The Guy with the $10,000 hat
Cashing in on as many two-cent opportunities as he can before his kicks the bucket (a bucket which, by all accounts, has been placed on a football tee for some time now), the Pope declares that war is bad and vaguely pushes Catholic party lines. Later on he sainted a potted plant.
Perhaps he could suggest something like the Children's Crusade to solve this problem!
6.04.2004
6.02.2004
Magical Endorsement
As most of you know, I'm a fan of Walter Chaw's scathing, learned, and intelligent reviews over at Film Freak Central. Nowhere else have I so enjoyed reading his verbal scythe run through movie bile, or his praise for film genius. In short, I value his opinion more than most, although I always reserve my own as final say.
That said, many of you are eagerly awaiting Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban's release this Friday. I thought I heard the other day on the radio that some critic called it one of the best movies ever, at which point I thought myself hallucinating.
Well, apparently that may be the case. If you read Walter's four-star review of the film, you'll happen across this little bit of praise:
Harry Potter fans should pray that Alfonso Cuarón does not leave the ship.
As most of you know, I'm a fan of Walter Chaw's scathing, learned, and intelligent reviews over at Film Freak Central. Nowhere else have I so enjoyed reading his verbal scythe run through movie bile, or his praise for film genius. In short, I value his opinion more than most, although I always reserve my own as final say.
That said, many of you are eagerly awaiting Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban's release this Friday. I thought I heard the other day on the radio that some critic called it one of the best movies ever, at which point I thought myself hallucinating.
Well, apparently that may be the case. If you read Walter's four-star review of the film, you'll happen across this little bit of praise:
- This third film is this juvenile epic's The Empire Strikes Back. It's hard to imagine the series ever besting it.
Harry Potter fans should pray that Alfonso Cuarón does not leave the ship.
West Wing Marathon
Thanks to the miracle of video recording technology, I was able to watch the top 5 episodes of the West Wing marathon on Bravo in 4 hours on Tuesday night instead of on Memorial Day. What an achievement, I know, but I need these little victories. In any event, their viewer's choice list of best episodes were as follows (links for synopsis):
I'm also particular about THE PORTLAND TRIP, if only for Bartlet's continued hilarious harassment on an Air Force One trip of C.J., who made some ill-conceived remarks about Notre Dame football. Also, any episode featuring LORD JOHN MARBURY is a hoot, thanks to Roger Rees' wonderfully charming boozing ambassador.
P.S. One little current political analogy: "IN THE SHADOW OF TWO GUNMEN: PART I". The most interesting thing (to me) about the episode was the flashback to Josh's days when he worked for (then) Senator Hoynes' campaign. He has a disagreement with another on Hoyne's staff and then confesses his gut feeling to Hoynes outside:
Thanks to the miracle of video recording technology, I was able to watch the top 5 episodes of the West Wing marathon on Bravo in 4 hours on Tuesday night instead of on Memorial Day. What an achievement, I know, but I need these little victories. In any event, their viewer's choice list of best episodes were as follows (links for synopsis):
- IN THE SHADOW OF TWO GUNMEN: PART II
- IN THE SHADOW OF TWO GUNMEN: PART I
- TWO CATHEDRALS
- POSSE COMITATUS
- THE STACKHOUSE FILIBUSTER
- NOEL
I'm also particular about THE PORTLAND TRIP, if only for Bartlet's continued hilarious harassment on an Air Force One trip of C.J., who made some ill-conceived remarks about Notre Dame football. Also, any episode featuring LORD JOHN MARBURY is a hoot, thanks to Roger Rees' wonderfully charming boozing ambassador.
P.S. One little current political analogy: "IN THE SHADOW OF TWO GUNMEN: PART I". The most interesting thing (to me) about the episode was the flashback to Josh's days when he worked for (then) Senator Hoynes' campaign. He has a disagreement with another on Hoyne's staff and then confesses his gut feeling to Hoynes outside:
- "Senator, you’re the prohibitive favorite to be the Democratic Party’s nominee for President. You have 58 million dollars in war chest with no end in sight, and... I don’t know what we’re for...I don’t know what we’re for, and I don’t know what we’re against. Except we seem to be for winning and against somebody else winning."
Questions of travel
As I estimated long ago, I'm very bad at long distance relationships, whether it be with family or friends. I am hot and cold when it comes to communication, and there are very few who get a relatively constant dose. Naturally, those nearest get the most (or brunt) of it, for they are the ones you see all the time. Like a radar, you can accurately chart the frequency of communication as distance grows larger. However, my 'contact map' also has element of topography, where a couple of hills rise out on the horizon for a few individuals. Of course, I'm talking monthly contact, if that, for a few, and the methods are different.
