Collapsing Cigar Post.

I see on social media the phrase “Stay Smoky.”  Usually, there are groups of people milling about all saying in unison, “Stay Smoky!”  Or there’s a guy holding up a cigar, the band showing, and saying “Stay Smoky.” Or worse, a video of a sultry femme fatale just oozing out the words from her over-filled collagen lips saying “Stay Smoky” eww, Mr. President!   Now I ask you? What the “bleeping s*^t” does that mean?

Think this through.  There are a lot of phrases that attempt to bring the cigar smoking populace together, like Luis Sanchez’s “Smoking a not a crime.” But what the hell does “Stay Smokey” do for it?  (Pause)

Ok.  This is where I get in trouble.  Nothing is happening. The birds are chirping.  I just finished watching “Girl on a Train.” A confusing film that at one point almost was turned off.  But I had to find out what the ending was. And I’m glad that I did. Quite a surprise.

This CAO relic I’m smoking is a cigar that was made by CAO, not General.  The cello was stained yellow. There was plume or bloom on the whole cigar.  A very even coating. In short, this one was aged properly. The oils rose to the outside of the wrapper.  It’s quite tasty.

But what about “Stay Smoky?”  Nothing. Maybe I oughta trash this essay.  You know what keeps me here? The cigar. The sun is going down.  It’s rather cool out. Yes, I’m at the Patio Cigar Lounge (open 24/7).  

My son will turn twenty-two.  I don’t feel any older.  But I do go through periods of emptiness.  Start a post. Thinking I have a great idea and as you can tell, it’s not.  Though I still would like someone to clear up that sappy saying.  I can’t use it.  

I trimmed the beard this week.  Hold on.  E’s back from shopping.  There’s not much.  So I helped to unload and I’m back. Thinking maybe I can connect this.  But no. That isn’t going to happen.

All I know is I’m tired of hearing a phrase that for me, means nothing.  I haven’t got a substitute, so go ahead. Keep saying it.  I’ll mull this over and get back to you.

In the meantime, “Stay Smoky.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57tK6aQS_H0

I know I will never find another you.

The Moody Blues – that’s me in a nutshell sans determiner, “the.”  Why?  Simple. I’m in the cigar brokerage business. Commission only.  Such a wide variety of cigars to choose from.  A fist in the sandy shores of a beach.  Waves of interest.  Pull it out and it’s filled almost immediately.

Independence is a must. Essential.  Critical.  That’s a double-edged sword – freedom. The thrill knowing you possess it is like meeting a woman for the first time and everything clicks.  A puzzle without any space between the pieces. Tight. Picturesque.

There are drawbacks though.  A moment drifts into the business and shakes my confidence to the core.  An unexpected emotional explosion unknown to only me. Inside my gut. A secret seismic seizure that can take me down an unimaginable path of derisive decisions.  I react with my idea machete and attempt to slice through the psychological foliage so thick that the blade dulls quicker than slashing into granite.

I’m being tested every day.  Pulled in every direction. Where’s the stone that will sharpen the blade?  Oil. Flat. Slow smooth motions. Deliberate. Speed means nothing in this business.  Too many variables. Some vines are as strong as rebar. Dense steel without a bit of elasticity.  Some thought threads are as thin as the wire allowing the highest register of sound of a piano. Still so difficult to cut through.  Thin is not always a weakness. My pounding psyche can only take so much, but I have to make it to the clearing.

My senses absorb the blues.  A deep, dark midnight hue with a life of its own.  No perspective. No light. Just the feeling of being lost.  No walls. Air. Cool and moist. An inky gloom. Nothing to grasp onto.  Sound is invisible. But the feelings are as real as Sub-Zero temperatures frosting my skin causing so much pain, numbness, and total discomfort.  The drama drones on. It exists.

Any business will pull you into its own vicious vain vortex.  The cigar trade’s gravitational pull is beyond what I ever imagined.

