not disgusting in any way!!! But I just have this FEELING of digust that I can't get rid of. Please don't reply telling me that I'm a jerk who thinks too highly of herself, or something. I KNOW that I have an unhealthy thought process, here. So my question is... well, I've already tried therapy for years with multiple therapists and it was totally useless. (They all focused on the "breathe deely and be mindful of your thoughts" strategy which I believe is CBT?) I've also read posts on reddit asking this question a few times, and they always get the same non-answer of "it's okay for it to be a dealbreaker if you want it to be." I don't want it to be a dealbreaker. But it's so difficult for me to not get upset about this issue. I feel stuck. I feel helpless. This issue I have, with being unable to even hear about exes, was one of the main reasons my last relationship ended (my previous boyfriend had a mid-20's number of past sexual partners) and I don't want it to poison this one too. *So I want your advice and also just to hear your stories. Have any of you been in a similar situation? How did you deal with it? What helped? What didn't help? What did you regret? I'm hoping that someone will have some kind of answer, some inspirational quote or story, that gives me a new way to rationalize things and make me feel okay with them. I think that's the type of help that I really want: I want a mantra that I can use to remind myself that this is all normal and okay and that I have nothing to be upset about. I want a new way to wrap my brain around things, a new perspective. * Thanks, all, for reading my incredibly long post. Just typing it out helped me feel a bit better already. It's something I feel too embarrassed to talk about in real life (obviously, because it's a ridiculous problem), so having people online to talk to is great.
The city fathers can't be trusted to tell you what to do with your free time. The city mothers can, but I haven't been all that good listening to her since she called my girlfriend a whore when I brought her home for Thanksgiving. My sister brought her girlfriend home for Christmas and didn't catch shit, but mom may have just missed the concept. She thought the reason they shared a single set of dangly earrings was just fashion, and suggesting that they import the trend onto the next American Girl doll line. But I digress. The Chamber of Commerce is real helpful with civic sponsored festivals and all that, telling you how safe street vibrations is or how interesting the walking tour of old houses converted into lawyers offices can be. Most Renovians don't need me to tell them they are irredeemably full of crap, so what are we to do? Well, here are a few things you can and should avoid and something close enough that's worth your time, money or morals. The Modern Art Museum. Don't call it that though: It is the "Nevada Museum of ART", and county ordinance requires any resident hearing it referred to differently to punch the offender in the crotch. Renovians gush about this enormous black building that looks like a badly failed baking experiment or an office tower t retrofitters didn't get to before the quake of aught three.
The building is enormous and contains almost no art. Seriously, there are two very small walking galleries containing the 13# th most important collection of unknown 19# th century American painters west of the Rockies and an exhibit space hosting some minimalists traveling show or (more often) damn all nothing.
It is impressive to people who have never been to a real art museum in a real metropolitan city or attended an auction preview at Butterfield & Butterfield. The only truly impressive space in the whole building is the café, which serves a damned fine weekend brunch. Instead, go to the National Car Museum, once known as the Harrah's Collection. I'm not a car person, but even I find this place impressive. They have more cars on display than the NMU has bits of canvas, their descriptions are more insightful and seriously, isn't Reno more of a car town? The Great Nugget rib cook off. Man, this used to be a great event twenty years ago. As an American white male I would gladly eat every meal of my life in meat-sickle form, and a venue where you wander from one booth to the next with a frozen margarita in one hand and a bone in another gets nine points out of ten (ten if you can get someone to wheel you around to the booths). It's an event killed by its own success and has been a waste of our time for ten years now. First, you don't wander any more, you stand around. It takes half an hour to negotiate any food line except kettle corn, and I didn't come to a rib cook off for fucking kettle corn. Lines go full Disneyland for the prime eating hours, you may need to pack a lunch. Second, it is very pricey for what you get, you're going to pay twice what you pay for a rack anywhere else, buying it two meat-sickles at a time. Finally, the quality of Que has dropped as mass production has kicked up and the joints around town have markedly bumped up their games. Dave's BBQ, Men Wielding