Of all the people I've encountered, the list of exceptions hasn't changed at all over the past decade or so. Jaquandor and I have been friends for the longest, and our method of choice has been writing. This medium appeals to both of our scribing sensibilities and tastes, and has only changed resultant from technology and not distance.
For instance, even when we were side-by-side in a classroom in Chemistry 11, we would pass each other notes, composed kind of like a questionaire, topics ranging from local gossip to the hot subject of how could he embarrass the character of "Captain Senoj" in the latest rendition of his screenplay. When I moved away, we switch to letter writing, resulting in some of the most lengthy prose one could imagine. I keep every letter I receive -- I still have a folder dedicated to this particular correspondence. With the advent of email, our exchanges converted to electronic form to take advantage of the convenience and ease of merely typing out your message and hitting 'send'.
(Of course, I don't keep these exchanges in a file; there is something aesthetically pleasing about a hand-written note or letter that the most beautiful font will never capture. Although communication is quicker and easier, I miss the days of writing letters. Being a sentimentalist, I write my girlfriend letters now and again.)
Next, came the Instant Messenger -- instant chatting and discussion as fast as you can type and read. No need for paragraphs, introductions or summary sentences. Just typing whatever comes to mind. More like a phone conversation really, except that you don't need to explain (necessarily) when you go "away". Jaq and I have had quite a few IM battles in our day. Finally, our last stage had become communicade-bloggo, really just chatting through essays, links and comments. I guess it's more like talking AT someone then to them, and really a lecturer in a room full of students. Nevertheless, there it is.
Another friend I've had since college has been Dave, a.k.a. Lisa (her nickname 'Dave' is far too silly a story to relay here). She and I often used the medium of the telephone most often. She moved around a lot and we are both (or can be) talkers and gabbing on the phone was how we best expressed ourselves. Dave is no slouch in the letter-writing department, but we just always seemed to enjoy verbally communicating more. She and I can fill up an hour on the phone, no problem.
Lastly, and both the most personal and impersonal communicatee, is my friend Gary. We don't chat on the phone, we don't write, we hang out whenever we can. Although this can be sometimes 6 months from time-to-time, it's how we relate. The phone is used to arrange meetings, email used to ask when the next golf outing will occur, letters (these days -- when he was in Korea, there were letters, I assure you) to congratulate on being alive one more year. However, he and I are like antic goofballs when we are in each others' presence. We goad each other on and I never laugh as much as when Gary's around. We have fun together, and talking or writing just isn't the same.
Three old friends, three mediums. Three people I'm fortunate to still have in my life. Thanks.
As I estimated long ago, I'm very bad at long distance relationships, whether it be with family or friends. I am hot and cold when it comes to communication, and there are very few who get a relatively constant dose. Naturally, those nearest get the most (or brunt) of it, for they are the ones you see all the time. Like a radar, you can accurately chart the frequency of communication as distance grows larger. However, my 'contact map' also has element of topography, where a couple of hills rise out on the horizon for a few individuals. Of course, I'm talking monthly contact, if that, for a few, and the methods are different.
Of all the people I've encountered, the list of exceptions hasn't changed at all over the past decade or so. Jaquandor and I have been friends for the longest, and our method of choice has been writing. This medium appeals to both of our scribing sensibilities and tastes, and has only changed resultant from technology and not distance.
For instance, even when we were side-by-side in a classroom in Chemistry 11, we would pass each other notes, composed kind of like a questionaire, topics ranging from local gossip to the hot subject of how could he embarrass the character of "Captain Senoj" in the latest rendition of his screenplay. When I moved away, we switch to letter writing, resulting in some of the most lengthy prose one could imagine. I keep every letter I receive -- I still have a folder dedicated to this particular correspondence. With the advent of email, our exchanges converted to electronic form to take advantage of the convenience and ease of merely typing out your message and hitting 'send'.
(Of course, I don't keep these exchanges in a file; there is something aesthetically pleasing about a hand-written note or letter that the most beautiful font will never capture. Although communication is quicker and easier, I miss the days of writing letters. Being a sentimentalist, I write my girlfriend letters now and again.)
