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Volume 477 - Art Cop

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May 22, 2001.   ...Advertise on      ..SPORTS..   ..Sweep Weeks..   ..Help Wanted..   ..Did you hear it? 

 Help Wanted

  The West Wing
  Pronunciation Strategery Specialist
  Las Vegas, Nevada

      ****Are you good at pronouncing big words?
      ****Can you teach others to pronounce big words with credibility?
      ****If so, then this may be your dream job!

      Our client is the chief executive of a large, multinational organization with
      influence in every sphere of the world. This extremely high profile executive
      makes public appearances on a daily basis. Thus, his speaking
      engagements need to be persuasive, credible and memorable. In short, we
      need someone who can teach our client to say big words.

      The ideal candidate will:

      * Teach our client to say hard-to-pronounce words like: “tertiary,”
      'discretionary,” “paradigm,” “anti-ballistic,” “Putin,” and a host of others,
      including many really tricky words that contain extra syllables and hyphens
      that seem to move just when you get ready to say them

      * In addition to an expert knowledge of how big words are supposed to be
      said, you will also be responsible for teaching our client how to say the names of
      about a zillion funny-sounding countries in far away places (even some overseas!)

      * You will help our client improve his vocabulary so instead of using the big
      complicated words (monitorition, scientilifical, decisionatory, defriblerigerator,
      etceterera) he will say ones that are easier to pronounce and when he says
      them, he will not have that painful look of adolescent self-doubt the moment
      he says them. (You know, that LOOK! The one where you're thinking, 'Dang!
      Everybody in the free world KNOWS I said the word wrong! I'm embarrassed.
      Not as embarrassed as daddy was after he vomited all over that guy in Japan, but darn close!')

      Desired Requirements:
      *Our winning candidate will be able to deal with executives at the highest
      level and really enjoy towel-snapping frat-boy humor

      *Special knowledge of Texas history (just the good parts, thank you!) and of the punch lines
       to every “Old Sparky” electric-chair joke ever written would be a HUGE PLUS!

      *If chosen for this important job, you will work in one of the most historic
      office buildings in the world, fly better than first class, have all the Cheetos
      you can eat, and be able to order FBI background checks on your college
      buddies just for laughs. Special education experience helpful. Experience in
      the following would be preferred: Phonics Monkey, Scrabble and Wheel-of-Fortune.

      Please click the 'Apply Online' link and send your resume and a cover-letter
      chock full of big words to become a candidate for this position.

       Base Salary:                       $12-$179062
       Other Compensation:          Rangers tickets
       Posted by:                          Employer
       Industry:                            Government - Civil Service
       Function:                            Education,Other,Education
       Job Term:                          Full-Time
       Desired Experience:           Less Than 1 Year
       Desired Education:             None
       Travel:                               Road Warrior

       Date Posted:                      05/01/01
       Ad Id:                                ne0036-j24c3752vmrrdtnwxm23


"To those of you who received honors, awards and distinctions, I say, well done.
  And to the 'C' students, I say: you too can be president."
    The Unelected Smirk at Yale University

 But George, that only works if your crooked daddy once ran the CIA,
 and your crooked brother is screwing the crooked Secretary of State who makes
 a quick-call in your favor in a state that makes the difference in a close election,
 and then is backed up by crooked, partisan appointees on the whore court.


Subject: RE: Your Big Apple Visit

Hey BC!
I had no idea you were such a fan of art. You could even add another
"subpage" to your site to highlight your appreciation....and you could call it "ArtCop"......

Glad to see you back. Some of the time you were gone, it appeared to me
as if Team Smirk were timing events to coincide with your absence....

Personally, I am finding this "hostile takeover" of Al Gore's White House
(he did indeed win it, fair & square, the Supreme Court be damned) only tolerable by
immersion from time to time in total, absolute NON-TUTU'ed opinion, and your page is it.
Too bad that the DNC and the S*L*U*T*s  (S mirk   L overs  U nder   T om (Delay))
are such a dissapointment up to this point.

