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Born and raised in the Bronx and a graduate of City College, Robert Scheer is the former editor of Ramparts, the leading radical magazine of the 1960s.
Was the latest war in Lebanon another war? Another, as in one more (of the same) in the list of Middle East wars? Or another, as in a different war (of new dimensions)? Paradoxicallyit was both.
We have no words for the horror of the present, for the ghostly bodies showing through the plastic wrap. No words for the faces of despair and elation bubbling from the TV screen, faces of hatred and madness and dedication to death, faces that have had the truth of “collateral damage” played out to them over the cell-phone videos even before the sound of the drone has faded.
“Relax people,” the Eddie Bauer-clad embassy official shouted through his bullhorn. “This is not the last day of evacuation. Everyone who wants to evacuate will have the chance to do so.” Our tiny family—me, my husband, Walid, our 7-year-old daughter, Petra—stood on the narrow Dbayeh bridge overpass about three kilometers north of Beirut.
Politics splits along interesting lines here on the upper left side of the country. In the Oregon race for governor, four candidates are looking to knock off the incumbent, a middle-of–the-road technocrat (need I say Democrat?) named Ted Kulongoski.
Hate to do a mass e-mail like this, but weve been having a bit of a kerfuffle over here in regards to some little linguistic snags about what constitutes a war crime or degrading treatment, or physical mutilation in the Geneva Conventions.
“Someone told me a while ago that I was a crank,” Ken Jacobs wrote. “It seemed a deft summation. I am disappointed, not with my personal situation —I’ve been very fortunate—but with the obscenity, that is the state of the world.
The first time I saw Mickey Spillane’s name in print I was thirteen years old. My father had brought home a paperback copy of The Erection Set. The cover featured a photograph of a beautiful blonde, naked, with one long leg extended straight up, toes tickling the black block letters of the author’s name.
Paris-based writer Grégoire Bouillier was born in 1960. After writing for reviews including LInfini and NRV, his first novel, Rapport sur moi (Allia, 2002), was awarded the Prix de Flore. His new memoir, The Mystery Guest, has just been published in the US by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Yann Nicol, a freelance journalist based in Lyon, recently spoke to Bouillier.
Artists from around the world donated hundreds of works of art in solidarity with the new socialist government of Chile of President Salvador Allende beginning in the early 1970s. The contributions continued after his death in the 1973 military coup through the 1980s.