Next, came the Instant Messenger -- instant chatting and discussion as fast as you can type and read. No need for paragraphs, introductions or summary sentences. Just typing whatever comes to mind. More like a phone conversation really, except that you don't need to explain (necessarily) when you go "away". Jaq and I have had quite a few IM battles in our day. Finally, our last stage had become communicade-bloggo, really just chatting through essays, links and comments. I guess it's more like talking AT someone then to them, and really a lecturer in a room full of students. Nevertheless, there it is.
Another friend I've had since college has been Dave, a.k.a. Lisa (her nickname 'Dave' is far too silly a story to relay here). She and I often used the medium of the telephone most often. She moved around a lot and we are both (or can be) talkers and gabbing on the phone was how we best expressed ourselves. Dave is no slouch in the letter-writing department, but we just always seemed to enjoy verbally communicating more. She and I can fill up an hour on the phone, no problem.
Lastly, and both the most personal and impersonal communicatee, is my friend Gary. We don't chat on the phone, we don't write, we hang out whenever we can. Although this can be sometimes 6 months from time-to-time, it's how we relate. The phone is used to arrange meetings, email used to ask when the next golf outing will occur, letters (these days -- when he was in Korea, there were letters, I assure you) to congratulate on being alive one more year. However, he and I are like antic goofballs when we are in each others' presence. We goad each other on and I never laugh as much as when Gary's around. We have fun together, and talking or writing just isn't the same.
Three old friends, three mediums. Three people I'm fortunate to still have in my life. Thanks.
6.01.2004
Marriage, Maturity, and Meaningless Babble
My girlfriend's friend from high school is getting married in a few weeks. Apparently, both bride and groom are 23, which strikes me as a particularly young age to get hitched these days. I thought that getting married that young was not only not in vogue anymore but not good in general. Naturally, expressing this opinion to an equally youthful woman sparked some disagreement. It seems that I am prejudical against getting married young.
After frustratedly hitting a wall in attempting to express my views correctly, I started searching the internet for some factoids to back up my assertion. I was first led to a place called divorcemagazine.com. (Why in the hell would someone want to subscribe to a magazine about divorce is beyond me.) Their 2002 Statistics page wasn't all that helpful, except to curiously note that the median duration of first and second marriages for both male and female is about 7 years -- right on time for the 'itch'.
The second place I looked was here, which shows the mediam marriage age over the last 100 years. Of course, this backed up my contention that the median age has skyrocketed (going up an average of 5 years in the last 30 -- prior to that it hadn't changed much at all going back to 1890), but did little to do with validating my contention that this meant getting married young was a bad idea.
Age (ha -- I speak of '33' as if next year I'll be Buddha on the mountaintop) has tempered some of the fierceness and youthful whimsication (I made it up, but it works!) and given me tastes of, dare I say it, wisdom. I'm not the same person I was 10 years ago. Not so much overtly different that you would exclaim, "I don't even know who you are anymore!" (as I'm wont to do), but a little smarter, a little more reserved, a little more refined. I like who I am today, no more and no less than the person I was in college. But, if I were to compare the two and give odds on who would make a marriage last, I'd save us the trouble and shoot that 23-year-old horse (I might shoot the 28-yr-old one too, but my time machine runs on plutonium and it's not as easy to come by as it was in 1985).
Luckily for me, I was blessed with self-awareness, at least enough to desire to nosce te ipsum, as Neo might observe. Though I may not have been marriage material, at least I knew it, and didn't pretend otherwise. (Of course, we will never know if I was right or wrong on this, but call it a hunch.) Unfortunately, dumb-present-tense-me hadn't realized that his opinion on this was, well, just an opinion (like assholes, you know) based mostly on his own experience. Instead of making statements that sound like fact, I shall next time begin by saying, "In my experience..." or "From my perspective..." or even "In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed the seas...". Aghast at my own culpability, I find that I have breached my own pet-peeve of presenting opinions as facts. Egad.
Of course, this will come up in conversation again only because I can't LET ANYTHING GO. This has not changed one bit since 23. Yay me.
My girlfriend's friend from high school is getting married in a few weeks. Apparently, both bride and groom are 23, which strikes me as a particularly young age to get hitched these days. I thought that getting married that young was not only not in vogue anymore but not good in general. Naturally, expressing this opinion to an equally youthful woman sparked some disagreement. It seems that I am prejudical against getting married young.
After frustratedly hitting a wall in attempting to express my views correctly, I started searching the internet for some factoids to back up my assertion. I was first led to a place called divorcemagazine.com. (Why in the hell would someone want to subscribe to a magazine about divorce is beyond me.) Their 2002 Statistics page wasn't all that helpful, except to curiously note that the median duration of first and second marriages for both male and female is about 7 years -- right on time for the 'itch'.
The second place I looked was here, which shows the mediam marriage age over the last 100 years. Of course, this backed up my contention that the median age has skyrocketed (going up an average of 5 years in the last 30 -- prior to that it hadn't changed much at all going back to 1890), but did little to do with validating my contention that this meant getting married young was a bad idea.
Age (ha -- I speak of '33' as if next year I'll be Buddha on the mountaintop) has tempered some of the fierceness and youthful whimsication (I made it up, but it works!) and given me tastes of, dare I say it, wisdom. I'm not the same person I was 10 years ago. Not so much overtly different that you would exclaim, "I don't even know who you are anymore!" (as I'm wont to do), but a little smarter, a little more reserved, a little more refined. I like who I am today, no more and no less than the person I was in college. But, if I were to compare the two and give odds on who would make a marriage last, I'd save us the trouble and shoot that 23-year-old horse (I might shoot the 28-yr-old one too, but my time machine runs on plutonium and it's not as easy to come by as it was in 1985).
Luckily for me, I was blessed with self-awareness, at least enough to desire to nosce te ipsum, as Neo might observe. Though I may not have been marriage material, at least I knew it, and didn't pretend otherwise. (Of course, we will never know if I was right or wrong on this, but call it a hunch.) Unfortunately, dumb-present-tense-me hadn't realized that his opinion on this was, well, just an opinion (like assholes, you know) based mostly on his own experience. Instead of making statements that sound like fact, I shall next time begin by saying, "In my experience..." or "From my perspective..." or even "In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed the seas...". Aghast at my own culpability, I find that I have breached my own pet-peeve of presenting opinions as facts. Egad.
Of course, this will come up in conversation again only because I can't LET ANYTHING GO. This has not changed one bit since 23. Yay me.
Bourne to run
Two years ago, the remarkable Bourne Identity, starring Matt Damon, hit the theaters with a bang. Despite hardly following more than a few pages of Robert Ludlum's novel, I was impressed by the direction and feel of the film, enough that I find myself viewing it time and again on a rainy day. Underrated and often overlooked, this action flick has nearly reached "cult" status as an underhyped gem.
This summer, sneaking into the moviehouses on July 23, The Bourne Supremacy looks to deliver a capable follow-up. The trailer has whetted my appetite. Just around lunchtime... how convenient!
Two years ago, the remarkable Bourne Identity, starring Matt Damon, hit the theaters with a bang. Despite hardly following more than a few pages of Robert Ludlum's novel, I was impressed by the direction and feel of the film, enough that I find myself viewing it time and again on a rainy day. Underrated and often overlooked, this action flick has nearly reached "cult" status as an underhyped gem.
This summer, sneaking into the moviehouses on July 23, The Bourne Supremacy looks to deliver a capable follow-up. The trailer has whetted my appetite. Just around lunchtime... how convenient!
5.28.2004
The All-Encompassing Whomping Bat of Disdain
Yesterday, I crawled out from under the stone that is my shelter to say a few words about my dislike for A.I. (American Idol... actually, I don't care for the movie A.I. either so you may interpret the letters how you wish) and in turn musicals. Granted, I haven't blogged very much recently, but it is far less infrequent than a cicadan cycle, as we in the Washington area are experiencing with cotton-in-our-ears horror.
Firstly, there were two comments made regarding the post on this very site. Two excellent exceptions were suggested to me that gave me pause and perhaps even a smidgeon of doubt as to my convictions. The first from Pep being the film Grease. I am forced to admit under duress and threat of expulsion from the no-Homers club that I am a fan of that film and I can watch it all the way through without skipping through the songs. However, this doesn't constitute some kind of chink in my contempt-armor; Grease is a film that transcends the genre and is a timeless classic. As such, I declare it to be the sole exception to my benign and loving rule.
