Archive for February, 2003
[Incidentally, Kieran Healy is writing about all the right things at the moment, since he also has also taken to discussing the Big Red Book, aka G. E. M. de Ste Croix's The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World].
While on the subject of barking Americans barking, though, Raj points me towards this page, which has a clip of John Ashcroft singing “Let the Eagles Soar”, his own composition written some time after 9/11, although I can’t quite work out how to configure my browser to get it to play properly. All of which will remind the people who like this kind of thing — and we are legion — of the heroic career of Senator Orrin Hatch, songman.
So why don’t right-wing British politicians write songs like these? We’re missing out.
UPDATE [22.2.2003]: I’m slipping this one in as an addendum to Wednesday’s entry, since I forgot to commemorate one of my favourite Dead Socialists: Georg BÃ¼chner.
As the Dictionary of the Turtle explains:
The German dramatist Georg BÃ¼chner (1813-1837) is remembered today chiefly on account of his excellent plays. Danton’s Death (1835) was an impressive debut; Woyzeck (1837) an absolutely astonishing tragedy, and the first with a proletarian protagonist. Yet when he died at an absurdly young age, he was mourned by his contemporaries as an expert on the anatomy of the barbel fish, on which he had completed a scientific dissertation. Drama and Fish Science were not his only talents: BÃ¼chner was also a member of the radical Society of the Rights of Man, and the author of stirring tracts. The Big Soviet Encyclopaedia (third edition, English version, v.4 p.132) draws attention to his role in propagating the slogan “Peace to the huts, war on the palaces” in Germany. He also wrote a comedy, Leonce and Lena (published 1839), but it is not funny.
In Memoriam Georg BÃ¼chner, born 17 October 1813, died 19 February 1837.
Steve writes to the Stoa to recommend this link.
Steve replies: “Tom is totally correct, I don’t read NTK regularly (the bastards never published anything I submitted) and got the link from somewhere else…”
The march was slow and the weather was cold, but the whole thing was quite extraordinary. Well organised, too, except for the decision to allow Harold Pinter to read one of his awful poems [scroll down to the bottom].