My Beautiful Memo

Tom Wolfe, New York City, November 2011

American actress Lana Wood (Svetlana Nikolaevna Zakharenko) keeping a leopard on a lead. USA, 1966 (Photo by Mondadori Portfolio by Getty Images)

A news comentator suggested Trump produced the memo from a place he already sees himself in – prison! What this newsman does not see, is when Donald goes to jail, he wants Hope Hicks to be in the cell with him, for she is the only Loyal One. When they fornicate, they will hang a blanket on the bars. In other words, Trump has been framed, and, does not want to go without pussy while serving time. Donald has acquired a Brilliant Jailhouse Lawyer who was trained by Caryl Chessman.

Comey wrote; “That’s it?” which might be the greatest literary review of all time. There is a Tom Wolfe and Thomas Pynchon connection.

Let us look at Chesman’s autobiography ‘The Kid Is A Killer’ to see how our President’s pathological mind works. Caryl was a genius sociopath, who may have advanced the idea of Legal Literature. He produced many legal documents that ended up saving many people’s lives. With Trump’s Brilliant Memo – EVERYTHING DIES!

Art Writers, artists, art critques, and art biographers, love to connect the dots. Walter Keane loved doing this. I include him in the Priory de Sion craze! Talitha Getty is kin to Ian Flemming. Lana Wood was a ‘Bond Woman’ and looks like Talitha. Did they ever meet? Did they live the same Bohemian lifestyle?

Trump should hire Eric Schneider to write all his stuff. Jessie Benton Fremont held a Salon in San Francisco. Mark Twain, came. I am rightful Heir to the Republican Party. Caryl had nothing to gain when he wrote. He is a Authentic Author, above reproach, as is Walter’s autobiography because it is loaded with every motive in the book. He and Donald! The Republican Fiction was written to save the Republican Party and its President. How many will got to jail?

I just heard they are going to make a movie about Wood’s death. Time to send my movie script out. The Wood women are of the Russian Seed.

“Is that it?”

Jon Presco

Kid Killer3

I will never again complain about dead lines or  crappy writing conditions. Caryl Chessman, for those of you out of the loop on your history was on California’s Death Row having been convicted as the Red Light Bandit when he penned this little bit of trivia. He reportedly finished his only novel (although he did write three non fiction books) while awaiting his execution in the gas chamber in 1953 but the manuscript was confiscated and locked in the wardens safe until 1960 when, as California’s longest serving death row inmate he was finally executed.

The book is actually not that good, but much like it’s author, it is brilliant in places, preachy in a lot more places, again, like it’s author is is ultimately undone by trying to get too cute; tries to justify anti social actions, takes off into a fantasy world, and has a morality that wouldn’t mesh with any non sociopaths ideology. Another important fact about the book, or really it’s author is that it was a major cause célèbre in the fight against the death penalty.

Talitha Dina Pol was born in Java, then part of the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), daughter of the artists Willem Jilts Pol (nl) (1905–88) and Arnoldine Adriana “Adine” Mees (1908–1948).[1]

Her father subsequently married Poppet John (1912–97), daughter of the painter Augustus John (1878–1961), a pivotal figure in the world of Bohemian culture and fashion. She was thus the step-granddaughter of both Augustus John and his muse and second wife, Dorothy “Dorelia” McNeil (1881–1969), who was a fashion icon in the early years of the 20th century. By Ian Fleming‘s widowed mother, Evelyn Ste Croix Fleming née Rose, Augustus John had a daughter and Talitha’s aunt, Amaryllis Fleming (1925–1999), who became a noted cellist.

Former FBI Director James Comey took aim at the controversial memo authored by House Intelligence Committee chairman Devin Nunes’ staff, which was declassified by President Donald Trump and released Friday.

Criticizing the memo in a Friday tweet, Comey wrote, “That’s it?”

“Dishonest and misleading memo wrecked the House intel committee, destroyed trust with Intelligence Community, damaged relationship with FISA court, and inexcusably exposed classified investigation of an American citizen,” he continued. “For what? DOJ & FBI must keep doing their jobs.”