The second, more clever and frankly insidious, comment was made by "Maggie May", a dog I know with quite a few tricks up her sleeve. "Maggie" has tempted me with my admitted and overt love of the Buffy series by wondering if the highly-touted musical episode, Once More With Feeling, was an exception because (1) a song-and-dance demon casts a spell on 'the gang', thus negating my argument about the jarring nature of musicals, and (2) it's Buffy. I've got to admit that Joss is a fucking genius and if I had blogged this commentary a few years ago, I would have thought it eerie that he managed to neutralize my core argument. Alas, and this may come as a shock, I have not seen the episode, so I can't comment. Yes, it is Buffy, but my aversion to musicals kept me from seeing it (I've seen snippets). So, I'll reserve judgement for now, but I'm sure that when I get past my obviously flawed condition, I will enjoy it. And no, this would not constitute a second exception because of the above-mentioned plot-device which circumvents my rules.
Finally, Jaquandor, a.k.a. Kelly "Chainsaw" Sedinger, pontificates (or blathers, depending on your P.O.V.) on the fundamental difference between us, i.e., he loveslovesloves them musicals. I don't see it as a core difference, per se, mostly because I don't spend any of my time thinking about musicals (all evidence to the contrary the last two days), so they represent a incredibly small part of my life. Kelly also interprets that I "hate" musicals, but that's a bit of an exaggeration. I just don't like them. If I had to pick a fundamental difference between myself and Buffalo-boy, it would be simply (and no less critically) that I hold the record for longest letter written, conceded by Kelly himself. And that I don't like Almond Joy or Mounds, while he loves both. That is all that matters. I don't like them.
Just the way I don't like you stinky liberals. Stinky! Okay, that was just an aside, but K.C.S. in that very same post characterizes me as a conservative, while I think of myself as an independent. In other words, while I do tend toward the conservative (with foreign policy and taxes), I would certainly never adopt a feckless 'anyone-but-the-democrat-in-power' byline. That to me is just whinery. IGNORE THIS LAST PARAGRAPH IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE 'THE TRUTH'!!! ;)
Yesterday, I crawled out from under the stone that is my shelter to say a few words about my dislike for A.I. (American Idol... actually, I don't care for the movie A.I. either so you may interpret the letters how you wish) and in turn musicals. Granted, I haven't blogged very much recently, but it is far less infrequent than a cicadan cycle, as we in the Washington area are experiencing with cotton-in-our-ears horror.
Firstly, there were two comments made regarding the post on this very site. Two excellent exceptions were suggested to me that gave me pause and perhaps even a smidgeon of doubt as to my convictions. The first from Pep being the film Grease. I am forced to admit under duress and threat of expulsion from the no-Homers club that I am a fan of that film and I can watch it all the way through without skipping through the songs. However, this doesn't constitute some kind of chink in my contempt-armor; Grease is a film that transcends the genre and is a timeless classic. As such, I declare it to be the sole exception to my benign and loving rule.
The second, more clever and frankly insidious, comment was made by "Maggie May", a dog I know with quite a few tricks up her sleeve. "Maggie" has tempted me with my admitted and overt love of the Buffy series by wondering if the highly-touted musical episode, Once More With Feeling, was an exception because (1) a song-and-dance demon casts a spell on 'the gang', thus negating my argument about the jarring nature of musicals, and (2) it's Buffy. I've got to admit that Joss is a fucking genius and if I had blogged this commentary a few years ago, I would have thought it eerie that he managed to neutralize my core argument. Alas, and this may come as a shock, I have not seen the episode, so I can't comment. Yes, it is Buffy, but my aversion to musicals kept me from seeing it (I've seen snippets). So, I'll reserve judgement for now, but I'm sure that when I get past my obviously flawed condition, I will enjoy it. And no, this would not constitute a second exception because of the above-mentioned plot-device which circumvents my rules.
Finally, Jaquandor, a.k.a. Kelly "Chainsaw" Sedinger, pontificates (or blathers, depending on your P.O.V.) on the fundamental difference between us, i.e., he loveslovesloves them musicals. I don't see it as a core difference, per se, mostly because I don't spend any of my time thinking about musicals (all evidence to the contrary the last two days), so they represent a incredibly small part of my life. Kelly also interprets that I "hate" musicals, but that's a bit of an exaggeration. I just don't like them. If I had to pick a fundamental difference between myself and Buffalo-boy, it would be simply (and no less critically) that I hold the record for longest letter written, conceded by Kelly himself. And that I don't like Almond Joy or Mounds, while he loves both. That is all that matters. I don't like them.