The perpetual Joker’s smirk tries to trick my emotions but I avoid the hideous Glasgow smirk at all possible turns.  Despite the outcome, I have to be reflective of what is, not what is expected. Hardly a day goes by when my mind isn’t diverted to “ a when.”  I’m not at all grounded. A slurry of doubt courses through my body. My soul (life) is as unpredictable as the foibles of the weather. So why fight it?  Embrace the colors and the dizziness of nausea. I’ve branded them both with white-hot metal into my being. Get to know them. Expect them. Yes, I’m scarred forever.  They will never disappear. So I don’t fear them. They make up the broker I am. How I feel. Tease me. Go ahead. I’m waiting. I’m ready, in spite of the reality of that indefatigable identifiable nutshell.

INTERNET SALES TO BE TAXED.

(The article below was written on June 20, 2018.  The Supreme Court’s decision to tax internet sales was made on June 21, 2018.  You go Dinah Washington! *)

Now I’ll admit the flavor will be awful and the burn will be quick, but if we ever run out of tobacco due to world conflict, massive internet sales or FDA regulations we can always smoke old copies of Cigars International.

Disturbing?  It shouldn’t be.  When I receive mine in the mail it always ends up in the trash because it, and the others like it that are being mailed to this address, are the bane of the cigar industry.  Why?

Price and convenience.  I don’t know why the stores are so complacent about them, or if they aren’t why they have seemingly done nothing about them.  Remember the 50s in the South?  “Sparked by the arrest of Rosa Parks on 1 December 1955, the Montgomery bus boycott was a 13-month mass protest that ended with the U.S. Supreme Court ruling that segregation on public buses is unconstitutional.”  It took Rosa! (Google)  

So why not a discount magazine/internet boycott?  Just don’t buy from the catalogs. Only go to the brick and mortar stores to buy your cigars.  Yes, I know you may pay a bit higher prices, but what’s important here? Your saving a few cents or preserving the cigar industry?

This way the scratchy whines will be heard from those that are taking business away from the little guy and laughing all the way to the bank.  Maybe the government will get involved?  Unlikely, but you never know.

But that would sure shake up the manufacturers who whore out their products to the internet, and then browbeat the rep because he or she hasn’t reached their numbers in the field.  The icing on all sides is what the manufacturers want and right now are being slathered regularly by the online consumer topped off with the sweet absolution of the hardcore cigar smoker.

Think about it.  An even playing field.  We haven’t had that in years.  (Since this writing, the reality that products on the internet will be taxed has become a reality.  Read the article below.)  And what do the courts do about it?  Nothing.  Why?  And we, the cigar smoker, just keep our heads straight ahead and act like one of the Stepford Wives while shopping.  Smiles on our faces and just waiting to be summoned to come upstairs to get f*@ked!  Sorry, Blunt hurts.  But maybe we need to administer a bit of pain to cigar manufacturers discount catalogs and internet sites.  (They be hurting now!)

Or, we can go along as we have been.   A Crystalline (Cigar) City “where Joanna Eberhart (Katherine Ross) has come to the quaint little town of Stepford, Connecticut with her family, but soon discovers there lies a sinister truth in the all too perfect behavior of the female residents.” 

Just keep in mind, if we don’t make some real noise, the manufacturers and the internet will continue on their quest for domination not because they can – but because WE let them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?annotation_id=annotation_77723&feature=iv&list=PLDFCD4BFD76C62A1D&src_vid=VG7JAM6DQnM&v=hVGcbaoRtqk

********

WASHINGTON — Americans have done more and more of their shopping online in recent years, drawn by the promise of low prices, wide selection, and buy-from-home convenience. But e-commerce has also had another edge: Many of those sales were, in effect, tax-free.

The Supreme Court on Thursday moved to close that loophole, ruling that internet retailers can be required to collect sales taxes even in states where they have no physical presence.

The decision, in South Dakota v. Wayfair Inc., was a victory for brick-and-mortar businesses that have long complained they are put at a disadvantage by having to charge sales taxes while many online competitors do not. And it was also a victory for states that have said that they are missing out on tens of billions of dollars in annual revenue . . . .

By Adam Liptak, Ben Casselman and Julie Creswell  June 21, 2018 (NYT)

What a difference a day makes, uh?

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/21/us/politics/supreme-court-sales-taxes-internet-merchants.html

*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmBxVfQTuvI

-30-

 

Harmonic cigars are the best.

I have recently discovered that I am a rabid fan of the Bee Gees.  I’m not too sure how this realization came about, but it’s as real as I am living and breathing.  I’m sure it was gradual.  I have no albums by the group, nothing.  But I do write – a blog post every day and my journal.  But I don’t publish Monday through Sunday anymore.  Now it’s Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, with options in between  

What I write about is often capped by a song that has some relationship to the subject I’ve written about.  (And very often it is so totally disconnected I get mail asking what the reason for including it is.  And the fact of the matter there is no connection whatsoever, I just like to mess with you!  My prerogative right?)

Anyway, I just got a bunch of cigar samples in the mail.  Never had the brand.  I’m smoking one now. Good draw, first off flavor is a bit peppery.  I’m going back to it. It has some kick to it.  I hate kick.  I prefer the gradual approach.  Like on a first date. Listen. Learn. Luxuriate in the unfamiliar. Chocolate almost forces you to do that.  

Good cigar.  It’s begun to smooth out.  The bouquet is heavenly.  Burning even.  

I always liked the four lads with the falsetto mix.  Kind of like Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, but with different dynamics.  I didn’t know that the brothers started singing so young together.  History is essential to understanding anything.  The base reaction is good, but knowing more about your subject adds to the flavor and longevity of the relationship you form.  

I have to thank YouTube.  I think.  It seems as if every song ever produced is somewhere in the connective tissue on that site.  Kinda like the cigar, I’m smoking.  I continually look for cigars that can offer pleasure.  Tactile, taste, and tone.  Damn this is really gotten smooth and intoxicating.

Let me explain tone.  It can be a synonym for flavor.  Taste and flavor are different. It’s subtle but the distinction is real.  It’s sometimes called the education of the palate.  And that can vary to a billion degrees of information points.  But fact speaks for itself. My education took time, just like my interest in the Bee Gees took time.  With a bit of luck thrown in.  

I’m smoking this cigar due to luck.  I happen to keep up with brand owners and if they have confidence in their blends, he or she will offer to send a few to me.  This gentleman did.  And it may pay off for him.  He has insight.  Not ego.  So far the cigar is delightful.

Why am I not revealing the brand?  My choice. I have to see if the others he sent can stand up to this one.  And just like Maurice, Barry, Robin, and Andy, their talent was genuine and if not for the inevitability of death, they would still be producing hit after hit.  

This cigar I’m smoking may be onto something.  Time will tell.

Nicaraguan cigar industry may be at risk.

As of about six weeks ago, the cigar press here in the US was reporting that the severity of the situation in Nicaragua was calming down and the cigar factories had little to be concerned.

An article written by Gregory Mottola released and published in Cigar Aficionado on April 23, 2018 states in part, “There was no impact on my factory. Absolutely none,” assured Dr. Alejandro Martinez-Cuenca, owner of Joya de Nicaragua Cigars, the oldest premium cigar manufacturer in Nicaragua. “As far as I know, all the factories are operating.”

Martinez-Cuenca, who lives in (the capital) Managua (about a two and a half hour drive from Estili) told Cigar Aficionado via phone call that things are definitely much calmer in the capital city today.

Other Nicaraguan cigar makers echoed this statement.

“The factories and the farms are working normally and we hope to continue to do so,” said Nestor Andrés Plasencia, who produces cigars in Estelí, and is one of the largest growers of premium tobacco in Nicaragua.

“Nicaragua has already gone through a civil war,” Plasencia added. “We are very confident that the dialogue between all the parties will resolve this situation.”

This is what I’m finding out directly from the Nicaraguan Press and a first-hand source. This article is by: By “Rico” published on Monday, 18 June 2018.  Copied from the www.todaynicaragua.com, a news source that is translated from Spanish.

“More than 170 people have died in Nicaragua since the unrest began two months ago. Protesters have taken to the streets demanding President Daniel Ortega and his wife and vice-president, Rosario Murillo, step down.

What triggered the protests?