The law and literature movement focuses on the interdisciplinary connection between law and literature. This field has roots in two major developments in the intellectual history of law—first, the growing doubt about whether law in isolation is a source of value and meaning, or whether it must be plugged into a large cultural or philosophical or social-science context to give it value and meaning; and, second, the growing focus on the mutability of meaning in all texts, whether literary or legal. Those who work in the field stress one or the other of two complementary perspectives: Law in literature (understanding enduring issues as they are explored in great literary texts) and law as literature (understanding legal texts by reference to methods of literary interpretation, analysis, and critique).

This movement has broad and potentially far reaching implications with regards to future teaching methods, scholarship, and interpretations of legal texts. Combining literature’s ability to provide unique insight into the human condition through text with the legal framework that regulates those human experiences in reality gives a democratic judiciary a new and dynamic approach to reaching the aims of providing a just and moral society. It is necessary, in practical thought and discussion about the use of legal rhetoric, to understand text’s role in defining human experience.

The reclusive novelist Thomas Pynchon is a finalist for a National Book Award for “Bleeding Edge,” but he won’t be attending Wednesday night’s ceremony, according to a story in The New York Times by Julie Bosman.

That takes me back to 1998, the first year I reported on the National Book Awards. Tom Wolfe was up for the fiction prize for a fantastic novel called “A Man in Full.” It’s about a wheeler-dealer real estate developer in modern-day Atlanta. At almost 800 pages of roiling bravado — including the most outrageous sex scene ever written (about horses) — it had generated Moon-landing-like media coverage: Think Jonathan Franzen’s “Freedom” but from an author who knew how to generate publicity like P.T. Barnum.

A Man in Full” had been nominated even before it was officially published. That was technically within the rules, but it added to the novel’s Sherman-like approach. Having already won a National Book Award for nonfiction in 1980 for “The Right Stuff,” Wolfe seemed destined, fated, preordained to be the first writer to win in both categories.

Tom Wolfe's "A Man in Full" was the book to beat in 1998, but its author didn't show up. (Courtesy Farrar Straus Giroux) Tom Wolfe’s “A Man in Full” was the book to beat in 1998, but its author didn’t show up. (Courtesy Farrar Straus Giroux)

That cold November night, the black-tied literati gathered in the Times Square Marriott Marquis. But where was Wolfe? It seemed inconceivable to me that he would miss this ceremony. But maybe the White Suited One suspected something we didn’t. He never showed up. Word came down that he had an appearance scheduled in Atlanta that night, and he didn’t want to disappoint his readers.

I thought that was a classy move — and it turned out to be prescient, too. A self-effacing woman from the Washington area, Alice McDermott — the anti-Wolfe — snatched the prize away from “A Man in Full” with a quiet, mournful novel called “Charming Billy.”

Inherent Vice” not only reminds us how rooted Mr. Pynchon’s authorial vision is in the ’60s and ’70s, but it also demystifies his work, underscoring the similarities that his narratives — which mix high and low cultural allusions, silly pranks and gnomic historical references, mischievous puns, surreal dreamlike sequences and a playful sense of the absurd — share with the work of artists like Bob Dylan, Ken Kesey, Jack Kerouac and even Richard Brautigan.

Like “Vineland,” his other ode to the counterculture era, this novel conjures a California where characters talk in the trippy, spaced-out language of the frequently stoned and lead wacky, slacker-type existences. It’s a California reminiscent of the one Tom Wolfe depicted in “The Pump House Gang” and “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,” a place that stands in sharp contrast to the capitalistic conformity of the “Midol America” that Mr. Pynchon had suggested would arrive in the Reaganite ’80s. The hero of “Inherent Vice” worries that “the Psychedelic Sixties, this little parenthesis of light, might close after all, and all be lost, taken back into darkness,” that “everything in this dream of prerevolution was in fact doomed to end,” with the “faithless, money-driven world” reasserting “its control over all the lives it felt entitled to touch, fondle and molest.”

