The Explorers Club
No. LXXXIII - The Berlin Blockade, Part II: The audacity of the Airlift, the fun and goodwill of Operation Little Vittles, and the Soviet-approved loophole that made it all possible.








As a general rule, I avoid using the same images that appear as part of a given topic's Wikipedia entry (which I assume is the paramount resource for most of you who avail yourselves of The Explorers Club), but in this case the entry had the simply best representation of the Anglo-American air corridors into free West Berlin.

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Though I have not yet compiled an official list of the ten worst films I have ever seen, I am confident The Happening is among them.



Lots of people seem to misunderstand the nature of Parker Posey Appreciation Day, Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day, and the fascination that prompts both commemorations. I have never sat down and had a conversation with anyone about these two occasions; so, whatever I say to describe the general attitude toward the Appreciation Days is based upon my own gleanings and interpretations of remarks made around, about, or seemingly in reference to those days in celebration of Parker Posey or Zooey Deschanel. Also, as I have, as previously mentioned, never elucidated the natures of P.P.A.D. and Z.D.A.D., I have only myself to blame for any confusion or misconceptions and write what is to follow with malice towards none.

I am not "in love" with Parker Posey, nor with Zooey Deschanel. However, I find both actresses* absolutely fascinating. Fascination can be a highly nebulous term; so, what is my meaning? Flat out, Parker Posey is the most interesting player (regardless of gender) in the American cinema. At any moment, she might very well do anything. Have you ever seen an interview with her? The lady is batshit crazy, a screwball, as loony as Daffy Duck's original personality. And at least from where I sit, no matter the character she is playing, that madcap frenzy is just beneath the surface, barely contained. And with the following I intent to impugn the acting ability of neither Sam Elliott nor Parker Posey: you don't hire Sam Elliott to act, you hire Sam Elliott to be Sam Elliott. You want to hear that voice, that glorious rumble with the pitch-perfect western twang. You want to see those stoic features, that face that greets both triumph and disaster as the impostors they are (thanks, Mr. Kipling!). Parker Posey is like Sam Elliott, you don't hire her to act, you hire her because you want her character to always be just that one half-step removed from gleeful madness. You want any actress who can go from sedate to stark-raving in a blink should it strike her fancy.

Each of Zooey Deschanel's characters, even the extroverted ones, seem to be on the verge of collapsing in upon herself in an implosion of shyness. She never, ever looks comfortable on screen. And again, I am not impugning her abilities as a thespian, because clearly as an actress and musician any shyness innate to her being must have been by this point beaten down as locked away in favor of either am ambition of that peculiar mania that forces some to act, some to sing, some to write, almost against their will. I find her ability to simultaneously project confidence and nervous terror enthralling.

In the spirit of frank discourse, I cannot deny being attracted to Parker Posey and Zooey Deschanel. And I say this with no shame. I mean, by Bog, have you seen them? They are stunning creatures, sylphs of surpassing beauty. And yet my appreciation for the loveliness of each is influenced by her individual charms. Even when perfectly still, Parker Posey seems poised for an explosion. No matter the photographer or style of image, Zooey Deschanel always looks slightly unsettled. They are ladies of supreme comeliness, but this is merely the beginning of their mesmerizing mystery.

By contrast, I am in lust with Hilary Duff. The tale: A month ago, I was riding in the Senator's Daughter on the return trip from Saint Louis (the "Matrimania" accounts, both D.C. and Saint Louis, are coming, as is the too-long delayed conclusion to "The Wedding Album," I give you my word) when my companion, the driver, manipulated his iPod and selected a very surprising string of songs, by the likes of Kelly Clarkson, Shakira, and Hilary Duff, among others. These songs were all present in his library as singles, not a one of them as part of an album; so, I understood possession of them, though of course we engaged in a great deal of good-natured taunting. When the maddeningly repetitive song "Beat of My Heart" began, I asked by whom it was sung as was told Hilary Duff, which prompted me to say, for no particular reason, "I've never found her attractive. I don't get it." He replied, "She's pretty cute in the video for this song."

Some hours later, after the Accursed Sun had ceased it pitiless bombardment and we were hurtling through the darkness in pursuit of the narrow beams of the Senator's daughter's headlights, something about his comment caught in my mind and I maneuvered through the menus to watch the video for "Beat of My Heart." And immediately I saw what he meant. Suddenly, Hilary Duff was no longer plain, she had become a vision. A month on and I cannot shake her. In truth, I've no desire to do so. Mock me if you wish. Were you in my place I'd be merciless and cruel, and as such, as a firm believer in the Golden Rule, I expect no better treatment. Do your worst.



For my part, I will be scheming for ways to parlay** Project TROIKA's eventual success into an encounter with Ms. Duff, whom I will then proceed to charm, woo, and win for mine own.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Hilary Duff, "Beat of My Heart" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: In the words of Hedonism-bot, "I apologize for nothing!"

Sonntag, 29 Juni
R.E.M., "The Great Beyond" from Man On the Moon: Music from the Motion Picture (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Silly yet haunting. Their intention, I'm sure.

"I'm breaking through,
I'm bending spoons,
I'm keeping flowers in full bloom,
I'm look for answers
From the Great Beyond."

*Someday, I'll explain to you why "actress" is not, as some have ignorantly claimed, a sexist term, at least not in the negative sense.

**Remember, kids, best not to confuse parlay with parley.