Tagged: reviews
Museum Quality TDS, South Park Quality Indoctrination, and Food—My Trip to Rushmore and Crazy Horse
Anyone who has ever visited a custom framing store knows that the easiest upsell in the universe is museum quality glass. For the uninitiated, the glass companies, or whoever, provide this shadow box which holds an item—usually a yellow tassel—behind what appears to be one half of a pane of glass. That’s the gimmick. It appears like there is no glass on one half. But there is. And now you’re hooked. How could you ever cover any framed object with a dirty window?
Naturally, this museum quality glass gets its name from its use in museums—these carefully curated places of unfiltered history. Or at least that’s how I think of museums. Sure, there are going to be words of explanation besides the clear-glass-encased pieces and sure these words will naturally be written with an agenda of some sort. But the objects behind the unseen glass are the real communicators.
Luckily for us, this is still the case with Mt Rushmore. You see, I just took the kids to visit it—A- had learned about it in kindergarten. And all I can say is I am happy to report the museum piece was worth it. Because the description was sorely lacking.
The video presentation, which spent a lot of time on the importance of the right type of rock for such a project, had a line, “Years later, the artist (I can’t recall his name) was asked if there was enough room for another face and he said, ‘No’.”
TDS has infected a national memorial. Firstly, if Trump wants his face on it, he will get it done—and in gold. Secondly, the Left is somehow afraid of this man. What has he done to them besides disagree and name call? It’s incredible to witness their fear.
Oh, and did you know women and minorities helped create Mt Rushmore?
It is impossible—literally you can see both from the road—to not want to go to check out the Johnny-come-lately Indians’ effort while in the Rushmore area. Of course, I mean Crazy Horse.
Unfortunately, for anyone who has ever seen South Park, the experience is uneasy. Rushmore charges $10 to park. And the entire site is built to last—lots of stone and whatever that fake but permanent wood is called that decks can be built out of. Bathrooms are great. Viewing area is great. The whole experience is great.
But the Crazy Horse experience is embarrassing. They have a fee schedule—to include $10(!) to walk up. And a car load is $35. The entire monument (which will be epic at a LOTR level if they ever get smart and finish it) is very far away. Everything about the place is VHS in a world of 4K streaming—and I mean the kind of chasm involved in visiting your distant relatives whose TV/VCR combo unit isn’t flat, let alone do they have two bathrooms.
We watched a video (as recommended) to continue the post-parking lot experience which began with actually handing a just-received physical ticket to a gatekeeper. The movie was informative, and it contained the key flaw to the concept: the belief in adherence to unduly stubborn principles.
Again, back at Rushmore we were informed us that the artist and his son barely touched the mountain—instead they directed the many workers.
Crazy Horse’s artist was the sole worker, at least to start. And from Rushmore’s crew.
Rushmore took 14 years.
Crazy horse is 78 and no horse in sight.
I understand TTP (Trust the Process) and am living proof that it is true. Also, I cannot stress enough how cool the final monument will be. I am also totally fine with the tragic concept behind the project, that of an Indian pointing to where his home was—even though it necessarily carries the false idea that losers were participants in an unfair fight.
Back to the visit, we next perused what there was to peruse and noticed that in only 8 minutes there would be a proper drum and dance performance.
We took our seats and proceeded to listen to a real (looking) lady Indian dressed in real (looking) Indian gear lecture us for 50 minutes of an hour, on how the 600 tribes of Indians were living in perfect harmony, how they forecast Einstein’s E=mc2, and how the word “Sioux” means “snake”.
It was a family affair, we learned. So her 10 year old daughter came out and sang a short Indian song. And then her 19 year old daughter came out and danced two dances, accompanied by iPhone drums (probably not AI song) over loudspeakers, in a dress strung with hundreds of bell-looking things that sounded like kazoos jingling.
I need to emphasize here: I understand totally the concept of “talk before eat”. It is impossible to serve free food and then ask people to stay for a free lecture. Main attractions have to come last, I get it. But the lecture was 5/6ths of the allocated time and rife with inaccuracies—she even pointed out the brains of buffaloes were used to oil the hides.
(See Wilder’s settler’s written description of “butchering day” for context.)
