By Myles Ludwig The smut bomb has finally been dropped. And it turns out to be one of the most powerful cordless screwdrivers in the NSA’s Craftsman toolbox of surveillance techniques and useful dirty tricks. Certainly, this latest revelation from the Snowden treasure chest of purloined documents has sent a chill up the collective spines of every man in the world with … [Read more...]
Sundays: The return of Me
By Myles Ludwig Veni, vidi, vici. I selfied. I think the selection of “selfie” as the word of the year signals the Return of Me. The inclusion of the word in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) by the arbiters of the English language and its meaning is equivalent to the Supreme Court of Lexicology issuing a final, unappealable decree. Neither plea nor twerk could change the … [Read more...]
Sundays: In memory yet green
By Myles Ludwig The mist of history swirls still around the life and especially, the death of JFK. Fifty years later, that mist has not dissipated for those of us who were accidental eyewitnesses-once-removed; it refuses to leave. He is very much alive in our collective imagination. He had been born a year before my father. My daughter, born a few days earlier than his death … [Read more...]
Sundays: You can’t hide your prying eyes (and ears)
By Myles Ludwig I’d like to thank the CIA for paying part of my telephone bill this year. Unfortunately, that subsidy has come at a cost of the increasing deflation of what the Supreme Court decided in 1967 as one’s reasonable expectation of privacy according to the Fourth Amendment of the U. S. Constitution. No wonder Nixon was worried. He apparently forgot he was taping … [Read more...]
Sundays: Time to take stock
By Myles Ludwig Would the boy you were be proud of the man you are? I was having a G&T with a colleague at the old Long Bar in the Royal Selangor Club in the twilight of Kuala Lumpur when he posed that question to me. Founded in the late 1800s as a social club for the best of British colonial society when they ruled Malaya, it has survived flood and fire and is very pukka. … [Read more...]
Sundays: We really should look under the hood
By Myles Ludwig These are the days of lasers in the jungle/Lasers in the jungle somewhere/ Staccato signals of constant information/ A loose affiliation of millionaires and billionaires/ And baby, these are the days of miracle and wonder /This is the long-distance call Paul Simon’s lyrics are prophetic. Apparently, no one answered that call. It went straight to voicemail. … [Read more...]
Sundays: One tall skim latte, hold the brains
By Myles Ludwig Never met a zombie. Not likely to, either. So far, I’ve managed to ease over those gruesome speed bumps of immortality for most of my life, but now I’m surrounded by them. They’re everywhere. They’re after us, stalking our channels, our movies, even our TV commercial with their awkward stomps, leprous peeling flesh, grasping outstretched hands and an … [Read more...]
Sundays: The call of the wrecking ball
By Myles Ludwig Scoff as you may, but I’ve been musing on the meaning of Miley. I‘ve come to think the emergence of this self-described “bad bitch that I am” from the animatronic cocoon of Disneyworld, sanctified by SNL and Fallon, sanitized by Ellen, glorified by Rolling Stone and celebrated with a way-pre-tour promo video on MTV, this tall, pig-tailed, lizard-tongued … [Read more...]
Sundays: The sound and the fury
By Myles Ludwig Ladies and gentlemen, the government has left the building. Thank you and good night. It’s times like these that make us glad to see a punky Miley Cyrus embarrass herself on the VMA, then make an amusing, self-conscious effort to redeem herself on SNL by slutting up Michele Bachmann, wearing an ironic throwback jersey and a lacy transparent hoodie jumpsuit … [Read more...]
Sundays: A song for autumn
By Myles Ludwig There’s a certain sweetness to autumn. Can’t deny that. Yes, summer days have dwindled into September, leaving a soft sense of sadness and broken promises trailing in their wake. Over much too soon. We didn’t have enough fun. But, at the same time, that feeling of loss, that nostalgic mourning, seems to gin up a burst of renewal, of beginning again. And … [Read more...]