A freed Frank White returns to the mean streets of New York, where he attempts to reassert his power over the Gotham underworld while cozying up to the city’s seemingly-legit interests. This disquieting tale is not about crime, itself, or greed, or brotherhood amongst thieves. It’s an amoral story of politics and power.
January 17th, 1968. 11pm. Black winter night has descended on the peninsula. Thirty-one commandos sneak undetected across the DMZ and into South Korea. Thirty-one of the DPRK’s finest who had been training two years with a monomaniacal fervor for one purpose. Converge on the South’s presidential Blue House. Assassinate Park Chung-hee. Or be martyred trying.
Dictionary.com defines a cliché simply as “anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse”. There are two apparent clichés which I would like to talk about here. The first is that the black guy always dies (usually when referring to a horror film). The second is the sentiment that the black guy always dies. It happens. And we know it happens. But is it because Hollywood is full of racist, bigoted assholes? Probably. But such is the world in general.
Just where the hell I’ve been: I’ve been writing. I’m always writing. I write a little bit everyday. Often because I have to write it. Evaluation purposes and all that. Sometimes I come up with what I think is a witty aphorism or a short blurb. Sometimes I post it somewhere on the net. Most often, there’s something I come up with that I forget to write down somewhere. Lost in the synapses. Shorted out by the brain’s faulty wiring. Neurons’ output is infinite. But my capacity for writing most of it down approaches zero. Nil. Nada. Nihil. Not that anything I have ever had the fortune to think up has ever been truly profound. The point is that I write. Even a little bit of infinite is something infinite. So I’m always writing.
The Spartans were known for their legendary, concise, laconic (named after the region of which Sparta was part) wit. The adage that “less is more” never applied anywhere more-or-less than it does with the Spartan rejoinder. The verbal volley as decapitating as their legendary martial spirit. Plutarch, in On Talkativeness, in Moralia, recounts a story of Philip II, the shrewd, political, powerful king of Macedon. Sending a message to the Spartans, he wrote (depending on the translation): “If once I enter into your territories, I will destroy ye all, never to rise again”. The Spartans’ reply was a word: If.
Al-Qaeda, the bureaucratic organization with a central authority (Ayman al-Zawahiri), is a myth which needs to be dispelled.
Whose sarin, indeed.
An incredibly superficial sketch, if you will: