Unlike the rest of the pompous Royals (his dad being the worst), he’s the only one I have any respect for (two combat tours in Afghanistan). WASHINGTON (AP) — Britain’s Prince Harry saluted America’s war dead in somber remembrance at Arlington National Cemetery on Friday, pausing, too, to place flowers on the tombstone of John
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Britain’s Prince Harry Honors U.S. War Dead At Arlington National Cemetery…
Supposedly Christendom is over, as nearly everyone in the West ostensibly becomes a religiously indifferent “none.” But this reality has yet to affect state funerals, most wonderfully in Margaret Thatcher’s last week in a Britain where few are regular churchgoers. The service at St. Paul’s Cathedral was magnificent although not ostentatious, fitting for the middle class grocer’s daughter who rose to power and reshaped a nation by her own determination. The Bishop of London, Richard Chartres, who had been a contender for Archbishop of Canterbury and was a friend to the Thatchers, delivered a superb eulogy that cited her Methodist roots and her empathetic humanity even amid political adversity. In recognition of her girlhood Methodism, the choir sang Charles Wesley’s “Love Divine, All Love’s Excelling.” There was also “I Vow to Thee My Country,” set to music by Gustav Holst, and whose words aptly described Thatcher’s understanding of duty to nation and more supremely to God. Current Prime Minister David Cameron read Scripture, and the other living former prime ministers were there. So too were a few recognizable U.S. statesmen, including a very roly-poly Henry Kissinger, plus Dick Cheney. The Queen and Prince Phillip as always lent dignity by their presence, now completing a remarkably nearly flawless 60 years on the global stage. There are now few people alive who can recall a time when Elizabeth was not in Buckingham Palace. Thatcher’s funeral recalled her own quiet but prominent role in Ronald Reagan’s funeral 9 years ago. She sat in National Cathedral beneath her wide black hat, while her eulogy, pre-recorded due to health concerns, was played for the congregation and world. She robustly recalled the victories of her American political partner, especially over the Kremlin’s “dark corridors,” even as Mikhail Gorbachev supinely sat beside her in the church. Only Thatcher could have achieved such a feat with grace. Earlier at the Capitol Rotunda before Reagan’s casket, former Reagan speech writer Peggy Noonan had stood behind Thatcher, likening the experience to standing behind Winston Churchill at FDR’s funeral (Churchill actually didn’t attend). When a military honor guard entered the Rotunda, Thatcher regally turned about towards Noonan to extol the importance of military strength in defense of free societies. Very Churchillian. Touchingly, Thatcher, whose health was not great, flew across the continent with the Reagan family to attend the final service for her friend in California. Reputedly she had brought a special hat box for her funeral headgear. Reagan’s funeral in many ways exceeded Thatcher’s. As the loquacious Chris Matthews observed of the congregation at National Cathedral, it resembled the Final Judgement, with everybody, the good and the bad, all assembled to await their fate. The former Presidents, including two of Reagan’s political adversaries, with their First Ladies were there. So too were former world leaders, besides Thatcher and Gorbachev, such as Germany’s Helmut Kohl, Canada’s Brian Mulroney and Japan’s Yasuhiro Nakasone, each of whom was a key Reagan partner in the Cold War. The only imperfection of Reagan’s funeral was the absence of Billy Graham, whose health precluded attendance. In his memoir, Graham, who conducted funerals for Richard Nixon and Lyndon Johnson, cites Reagan as his closest presidential friend, and no doubt a eulogy from him would have been poignant. Music at Reagan’s funeral included appropriately “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and “Amazing Grace.” A special composition, “Mansions of The Lord,” was set to stirring music from Mel Gibson’s We Were Soldiers . Reagan would have approved. A former Reagan aide recounted that when Reagan attended Dwight Eisenhower’s 1969 funeral at National Cathedral, he was seated behind French President Charles de Gaulle, whose own aide could be seen writing Reagan’s name down for De Gaulle’s benefit, prompting the General to turn around for a long stare at the then California governor. Afterwards De Gaulle reportedly made a point of seeking out Reagan for a silent handshake full of “vibes.” The Reagan aide speculated that De Gaulle, who had faced down leftist students trying to overthrow his regime the year before, may have respected Reagan’s own publicized confrontations with California student radicals. A photo of the Eisenhower funeral does not show Reagan anywhere behind De Gaulle, but surely the story is too good not to be true in some context. At Ike’s funeral, the towering and imposing De Gaulle was prominent, paying homage to his old colleague from World War II. He was in the front row at the National Cathedral along with the Nixons and the Shah of Iran. Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos of the Philippines were just behind. De Gaulle was no less prominent at JFK’s funeral six years earlier, striding up Connecticut Avenue from the White House towards St. Matthew’s Cathedral. And in 1965, he again loomed over all others at Winston Churchill’s London funeral, also at St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the last great public funeral for a British premier until Thatcher’s. Like many U.S. presidential funerals, Churchill’s also featured the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” When De Gaulle died, an admiring Nixon attended his at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. French President Georges Pompidou, a protégé to De Gaulle as Nixon was to Eisenhower, greeted Nixon as a fellow “orphan.” As ex-president, Nixon courageously attended the Shah of Iran’s lonely funeral in Cairo, alongside Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, who was virtually the only head of state who had not shunned the deposed Iranian leader. Two years later, Nixon, Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter all attended Sadat’s funeral, itself somewhat courageous given the unsteady security after Sadat’s assassination. Funerals are not departures from human nature. Gerald Ford on the flight to Cairo rued Nixon’s characteristic political manipulations even then, according to one report, irenically regretting having pardoned the “son of a bitch.” But Nixon gained sympathy from even his worst critics at his wife Pat’s funeral, where Nixon convulsively wept at her grave. When he died a year later, his surviving younger brother wept no less intensely. Eisenhower’s son, a retired general whose son is married to Nixon’s daughter, sat stoically, looking almost just like his father. As always, Billy Graham lent spiritual gravitas to both Nixon funerals. Ford’s 2006 funeral, unlike Nixon’s, was at National Cathedral, where Henry Kissinger delivered an emotional eulogy, revealing that he is human after all. At a later service at the Ford Library in Grand Rapids, Jimmy Carter paid homage to the man he defeated in 1976, citing their common Christian faith, and illustrating a graceful continuity in American politics. Perhaps future state funerals for a new generation of politicians will be less solemn, less Christian, and exemplify a new age of esoteric spirituality. But so far, in recent years, they have been reassuringly traditional, relying on liturgy rather than self-expression, citing themes of divine grace and redemption, at least briefly reminding a confused civilization of its spiritual roots. Photo: UPI
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State Funerals and Christendom
Defending champion Rafael Nadal dominated French ace Jo-Wilfred Tsonga in his semifinal match at the Monte Carlo Masters notwithstanding pains pretty much all over, they said, including his back. The Spaniard, who was going for his ninth consecutive win here, winced and scowled a few times, whether from the pain or from unlikely errors, but the match was in the bag from the beginning, requiring only two sets. Even clearer was the other semi, in which the No. 1-ranked Novak Djokovic, the Serb phenom, crushed Italy’s Fabio Fognini, who caused a brief stir by getting this far with a win over French ace Richard Gasquet. Djokovic strained an ankle during the recent Davis Cup play (the Serbs beat our team, but this weekend our girls beat Sweden’s in the Fed Cup, thanks to Venus and Serena Williams), and there had been some doubts whether he would be fit for the Monte Carlo tournament. He certainly did not look like a man with a bad ankle against Fognini, dispatching him quickly, nor against Nadal when the two met in the final last Sunday. There is the old play-through-the-pain school and there is the do-not-aggravate-the-problem school, and neither is scientifically proven to be better than the other, but there is the sporting dimension of the matter too to consider. Tennis is not a contact sport but it is not for wimps at the pro level, either. However, this is neither here nor there. Monte Carlo, a neighborhood in the Principality of Monaco, has its share of sporting types who like to argue about whether it is all in the head or all in the pocketbook. I am not referring to the professional sports stars who live here, but to the very rich, who are not like you and me. No, they have much more money. This exchange of truisms took place several decades ago, but it involved Gertrude Stein and Ernest Hemingway or John Dos Passos and Scott Fitzgerald or some other combination, you can look it up. Could have been Ring Lardner and Heywood Broun, come to think of it. Seriously, the question is why they call Monte Carlo the rock, when I thought Gibraltar was the rock? Well, Nadal has the edge, historically speaking, against Djokovic, especially on clay. Memory has its faults, but I cannot think of more