Just the way I don't like you stinky liberals. Stinky! Okay, that was just an aside, but K.C.S. in that very same post characterizes me as a conservative, while I think of myself as an independent. In other words, while I do tend toward the conservative (with foreign policy and taxes), I would certainly never adopt a feckless 'anyone-but-the-democrat-in-power' byline. That to me is just whinery. IGNORE THIS LAST PARAGRAPH IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE 'THE TRUTH'!!! ;)
5.27.2004
Jimmy Crack Corn... and I don't like musicals
It still baffles me the interest level in the nouveau-Star-Search, pretentiously called "American Idol". Apparently, someone vaingloriously named Fantasia won the contest last night. When my girlfriend had the clicker the other night I was subjected to about 10 minutes of the show. Seriously, this is quality programming? I will aver from expressing contempt towards people who revere and/or buy the products shoveled out by theses shows, and just chalk it up to one of those things I am not conditioned or programmed to appreciate.
That list has included, for many years, any and all manner of musicals. I've never been able to appreciate musicals in any form. For those minor musical movies I admit are classics and I quote from, such as Willy Wonka and Chocolate Factory, technology comes to the rescue. Through the miracle of DVD I jump over the dancing/singing scenes so I can enjoy the twisted humor and sharp dialogue.
Coincidentally, the other night I also (forced, could not acquire remote) watched about 20 minutes of Chicago, purported to be a top-notch musical on film. Again, I just couldn't maintain much of a passing interest in the routines. The conversation good and the plot seemed pretty interesting, but when the characters would break into song in the middle of dialogue, for me it would bring the film to a screeching halt.
The best way for me to explain what I mean is to make a parallel to science-fiction. In the genre of these movies there is an ability each viewer must possess to fully enjoy the films, and that is suspension of disbelief. What this means, in short, is that the viewer must be able to put aside his/her doubts about the validity of the technological devices or bizarre characters being seen in the film and just accept that these things or characters are 'real'. Failure to do this will seriously impair the viewer from getting all the enjoyment out of the film.
To illustrate (I have time on my hands and I feel like it, so there), let's use an example from AN EXCELLENT FILM called Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. Roll your eyes if you must, but you might learn something here about yourself. Now, if someone watching the film observes him/herself that 'lightspeed' is physically impossible, or at least beyond our present comprehension, and that fact sticks in their head they won't be paying attention to the film or enjoying it as much. This would be analogous to a student listening to a lecture who gets stuck on one point and starts daydreaming about it, thus ceasing to hear the lecturer for those few minutes.
Or, let's use the more famous example of the beloved and hated Jar Jar Binks. Preconceived notions brought on by contemptable and ridiculous racial reviews of the character might make observing his role in the story difficult because the viewer will be upset or put off by how they are offended that this space alien's voice sounds as if a black man is doing the reading (he is!!!). Whatever the reason, the viewer's mood is soured and he/she is unable to suspend their disbelief about the character. They are jarred from the filmgoing experience (I could have used 'jar-jarred', but I'm not cruel).
And that is what happens to me every time a character inexplicably switches from dialogue to a song. THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE! my mind shouts. And it's too late and I'm thrown for a loop. In other words I am much more able to suspend disbelief, film-wise, that a man can shoot webs out of his wrists than burst into song and dance with 100 strangers on the street.
There is that major problem, but, lo, there's another: the songs themselves. I DON'T LIKE SHOWTUNES IN THEMSELVES. I don't like the songs, I don't have records of them (despite my aversion to musicals, I have heard quite a few numbers in my time -- you can't avoid it), and I don't sing them or like listening to them when driving in a cross-country car trip to get my Sure Thing. I don't remember a time it hasn't been that way, and, like my political convictions, it's not that I don't understand the issue or the concept, it's that I just don't like it or don't agree with it.
The only thing I can expect, and hope to in turn deliver to everyone I meet or write to, is the same consideration that we are not all of the same fiber, the same genes, the same background, and there is nothing wrong with [most of] us. That I don't like beans or disagree with liberals or Christians doesn't mean that there is something wrong with beans (ha). It just means that opinions are like assholes -- everyone's got one -- and if you respect mine, I'll respect yours.
Unless you like American Idol.
It still baffles me the interest level in the nouveau-Star-Search, pretentiously called "American Idol". Apparently, someone vaingloriously named Fantasia won the contest last night. When my girlfriend had the clicker the other night I was subjected to about 10 minutes of the show. Seriously, this is quality programming? I will aver from expressing contempt towards people who revere and/or buy the products shoveled out by theses shows, and just chalk it up to one of those things I am not conditioned or programmed to appreciate.
