The Fiddler of Dooney

I am indebted to my old friend Conrock, who reports that my regular blog reminded him of this poem by Yeats. It's a great one. Thanks, Brian.


The Fiddler of Dooney

By William Butler Yeats



When I play on my fiddle in Dooney,

Folk dance like a wave of the sea;

My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,

My brother in Moharabuiee.



I passed my brother and cousin:

They read in their books of prayer;

I read in my book of songs

I bought at the Sligo fair.



When we come at the end of time,

To Peter sitting in state,

He will smile on the three old spirits,

But call me first through the gate;



For the good are always the merry,

Save by an evil chance,

And the merry love the fiddle

And the merry love to dance:



And when the folk there spy me,

They will all come up to me,

With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’

And dance like a wave of the sea.

All the Kings Men

This is a GREAT movie! I am so glad I watched it. I wish so much that I could teach a class about how to read books or watch films in ways that we can see the profound connections with our own real lives.

Too many people watch movies about other historical periods, or science fiction, or unusual people or circumstances, and they can't see beneath the surface differences between what is on the screen and what they themselves are really living and really care about.

We get all caught up in our own time or gender or race or nation or problems or regrets or concerns - so much so that we can't see the truly powerful truths that are being portrayed to us, merely using another person's drama as the surface vehicle.

Watch this movie! And think about how thoroughly it applies to YOU. Not just in its comments about conventional politics, but in the people and manipulations of each of our real daily lives.

Thankyou For Smoking

Christopher Buckley is a GREAT writer of humorous fiction. Thankyou for Smoking, the film made from his book of the same title, is out in DVD. Don't miss it. It is superb.

And read his books! My favorite is Little Green Men.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Many many years ago, I had to purchase several contemporary novels to read for a class in literary criticism. One of these assigned books was One Hundred Years of Solitude, by the author in this article's title. I had not yet purchased any of the books when I happened to notice the Marquez book in a grocery store and decided to give it a quick look.

I opened the book to the very first page and read the first line, which was something like (I don't have the book with me here in a Starbucks in Northridge, CA), "On that day, just before he was executed, Juan Carlos Buendia recalled the time many years before when his father had shown him ice."

Now that is a first line for a novel. For me, standing there next to the gew-gaw book aisle at a Ralph's (which is right next to where I am sitting now, come to think of it; strange), That sentence led to the next and the next and the next, as I lost all consciousness of myself and my literal surroundings. When I returned to conventional consciousness, it was because my sciatic nerve was in more agony than I could ignore. I was on page 34.

It is the best contemporary novel I have ever read.

Here is one more recommendation. If Marquez and I ever discussed politics, I expect we would agree on very little. I believe he is a pretty staunch Marxist. But here is one of the amazing things about most great fiction: You can read hundreds of pages without ever having an inkling of any political ideas that are trying to emerge. More than that, you are in the midst of an experience that proves why politics is not and can never be the ultimate solution. Politics is transcended.

So before I paid good money for it, I asked, "So what exactly do you mean by a *used* sombrero?" 

The Myth of Male Power, by Warren Farrell

First, let's admit the obvious: as a general rule, all else being equal, males are physically stronger than females. Therefore, if we define the word "power" as lunatic fringe feminists want us to - say for example, "power is physical strength" - then of course, superior male power is a fact and not a myth.

Now let's give a more sane definition of the word: "power is the ability to be victorious in a battle of wills." If you see the wisdom of such a definition, and are sick and tired of the other one being treated as gospel, this book is for you.

Meticulously researched and footnoted, written by a man with amazing credentials for the task (a former high level member of the National Organization for Women) and covering almost *every* area of the human experience in which battles of the will arise, this book is one of the great myth-busters of our age.

There is so much misinformation that gets broadcast unquestioned simply because expert manipulators of the opinion making machine want it that way. Anyone who can read who does not want to be a fool needs to put in at least some time looking at sources that present alternative viewpoints. Damned Lies and Statistics is one great read, as is The Myths that Divide Us.

The Myth of Male Power is equally worthy of perusal.

Jack Johnson

I am so old that the coolest I can be now in the music world is what they call "retro."

I did not want my retro-ness to stand in the way of www.donmcintyre.com being useful to *all* of its visitors, so I went to my two personal experts on the current state of popular music, who also happen to be my sons, and I said, "If you could recommend one musical performer to the world, who would it be?"

They both gave me the same answer: Jack Johnson. So I listened for myself.

My first reaction, you understand, was hostile rage. I mean, all through the seventies, as I hitchhiked all over the United States, writing songs and singing songs, and doing all kinds of things to get myself in front of music publishers and agents and the like, I kept hearing the same thing over and over again:

"You are talented and you write good material. But you're just one guy with a guitar - shheeesh! This isn't the sixties, for crying outloud. You need a *band* - drums, bass, keyboard, maybe even some violins and horns. Go put all that together and make a demo. Then we'll talk."

Now, 30 years later, as I make my "retro" music CD's (!), this Jack Johnson dude comes around with his one guitar and sells his stuff to my own kids - who, by the way, I supported by working in a cubicle, for the most part.

But, okay, Jack Johnson really is good. And I'm too old to appeal to his audience. Maybe if I live long enough, someday 70 year old retro guys will be in. But with my luck, they'll have to play the tuba.

In the meantime, go back to www.donmcintyre.com and buy one of Jack's releases.