than one loss by the Spaniard to the Serb on clay up to now. Maybe two. One to Federer, the Swiss master, somewhere, maybe one to Soderling, the big Swede. If you come from an s country you are at a definite advantage these days in tennis — Murray, Federer, Nadal, Djokovic all come from s lands, and others near their level of expertise include Wawrinka, Ferrer, and others such as Almagro, Andujar, Soderling, Anderson. This is better than being from an an country — Sudan, Afghanistan, Pakistan. Those places do not produce tennis players. Nor do they produce doctors, climate scientists, agronomists, thinkers, teachers, scholars, as do Israel, Canada, and the United States. It takes a serious investment to produce a doctor or a man who cares about improving agriculture, to feed more of the world’s poor. Or rich for that matter. Monaco is the richest place on earth, where the average joe is a billionaire, or close. Plus they have excellent health and social insurance. They have low taxes. Grover Norquist would love this place. The population is about equivalent to a small American suburb, 150,000 or so. Anyway, to be a doctor requires investments in money, time, family support, school systems, advanced studies, laboratories, hospitals, much else besides. The countries ending in an do not do that. They invest in teaching hate and death. They are the badlands of the globalized world, just as they were the badlands of the pre-globalized world. The final begins, after a rain delay. I keep thinking of a story title, but the author escapes me. “The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo.” It is either a story by Scott Fitzgerald, or it is a line in a story by J. D. Salinger, wherein he refers to someone who looked like someone who could have been the man who did that, broke the bank at Monte Carlo. On the TV they showed a guy named by the caption Prince Albert of Monte Carlo, looks like a twit, but appearances are deceiving, the Grimaldi family that owns this place and of whom he is the scion, is pretty sharp, I mean look at what they got, French security plus all the rich people, they have a pretty good setup. And their sovereignty has been going on since the Middle Ages. This is much longer than the Daleys in Chicago. It looks like a posh place, just from the way the spectators are dressed. No cutoff jeans and football or rugby jerseys here, there is probably a dress code. Beautifully cut blazers, fancy dresses on the ladies, lots of expensive optics and gold on necks, arms, that sort of thing, nice hats too. However, it is the third game of the first set and the Serb is demolishing the Spaniard. It does not look good for the man of Majorca. The mighty mountain man is controlling the points relentlessly, running the other guy around like a yoyo. Rafa has been the lord of Monte Carlo for the past several years — eight in a row or some such incredible record, but this could be the end of the reign. But you can bank on this: the reign of the Grimaldi’s will continue. Some things in this fast-paced globalized world do not change. The Grimaldi’s marry American beauties. Prince Albert’s father, Prince Rainier — nearly 60 years in power — was married to movie legend Grace Kelly, she of High Noon and The Bridges of Toko Ri , two of the all time films of American manhood. The prince’s great grandfather, or maybe his great-great-grandfather, was also married to an American beauty, an opera lover. Monaco has a great opera house, as well as many famous sport events, such as a Grand Prix automobile race. This tennis tournament is also among the unchanging high points of the civilized Mediterranean world; it dates from the early days of organized tennis, 1897, and has usually been won by European players. I do not recall Don Budge ever won here, and the mighty (and emotionally uptight) Bill Tilden only once, early 1930s. Americans are not famous for winning on clay, but there may be other causes as well, deep causes. Actually, an American, John Isner, won the U.S. Clay Court Championship a couple weeks ago. But he lost here in the first round. Bad show for the Yanks. Nadal and Djokovic both have powerful forehands. Very different, but similar in effectiveness. You give either one of those 20-somethings a forehand that he can use, he puts it away. Nole has a fantastic down-the-line shot, comparatively flat, unreachable in the corner directly in front of where he hits it — a very difficult stroke to make. Rafa by contrast has a superb topspin forehand, possibly the most powerful in the history of the sport, which he can place anywhere but which he tends to fire at angles. It is a fantastic shot, especially on clay, where it gains additional acceleration (sports surface engineers are not produced by an countries, either), but it is not working today because Djokovic is too fast, too agile, too gritty. He knows he must hit to Nadal’s backhand, and he does, and it works. There seems to be nothing this man cannot reach on those long legs and send back like a bullet with that cannon of an arm. I am not a