That list has included, for many years, any and all manner of musicals. I've never been able to appreciate musicals in any form. For those minor musical movies I admit are classics and I quote from, such as Willy Wonka and Chocolate Factory, technology comes to the rescue. Through the miracle of DVD I jump over the dancing/singing scenes so I can enjoy the twisted humor and sharp dialogue.
Coincidentally, the other night I also (forced, could not acquire remote) watched about 20 minutes of Chicago, purported to be a top-notch musical on film. Again, I just couldn't maintain much of a passing interest in the routines. The conversation good and the plot seemed pretty interesting, but when the characters would break into song in the middle of dialogue, for me it would bring the film to a screeching halt.
The best way for me to explain what I mean is to make a parallel to science-fiction. In the genre of these movies there is an ability each viewer must possess to fully enjoy the films, and that is suspension of disbelief. What this means, in short, is that the viewer must be able to put aside his/her doubts about the validity of the technological devices or bizarre characters being seen in the film and just accept that these things or characters are 'real'. Failure to do this will seriously impair the viewer from getting all the enjoyment out of the film.
To illustrate (I have time on my hands and I feel like it, so there), let's use an example from AN EXCELLENT FILM called Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. Roll your eyes if you must, but you might learn something here about yourself. Now, if someone watching the film observes him/herself that 'lightspeed' is physically impossible, or at least beyond our present comprehension, and that fact sticks in their head they won't be paying attention to the film or enjoying it as much. This would be analogous to a student listening to a lecture who gets stuck on one point and starts daydreaming about it, thus ceasing to hear the lecturer for those few minutes.
Or, let's use the more famous example of the beloved and hated Jar Jar Binks. Preconceived notions brought on by contemptable and ridiculous racial reviews of the character might make observing his role in the story difficult because the viewer will be upset or put off by how they are offended that this space alien's voice sounds as if a black man is doing the reading (he is!!!). Whatever the reason, the viewer's mood is soured and he/she is unable to suspend their disbelief about the character. They are jarred from the filmgoing experience (I could have used 'jar-jarred', but I'm not cruel).
And that is what happens to me every time a character inexplicably switches from dialogue to a song. THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE! my mind shouts. And it's too late and I'm thrown for a loop. In other words I am much more able to suspend disbelief, film-wise, that a man can shoot webs out of his wrists than burst into song and dance with 100 strangers on the street.
There is that major problem, but, lo, there's another: the songs themselves. I DON'T LIKE SHOWTUNES IN THEMSELVES. I don't like the songs, I don't have records of them (despite my aversion to musicals, I have heard quite a few numbers in my time -- you can't avoid it), and I don't sing them or like listening to them when driving in a cross-country car trip to get my Sure Thing. I don't remember a time it hasn't been that way, and, like my political convictions, it's not that I don't understand the issue or the concept, it's that I just don't like it or don't agree with it.
The only thing I can expect, and hope to in turn deliver to everyone I meet or write to, is the same consideration that we are not all of the same fiber, the same genes, the same background, and there is nothing wrong with [most of] us. That I don't like beans or disagree with liberals or Christians doesn't mean that there is something wrong with beans (ha). It just means that opinions are like assholes -- everyone's got one -- and if you respect mine, I'll respect yours.
Unless you like American Idol.
5.26.2004
If you can't come in her, come on her
Jaquandor posted about a group of Christians whose intent is to lead a modern-day secession. Seems that these particular zealots want to move to a particular crop of land, take over, and start its own nation to keep out the heathens. They have most likely been inspired by Israel's overwhelmingly succesful and docile independent state, knowing that where the Jews failed they would succeed thanks to the guiding hand of Jesus who suffered for 2 hours and 11 celluloidal minutes at the actor-Jews' behest.
They have, no doubt, received inspiration from reading scripture. In doing so, must have looked amongst the thousands of pages (depending on how heavy you like your biblical myth) of lore for the proper words, the perfect mantra for a holy cause. After much deliberation, they came up with this quote quote for their website headliner:
Jaquandor posted about a group of Christians whose intent is to lead a modern-day secession. Seems that these particular zealots want to move to a particular crop of land, take over, and start its own nation to keep out the heathens. They have most likely been inspired by Israel's overwhelmingly succesful and docile independent state, knowing that where the Jews failed they would succeed thanks to the guiding hand of Jesus who suffered for 2 hours and 11 celluloidal minutes at the actor-Jews' behest.