• Demonstrations began on April 18, when the government introduced plans to cut pensions and social security, including decreasing pension payments by five percent and increasing worker social contributions by 0.75 percent. The change also increased employer contributions by 3.5 percent.
• Sandinista Youth, a group aligned with Daniel Ortega’s Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), launched counter-protests (sic) in support of the reforms.
• The government cracked down on the protests, and several people were killed, including journalist Angel Gahona, who was shot dead while reporting on the protests live on Facebook.
• The first fatalities were reported on Thursday, April 19 when two civilians and a police officer were killed in clashes. The same day, a number of television outlets were reportedly taken off the air.”

Jason, the owner of Jafron cigars in Esteli, reports his first-hand account as of June 18, 2018: “ . . . business is being affected because there is no free movement on the roads to the borders or airport . . . the situation is at medium tension.  There are armed groups related to the governments circulating in the streets intimidating (the populace).”

“Working hours must be reduced to guarantee the safety of (the) workers.   Some tobacco material is scarce because they are brought from other areas of the north of the country mostly Jalapa, Condega, and Ometepe . . . or imported from another country.”

“There are factories that have been closed due to lack of material or because they are located in areas of conflict.  Small factories may be the most affected.”

Continued from the article by David “Rico” Unsworth of  www.panampost.com . . . “Nicaraguans are fed up with Ortega’s greed and corruption, and want him gone: Ortega will maintain power by violent force.

“As it stands now, the Nicaraguan people are stuck between a rock and a hard place: they can be complacent and silent and allow Daniel Ortega to steal from the public coffers, run Nicaragua like his own private personal fiefdom, and do away with all democratic checks and balances, as he paves the way for his wife and “vice president” Rosario Murillo to take power in a sham election.

“Or, they can risk their safety and their very lives, and continue to take to the streets to demand that Ortega and his corrupt thugs step down from power.

“Ortega encapsulates a popular social media slogan about Latin American socialist leaders: Think Like Marx, Govern Like Stalin, Live Like Rockefeller.

“Nicaragua is just the latest example that socialism has been, is now, and will always be, enforced with force in the face of popular unrest.

“Perhaps the greatest quote in history on the true nature of socialism was offered by British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who observed that “the problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people’s money.” For purposes of style, we might paraphrase it as: “socialism is a great idea until you run out of other people’s money to spend.”

Ahem.  May I quote Mr. Unsworth, “Ortega encapsulates a popular the social media slogan about Latin American socialist leaders: Think Like Marx, Govern Like Stalin, Live Like Rockefeller.”

Has the uprising of the situation gotten worse in Nicaragua?  Yes.

Does the cigar industry in Nicaragua have much to worry about?  Yes.

Does the cigar industry, in general, have a lot to worry about?  Yes.

(Photo by Reuters)

An endless source for post ideas.

I’m at the pad here and the thought occurred to me . . . Have I gone as far as I can with this blog or am I just on a slow-moving, multidimensional Möbius strip hiatus?

What does the phrase “ . . . as far as I can go . . .” mean?   I believe it describes no more ideas thoughts, computations, fatal or obtuse connections in my mind that connects with the cigar industry blurring the world of ideas with that of a black hole to produce a post. The black hole is according to NASA, a place in space where gravity pulls so much that even light can not get out. The gravity is so strong because matter (Are ideas matter?) has been squeezed into a tiny space. This can happen when a star is dying. Because no light can get out, people can’t see black holes or – for my purpose, conjure up, find, or observe new ideas.  Has this flight taken its wings to hell? (www.nasa.com)

A Möbius strip is (or can be?) a physical or psychological phenomenon that is “sometimes called the Möbius band —  (and) is named after the mathematician and astronomer August Ferdinand Möbius, who came up with the idea in September 1858. Curiously, German mathematician Johann Benedict Listing independently developed the same idea a few months earlier in July 1858. Unfortunately for Listing, one of the most famous surfaces in mathematics bears the name of Möbius, not Listing.  So what’s the big deal with the Mobius strip?  It’s quite simple, actually.  The Mobius strip is famous because it has only one side and one edge.” (www.dondereopolis.org)  A simpler definition from Google is “a surface with one continuous side formed by joining the ends of a rectangular strip after twisting one end through 180°.”  If additional dimensions are concurrently taking up the same space, then “The “law of physics” would negate “the Pauli exclusion principle, which states that two identical fermions (particles with half-integer spin) {In quantum mechanics, spin is an intrinsic property of all elementary particles} cannot occupy the same quantum state simultaneously. This applies to normal matter, which is made out of only a few kinds of fermions tightly bonded together. But if other dimensions were to take up the same space then in theory, ideas are limitless, and the strip can thereby, at least theoretically, continue in ad finitum.