Keep up the good work, continue to grow the pie higher & higher* (homage to W &S) .

 .......hope to be sending you some "PayPal  Support" soon......


Loc, art is like music - I love the good stuff and can't stand the crap
Van Gogh is one of the very few I really like..

 Subject: Is it just me?

 Click  Here

From: "THE BIRD"

Subject: Murderer??

Can you provide proof that Barbara and Laura had abortions?

Nobody debates you because you just spout off nonsense and don't back it up.
That's why rush is leading Americas talk show circuit and your in the trash.
I'll be waiting for your reply.


Bird, you're a nut and always have been.
I didn't say they had abortions,  what are you, crazy?
I said they were pro-choice.
It was El Pigbo and the Hyena Lady who said pro-choicers are murderers, not me.

Nobody debates me because most ditto-spanks have your grasp of reality.

 Attack the Host


 Subject: Fine, be a chicken


 Okay, DON'T address the issue of minority-majority districts.
 Just let the Republicans use the Black and Hispanic Caucuses to
 keep themselves in power both in D.C. and statehouses across the nation.

 Forget you, I'm going back to reading the New Republic.
 I thought you were an Democratic activist who had some positions, but all you want to do is rant.
 Unless the issue is a slam dunk, you chicken out.

 Dear Mr Turkey,
 Congrats on finding an issue on which I haven't taken a strong stand.
 I thought I'd covered most everything in the last 476 issues.
 Unlike a lot of yakking heads, I don't take a position on things I don't know much about it.

 Instead of coming off like a name-calling weenie, why not write a column
 telling me what my position ought to be and try to convert me?


Subject: WEST WING - Bartlett's Latin

bc -

Some of us non-Catholics did endure a little prep school Latin  :-) anyway,
on NPR a couple of days ago, this professor of Classics:

Name: Ed Phillips
Title: Professor of Classics

was discussing Bartlett's Latin rant to God.  He seemed very impressed with whomever wrote it:
its structure, in groups of 3 sentences, was ecclesiastical, and the last line translated as:
"why don't you go hang yourself."

I didn't see the show and I haven't looked for a transcript (I'm sure one will show up),
but it seemed that it was one of those rare TV moments saved for the few, the proud, the survivors of Latin.

Venes voluptes invenit ubi sunt,

Et cum spiri tu tuo.

 The New York story II

 The first thing I noticed was her well-toned calves and her firm...

 Wait, wrong story - hold on...

 Here we go...
 So we left the Chat & Chew and started walking again.
 We walked everywhere.  After a couple of miles, we stumbled into The Cedar Tavern.

 It was more noisy than Ward Connerly finding out a negro made it into UCLA.
 We couldn't hear each other speak, so we continued The Death March.
 After another couple of miles, we found The Reservoir, which was better.

 They had no real tequila, of course, so I think I had a beer.
 Right after the bartender served me, I noticed they had Long Island Ice Teas - on tap.
 I had no idea they could pre-mix that and have it taste OK, but then again, I didn't try one.

 So we headed Back to Bataan, where we eventually found Union Square Park.
 It was one of the coolest stops of the whole trip.  It's hard to describe, expecially for a quarter-wit,
 but there was maybe 100 people on this corner of the park, and they were just hangin'.
 There were some teenagers trying to do tricks with their skateboards. There were kids and old people
 and cops and black folk and Asian people and they were just hangin' and doing nothing.
 By now, it must've been midnight, and there was a crowd of people doing nothing.

 I thought how hard it must be for someone to grow up with that kind of excitement,
 then move to a small town where nobody was hangin' anywhere but the damn Dairy Queen.

 Do you know who Bob Simon is?
 He might still be, but he was a foreign correspondent for CNN or CBS, and in 1991,  he was
 covering the Gulf War a little too closely. This bonehead drove a jeep out into the desert, toward Iraq,
 looking for a story like he was Lois Lane with Jimmy Olsen's signal watch - and he found a story, all right.
 The Iraqi army grabbed his dopey ass and slapped him around a little bit and threw him in an Iraqi prison.

 Seems like they kept him for 60 days or something, then let him go. Then he whined about how unfair
 it was that he, a semi-partially-respected "journalist" was held by the Iraqi hun. In truth, the nut was
 lucky to get out of that alive and then he goes on 60 Minutes to whine like he was Terry Anderson.

 The reason I bring him up was he walked right past us on the street with a woman.
 I'm sure it was him, I pointed him out to Mrs BartCop and CAL, and they agreed.
 I don't even need to "swear to Koresh" on this one because if I was going to lie
 about spotting a celebrity, I'd think of somebody good, not Bob Simon.

 There was only so much excitement my knees could take, so we took a taxi home.
 That was a helluva first day in THE city.


 Subject: NOTE: All BartCop readers

 The Motel Six in Kansas City is cleaning up after the NRA convention this weekend.
 They have still not identified four sets of teeth.

 Call the claims dept at EIB


 We got a nice mention from my good friend Eric Alterman in The Nation

 Click  Here

 Excerpt:  began as a critique of Rush run by a fellow who wishes to remain anonymous
 but describes himself as "your average Okie liberal with too much time on my hands."

 It's developed into a very smart, funny critique of the right and is financed to the tune of $600 a month
 by Marc Perkel of San Francisco, who simply liked it and offered to pay the freight.

 Thanks, Eric, and thanks to Marc, too.
 Chinaco Anejo all the way around.

 Back to New York...

 Saturday we woke up and looked out the window.

 New York is nothing if not busy.
 It's the only place I've seen that's as busy as New York is Las Vegas.

 Time to take a quick shower and hit THE city.
 The water looked clear in the sink, but it's brown in the tub.
 CAL told us NY has a great water supply, it's just that the pipes in the 100-year old
 buildings are all rusted to hell, so the clean water comes out in brown chunks.


 Waiting for a cab, I noticed how many rollerbladers there were.
 Rollerbladers, small dogs and gay men.
 They were everywhere.

 We hopped in a cab and I said, "Guggenheim Museum."
 The cab driver went ape-shit.
 This was Saturday morning, and the streets were less-than totally gridlocked,
 so the cabbie (Solomen Teddesse) was driving down Sixth Avenue doing 45 MPH.

 Dodging and weaving, it was the thrill ride Dave always talks about.
 (It was one of the most exciting rides ever, but more on that in the Thursday section.)

 Soon, we arrived at The Guggenheim.

 Old-time readers might remember when we went to DC in 1998, we travelled with
 a world-class architect. When we told him a month ago that we were going to NY,
 he mentioned that the plans for the Guggenhiem were either drawn or stored in his apartment.
 (He studied under Frank.)

 Do you know what the crazy feature of this museum is?
 You take an elevator to the top floor, then you get in a golf cart and let gravity deliver the goods.
 All you do is go in circles, and hit the brakes when you want to see something.
 That's pretty damn impressive.

 So we get to the front door and we see the inevitable sign:
 This museum is under renovation.
 The spiral part is closed, ...but
 - the Maplethorp Exhibit in the square part is open!

 Just what I came to New York to see - a Maplethorp exhibit.
 They also had some Thannhauser exhibit, but who ever heard of him?
 It's a conspiracy to deny me a good time, I told myself.

 Broken hearted, we started walking towards The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

 The Met was showing the "Jackie's Dresses" exhibit - yawn.
 (That was the gig where Pickles snubbed the women of Washington by not attending.)
 It said "Two Hour Wait" for Jackie's dresses, and I don't have two hours to waste.

 Mrs. BartCop remembered that they had some Vermeer's, so we began the search.
 Vermeer is Ruebenesque, so we like him.

 Walking thru the halls of the exhibit, there wasn't a sound, which was odd since there were
 a hundred people in this little 40x40 room. They were all so silent and well-behaved.
 Let's hear it for the mellow people of New York!

 My favorites were:

 Jacob Vosmaer's "A Vase of Flowers."

                  Damn, look at him go!

 Paulus Polter's "Cattle & Sheep in Stormy Landscape."

 This is real good when the picture is bigger.

 Vermeer's  "A Glass of Wine."

 Nice stuff, eh?
 That's good for what it is, but nothing beats the Impressionists.

 The Impressionists - the rule breakers.

 You got your Monet, who's a low-rent Van Gogh.
 You got your Manet, who took fewer chances than Monet.
 And then you have your Vinnie Van Gogh, ...the Jimmy Page of leaded paint.

 Van Gogh is the only oil man who ever made me cry (until last year)

 Check out his "First Steps (After Millet)"

           Click for a great, detailed enlargement

 You can't see much in this photo, but when you're a foot away from this masterpiece,
 you see the emotion in the father - reaching out with such anticipation for his daughter's
 first steps - coaxing her to come to him.  You also see the baby's eagerness to please Daddy.
 That kid isn't stumbling, she's taking off.  She knows she's going to make it to Daddy.
 You see how Daddy has dropped his important farming to share this victory with his daughter?
 Look how straight his arms are - he really wants her to succeed.

 Son of a bitch, this is a great, great work of art.

 I have no idea how Vinnie could grab a brush full of emotion and slap it on a canvas.
 But then again, I don't understand how Jimmy Page can made a steel string vibrate with emotion, either.
 How unreal to get an emotional punch in the stomach from a painting that's 111 years old.
 If you want to start a fight with me - call Van Gogh a bum.

              Wheat Field with Cypresses

 This is what happens when you eat the lead paint - genius!
 I should go to art school just so I can learn the words to describe this stuff.

 I could go on and on, but the Internet's not that big.
 If I could ever get the Trip to DC Pt 2 finished, I could tell the tale of the time
 I came face to face with  Wheatfield with Crows.

 It's the greatest painting ever done.

 Christ, I have tears in my eyes just typing the words as I flash back.
 Until October of 1998, I had no idea paintings had that kind of power.

 I gotta move on, cause I could stay here forever.

 Before we left the Met, we checked out some lesser artists, just for laughs.
 Gaugin and Seurat are pikers.
 They made me laugh out loud, causing the guard to "shush" me.

 Cezanne isn't bad.
 His 1880's work was Van Goh-wannabe, which really was his best work.
 His pre-1880 work was nothing to write home about, then he had his spurt of mediocrity
 until about mid-1890, (which isn't a bad run) but then he completely turned to crap.

 He painted a picture of his wife that should be burned.
 I'll bet she hated it as much as me and let Paul know about it.
 Maybe that's why his career went to shit in mid-1890.

 Show me anything Cezanne did, pre-or-post 1880's, that's worth a cheese sandwich.
 Maybe museums hang the weak stuff as a donation to his family.
 I'm sure they get paid by the painting.

 Wait, there was another great painting:
 It was "Florinda" by Franz Xavier Winterhaller.

 Portrait of the Empress Eugénie Surrounded by her Maids of Honor,
 1855, oil on canvas,
 Musée National de Palais de Compiégnie.

  ha ha

 That's not true!
 They're lying!

 That's "Empress" Eugenie, ...semi-sorta, but not quite because she's still a virgin.
 The only way that title is truthful is if you own a Wabac machine.
 The view you're seeing is that of King whatshisname, hidden, leering thru the bushes
 as he decides which virgin he's going to force into womanhood that night.
 This is a gaggle of young maidens in Spain, being spied on by the suddenly-one-handed king.

 See the lady in white, middle of the left side?
 As Paulie would say, "Honey, this is your lucky day."

 Well, the King chose to have her that day.

 Later, ( I was reading real fast) when Eugenie's daddy found out what the King had done to his baby,
 he made a deal with the Turks or the Arabs or the Visigoths or somebody to come up thru Morocco
 and overrun Spain, and they did, and that bit of Monica affects western Europe to this day.

 Men are so stupid!
 (Chris Farley pulling on his hair...)

 "Nations go to war over women like you, it's a form of appreciation."
        -- Sheena Easton/Prince

 Oh, well,  I could do, "Art with BartCop," forever.
 But we had a great time checking out the art in New York.

 So, we continued to walk the streets.
 By now, my dawgs were barking worse than the metal detector on Columba Bush.
 We got to the MOMA and they had some problem, so we didn't go inside,
 but across the street they had a string of vendors selling art, cokes, falafels, hot dogs,
 and all kinds of things you wouldn't find in Oklahoma.

 There was a table behind which was seated an elderly Japanese calligraphic artist.
 He said he'd write anything in Japanese for eight dollars.
 Hey, I got eight bucks.

 Do you know Japanese?
 Do you know what this says?

From: Coach

Subject: Welcome Back

Welcome back BC.
I'd like to say we missed you, but you'd probably see right through such an obvious fib,
considering Bartcop fans are so pissed off that you had the nerve to take a holiday away from us.
In fact, most of us are going to boycott the site for....where the hell's Part II?

Don't ever leave us alone that long again.
Either that, or get a laptop and type in an "on the road" version.


 What'd you think about that West Wing?

 While we were out of town, a cloud must've appeared in the sky, which causes
 all homes in K-Drag to lose power, so all my VCRs shut off and didn't tape last week.

 I need copies of these shows from May 11th to May 19th:
 the second-last Voyager,
 the West Wing,    (Oh, I'll just spit if I can't get a copy of that...)
 the final episode of The Practice,
 the hour-long, season-ending Frasier,
 the second-last X-Files, from the 13th,
 the Cat Heat episode of Dark Angel, for Mrs BartCop (cough)
 The Sopranos where Jackie robs the poker game,
 the final Lone Gunmen,
 anything that was good on Dave or Jay that week.

 If you have any of these shows, send me an e-mail.
 I'll pay cash, or owe you a tape, or owe you a favor etc.
 If I don't get these shows, I 'll no longer have everything on tape.

 But that West Wing was something, wasn't it?
  (Some of these quotes are from Lynn Elber of the AP)

 However, I did feel a little cheated that we only got to see Toby and Donna's reaction
 to the pivotal "I was lied to by a friend" news shocker. But after that, ...

 Sorkin and Bartlet went waaaay farther with the anger at God than I would have.
 If you didn't see it, after the funeral of his step-mother/big-sister role model...

 Mrs. Landingham is the person who brought Bartlet into politics.
 She came to young Jed (in high school?) with a social problem and drafted him.
 She said she knew he'd made up his mind to join her when he thrust his hands into his pockets.
 That gesture was Jed's way of smacking the gavel - the decision has been made.

 Mrs. Landingham had just bought her first new car, and was on her way to let Bartlet "kick the tires,"
 when some drunk girls ran a red light, killing her, and severely crushing Bartlet's faith in God.
 After her funeral, he ordered everyone out of the national cathedral, and he meant everyone.

 He told the Secret Service to go outside and lock the doors.
 Then he lit a cigarette, stared at the statue of Jesus on the cross,
 (I don't have the tape, but this is how I remember it)

 Bartlet's opening line in his one-on-one with God was
 "You son of a bitch."

 Who begins a sit-down like that?
 Then Bartlet got out the BIG hammer.

 "She bought her first new car and you hit her with a drunk driver?
   What?   Is that supposed to be funny?" Bartlet asked, then added bitterly,

 "Have is displeased you, you feckless thug?"


 He wasn't through.
 His next twenty seconds were in Latin
 Odds are, you non-Catholics don't know a lot of Latin.

 Here's what Bartlet said to God's face:

"Am I really to believe that these are the acts of a loving God?
  A just God?
  A wise God?

  To hell with your punishments.
  I was your servent here on Earth.
  And I spread your word and I did your work.
  To hell with your punishments.
  To hell with you."

 Then, in a gesture of contempt, he threw his cigarette to the cathedral floor, crushing it with his shoe.

 Pretty strong stuff.
 Was it this year's finest TV moment?
 Not yet.

 Mrs. Landingham's ghost appeared and scolded him for his self-pity.
 "There are people way worse off than you.
   ...If you don't want to run again, I respect that.
  But if you don't run because you think it's gonna be too hard,
  or you think you're gonna lose, well, God, Jed, I don't even want to know you."

 Was that this year's finest TV moment??
 Not yet.

 Bartlet's all wet now, he's been standing in the rain, searching for a clue.
 He's got the speech of his life in 10 minutes and he was wetter than Bettina Gregory
 giving an explanation of Peyrones disease on a live update for an ABC radio special.

 Bettina, you're a whore.
 You know it.
 I know it.
 Bob Dole knows it,
 and the American people know it, get outta here...

 They rushed Bartlet into a limo and dashed off to the press conference.
 CJ reminds him to call first on "Lou" or someone, to avoid the inevitable question,
 "Mr. President, do you have the gall to run again, after lying to us?"

 It started getting real good here.
 Bartlet stood there - beaming at the crowd and the TV cameras.

 The press whores were acting like they did with Clinton, screaming rude questions at him.
 His staff is starting to panic, starting to wonder if he was losing it.
 All he had to do was call on Lou to break the ice and get the first question out of the way
 and then hope for the best on the second question.

 The camera kept circling Bartlet, creating an intentionally dizzying effect.
 As the others started to panic more fully, Jed's old buddy Leo realized what was happening
 and looked up with a face full of hope and said, "Watch this!"

 Damn, that was good.
 Spencer can act.

 Was it this year's finest TV moment?
 Not yet, but we're seconds away.

 The camera continued to circle as the president thrust his hands into his pocket
 and called on the reporter most likely to ask him if he was going to run again.

 The reporter asks, and Bartlet showed him what determination looked like.

 Was it this year's finest TV moment?
 Yep, I think so.

  Lynn Elber of AP called the ending "a cliffhanger to ponder."

 "a cliffhanger to ponder?"

 No, it was this year's finest TV moment,  ..and I don't have a copy of it.

 Help an old altar boy out.
 If you have the West Wing or any of those other shows, and you can make copies, help Ol' BartCop out.
 If you can send several of those shows on one tape, write for sure!
 I'll PayPal you the cash, make a trade, whatever.

 Tomorrow, if I'm lucky, the final Sopranos review.

Niki Taylor Update

Supermodel Niki Taylor Utters First Words After Crash

ATLANTA, 4:56 p.m. EDT May 17, 2001 -- Supermodel Niki Taylor uttered her first words
since an April 29 car crash that left her in critical condition.

Taylor's manager said that Niki asked for a drink by saying, "Coke."

"Niki was taken off the respirator and yesterday she scribbled drink on a piece of paper and
 the nurse bent over to ask her to talk to her, and she lifted off her mask," Lou Taylor said.
"Niki's first words after two-and-a-half weeks after this ordeal was 'Coke.'"

Taylor has been recovering from liver and other injuries.
Doctors say that Taylor's condition has improved.
She's now listed in critical but stable condition.

"She is a remarkably strong individual to have made it thus far," Dr. Jeffrey Nicholas said. "She continues
 to require intensive care therapy and will require continued hospital care for some time. I anticipate that if
 she continues her current progress, she is approximately half-way through her anticipated hospital course."

 The Coke Bear says, "Hang in there, Niki!"

 ...end of Part  II.

 Since I was gone last week, I had to work some today.
 I'll get caught up and back to speed real quick.

 Let's hope Part III is better.

 I forget...

 Is it illegitimate president or bastard president?

 Read the  Previous Issue

 It had everything.

 Copyright © 2001,
   Thanks for the fumble, Dude.

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