IT'S HARD TO BE SANTA!

Steve Worth just sent me these Santa pictures and I pass them on to you. Man, it must be hard to be Santa! The guy on the bottom has the worst job, he has to wear a mask all day!

WHAT KIND OF MAN READS THEORY CORNER?

From extensive studies we know what kind of man reads Theory Corner. For starters he's young, well-dressed, popular with the ladies and has a killer music and book collection. Women have been overheard to say that he's often mysterious and elusive with a kind of Dean Martin cool. "Like James Dean but hotter!" said one woman!

THEORY CORNER men are adept at urban survival. They know how to use an extendo-fork to obtain a tasty and nutritious meal on the cheap. They're up on the hot films like Lugosi's "Raven" and Lorre's "Stranger on the Third Floor" and they cultivate a fearsome look of disdain for cartoon fans who like the wrong cartoons. THEORY CORNER men even smell good!

Other blogs will attempt to lead you to believe that they will give you that real He-man aroma. This is not so. In fact, THEORY CORNER positively reeks with He-man odors! At least that's what women tell us!

WHY ARE THERE TEEN GANGS?

I don't pretend to know all the reasons for teen gangs but here's one plausible reason that's frequently overlooked: kids who are not suited for college feel they have nowhere to go. For years teachers warned them that if they didn't study they'd be selling fast food all their lives and they took it to heart. I imagine they reasoned that if adult life was going to be pointless and boring then they may as well enjoy their teen years. Gangs don't do much for you but they do provide excitement and if you get killed while young what have you lost? A life of drudgery.

It seems to me that we need to ease up on the college or the scrub bucket rhetoric. It seems to me that an awfull lot of complex and well-paying jobs can be done by non-college graduates. Shakespeare didn't go to college, nor did Thomas Edison, Carnegie, Walt Disney, Ben Franklin and Bill Gates. Before the G.I. Bill (after WWII) an enormous number of complex jobs were done by non-graduates. They must have done a pretty good job because we went from an agricultural country to the pre-eminent industrial country in the world on their watch. People who believe we can't advance unless we send a whole generation to study Derrida are ignoring a lot of history.

Sometimes it seems to me that the America has hardened its heart against blue-collar workers. I first noticed this when the middle class cheerfully allowed the manufacturing jobs to go overseas in exchange for lower prices. The middle class had office jobs and weren't affected by the job loss but blue-collar workers were decimated. When even office jobs started to go then the middle class suddenly declared a crisis and started talking about the danger of "outsourcing." Where were these people when the blue collars were hurting?

I see the same thing happening now with this insistance on absurdly high academic requirements for jobs that never required them before. In my school district you need a Masters' Degree to teach grade school. I believe that absurd requirements like this reflect a class bias; middle class kids tend to have these degrees and blue-collars don't. Who's most likely to get these newly-restricted jobs?

Just for the record, I identify completely with the middle class and I'm a big booster of higher education. I don't want to dumb things down, I'm simply arguing for compassion and common sense. We should keep standards high but remove artificial barriers to upward mobility. Exciting jobs should be within the grasp of whoever can best deliver the goods. I wouldn't show non-academics the mop and bucket. I'd show them a vision of success through hard work.

DELACROIX'S SKETCHBOOK

Made during his visit to Morocco in 1832. From an artbook: "Illustrated letters."

ILLUSTRATED LETTERS

Boy, it pays to write to artists. Look at the answers you get!

These letters are by Victor Hugo (topmost), Daubigny (above), and Gauguin (below). The Daubigny letter looks like it was done by Ardizzone (spelled right?), the modern illustrator.

THREE PAINTINGS BY WARD KIMBALL

I don't have time to comment on them but they sure are interesting. Obviously Kimball would have had no trouble making a living as an illustrator if Disney hadn't worked out.

All these pictures are from Canemaker's "Nine Old Men" book.

WHY I DON"T KEEP A DIARY

I mentioned this subject briefly before but here's the longer, more fleshed out story: a long time ago, when I first came to LA, I decided to keep a diary. I had to buy a girl-colored diary (not the one above; I wouldn't have gotten something that over-the-top) because I couldn't find any masculine ones. The key wasn't much protection against intruders and I promptly lost it but while it lasted it was better than nothing. I put all my secret thoughts into it. I kept it in a locked file cabinet and I never took it out of the house.

One day I was in a really philosophical mood. The ideas were first-rate and they were coming fast and furious! These were too good to write on napkins; I decided to grab my diary and run to a restaurant where I could write in seclusion. On the way to the parking lot I passed the apartment complex jerk and (most likely) drug dealer. I hated the guy and he hated me so we gave each other the usual icy stare and I got in the car and drove away. So far, so good.

About half way to the restaurant I suddenly realized that I'd left the diary on top of the car when I got in and had driven away while it was still up there! In a panic I checked the roof of the car then turned around and traced my path back home, carefully scoping out the street. I didn't see anything but I didn't really expect to. The diary most likely would have fallen into my parking space. When I got to the parking space there was nothing there but the drug guy, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I asked him if he'd seen a book on the ground and he nodded "No" in a way that tantalizingly could have meant "Yes." Later that night I heard uproarious laughter comming from the drug guy's apartment. My guess was it was the drug guy and his biker friends reading my diary.

So what does it all come to? My worst enemy reads my girl-colored diary. Not only that but the diary was full of incredibly sappy, whining passages like, "I'm so good and the world is so bad. Why doesn't the world recognize my goodness?" It's like something Little Lord Fauntlyroy would have written to express his anguish over finding a hair on his lace cuff. Well, I never wrote or even thought anything as wimpy and self-pitying again so I guess I got something out of the experience. Most of all what I learned was..... NEVER KEEP A DIARY!