Through reasonable deduction, I find I am in the latter range rather than the former thought line above.  But it’s understanding how this affects what notions are produced from my thoughts and how long my intellectual rivulet flow patterns will last thus providing infinite posts. 

That’s where the injection of creative juices needs to be administered to sustain critical life support via outside sources.  Finding yourself moving up against a wall leads to friction, causing heat and eventual sensory burnout.  Depending on how deep you’ve dug yourself in will be the juncture at which you make your decision to stop thinking  No one can reach you. Gibberish follows in future published posts thereby scrolled through quickly by the reader leading to absolutely nowhere.

Attaching your psyche to the idea of a never-ending “loop” would not only provide you with infinite ideas, but the flush finite ones that are pushed to the side in the process (let’s say stored) to be examined later for future use.  Movement is key.  Stagnate motion, such as a toy stopped against a wall, is certain death.  And I am nowhere near that inevitability.  

So regardless of how I feel, I know there are more ideas.  Maybe not instantaneously produced, but eventually.  But I also need motivation to even get this far.  I have to prime the pump. but how?

Exert effort.

Twist the rind of a lemon, lime, orange, or a grapefruit and you will smell the bitter essences of the microparticles visibly squirting and mixing with the pith (the white material that surrounds the flesh) and air to give out a sweet or tart but some type of tasty experience.  It’s the movement that creates the ideas ergo – the post.  I have to work it.

No, I am not stuck.  Trying to create a post for you to enjoy takes a bit of time and endless effort.  And for an impatient individual such as myself, what may be considered a normal time span for someone else, becomes an excruciating extended period of time for me.

So no.  Absolutely not.  I am spinning.  In quantum mechanics, spin is an intrinsic property of all elementary particles.  It’s pure, the ponderous perception that brings on the ersatz consciousness of deadweight and therefore feels heavy and conceivably stuck or sluggish – though in reality I am not stuck at all.  Because by believing the theory that makes up the multidimensional Möbius strip,  ideas will ultimately be created, effectively dissolving the first half of the question above.

 

 

     

A work of art.

The clarity of this photo is astounding.  Could this digital photo be considered art?  The question that slips by the interlocutor is always, “What is art?”  The answer to the latter query is non-definable. It can only be opined due to its diversity of resultant statements.

********

Art according to Plato, “was  (the) imitation of nature.”

Art according to “Ai Weiwei (1957-), the Chinese artist, “Shame on Me,” in Der Spiegel, November 21, 2011, is … self-expression or autobiography.” (Wiki)

Art according to Marina Abromović, the grand dame of Performance, Art “… energy.”

Art according to Elmer Ciseron is “… victory” linked in all his paintings with a small circle to represent the sun.  Oscar Valladares used art by this Latin American artist not only to adorn his cigar box but named the cigar after him as well – Ciseron.  

Art according to David Hockney (1937–) British artist, to The Guardian on October 26, 1988, is … “an addiction.”

Art according to André Malraux (1901–1976), French novelist, essayist, and art critic, Les Voix du silence (1951) is … “a revolt, a protest against extinction.

Art, according to Irv CigarBroker (1954-) is any work of creation that stirs the emotions to the point of tears, fear, surprise, disgust, shame and on and on and on.

Does clarity of subject matter influence the opinion?  Hardly. To wit:

De Kooning famously said, ‘“Flesh is the reason oil paint was invented,” and although he often worked in an abstract style he continually returned to the figure. Woman I took an unusually long time to complete. De Kooning made numerous preliminary studies then repainted the canvas repeatedly, eventually arriving at this hulking, wild-eyed figure of a woman. An amalgam of female archetypes, from a Paleolithic fertility goddess to a 1950s pinup girl, her threatening gaze and ferocious grin are heightened by de Kooning’s aggressive brushwork and intensely colored palette.”’

Sun-Times Columnist Irv Kupcinet always said at the beginning of his Saturday television show (1953-1984) that featured, actors, journalists, playwrights, sports figures, politicians, and more all with a cafeteria-style ceramic coffee mug with Kup’s logo emblazoned on its side, that we’re all here to enjoy the wonderful “art of conversation,” as he took a long draw on the omnipresent cigar that was synonymous with the program.

Art.  It’s etymological history from www.etymonline – states: early 13c., “skill as a result of learning or practice,” from Old French art (10c.), from Latin artem (nominative ars) “work of art; practical skill; a business, craft,” from PIE *ar(ə)-ti- (source also of Sanskrit rtih “manner, mode;” Greek artizein “to prepare”), suffixed form of root *ar- “to fit together.” Etymologically akin to Latin arma “weapons.”

In Middle English usually with a sense of “skill in scholarship and learning” (c. 1300), especially in the seven sciences, or liberal arts. This sense remains in Bachelor of Arts, etc. Meaning “human workmanship” (as opposed to nature) is from late 14c. Meaning “system of rules and traditions for performing certain actions” is from late 15c. Sense of “skill in cunning and trickery” first attested late 16c. (the sense in artful, artless). Meaning  “skill in creative arts” is first recorded (in the) 1610s; especially of painting, sculpture, etc., from 1660s.”

Odd how words and meanings are formed.

So indeed the above photo, its ash, the fingers, the entire composition can be considered art!

Prove me wrong.

 

Big Boys Do Cry.

Gently I looped the plastic beads around her wrist.  I made sure she was holding onto the crucifix. I gave my mom a kiss, looking at her and feeling this odd sensation in my gut.  I had been there for quite awhile. In fact, we never stopped at home. We drove right to the facility from our recent road trip after receiving a phone call that my mom was in serious decline.

The rosary was now in place upon her slightly bruised wrist due not only to her condition but the fact that her skin was paper thin.  I brushed back her thin white wispy hair. She never knew it. Her eyes were closed. But she was breathing steadily, even and strong.  But I know myself and I knew I had to complete my mission. And I just did.

I watched the television for quite a while until I felt the need to leave and planned to return the next morning.  I gave her a kiss on her forward. I told her that I loved her and that everything was in place as requested.

I got home and went outside to have a cigar and write.  Luckily I was mainly editing a pre-written article I penned when I was on the road.  So my concentration, being a bit off, was sufficient.

The next morning came quickly and I readied myself for a long day.  As I got in the car I could tell this was going to be a hot one so I immediately flipped on the A/C.  It was Saturday.  Traffic would be light making my trip seem short.

As I turned onto the driveway that leads to the parking lot the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Is this Paul?”  “Yes, it is.” “This is Liz.  I’m so sorry to have to tell you that your mom has passed.”  My body felt as if I had just peed my pants. The tears flowed immediately.  I acknowledged her message and told her I was three minutes away.

I pulled in.  I parked crooked.  I began to sob.  But I was also able to reach my wife and brother via cell.  I tried to get the news out in semi-understandable words.  It’s always a challenge to talk and cry at the same time.

That done, I made my way to room 203.  The curtain was fully shrouded around the bed. I stepped in and a couple of nurses were standing about inside.  My eyes went directly to my mom.  Both said how saddened they were, and I asked if they would leave me be. Seconds later there I was with my mom. Me and my mom.  Alone.

I gave her a kiss on her forehead.  It was still warm.  I rubbed her arms, my vision was blurred by a sudden spasm of tears.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and I looked at her.  Really studied her. She was looking toward God’s heaven, but I knew she was aware that I was there, too.  She wanted to be alone when she passed. Three minutes sooner and I would have spoiled her plans.  Everything had been accomplished. Her 98th birthday party, the Mother’s Day celebration, my son’s graduation ceremony – the placement of the rosary.