betting man, but it is already 4-0 for the world No. 1, and it don’t look like a ball game. If Djokovic takes Monte Carlo, it will be a huge boost in his campaign to win at Roland-Garros, which thus far is the only “grand slam” tournament that has eluded him. He will have the confidence, the momentum. Monte Carlo Masters 1000 is the first venue of the European clay court season, which ends at the French Open at the Roland Garros stadium. If Djokovic comes on strong on the red clay, Nadal, the leading clay player, sidelined with a knee injury for most of a year following his win at last year’s French Open (over Djokovic), will be worried, nervous, under siege. Of course, he will also have the blood lust, the need for revenge, for self-proving. Who is to say how a man’s mind works on those rectangular spaces, those courts of dreams, those sun-drenched mats of physical prowess. 5-0, and Nadal, serving to stay in the set, hits a brilliant inside out to the side and Nole can only look at it. And promptly replies with a drop shot that Rafa does not even run after. Yes, sir, this looks like Nole’s day, but ya never know in tennis. Well, he makes a breathtaking backhand save on a Rafa down-the-line forehand that most players would not have tried for, it caught Nadal by surprise and he could only tap his return into the net. Nadal is resilient, though, saves three set points and a perfect drop shot from the net finally gives him an ad, which he converts. Spares himself the horror of a wipeout, at least, but now it is 5-1, Djokovic serving for the set. Nadal looks exhausted. He goes through all his little tics at the baseline, the tugging at his pants, the touch to his ears, headband. Ah, he breaks — gets Nole to twice send net volleys into the alley, then hits a mighty return of serve which Nole nets. 2-5, it may yet be a match. Now now, let us not condescend. Of course it is a match. Nadal is playing fantastic tennis. He is showing why he remains to date the finest champion on clay of the contemporary game. A superb rally at 15-15 confirms this, but Djokovic gets the score back to 30-30 quickly and then gets first to 40. Set point again. Nadal saves it on a brilliant forehand that Djokovic disputes, but it is clearly on the line. Djokovic gets another ad, Nadal again saves his set, and then once more; now it is the eighth set point and finally Nole closes. All or nothing for Nadal in the second set. First of second, Djokovic serves and holds easily, playing Nadal for a sucker on the last point with a drop shot followed by a high deep lob. Rafa is in serious trouble now, if he loses and Nole is up a break right away he is unlikely to get the big mo back. However, he holds at love, so maybe he can come back. Long rallies during Djokovic’s second service game, these guys are astonishing in their toughness. Nadal misses his first break opportunity with a powerful and bold backhand crosscourt return of serve, but it sails long, then he misses on the next rally a fairly easy shot and they are again at deuce. Djokovic gets the first ad, converts, 2-1. Nadal finally breaks, in the fifth game, putting him ahead for the first time, but it would surprise no one if Novak broke right back, he is already at 15-30 on Rafa’s service. The Spaniard definitely started strong — the lust for revenge, see supra — and he is making superb passing shots. Mistakes too, however, notably on his backhand. An ace — his second — gives him the ad, and a winner serve which Djokovic shanks out of bounds gives him the game, 4-2. Ya never know. You never know in baseball either; how many games are won from behind in the ninth? So big deal, yah, ain’t over till it’s over: Nole holds the seventh game at love. Of course, it could be deliberate on Rafa’s part, let the game go and just concentrate on holding his next two service games. However, right there you have a major difference between tennis and baseball, both involve tactical moves, but in baseball you would never give up points the way in tennis you might conceivably concede a game, because in baseball there are too many factors out of your control. Anyway, no one would deliberately concede a game to Novak Djokovic, he is much too strong. Sure enough, he follows up with a break and it is even again, 4-4. I said I was not a betting man, but it looks to me like this is it. Nadal had a nice rally there in the first half of the second set, but could not sustain it, Djokovic is going to hold and then break and that will be it, the man who broke Nadal at Monte Carlo. And the bank. Sure enough, he holds on a Nadal error — a high smash into the net, a shot he never should miss. Nadal is discouraged and weary, looks like in his mind he is thinking, too bad, best is to quit and start concentrating on the mental edge he must work up for the French Open. But Nadal never quits. He puts away a fantastic overhead smash on the first point, wins the second, sends his fans into their Rafamania mode, 30-15. I always say let the better man or team win, and you have to admit that for all Rafa’s brilliance, Nole has been playing a better match, both more solid and tactically finer and more athletic. A brilliant net shot at 40-15 confirms this, but Rafa manages to trick him with a powerful second serve at 40-30, which he nets: 5-5. Rafa goes all out, gets the first point of the 11th on a ferocious rally, but then nets an easy forehand. It’s a nailbiter now. And lookahere, Nadal breaks Djokovic and goes into the 12th game serving for the set! But no, Novak breaks at love and far from a nailbiter it’s a tiebreaker. What a Nole rally! Given the way they are playing, it would seem likely he will have steadier nerves in the tiebreak. Sure enough, he is playing more aggressively and quickly gets up 2-0, 3-1, 4-1 on a great crosscourt from behind the baseline. 1-5, as Rafa shanks what should have been a winner. Oh boy. They change sides. The crowd, generally on Rafa’s side, is quiet. He must hold, then break. Nope, sends a shot flying, 6-1, Nole serving for match. Gets it on his first serve, screams, spreads his arms wide, kisses the ground, throws punches and balls, takes off his shirt as does Nadal, who looks glum. The end of a long reign, sorry, hard to take. Should there be more decorum when you win? The way we live today, such a thought would scarcely be understood by most fans. The cup is called La Coupe de S.A.S. le Prince Albert II, Monte Carlo Rolex Masters (well, what do you want, at Monte Carlo they all wear Rolex watches). Nice ceremony, the serinissime excellency arriving, a bit portly it seems, looks like a twit, but he is probably much smarter than he looks. His wife wears an ankle length dress. Well, Rafa looks happy enough now, gets his plaque, actually it is a kind of dish, and he is smiling. And now the world No. 1, the prince gives him the cup, he holds it up, kisses it, goes to stand next to his long-time rival. Good show, boys. Serb national anthem and all — Novak is either singing along or quietly mouthing the words, it is impossible to tell. No nonsense, either, in this song, you should note the lyrics — God, our hope; protect and cherish / Serbian crown and Serbian race! Next Rafa makes a few remarks, good sport, thanks everyone, congratulates Novak, thanks the umpires and the linesmen, humble and all, good loser, and keep in mind that loser here means he is better than everyone else but one. So then Novak says how proud and happy he is and also thanks everybody and keeps it brief, good winner. Oh man, sports are fun. Photo ops now with the Prince of Monte Carlo, maybe he looks like a toff but he is definitely a man of means, and hand it to him, he keeps this tournament tradition going. And the Princess and another woman, I believe the tournament director or maybe she is the principality’s minister of sports? Holds the Rolex concession? Now the two champs pose together. In the past ten years, rare has been the tournament where the last two men standing have not been these two or one of them plus Roger Federer. It has been an era of dominance by men from countries whose names start with s . Madrid and Rome are on the clay court schedule, and no doubt, Rafa will feel tonight and tomorrow and the next day he must at all costs win at least one of those, and then we have Roland-Garros, the Internationaux de France, and if the past is prologue: but, hell, the future ain’t written nowhere. But there is always a road to Paris. Photo: UPI
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The Prince of Monte Carlo
Margaret Thatcher was forever the thrifty Methodist grocer’s daughter of Grantham. Her father was both lay preacher and Conservative Party stalwart. They attended the Methodist church several times every Sabbath and heeded many then Methodist strictures against theater-going and dancing. Her family’s social life was enmeshed in the church’s sewing meetings, youth guilds, and missions work, as she recalled to the Catholic Herald 35 years ago. “Methodism is the most marvelous evangelical faith and there is the most marvelous love and feeling for music in the Methodist Church which I think is greater than in the Anglican Church,” she then remembered. “But you sometimes feel the need for a slightly more formal service and perhaps a little bit more formality in the underlying theology too.” Although married in John Wesley’s London Chapel, Thatcher later converted to her husband’s Anglicanism. But her world outlook was shaped by post-Victorian Methodism, before the now sadly long declining church became left-wing, and when it still emphasized personal faith, unceasing diligence, exacting self-discipline, and perpetual exertions for social improvement based on rectitude. Thatcher was an unapologetic if pragmatic political moralist, and Methodism made her so. She was often more preacher than mere politician. Her foes saw her as hectoring. Her fans reverenced her calls to constant righteous uplift for Britain, the West, and the world. “So when you’ve relieved poverty and ignorance and disease, if you are not a Christian you think that sorts out the problems of the world,” she explained to the Catholic Herald . “You and I know it doesn’t, because there is still the real religious problem in the choice between good and evil.” Thatcher naturally saw as a crusade her mission to save Britain from decline, from grasping labor unions, from a suffocating welfare state, from passive resignation to second rate status. Her greatest exposition of her own public theology was in her 1988 speech to the Church of Scotland, which scornful critics derided as “The Sermon on the Mound.” Before the Scottish divines, Thatcher identified three “distinctive marks” of Christianity. First, that man has been “endowed by God with the fundamental right to choose between good and evil.” Second, that as creatures in God’s image “we are expected to use all our own power of thought and judgement in exercising that choice,” with divine guidance if we “open our hearts to God.” And third, that “Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, when faced with His terrible choice and lonely vigil, chose to lay down His life that our sins may be forgiven.” Thatcher warned against merely professing faith for social reforms. Instead faith should look to the “sanctity of life, the responsibility that comes with freedom and the supreme sacrifice of Christ expressed so well in the hymn: “When I survey the wondrous Cross, On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.’” The Bible offers a “view of the universe, a proper attitude to work, and principles to shape economic and social life,” she surmised. It counsels hard work, creating wealth, and using wealth not selfishly but to glorify God. Christianity doesn’t mandate specific political and social institutions, Thatcher said. But “any set of social and economic arrangements which is not founded on the acceptance of individual responsibility will do nothing but harm.” She summarized her ethical and political creed: “We are all responsible for our own actions. We can’t blame society if we disobey the law. We simply can’t delegate the exercise of mercy and generosity to others. The politicians and other secular powers should strive by their measures to bring out the good in people and to fight down the bad: but they can’t create the one or abolish the other. They can only see that the laws encourage the best instincts and convictions of the people, instincts and convictions which I’m convinced are far more deeply rooted than is often supposed.” She called the family the “very nursery of civic virtue.” Thatcher denied Britain was intrinsically secular, instead insisting: “The Christian religion — which, of course, embodies many of the great spiritual and moral truths of Judaism — is a fundamental part of our national heritage.” Indeed, “We are a nation whose ideals are founded on the Bible.” And, the “truths of the Judaic-Christian tradition are infinitely precious, not only, as I believe, because they are true, but also because they provide the moral impulse which alone can lead to that peace, in the true meaning of the word, for which we all long.” Politics are limited in their reach, Thatcher warned. “We Parliamentarians can legislate for the rule of law,” she told the Presbyterians. “You, the Church, can teach the life of faith.” She commended to them the hymn “I Vow to Thee My Country,” which offers love of nation but “goes on to speak of ‘another country I heard of long ago’ whose King can’t be seen and whose armies can’t be counted, but ‘soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase.’” Thatcher concluded by telling the Scottish churchmen that this unseen kingdom “is the country which you chiefly serve,” whose “success matters greatly—as much to the temporal as to the spiritual welfare of the [earthly] nation.” Her notion of moral transcendence elevated her public theology. Politics was important but only as a tool to loftier goals. In this faith Thatcher was joined with another politician, Ronald Reagan, who was also indelibly shaped by the mores of small-town Protestantism, innately understanding that a nation’s health begins at altar and home. She, no less than he, believed in Providence, not the historical determinism that insisted their nations were destined to decay, that the welfare state was the poor’s only salvation, and that humanity was permanently deadlocked between freedom and communism under the permanently threatening shadow of nuclear war. Secular elites despised Thatcher, no less than Reagan. And she cared no more than did he, always confident in the Christian faith learned in childhood and matured by triumphant global struggles of which we are all beneficiaries.
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Margaret Thatcher the Methodist
Well over a year ago while filling in for Glenn Beck I said this on conservatives and culture: Here’s a lesson for conservative artists, too: as Dez Dickerson told me (he played guitar for Prince), be judged on the merit of your work, not because of your ideology. Make your art beyond reproach. Going out and buying crappy art from someone just because they are | Read More