Fire, Brothers, Carolina's, all are better than the average competitor. Instead, go to Virginia City for the Camel and Ostrich races. Virginia City is a lot more fun to wander around with a beer than Sparks, and watching some kid try to stay on top of a panicking ostrich for a hundred yards is much better bang for the buck than watching the two remaining members Whitesnake lead the new singer through the bands thirty year old hits. Virginia Street Casinos. Renovians don't go to the casinos much to begin with, unless like me they have discovered that the buffets are an adequate substitute for the bankrupt Fresh Choice franchise. You end up there because friends are visiting from out of town, or you work there, or you need a not nasty toilet during the middle of the Italian Festival (rebranded from Columbus Day). A shame really, many of the casinos offer good entertainment, a clean safe environment, a lot better food choices at three in the morning than elsewhere and prime people watching. And there's few better places to watch a big game than on sixty screens in a sports book. It's just that the downtown casinos make us want to cry. Virginia Street hasn't been walkable for years. It's stuffed with T-shirt shops, vagrants, pawn shops, drunks, tattoo parlors, derelict old motels, mentally ill vagrant drunks, and lots of flat vacant space. Take your friends to the Grand Sierra or the Peppermill or the Atlantis. Being isolated by themselves they are somewhat lifeless and anticeptic, but at least they don't make you want to cry. All these fucking Tahoe franchises. This town has its own traditional eateries, why does every venture in Truckee believe that Reno is a mecca for over priced casual foods? BurgerMe makes a fine burger, but it just makes burgers. Beach hut Deli makes a fine sandwich, but it just makes sandwiches. Squeeze In makes a fine hippy style omelet, but breakfast is the one meal Reno does right without any help. I have no idea what RedHut is doing here, it doesn't do anything well. The only things these businesses have in common are that their prices are way, way too high for Reno, they're Tahoe prices, and there's just as good or better home grown storefronts selling better for cheaper. Burning Man. This one is a bit of a cheat, because Renovians by and large never did burning man. Reno is already dry, hot and windy, the last thing we're going to do is go 'hmmm… I bet if we drive an hour out into the god forsaking desert we can find a waterless waste that has all this and more dust to boot!' Most Renovians have more sense than this. No, Burning man was the bastard offspring of Bay Area ex hippies and RenFaire refugees in the late eighties and early nineties. Tired of being squeezed out of their own festivals, the Black Rock Desert was a conscious choice of a god forsaken patch nobody else would ever want, where they could go to be artsy freaks to their heart's content. Too bad watching artsy freaks and pretending you are one is so popular, and that they've been bumped again, but hey, there's plenty of waterless hell holes in Nevada, go find another one. Instead, you should do anything else that involves trees, running water and less dust. 4# th of July Nugget fireworks. Hey, even the nerdy, bullied kids need someone to look down on. Reno's uber dweeb is Sparks. As a transplant myself, I am puzzled and amazed that Sparks is and remains a separate municipality. The burg just doesn't seem to have an independent existence. It's like if South Meadows broke off and founded the new city of Double Diamond. The answer of course is that its old, the town started many years ago when Reno itself was little more than a toll bridge and fuck you if you think we're giving it up now. Mostly, we just think of it as a seedy part of Reno now, regardless of what their city charter and police cars say. It seems like the only prosperous businesses in the whole town are the In and Out Burger, and the Nugget. The Nugget tries to breath life into Victorian Square, though the movie theater just closed down and they're building new condos over most of their event parking, but they try. One of the ways they try is by owning the fourth of July lately. It hasn't always been so. Until the '08 recession, the better display was put on by Reno, out at Rancho San Rafael Park. Ever since then the city has cheaped out, mumbling something about how the Aces will shoot off something if the team is in town, and letting Star Spangled Sparks hold the field. A shame, because there are very few places less suited to a fireworks display than Victorian Square. There's no grass to sit on. They don't turn off the street lights, so all the fireworks are muted and washed out. The post show traffic jam is epic. It's time for Reno to remember that they want to be a city again and grow a pair. The '08 recession is over, buy some god damned fireworks. Finally, Hot August Nights. Instead, do Hot August Nights. This event is spread all over Reno and Sparks, and how much you enjoy it will be determined by what venues you choose and what cars you look at. Choose wisely.