Now she was in the process of hugging her husband, Irv, her only daughter, TT, her mom and dad, her two sisters, her aunts, Uncle Floyd, everyone was waiting for her with huge smiles and open arms – all highlighted with brilliant white lights and a slew of trumpeters creating what she knew were some of the best Jazz riffs ever created.

It was silent in room 203.  I lifted her blanket to make sure that the rosary was still wrapped around her wrist that I had placed there the day before.  It was.  I knew then what to do.

Mom, I’ll miss you more than you will ever know.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAsDLGjMhFI

Cigar Brokers are Prospectors.

Are cigar brokers prospectors in a land where the true character of the human condition exposes itself and are we waifs who don’t know what the gold looks like?

To wit:

(The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)  is an American dramatic adventurous neo-western written and directed by John Huston. It is a feature film adaptation of B. Traven’s 1927 novel of the same name, about two financially desperate Americans, Fred C. Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) and Bob Curtin (Tim Holt), who in the 1920s join old-timer Howard (Walter Huston, the director’s father) in Mexico to prospect for gold.

Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) and Curtin (Tim Holt), who work on an oil rig and are cheated out of promised wages and down on their luck, meet an old prospector Howard (Walter Huston) in the Mexican oil-town of Tampico. They set out to strike it rich by searching for gold in the remote Sierra Madre mountains.

They ride a train into the hinterlands, surviving a bandit attack en route. In the desert, Howard proves to be the toughest and most knowledgeable; he is the one to discover the gold they seek. A mine is dug, and much gold is extracted. Greed soon sets in, and Dobbs begins to lose both his trust and his sanity, lusting to possess the entire treasure. Dobbs is also unreasonably afraid that he will be killed by his partners.

A fourth American named James Cody (Bruce Bennett) appears, which sets up a moral debate about what to do with the new stranger. The men decide to kill Cody, but just as the three confront him with pistols and prepare to kill him, the bandits reappear, crudely pretending to be Federales. (This results in the now-infamous exchange between Dobbs and the bandits about not needing to show any “stinking badges.”) After a gunfight with the bandits, in which Cody is killed, a real troop of Federales appears and chase the bandits away.

Howard is called away to assist local villagers to save the life of a seriously ill little boy. When the boy recovers, the next day, the villagers insist that Howard return to the village to be honored. However, he leaves his goods with Dobbs and Curtin. Dobbs, whose paranoia continues, and Curtin constantly argue, until one night when Curtin falls asleep, Dobbs holds him at gunpoint, takes him behind the camp, shoots him, grabs all three shares of the gold, and leaves him for dead. However, the wounded Curtin survives and manages to crawl away during the night.

Dobbs is later ambushed and killed by some of the bandits. In their ignorance, the bandits believe Dobbs’ bags of unrefined gold are merely filled with sand, and they scatter the gold to the winds. Curtin is discovered by Indios and taken to Howard’s village, where he recovers. The bandits try to sell the packing donkeys but a child recognizes the donkeys and Dobbs’ clothes and reports them to the police. The bandits are captured, sentenced to death and forced to dig their own graves before being executed. Curtin and Howard miss witnessing the bandits’ execution by Federales by only a few minutes as they arrive back in town, and learn that the gold is gone.

While checking the area where the bandits dropped the gold, Howard and Curtin notice some empty sacks and surmise that the winds must have carried the gold away. They accept the loss with equanimity, and then part ways, Howard returning to the Indio village, where the natives have offered him a permanent home and position of honor, and Curtin returning home to the United States.

In conclusion.  Yes! AND NO!

 

Going to the End of the Line.

I’m in the middle of watching Stieg Larsson’s “Millennium” trilogy.  The three DVD titles are, “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” The Girl Who Played with Fire,” and, “The Girl Who Kicked Over the Hornet’s Nest.  All in the original (Swedish with English subtitles). The late Roger Ebert, film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times wrote, “Lisbeth is as compelling as any movie character in recent history.”  I agree.

But I don’t compare.   Although often I feel as though I’m going through my own ad Infinitum “trilogy” of sorts when I go on the road.  Tedium ad infinitum. 

So this week I’m headed out.  The schedule of my regular postings may be disrupted.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMVjToYOjbM