“The Green Party consistently nominates really interesting eccentrics for Governor (Malachy McCourt won my heart when he did a one man show as George Washington Plunkett; Stanley Aronowitz is married to the World's Greatest Left Wing Writer; Al Lewis was Grandpa and, perhaps more importantly, Leo Schnauzer)”
Gatemouth 11/6/06
I’m going to have to stop invoking the names of my inspirations as a writer. One too many of my citations to Michael Kinsley's genius immediately preceded the announcement that he required brain surgery. Then, on August 30, in response to the news that Congressional candidate Chris Owens recorded an anti-war song, I listened to the supernal piece of crap and then wrote a review of it in the style of my favorite rock-crit, Robert Christgau (also a pretty fair political pundit in his own right). On September 1, Christgau was fired from his position as Music Editor of the Village Voice.
This time, it was Christgau’s former lover and colleague, “The World’s Greatest Left Wing Writer”, Ellen Willis (also a pretty fair rock-crit in her own right), who I invoked, without naming her, just this Monday. This morning, while reading the Times, I was saddened to read of her passing yesterday from lung cancer.
Many left and feminist writers seem openly disdainful of logic and reason, seemingly dismissing them as MANifestations of Dead White European Male Culture; not so Willis, whose rigorously reasoned essays rose to the challenge of beating neo-con intellectuals, and anyone else she thought a worthy target, at their own game. She also came armed with the most deadly of weapons from which the left usually unilaterally disarmed itself: a sense of humor.
Willis was unafraid to challenge the shibboleths of her ideological compatriots, casting scorn on casual left-wing anti-Semitism and wrong-headed feminist Puritanism. Her worldview was best summed up by the anger she once displayed against a traffic sign which read “Don’t Even Think of Parking Here!”. Ellen Willis was incapable of obeying any injunction to fail to utilize her critical facilities.
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With this piece, I have become the first Room 8 contributor to reach the landmark of 100 postings. I thought long and hard about how to do something special to commemorate the occasion. Among the failed candidates were a posting of “Federalist 10”, followed by a thread of nasty comments from “Fat Ugly Smelly Woodened-Toothed Bastard”, “Maurice Sore-Gums (From the wooded teeth)”, and “3/5ths of Rock Hackshaw” commenting on such matters as Hamilton’s illegitimacy (Rock defends him as a fellow Caribbean). And yes, I know that it was Madison who wrote #10 (although, given his proclivity for grabbing credit, I’m not sure that Hamilton knew it).
Another candidate was a compilation of the best posts on my blog by the great Roscoe Conway, the man who first named Denny “David Niven” Farrell, and who serves as Joe Ancis to my Lenny Bruce, or Paul Mooney to my Richard Prior (Thanks to “Wigger” for that one; btw Wig, did you ever see the two episodes they wrote together for “Sanford and Son”?).
I am ashamed to admit that these two drafts, currently occupying space in my recycling bin, were the best of the lot. Don’t even think about asking about the others! What was I going to do?
Sadly, this morning’s Times provided the answer.
My condolences to Stanley.
My condolences to us all.