"We should do some stretching first. Stretching is more important than the exercise." Nana and I were next to the parking lot at Virginia Lake, standing among the par course structures. Each structure was designed to perform some stretch or callisthenic, but to use them right you had to read all the little placards next to them and we couldn't be bothered. There was one raised metal horizontal beam about 2 feet off the ground and whatever its designed purpose, Nana appropriated it as being the proper size and shape for leg stretching. She propped one running shoe up on it and reached with both hands more or less in the direction of the shoe's toe. Less not more in truth; Nana sported a pear shape through my formative years, though as I entered adulthood she changed fruit sponsors to become an apple. Dressed in an orange velour track suit, I guess she was more like an orange. Or perhaps a pumpkin. Anyway, she wasn't getting within a foot of her toes on her all-important stretch. "Nana, you better hope the benefit is in the exercise, because your stretching is falling a tad bit short of yoga. A for effort and all that." It was safe to sass her when fully occupied. She could backhand like a tennis star, but even the Williams sisters can't reach everything while doing their best to fold in half. My snark didn't even draw a glance. "I'm stretching the body and the brain. I visualize the stretch in its purest essence and that form becomes the reality of the stretch. The stretch is complete, it is perfect: My hands aren't in possession of all the facts.". "You're always saying crap like that since you joined the Unitarians. You'd of never spouted nonsense about virtual stretches when you were Catholic." Nana dropped the first leg, slung the other over the bar, and started theoretically stretching her other calve. "There were a lot of things I wouldn't think about when I went to Catholic Church. And a lot of things I did that I don't want to do anymore for that matter. Like talk to Republicans. None of it had to do with how I exercise, and you can just behave yourself. You're not too old for me to put over my knee, Mr. smart mouth." "Yes I am Nana, I'm 37 and twice your size. But in recognition of my vast reservoir of filial respect, I'll drop the topic and return to the stretching. Has your brain finished loosening your hamstrings? " "You're a wicked little boy – always been, always will be. 37 is the new 12. I used to tell your mother you were born to hang, but then hanging became something that happened only to civil rights leaders. I wouldn't put up with you at my age if anybody but you would exercise with me. Are you ready to walk?" "Nous allons, mon amie, apres tu. " "Don't get familiar with me." "Sorry, Apres Vous. What happened to Beryl? I thought she was walking with you." This drew a disgusted snort from her. "She's getting a new knee this week and won't be good for much but old people talk for three months. I'm trying to pretend I'm young, I don't need old people talk. She blew her knee down bending down to feed the cat. Who blows a knee feeding a cat?" "Someone Beryl's age I guess. How about Mary from canasta? You used to do things with her." "She won't shut up about her sex life. Keeps yabbering on about all the heavy breathing she's responsible for in care facilities from here to Winnemucca. Mary has a morbid bucket list goal of causing a heart attack mid swoon and fantasizes about the particulars constantly. Fun and solicitous over canasta with a glass of sherry, pure death to physical fitness." "Better keep her away from Pawpaw. With his big D kicking in, he might think he's on shore leave in Seoul. And your neighbor Stacy?" "She's discovered slot tournaments, has this big spread sheet with every gambling hall from the Nugget to Casino Fandango on it, spends six days a week pulling the one arm bandit. Or pushing the button now, not a lot of slot machines still have a lever. Would have seemed to me that slot tourneys would find the old ones, what's the point of just sitting there in the nickels section pushing a button? " She waved negligently at the Peppermill, looming over the lake from a block away. "She's over there now, clicking video poker machines for charity. So you're the bunny. What's the matter, having trouble keeping up?" "You got me pegged Nana. Can't stand the pace of the in crowd." Without preamble, she starts power walking away, puffing like the Virginia & Carson Railroad. I jog a few steps to catch up then slide in beside her as we leave the parking lot for the east side of the lake. Virginia Lake is a turgid, stale body of water, heavily populated by ducks, seagulls occasionally migratory waterfowl and a swan who is such a complete asshole it's a surprise it doesn't work for the DMV. The pond displays two outstanding qualities: It's smack dab in Midtown and the circumference is almost exactly a mile, a very convenient body of water to trot around before heading down to the Tandoori restaurant off Vassar, or to meet your Nana. Virgina Lake isn't a bad default if you don't have the time to hit a real trail and fall outside the Venn diagram sweet spot of two much money and too little brains to move to South Meadows and take up golf. "I'm working up a real sweat now,: she shouts to me, arms held high as she struts. "I bet I've already lost a pound!" She has to yell because the whole complex of townhouses on the east side of the lake is being razed, replaced with multistory faux Edwardians that wouldn't look out of place in Marin. Probably for the best, the town houses used to bother me; Old style sprawl constructions with enough vibrant green grass to drain the Truckee watershed. Definitely not Reno: The whole complex looked like lipstick on a pig, or worse, Sacramento. The new structures, about four times the number of units and eschewing yards, were a beehive of undocumented workers managed by fat white guys. Lord knew how they planned to build houses around here after Trump sends all the workers back to Central America (the Mexicans left years ago when the economy tanked.). The whine of saws and the staccato snap of nail guns lent a Nana an extra quarter of a step as she powered past. We make the far corner of the lake and start heading west through a field of duck poop. The south end of the park is failed 'desert landscaping' park ; nobody uses it because we have plenty of sage and weeds in our own yards, but the fine tan, gravel boasts consistency the seagulls favor for their excrement. It isn't hard to avoid the little stink bombs, Nana, for all her noise and flying elbows, isn't really going very fast. Her power walk is an inconvenient speed, faster than a saunter, slower than a jog, so there's plenty of time to avoid bird poop. The west side of the lake is more traditionally park like. A playground, lawn and picnic shelters, troubled by a popsicle truck turf war. They sit on either side of the playground, speakers cranked to ten; with identical product and price, sound is the only differentiation available to them . The conflict produces an eerie 'twilight zone' moment when their soundtracks hit 'Home on the Range' two measures apart in noisy counterpoint. The ice cream war produces no more impact on Nana than the construction workers, as she puffs ahead toward the now visible parking lot. The path narrows here, becomes congested with dog walkers and strollers, but God help anybody who doesn't get out of Nana's way, she's on a mission. I don't think she even notices them (I mean, did the iceberg notice the Titanic?). "Keep up Davie you're slowing me down. I've lost two pounds!" We return to the lot the huffing reaching a crescendo of longer deeper puffs, like the old steam engines at Disneyland settling in at a station. Lifting a bottle of smart water, she refills the boiler with about six times as much as she perspired. "My goal is to lose ten pounds a week, so this is a good start, the first three are gone." "Really Nana? I've probably exerted myself more shopping at Walmart." "You don't know anything about it. Dr. Oz says that intent and metabolism dictate weight loss far more than the chosen activity. " "It's not a matter of intent Nana, it's a matter of calories. Ya canna change the laws of physics. Walking a mile around the lake, it would be a miracle to lose more than a smidge, an ounce even." "The world is made for miracles, Mr. Know It All. Who am I going to believe, you or Dr. Oz? Get in the car. All this exercise has made me hungry and I want an early lunch. Or better yet, a second breakfast! Let's go to Pegs." Sometimes you just let your Nana have it. When miracles happen every day in Reno, there's no sense getting bogged down with facts. Besides, I want to go to Pegs too.
Voila! Finally, the Casino script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie directed by Martin Scorsese and starring Joe Pesci, Sharon Stone, Kevin Pollak, James Woods, yadda yadda This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Casino. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking ... Bonus: 100% tot €100 Hoge odds Goede promoties Overzichtelijke website Veel stortingsmethodes MrPlay is veelzijdig! MrPlay bestond al een tijd als een online casino door is recentelijk ook een online bookmaker bij gekomen - beiden doen ze erg goed. Find the latest Caesars Entertainment, Inc. (CZR) stock quote, history, news and other vital information to help you with your stock trading and investing. Casino is an Academy Award-nominated 1995 crime drama film.Sam "Ace" Rothstein is called by the mob to oversee the day-to-day operations at the Tangiers Casino in Las Vegas. Nicky Santoro, an enforcer, is sent by the mob to make sure their money is skimmed off the top, and that the casino and the other mobsters are kept in line. The Rising Star Casino Resort segment comprises of casino space, hotels, fine dining restaurant, buffet, sports bar, quick service restaurant, coffee shop, and multi-purpose grand theater. Casino : WM Casino, 85Crown, D88 Serta jangan lewatkan juga bonus promo yang tersedia dibawah ini seperti berikut. Promo Cashback Sportsbook 5% Bonus Rollingan Live Casino 0.8% Bonus Cashback Poker 0.5% Jika info diatas masih belum cukup, silahkan hubungi CS melalui kontak dan livechat yang ada dibawah ini. WA : +855.9394.7469 Line : itu.gol Casino isn't one of Martin Scorsese's most popular movies, but it's a surprisingly thought-provoking and sophisticated film full of great quotes. From the gritty reality of life behind the glamor to the spectacle of the city, Casino has a memorable quote for every aspect of Vegas life. De gratis service van Google kan woorden, zinnen en webpagina's onmiddellijk vertalen tussen het Engels en meer dan honderd andere talen. Casino. In early-1970s Las Vegas, low-level mobster Sam "Ace" Rothstein (Robert De Niro) gets tapped by his bosses to head the Tangiers Casino. At first, he's a great success in the job, but over the years, problems with his loose-cannon enforcer Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci), his ex-hustler wife Ginger (Sharon Stone), her con-artist ex Lester Diamond (James Woods) and a handful of corrupt ... Use the Uber price estimator to find out how much a ride with Uber is estimated to cost before you request it. Get a cost estimate now.
Top 10 Disney Ride Breakdowns Pt 2 Stuck on ... - YouTube
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