April 1 Bonus Blog, 2005
I got this rejoinder on the F-bomb discussion from a very knowledgeable source:
"Re the published use of the F-bomb and all its contortive variations, the Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang has some 12 pages of published literary references, enough of them from the 1800s to succor the view that the word was uttered by the less couth in the 19th century with some regularity.
"An excellent exposition on the subject of Deadwood's rhetoric, by the way, is 'Talk Pretty: The Linguistic Brilliance of HBO's Deadwood,' by Matt Feeney, posted on SLATE, May 21. 2004. (Go to slate.msm.com, drop Milch into the search box, and the Feeney essay will be the first one up.)
"Feeney's take: 'Given the show's treacherous context, the formality of much of the dialogue offers all kinds of room for strategic insincerity and corrosive irony. When a Deadwood character talks he's almost never saying just one thing. Indeed, one of the pleasures of Deadwood is observing what characters are doing when they speak, where they're heading, whom they're trying to fool and what secret messages they're transmitting."
"As for words out of time, Feeney pokes the 'dimly literal-minded critics' who are 'tallying up discrete anachronisms and mistaking these for aesthetic shortcomings. This is predictable but unfortunate, as it is precisely the dense mix of accuracy and artifice that makes Deadwood such a gorgeous creation."
At ten minutes until five, Ron came into my office and asked me if I'd heard that the town council was getting ready to make the cave that Cave Creek is named for, ready for tours, complete with wheel chair access. I looked at him and said, "Tell me you're kidding," since the cave is right across from my house, and he said, "April Fools!" Ha. I was on guard and he got me anyway.
Took Robert Ray to lunch at Flapjack Deli (his choice) to pay off my debt. Had the Cave Creek omelette and iced tea. Robert had the Eggs Benedict ($25 cash, includes tip).
Finished five scratchboards on various Tombstoners, and a nice steamy close-up on the Papago Station incident with Doc Holliday, Sherm McMasters, Texas Jack and Warren Earp in the high beams of the locomotive headlamp, waiting to see if Wyatt can talk the engineer into a lift. The rest are mug shots of miners, freighters and Cochise County cow-boys for a big doubletruck on major goobers for CGII.
The newly posted photos (scroll down) were supposed to go with an entry last weekend, but we have had so much trouble with blogger.com they just went up. They are of many of the Maniacs I met out at Festival of the West two weekends ago. Notice the Hoppy lookalike. Scary, huh? The little kid with the big mustache is my favorite, but I didn't get his name. Hope he grows up and buys the magazine. Ha.
Worked until about 5:30. Good day. I forgave several people who were bugging me. That feels good, because. . .
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
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