Anyhow, after driving away, and while tearing down our campsite the next morning (have I mentioned I am an Eagle Scout and quite literally one of the Last Boy Scouts?), it hit me. These people need to, firstly, tell the truth about how tragic and brutal life was before civilization approached and conquered. Secondly, after starting with the depressing, they need to regain some face and their only way to do that is to highlight proudly (and most welcomed-ly) all the ways the Indian ways influenced and sustains the dominant civilization—like, say, Indian Guides, Boy Scouts, chief, army helicopter titles (blackhawk, kiowa etc).
Lastly, the food at Rushmore is exactly what I imagined food in communist countries is like—terrible. But guess what?! The entire restaurant facility is award winning in its “green”-ness. I mean, consider this. The restaurant which serves terrible food (except the ice cream of course) is award winning: “Feel good about how the preparation and housing of the terrible, and overpriced, food adheres to irrelevant, purpose-less government guidelines.”
This brings me to my concluding advice: the food at Crazy Horse smelled really good—even to a full stomach. So don’t let any of my criticism deter you from seeing both monuments. But skip Rushmore’s restaurant and donate your money to the Crazy Horse food crowd instead of the commies.
Finally, two illustrative pics.
“White Sinners”, A Review of The Bride!, by Maggie Gyllenhaal
Motionless pictures can be art, too. The Bride!, like Sinners, is art for the reason motionless pictures can be art. The trouble, the thing that has everyone ate up, is Ms. Gyllenhaal’s picture is in motion. Hmm.
Lucky for her, the door for this kind of post-post-modern, detached, boundary-less art was opened by Mr. Coogan (and I am sure others). Just the same, I have always heard about some people who are able to be captivated by a single painting for hours. That is the closest this wind-riding-knuckle-dragger-with-a-blog can use in describing how this movie works.
Is The Bride! a reimagining? I have no idea. The interwebs confirm that there is no book by Shelley. Apparently there is an early movie and some other movies and books of the titular concept (Bride of Frankenstein). But I am pretty sure this film is just an original continuation story—and it should have been marketed and reviewed as such.
The most striking part of the movie was the leading lady’s effortless range. I mean she goes from repulsively demonic to irresistibly infatuating in the blink of an eye.
The gore is realistic and nauseating—another instance of “I hope my kids never find out I watched this”.
There are scenes of obvious first wave feminism (…like I know what that distinction means to experts. What I mean by first wave is that some women don’t want to be stay at home moms). But unlike some reviewers, I didn’t see it as proselytizing or advancing an agenda. It’s just a movie, folks. At ease!
On the whole, in addition to Sinners, I place it alongside Joker 2. I would like to give it a second chance now that I know what’s coming. But I am not sure there will prove to be enough time.
The Briefest Review of Glenn Powell (After Watching Running Man)
He ain’t got it.
Arnold had it.
Sly had it.
TC has it.
Even the name “Glenn Powell” cannot be a part of the “it” that he so desperately seeks. Tragic, in a way.
(To be honest, the movie was actually better than I had heard. Preachy at times, but, on the whole, enjoyable and entertaining.)
Reading Log 4.17.2026
As the influencers and their adoring trolls say these days, “Don’t sleep on those math essay titles!” This is the first volume of a four volume set on the World of Mathematics and I wanted to include the contents so that you can see for yourself just how far-reaching mathematics is. I especially call your attention to an essay near the end on “Mathematics in Painting”.
You see, years ago I stumbled upon the notion that not every math idea has always been around. Specifically, even the seemingly simple concept of the number zero is relatively new. As I explored and validated this notion, I came to read that even our literate ancestors had silly ideas about the size of the sun, some notable philosophers of old speculating that it is only twelve inches in diameter.
This wildly wrong guess called to my mind the fact that early art lacked what we call perspective. The curious question came to mind, “What exactly are we talking about here? When people saw paintings of nature or portraits of people, which we now would never suggest look anything like the landscape or person, did they think, ‘Nailed it!’?”
More pointedly, we can still do this today when we see a kid draw a terrible portrait of someone and it almost physically hurts to ask the kid the simple question, “Do you really think that scribbling looks like me?”
What gives? I wondered. Did their eyes work differently? Do my children’s eyes work differently.
Well, before ever starting this four volume set, I had speculated that the increase in art’s ability to capture life accurately was probably somehow related to the increase in mathematical knowledge. I said to myself that the obvious increase of both was not coincidental.
Long story short: it’s not just somehow related. It was mathematicians who moonlighted as artists (or vice versa) who, with their unique abilities, developed perspective in art!
****
Upon starting Volume 3 of GW, I learned that it was actually a five volume biography by Mr. Irving that I had begun. Luckily eBay exists and I was able to track down the final two volumes before they vanished forever. I also have picked up a post-Revolutionary War map from which to teach my children (and any houseguests) the striking fact of how small a part of America was even involved in our infamous Independence-giving war.
****
Aquinas is simply the most methodical writer you will ever come across. You owe it to yourself to peruse at least one chapter.
****
Snodgrass is someone I learned about while reading Meier’s fifth volume of his Marginal Jew series (also on Jesus’ parables). Suffice it to say, I now have a decent depth to my understanding of Jesus’ parables. All I can offer in brief is, “Please do not loft an opinion or interpretation of a parable’s meaning until you read at least one book on them.” Either Meier or Snodgrass is a fine place to start. (Blomberg too.)
****
Sherlock Holmes author Sir Doyle wrote a fun little classic knights-in-shining-armor adventure tale in The White Company. Best part is a reminder that once we did things for glory. And it also has some super funny banter among knights.
****
And for fun (and more simply to be forthright) I have included the two bedtime story books I have recently completed with my children. These two have a few great moments apiece, but in moving to Farmer Boy, I have to say FB seems to have a much more compelling plot, what with the whole new teacher being the friend of previous teacher who was essentially murdered.
My sister had the yellow colored box set of these on her shelf all my childhood. I stared and stared and thought they were for girls only—like there was no way a boy could enjoy them. Ha. So stupid.
Beneta, A Review of The Accountant by Gavin O’Conner
Which is it? Do people with “autism” save the day Greta-style? Or do people with “autism” save the day, Ben Affleck style?
A co-worker recommended the film, casually, saying, “He plays someone with autism well.”
I will say this about the film. It held my attention. And it tied a nice bow, leaving very few, if any, plot points unresolved.
And yet. Who cares if someone, for tons of money, can convincingly not make eye-contact and recite lines methodically?
The real question for those in the “autism-as-superpower” camp, is can an “autistic” person act like a normal person? IE, Greta cannot be a Hollywood A-Lister. Shouldn’t that mean something?
(To be clear: No, my child, autism is not cool or a superpower or a much needed solution to the human’s dilemma on earth.)
SBVI (Speech for the Blind or Vision Impaired), A Review of Nuremberg, by James Vanderbilt
There used to be an option to turn on CC (closed captions). Now, that is pretty much always on by default. But for the deaf or hard of hearing, there is a new option called SDH, which is all that CC is, but also includes text descriptions like “intense music” or “dog barking” or “door slams”, if the sounds are off camera but deemed important to the story.
Well, I just turned off Mr. Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg, after a mere twenty minutes. Why? Because the script was terrible. In a word, the dialogue ran on as I had enabled some option to enhance a movie for people who are blind or vision impaired (SBVI).
In other words, the movie would show a man riding on a train, and then one character would say to another, “I am sitting here on this moving train, on a seat.”
Just terrible. What a waste. That I made it twenty minutes is embarrassing. First scene of some weird AI looking smoke blowing around behind abandoned cars was when I could tell it wasn’t for me. Oh well. Mortal Kombat II is only two months away!
Reading Log 2.6.2026
The reason Aristotle should be read and will be rewarding is simple enjoyment of compare/contrast of methods. He also forces you to abandon juhhhhst about every preconception about government and politics you currently hold.
****
GW never disappoints. What a life. I confess that sometimes my mind wanders as the descriptions of all the various messages being sent to and between all the many forts and camps are given. At the same time, what an exciting job, no? Perfect for a young man wishing to prove his worth, I say. What task of today compares with, “Your countryman’s lives depend on you successfully carrying this message through the forest undetected. Can you do it?”?
****
After I discovered Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, after I found a portrait, and after I framed it behind museum quality glass and hung it on my wall, I realized that I didn’t really know much about him or his role in Mexico’s independence. There’s a brief entry in my 1910 Britannica set. And then there’s this book. Suffice it to say, now I do. In short, and probably fortunately, the word “legend” has to be applied. New Spain and the caste system it operated within simply didn’t have an established habit of written record. Another difficulty that can really only be appreciated if you read GW and Hidalgo simultaneously, is the scale of the geography upon which events unfolded. New Spain (future Mexico) was enormous, whereas GW was focused on New York and Long Island and a few other relatively minuscule locations along the Atlantic coast. In the end, however, for both legendary and historically verifiable reasons, Hidalgo does belong among the six men on my wall. Oh, and you’ll never guess the nickname he got after college. So go! Read and learn! (Even the internet won’t help you.)
****
How could I, American hero that I am, not like Alien vs Captain America? Just look at those covers. Rest assured, they do not disappoint.
****
Isaac Newton leads the way for humans—overall. But Aquinas leads the way for methodical writing. This man’s rigid adherence to a method is otherworldly. I won’t say it is commendable, because I am too interested in creative writing. But when I hear people talk and it is utter unfocused confusion, the easy fix is to show them Aquinas.
****
I knew Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. (Read it too.) I did not know about The Mysterious Island. It is fun. A few chapters in and I found myself thinking, “Wait a minute! This is just a genre-establishing sci-fi version of Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson.” Then it seemed like it was literally in the next chapter’s opening that Verne, or the narrator, detailed as much and offered a decide-for-yourself-whether-it’s-a meaningful distinction. In any case, compelling start, second act slowed a bit, but the third finished strong. It isn’t a must read. But if you have interest, it won’t disappoint.
Reading Log 12.18.2025
It’s been since September 20th that I posted an updated reading log. These six make it seem like I barely made time for my hobby. I can’t explain it, but except for last hitch, I have been reading as normal.
****
George MacDonald is just fantastic. And any book that includes dialect spelling is fantastic. So be sure to check out his Heather and Snow.
****
The Aristotle Nichomachean Ethics section was exceedingly worthy. Most importantly, the name (Nichomachean) derives either from Aristotle’s father or son. I say Aristotle wrote down what his father taught him. Be that as it may, the lucidity of the ethics are remarkable. Here’s one example for ya. You know how we always hear the BIPOC and BIPOC-infatuated leaders talking about “equity” these days? They throw out some idea like “equity, not equality”, right? Then they proceed to explain the most unequal thing in the most confusing way, right?
Well Aristotle (or his dad) used the word equity in the following way. He said there is the universal law, say, “Do not steal.” Then there is the nuances of the law, to include all the particulars, like, stealing a lot is obviously different than stealing a little. Aristotle (or his dad) uses the word equity to describe the nuanced consequences of the application of the law. In other words, the difference between going to jail and simply giving the stolen good back to the owner was equity. My example is correct in principle, not particulars. No matter how fine the law cuts it, there is gray in between—this is equity to Aristotle.
Here I don’t mean to applaud the idea of equity in Nichomachean Ethics, but to draw out for you that over two thousand years ago one man wrote clearly and it appears the best we can do today is worse.
****
Does everyone understand that George Washington was British? Did you know that Mount Vernon was so-named because George’s older brother, Lawrence, served in the British Fleet under one Admiral Vernon whom he so loved that he named his property after him? Has everyone slept outside in the cold with savages nearby, allies mostly, but likely enemies too? As holy writ declares, “We are but dust,” compared to this great man. You could read and re-read Washington Irving’s biography and never be worse for it.
****
I found this 600 page Justice League America collection of comics at the library. The series came out in the 97-98 time period. They were fun. Who doesn’t love the dynamic between Batman and Superman? And now I know more about Martian Manhunter too. The end of Justice League Snyder Cut always bothered me. But not anymore.
****
How many times do I have to write about the moooslims? One more I guess. That’s what the Song of Roland is about. French Christian Knights vs saracens. I read the long epic poem, supposedly a first of its kind—its kind being nationalistic or patriotic poem—in two days. I go so deep when I read that I don’t recommend this to anyone similarly talented. I mean, for a day or two, I thought I saw everywhere the mooslims were invading our lands.
****
What can I say about finishing the two volume Reporting Vietnam set? Couple things. First, the French had colonies in Vietnam before WW2. (Maybe earlier too.) But the point is that France took such a beating in WW2, geographically situated as they were, that the Allies decided to help them rebuild after the war. That is where America enters Vietnam—what is so wrong about helping French rebuild their colonies?
Second, during WW2, Ho Chi Minh gained power because he wanted all the foreigners out—Japan and France (later America etc). It will be forever debated if he was a communist at heart or just used communism as a timely tool.
Third, I used to think it cool to baldly state, “We lost Vietnam.” I remember even daring my helicopter instructor pilot who fought heroically in Vietnam to admit it, which he did unreservedly, probably for the millionth time to POS’s like me. I will never say this or allow someone else to say it ever again. The US did not lose Vietnam. The South Vietnamese lost. We fought, we left. We did not lose. Losing a war is terrible. Never lose a war. Anyone who says anything to me about America that sounds like they want it to lose a war now gets verbally reprimanded at the highest socially acceptable level. Every person alive should want their country to win any war it engages, at nearly any cost, rather than suffer loss. We did not lose Vietnam.
In addition to having the above new things to say about ‘Nam, I want to share two images that now adorn my house. First, this hangs in my garage.
My gentle wife took days to notice and when she did, she asked, “Isn’t that a bad word?” in reference to the kids growing up with it in view. What a great question. How would you answer her?
Secondly, this is now the backdrop to my beloved piano.
I teach the kids to repeat after me, clockwise from the top, right first, then left, “Nelson (Nelson), Robert (Robert), Miguel (Miguel), Ho (Ho), George (George), Ghandi (Ghandi).” And I ask you, what do these men have in common? Why would I, Eagle Scout, USAF Pilot, Baptist, and Thanksgiving-and-Christmas-working first responder have Ho Chi Minh on my wall, my mind, and my children’s minds?
Hint: the key to life on earth as an American is the Vietnam War. There’s a reason for the current confusion. And it has nothing to do with events of the day or what you consume daily; it has everything to do with what you have never read. Both the reason you have never read it (or been required to—nothing conspiracy theory here—just general shame and incompetent teachers) and the history you will discover upon reading it are relevant.
Agent K vs The Protagonist, A Joint Review of Men in Black and Tenet
I’m kinda loving my life right now. I recently rewatched Men in Black and just now finished Tenet. What do these two Science Fiction thrillers have in common, you ask? And is it true, Pete?
They both repeatedly make the point that the general mass of humanity doesn’t want to know how close the total mass of humanity is to annihilation at any given moment.
Who tells us this? And on whose authority?
Agent K and The Protagonist. Because they are the engines of hope.
Finally, are they right? Is it true? Is the world on the brink of annihilation and do people, generally, not want to know it?
Yes, with the caveat that “the brink of annihilation” can be taken to mean the whole enterprise OR simply one person’s death.
In other words, from the perspective set forth by Jesus’ Good Samaritan story, which includes the claim: “I am neighbor”, it doesn’t matter what happens to the world’s occupants once I am dead. What matters is that my ability to contribute to the world died. Here I mean to enlarge the defense of the concept of “not wanting to know” to include “because people, generally, also are not wanting to neighbor”.
Full-circle: Agent K and The Protagonist are certainly engines of hope for life, just as is the Good Samaritan. The key behavior among all three is proper action despite desperate circumstances.
The new question is, “Is there any reason to believe life extends beyond death?” And, if so, should we act according to that belief?
Does Finishing A Book Ever Make You Sad?
I have been reading the two volume set of Reporting Vietnam since March 19 of this year. That’s 8 months. Today I will finish the set.
I am sad.
I already have Reporting World War II waiting in the wings, another two volume set. And I am very excited about that one, given how profoundly this one affected me. But that excitement does not override the sadness.
It feels weird to be sad about finishing a book. I think this is because there are obviously so many others. Maybe it is sad because it’s not the book that is concluded, but the conversation. Yeah. I like that.
What is better, after all, than a good conversation?
Captain’s Log 