All posts by rexmerritt

South America

Hier Ist ein U-Boot

A few days after dining with Lisa McKenzie-McKenzie, Matt Pfarrer sat at a workspace desk. There, he made final preparations for his portion of their southbound journey. Recalling what McKenzie Squared had told him about Florencia Cardinale, the workspace receptionist, her circumnavigations around the office floor when he appeared, this time he charted her various courses.

Indeed, the Porteña did manage turning every room crossing into station-to-station ellipticals which invariably swung by his desk. Coming and going.

He did what he could to avoid any gazes McKenzie Squared cut at him. However, her determination outlasted his. Her ruthless smirk ignited his uncontainable guffaw. If the object of their observation noticed, she remained coolly undemonstrative. Continue reading Hier Ist ein U-Boot →

South America

Dies Ist kein U-Boot, sondern ein Feuilleton

Dropping in at the Buenos Aires Film Museum (Museo del Cine), a beleaguered Argentine cinematic facility bearing its sponsor’s name, Pablo Ducrós Hickens, either inspired or led Matt Pfarrer astray.

Although the repository rising by an elevated roadway had now occupied constant premises since the 1990s after years of being spread across several sites before permanence, it didn’t enjoy any real centralized catalogue. After upwards of four decades, staffers and researchers were still coming across new easter eggs among its shelves. In fact, nearly a generation ago missing elements of Fritz Lang’s German silent classic Metropolis were discovered there then reintroduced to cineastes after almost 80 years of absence. That is after almost 80 years of knowing those spools had disappeared but not a whit of knowing to where they’d vanished.

Pfarrer roughly likened el Museo del Cine to a played-out gold mine. One some prospector makes a quit claim hunch on in mere hopes of finding nuggets enough to make his efforts pan out but then strikes a seam instead.

And yes, the gold mine analogy proved more apt than a box of chocolates. Continue reading Dies Ist kein U-Boot, sondern ein Feuilleton →

South America

Dies Ist kein U-Boot

Matt Pfarrer’s week started the best way possible. After awakening then brewing his morning coffee, he checked his laptop for emails that had arrived overnight.

One of the subject lines consisted of welcome news. Another article he’d written had been accepted by the syndicate.

The subject of his authorship wasn’t much. Not that he considered any paying topic beneath him. It was a travel piece. Another travel article. Can’t stuff the world with too many of those.

If the destination someplace remote, just known in general terms, or better, only known to a precious few, the activity involved uncovered mysteries or presented adventures, those were the travel pieces Pfarrer enjoyed reading.

So why shouldn’t other readers? Continue reading Dies Ist kein U-Boot →

South America

This Is not a Submarine but Scheme-a-Rama

A couple of afternoons later, Mick phoned. Me being out at the time again exploring the fabulous beauty of Belle Époque Buenos Aires, the Briton left a message to meet. Not where we’d first crossed. No. At an address I suspected housed some likely blind tiger. One west of my apartment. Maybe it was in Once. All the times I’ve visited Buenos Aires I’ve barely been cognizant of respective neighborhoods. Except for Boca. The locals, especially trendy girls, had such demarcations ingrained in them.

Vast a metropolis as BA is, when done through targeted explorations the city is quite walkable. Its melded blocks contrast nicely against distinct enclaves.

I spent little time nor exerted much effort in government or commercial zones. Not one to be cowed or impressed amid edifices initially erected to serve the people but now exist to make them bow. Continue reading This Is not a Submarine but Scheme-a-Rama →

South America

This Is Not a Submarine

Back when Argentina ruled as the “it” country for Western travelers seeking as of then “undiscovered” or “neglected” destinations, I nearly could’ve contributed towards the realization of a Rene Magritte moment. Sort of.

The Belgian artist wouldn’t have played a major part in the endeavor. He just would’ve been a reference. The impetus to get the ball rolling as it were. Continue reading This Is Not a Submarine →

Baboon America

Laggards

Younger Anglo males have become a frequently sad spectacle in America.

There are constant print articles and television reports of their societal decline. As a group, they’re increasingly succumbing to drugs that numb the pain of being them, or, in extreme cases, suicide, to end the invented agony of being them. Whoever they are.

How did this come about? So what? Who cares? Continue reading Laggards →

Lost Wages

Lead Eggs from a Golden Goose

Heard a fellow bar patron who recently brayed “Las Vegas is too big to fail!” Yeah, he’d been overserved. In other cities, the bartender or server would’ve cut him off. But this being Las Vegas as long as this patron had cash and regularly slid twenties into the bar top video poker machine and steadily kept losing, he was golden. Continue reading Lead Eggs from a Golden Goose →

Baboon America

Misreading the Human Element

Only boobs aren’t anticipating labor strife throughout the current United States. Working Americans must endure an anti-labor administration soiling the Oval Office. No American should be so blind as not seeing how “the malefactors of wealth” have snuggled up against a sociopathic megalomaniac. Continue reading Misreading the Human Element →

Quarropas, Tales Out of School

Sweet Green Hours

Read a conceit on social media that intrigued me. It asked readers to remember the last time they got together with all or most of the youthful friends who created their closest, steadiest, most dependable adolescent playmates.

For me, it’s a good presumption these curtains came down at the ends of summers. Just before Labor Day Weekend. Continue reading Sweet Green Hours →

Great Books, Observed

Our Arc

Boomers came of age and enjoyed the hell out of the American Century. We thrived during its apex. No apologies!
We hoped to pass this plateau along to subsequent generations of Americans then watch them continue what had been “American Exceptionalism.” Why, maybe they could launch a Second American Century. Instead, Boomers get to witness the abrupt end of the nation’s once undisputed prominence.

Yes, there was once such a phenomenon as the American Century. Some might consider that view self-grandiosity. Certainly, the envious, jealous populaces who crowd the planet beyond our shores would plainly complain of our at times of light hogging grandeur upon the stage. Grandeur, yes. Thankfully, our still young Republic has yet to mature into hauteur.

We’re not France. Continue reading Our Arc →