The Roll and ShufflePokerPulse homeTwitter The Roll and Shuffle - the discriminating player's guide to the art of gambling.
LegalAtPokerPulse - A law blog featuring the best links and guides to Internet gambling key challenges plus a You Asked Us forum where experts answer questions from gamblers and would-be online operators worldwide.
For the first time ever, I was alone in a different country. I was nervous about how I was going to cope in this big, bustling city (New York) and so I employed a technique which still serves me well today. I imagined myself as someone who relished new exciting opportunities, who was utterly unafraid and perpetually optimistic. It was a kind of reinvention. Everyone I met was new. These people didn't know me, there was no shared history, so I could be anything or anyone I wanted to be. My theory was that if I behaved like a confident, cheerful person, eventually I would buy it myself, and become that. I always had traces of strength somewhere inside me; it wasn't fake, it was just a way of summoning my courage to the fore and not letting any creeping self-doubt hinder my adventures. This method worked then, and it works now. I tell myself that I am the sort of person who can open a one-woman play in the West End, so I do. I am the sort of person who has several companies, so I do. I am the sort of person who WRITES A BOOK! So I do. It's like a process of having faith in the self you don't quite know you are yet, if you see what I mean. Believing that you will find the strength, the means somehow, and trusting in that, although your legs are like jelly. You can still walk on them and you will find the bones as you walk. Yes, that's it. The further I walk, the stronger I become. So unlike the real lived life, where the further you walk the more your hips hurt. (-- pgs. 187-188)
On another legendary fatty:
Robbie Coltrane joined us for the films and very quickly became a regular because we couldn't face filming without him. He made us laugh like no one else on set. His big, chippy, Scottish style was so different to everyone else. He played around a lot on set and yet, on camera he is clearly in utter control. He was the one who had big feature film-sized presence. Shame he's got such a small cock... in comparison to his magnificently impressive body I mean, of course. (-- p. 274)
The Vicar of Dibley - The Immaculate Collection
... The Talmud tells us that when the serpent entangled with Eve it spurted defilement into her which infected her children. Never mind that the infection came from him.
Woman's sensuality is therefore her triumph and her downfall. Her sensual machinery can arouse man's unconscious desire and cause him to lose himself in her more radically than she ever can in him. This is the nub of that over-amplified target called 'the battle of the sexes.' If love is the re-creation of an original happiness and that happiness is founded on the mother, then the woman is more capable of delivering it to the man than he to her. This blind power of hers, this near trick depends on instinct and is the triumph of instinct over reason and can make him hate her as much as love her and often both at one and the same time. Love or no love, the sexual act is inherently disrupotive.
For a country breast-fed on chastity and gullet-fed with the religion that makes Jansenism seem sportive the transgression is twice as bad. For a woman it is ten times more so. In fact considering their background I am surprised that all Irish women are not lying down on railway tracks uttering and wailing ejaculations for the oncoming train. It would be rash to hope that women have contributed as richly and as vigorously to the theme of love. But they have contributed - wild contumely, withheld desire, craven love and a sublimated sexuality that gives rein to the most fanciful and sometimes devious images. Too often they languish like Dido under the weight of doom, loiss and rejection. Nor are they bold in their descriptions; they seldom describe him, they merely describe the feeling and the event as if it were a sacrament. Desire has gone underground and reappeared as something else. There is of course Molly Bloom, but she is the creation of a man. Only she boasts and raves about her indisputable power to arouse man's desire, to come-hither him and to make jest of him in the process. (From the chapter entitled, The Female, pgs. 148-149)
I'm a bad luck woman
I'm a bad luck woman
I'm a bad luck woman
I can't see the reason why
About the song:
From 1935 onwards, Minnie's recordings began to reflect changing tastes. She had now fully absorbed the city (Chicago) blues style and was regularly featured with pianists like Black Bob Hudson, Big Bill Broonzy's regular accompanist, Jimmie Gordon and Blind John Davis, a bass player, usually Bill Settles and sometimes trumpet, clarinet or drums.
Typical for this period are the evocative Black cat blues and I'm a bad luck woman and her celebration of Joe Louis, the legendary Brown Bomber with He's in the ring and Joe Louis Strut. Minnie's songs continued to draw from aspects of her own life and the events and personalities that touched upon it. (From the excellent liner notes by Joop Visser)
The cost of production having been assessed at about 6s 8d a copy, the retail price can hardly have been less than about fifteen shillings. As Stanley Wells points out: 'The publishers' investment in a massive collection of play scripts was a declaration of faith in Shakespeare's selling power as a dramatist for reading as well as for performing. The declaration of faith and the investment may not after all have been the publishers'. If the publication was subsidized, the print-run could well have been small. In 1633, William Prynne was scandalised to notice that 'Shakespeare's Plays are printed on the best crown paper, far better than most Bibles,' which suggests that for someone cost was no object. Wells credits Hemmings and Condell with the actual editorial work; they commissioned a scribe called Ralph Crane to copy 'a number of plays specially for the volume' and chose 'which printed editions and manuscripts to send to the printer ... copy which must have been a printer's nightmare.' What is obvious from the appearance of the First Folio is that a house style has been imposed on all this disparate material, which suggests to me at least that the editors did not take the risk of giving the printers jumbled papers or leaving them to impose a house of style of their own. So far-fetched is the idea that Shakespeare's widow might have hired an amanuensis to prepare an edition of her husband's plays that no one has ever considered it.
As a widow Ann Shakespeare was entitled to make a will. If we could find it, and her inventory, we would know once for all whether she died a penniless dependant or whether she left money in trust to be spent on further publishing of her husband's work. If she did she would have left her executor no choice but to make available any funds remaining for a de-luxe second edition before he himself was gathered to his eternal reward.
All this, in common with most of this book, is heresy, and probably neither truer nor less true than the accepted prejudice. Ann Shakespeare cannot sensibly be written out of her husband's life if only because he himself was so aware of marriage as a challenging way of life, a 'world-without-end bargain.' The Shaespeare wallahs have succeeded in creating a Bard in their own likeness, that is to say, incapable of relating to women, and have then vilified the one woman who remained true to him all his life, in order to exonerate him. There can be no doubt that Shakespeare neglected his wife, embarrassed her and even humiliated her, but attempting to justify his behaviour by vilifying her is puerile. The defenders of Ann Hathaway are usually derided as sentimental when they are trying simply to be fair. It is a more insidious variety of sentimentality that wants to believe that women who are ill treated must have brought it upon themselves. The creator of Hero, Desdemona, Imogen and Hermione knew better. Ann might say like Lady Macduff:
I have done no harm. But I remember how
I am in this earthly world, where to do harm
is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence
To say I have done no harm? (IV. ii. 75-80)
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum