Alfred Kazin wrote that war is the enduring condition of twentieth-century man. He was only partly right.
I hated war. Ask me, ask any man who has been to war about his experience, and chances are we'll say we don't want to talk about it—implying that we hated it so much, it was so terrible, that we would rather leave it buried. And it is no mystery why men hate war. War is ugly, horrible, evil, and it is reasonable for men to hate all that. But I believe that most men who have been to war would have to admit, if they are honest, that somewhere inside themselves they loved it too, loved it as much as anything that has happened to them before or since. And how do you explain that to your wife, your children, your parents, or your friends? The longest war in our nation's history is over. As these six eyewitness perspectives attest—a commanding general, a sniper, an interpreter, and others—although the fighting is done, the battle over its memory is just beginning. The Republican Party has become a profound threat to the American republic. Harvey Keitel knows his way around a diner. Definitely better than you do, with your coffee and two Splendas. His parents—Jewish immigrants from Romania and Poland—owned a luncheonette in Brooklyn near where he grew up, so he could most often be found either making a burger or eating one. Malted shakes, too. Egg creams. The occasional charlotte ruse. "I'm full of diner food," Keitel quips over the phone, calling from a Beverly Hills hotel. So it's no wonder Keitel looks entirely at home in Lansky, where he plays Meyer Lansky, a Mount Rushmore-level figure in the history of organized crime, delivering most of his lines from the other side of a diner booth. With another infamous crime boss on his resumé, we talked to Keitel about Lansky, why he thinks we need cinema more than ever, his future with Quentin Tarantino, and yes—his elusive diner order. Here's your rare chance to snag an investment-worthy parka, puffer, or bomber for less than you'd expect. From the most coveted smart tech of 2021 to seriously neat gadgets you never knew existed before now. The International Association of Candle Snobs would have you believe that a scented candle—whether it's Yankee or Le Labo—is the only way to introduce a manageable flame into your home. And every holiday season, it tightens its iron grip on the small-indoor-fire market, urging you to burn wax that smells like pine trees and sugar cookies, or else gift wax that smells like pine trees and sugar cookies to your loved ones, spreading its influence from household to household. We don't have anything against candles, except the dumb ones that smell aggressively just-fine but cost $60 a pop. We do, however, think there are other, cooler means of playing with fire (safely, I swear) inside. With FLIKR, you'll see what we're talking about. |
No comments:
Post a Comment