Say, wasn't there a Coen brothers movie title like this, won awards or something?
Right. 'No Country for Old Men.'
Based on a book by another McCarthy, Cormac McCarthy.
That's more than a coincidence, I think.
Gosh, do you think they knew about this poem title?
I've noted political subtexts to Coen brothers movies, often relating to CIA.
Maybe Cormac, too? He must've known about the other McCarthy's title.
Could this be a...meme-reversal counterpropaganda book/movie device?
Like other spook writers create - Robin Moore, Robert Condon, Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy, etc.
Senator Eugene McCarthy had five poems published in the January 1979 issue of Harper's Magazine from his book, 'Ground Fog and Night.'
He was from Minnesota and a progressive like Paul Wellstone.
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/USAmccarthyE.htm
McCarthy had tried to facilitate talks between Castro and both the JFK and Johnson White Houses.
Hey, that's kind of current what with Castro ill and stepping down and the 45th anniversary of the JFK assassination by CIA.
McCarthy entered the 1968 presidential race opposing the Vietnam war and got so much support that Johnson opted not to run for re-election and Senator Robert Kennedy entered the race opposing the Vietnam war. Only he got assassinated by CIA, too.
Hey, that's kind of current what with Iraq being Vietnam II and the 40th anniversary of the RFK assassination by CIA.
McCarthy's poem called "No Country for the Young" describes a bleak dying landscape
with the line "ice cubes smell of mammoth flesh."
Hey, that's kind of current what with global warming, ice caps melting, and all.
No Country for the Young by Senator Eugene McCarthy
This is no country for the young.
Vultures prey on living flesh
and eat the skins of kettledrums.
The old refuse to die.
Eyes turn inward, chicken-like,
or stare, unlidded, vague as fish
within a deep and pressuring sea.
At the St. Regis
ice cubes smell of mammoth flesh,
and all the clocks have stopped.
A three-fingered pianist
plays only the black keys
until the dancers fall.
Shadows dare to stand against a sun
veiled by the ash of Hiroshima.
Time is tired of you and me.
It now runs out
like dust
from the broken hourglass.
The young begin too soon
to wait to be the last.
They cover stains of salt and blood
with antimacassars
and watch old curtains disintegrating
from the bottom up.
[ An antimacassar is a doily or protective cloth put on a chair to protect it from hair oil or pomade.
The Coen brothers know about pomade.]