If “Vineland” read like a user-friendly companion piece to “The Crying of Lot 49,” then “Inherent Vice” reads like a workmanlike improvisation on “Vineland.” Once again the plot is propelled by a search for a missing woman, a former hippie who consorted with an incongruous representative of the capitalistic power grid. And once again there are efforts by the powers-that-be to turn hippies and potheads to the dark side, to turn them into informants through re-education programs or the enticement of money.

Thomas Kennerly Wolfe Jr. (born March 2, 1931)[1] is an American author and journalist, best known for his association with and influence in stimulating the New Journalism literary movement, in which literary techniques are used extensively. He reduced traditional values of journalistic objectivity.

He began his career as a regional newspaper reporter in the 1950s, but achieved national prominence in the 1960s following the publication of such best-selling books as The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (a highly experimental account of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters), and two collections of articles and essays, Radical Chic & Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby.

His first novel, The Bonfire of the Vanities, published in 1987, was met with critical acclaim, and also became a commercial success. It was adapted as a major motion picture of the same name, directed by Brian De Palma.

Wolfe also wrote two critiques of and social histories of modern art and modern architecture, The Painted Word and From Bauhaus to Our House, published in 1975 and 1981, respectively. The Painted Word mocked the excessive insularity of the art world and its dependence on what he saw as faddish critical theory. In From Bauhaus to Our House he explored what he said were the negative effects of the Bauhaus style on the evolution of modern architecture.[18]


Wolfe’s thesis in The Painted Word was that by the 1970s, modern art had moved away from being a visual experience, and more often was an illustration of art critics’ theories. Wolfe criticized avant-garde art, Andy Warhol, Willem de Kooning and Jackson Pollock. The main target of Wolfe’s book, however, was not so much the artists, as the critics. In particular, Wolfe criticized three prominent art critics whom he dubbed the kings of “Cultureburg”: Clement Greenberg, Harold Rosenberg and Leo Steinberg. Wolfe argued that these three men were dominating the world of art with their theories and that, unlike the world of literature in which anyone can buy a book, the art world was controlled by an insular circle of rich collectors, museums and critics with outsized influence.[1]

Wolfe provides his own history of what he sees as the devolution of modern art. He summarized that history: “In the beginning we got rid of nineteenth-century storybook realism. Then we got rid of representational objects. Then we got rid of the third dimension altogether and got really flat (Abstract Expressionism). Then we got rid of airiness, brushstrokes, most of the paint, and the last viruses of drawing and complicated designs”. After providing examples of other techniques and the schools that abandoned them, Wolfe concluded with Conceptual Art: “…there, at last, it was! No more realism, no more representation objects, no more lines, colors, forms, and contours, no more pigments, no more brushstrokes. …Art made its final flight, climbed higher and higher in an ever-decreasing tighter-turning spiral until… it disappeared up its own fundamental aperture… and came out the other side as Art Theory!… Art Theory pure and simple, words on a page, literature undefiled by vision… late twentieth-century Modern Art was about to fulfill its destiny, which was: to become nothing less than Literature pure and simple”.[4]

Critical reception[edit]

The Painted Word hit the art world like a really bad, MSG-headache-producing, Chinese lunch,” wrote Rosalind E. Krauss in Partisan Review.[5] By ridiculing the most respected members of the art world establishment, Wolfe had ensured that the reaction to his book would be negative. Many reviewers dismissed Wolfe as someone simply too ignorant of art to write about it.[6][7]

Other critics responded with such similar vitriol and hostility that Wolfe said their response demonstrated that the art community only talked to each other. A review in The New Republic called Wolfe a fascist and compared him to the brainwashed assassin in the film The Manchurian Candidate. Wolfe was particularly amused, however, by a series of criticisms that resorted to “X-rated insults.” An artist compared him to “A six-year-old at a pornographic movie; he can follow the action of the bodies but he can’t comprehend the nuances.” A critic in Time Magazine used the same image, but with an 11-year-old boy. A review in The New York Times Book Review used the image again, clarifying that the boy was a eunuch.[8] The opening of Krauss’s review in Partisan Review compared Wolfe to the star of the pornographic film Deep Throat. The reviewer viewed Wolfe’s lack of a suggestion for what should replace modern art as similar in its obtuseness to statements Linda Lovelace made about Deep Throat being a “kind of goof.”[5]

