Saturday, July 19, 2008

My Heroes


Today, the climbing to artistry celebrity is an “anything goes” process. Poor devils, fuckheads and losers of all types would cut one of their fingers to get a spotlight, to be publicized somehow, to appear in the social columns, to attain a dubious and frivolous title (as “curator”). It is the sickness of the modern era, a pathological aspect of human behavior. That’s exactly why characters as Ferdinand Waldo Demara, Jr and B. Traven should be praised and admired. The former, immortalized by Toni Curtis in the film The Great Impostor (1961), was a man who had a penchant to be specialist without being specialized in anything, becoming a marine, a monk, a surgeon onboard a Canadian Warship, and a prison warden. The last was a mysterious writer who never revealed his true identity, and was supposed to be Jack London, Ambrose Bierce, an American millionaire, a Black American ex-slave, Frans Blom, a leper, Mexican President Adolfo Lopez Mateos, the President’s sister (Esperanza), August Ribelje, Jacob Torice, Mexican President Elias Calles, a chief editor of a German Publisher, Cap'n Bilbo, Arthur Breisky, a group of writers in Honduras and a group of leftist Hollywood scriptwriters. Authentic anarchists types that are scarce in the wasteland we call academy and art world.

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