In defense of critics Rosenberg, Greenberg, and Steinberg, Rosalind Krauss noted that each man wrote about art “in ways that are entirely diverse.”[5] Writing in Newsweek, Douglas Davis wrote that The Painted Word fails because of how it departed from Wolfe’s previous works. Wolfe’s other non-fiction, Davis wrote, was deeply reported, but here “Wolfe did not get away from the typewriter and out into the thick of his subject.”[1]

Outside the art community, some reviewers noted that however unpopular Wolfe’s book may have been in art circles, many of his observations were essentially correct, particularly about the de-objectification of art and the rise of art theory.[9]

Sarah Judd
Jul 23 at 9:10 AM

John Ambrose

Jul 22 at 10:04 PM

O.K. Niel, I was holding my big gun back, but, timing is everything. It’s time to seize the day and bring the ‘Godzilla Run’ to Springfield. Their juggernaut in dead in the water. Tow years ago I had a fight with Krystal Albert over the Belle Incident that just  shut down Memoirs #10428 at the Senior Center. We have to turn and face the monster, eventually. But for now……..RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
The Godzilla Festival

Lana Wood (born Svetlana Gurdin; March 1, 1946)[2] is an American actress[3] and producer.[4] She is best known for her role as Plenty O’Toole in the James Bond film, Diamonds Are Forever (1971). Her elder sister was film star Natalie Wood.

Early life[edit]

Wood was born Svetlana Gurdin[2] to Ukrainian and Russian immigrant parents, Nikolai Stephanovich Zakharenko and Maria Stepanovna Zudilova. They had each left Russia as child refugees with their parents after the Russian Revolution, and they grew up far from their homeland. Her father’s family settled in Vancouver, British Columbia. After her maternal grandfather died in street fighting in 1918, Lana’s grandmother took Maria and her siblings as refugees out of the country, settling in a Russian community in Harbin, China. Maria married there, and in 1928 had a daughter Olga Tatulova with her first husband[5] who died in May 2015.[6]

When Nikolai and Maria married, she brought her daughter Olga to the household. The couple had two daughters together: the first was Natalia, known as “Natasha”, the Russian diminutive. The family settled in Santa Monica, California, near Hollywood and changed their surname to Gurdin. Svetlana, known as “Lana”, was born there.

Her parents changed the surname of her elder sister, Natalie to “Wood”, after she started her acting career as a child. She was named after Wood’s director Irving Pichel‘s friend Sam Wood.[7]

When Lana made her film debut in The Searchers (1956), her mother was asked under what last name Lana should be credited. Maria agreed to use “Wood” for Lana, building on Natalie’s recognized work.


In her early career, Wood usually played bit parts in films in which Natalie appeared. Starting in the 1960s, her own career took off. After appearing on the short-lived drama series The Long, Hot Summer, she landed the role of Sandy Webber on the soap series Peyton Place. She played the role from 1966–67. In 1970, Wood was approached by Hugh Hefner and asked to pose for Playboy to which she agreed. The Playboy pictures appeared in the April 1971 issue, along with Wood’s poetry. She was cast as a Bond girl, Plenty O’Toole, in the James Bond film, Diamonds Are Forever (1971).

Wood has more than 20 other films and over 300 television series to her credit, including The Fugitive, Bonanza, Mission: Impossible, Police Story, Starsky & Hutch, Nero Wolfe, Fantasy Island and Capitol. After appearing in the horror film Satan’s Mistress (1982), she retired from acting, concentrating on her career as a producer, but she has since returned to acting in a number of low-budget films since 2008. Lana is a character in the Steve Alten book Meg: Hell’s Aquarium (2009). Wood wrote a memoir, Natalie, A Memoir by Her Sister (1984).

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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