They have, no doubt, received inspiration from reading scripture. In doing so, must have looked amongst the thousands of pages (depending on how heavy you like your biblical myth) of lore for the proper words, the perfect mantra for a holy cause. After much deliberation, they came up with this quote quote for their website headliner:
- "Come out of her, my people, so that you will not share in her sins..." - Revelation 18:4
5.21.2004
"I Just Got Back to Blogging and Boy is My Asshole Tired"
You just don't get many good post titles anymore. That's just one of the sexcapade posts from The Washingtonienne, the hot blogging Capital Hill (former) Staff Assistant who has been turning tricks on the side with presidential appointees. Unfortunately, her recent new blogs have segued into the land of the ridiculous and all-out whorish.
Her original blog got removed from Blogster when it hit too close to home, but you can read it here. This stuff was a lot more genuine-sounding than the new stuff above, her observations jaded and funny and somehow just a little sweet. To save some time, here's her summation of acronyms:
UPDATE: The Washingtoniette revealed.
You just don't get many good post titles anymore. That's just one of the sexcapade posts from The Washingtonienne, the hot blogging Capital Hill (former) Staff Assistant who has been turning tricks on the side with presidential appointees. Unfortunately, her recent new blogs have segued into the land of the ridiculous and all-out whorish.
Her original blog got removed from Blogster when it hit too close to home, but you can read it here. This stuff was a lot more genuine-sounding than the new stuff above, her observations jaded and funny and somehow just a little sweet. To save some time, here's her summation of acronyms:
- FD=The intern in my office whom I want to fuck.
X=Married man who pays me for sex. Chief of Staff at one of the gov agencies, appointed by Bush.
T=Lost my virginity to him and fell in love. Dude who has been driving me crazy since 1999. Lives in Springfield, IL. Flies halfway across the country to fuck me, then I don't hear from him for weeks.
HK=Dude from the Senate office I interned in Jan. thru Feb. Hired me as an intern. Broke up my relationship w/ QV (see below).
QV=Serious, long-term boyfriend whom I lived with since 2001. Disastrous break up in March, but still seeing each other.
P=AKA "Threesome Dude." Somebody I would rather forget about.
YZ=My new office bf with whom I am embroiled in an office sex scandal. The current favorite.
K=A sugar daddy who wants nothing but anal. Keep trying to end it with him, but the money is too good.
Shit. I'm fucking six guys. Ewww.
- A man who tries to fuck you in the ass when you are sober does not love you.
UPDATE: The Washingtoniette revealed.
"I love the sound of my own voice", or, "Somewhere I have a point, right?"
Greetings again, bored Friday people. I have some riveting news to report, concerning VH1's 50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs Ever (their words, not mine) list.
More often then not when I go down the list, I was a little put out by the choices listed. Huey Lewis' "Heart of Rock and Roll" may be tiresome and 80's to some, but it is a good song and definitely not #10 (adding insult is that it edged out "Rico Suave"!). Watching the show itself lent a little insight into the decision process. The commentators were obscure comedians (I should put that in quotes) or VH1 staff that weren't particularly insightful or explanatory as to their choices.
In particular, there was one egghead who they kept referencing for what must be the basis for all opinions on the show. I have no idea who he was, but my guess is his name is Andrew Hershberger. Not because this name is on my list of usual suspects, but for the singularly confusing opinion/rant piece posted this week on Cinescape. Andy's (we are on a first name basis) piece doesn't so much as break down the show or give any kind of insight as provide a forum for this kid's ageist blathering:
Greetings again, bored Friday people. I have some riveting news to report, concerning VH1's 50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs Ever (their words, not mine) list.
More often then not when I go down the list, I was a little put out by the choices listed. Huey Lewis' "Heart of Rock and Roll" may be tiresome and 80's to some, but it is a good song and definitely not #10 (adding insult is that it edged out "Rico Suave"!). Watching the show itself lent a little insight into the decision process. The commentators were obscure comedians (I should put that in quotes) or VH1 staff that weren't particularly insightful or explanatory as to their choices.
In particular, there was one egghead who they kept referencing for what must be the basis for all opinions on the show. I have no idea who he was, but my guess is his name is Andrew Hershberger. Not because this name is on my list of usual suspects, but for the singularly confusing opinion/rant piece posted this week on Cinescape. Andy's (we are on a first name basis) piece doesn't so much as break down the show or give any kind of insight as provide a forum for this kid's ageist blathering:
- I was watching VH1 the other day and they had one of those "worst songs of all time" shows on and by the end when such abominations as "Everybody Have Fun Tonight," "Achy Breaky Heart," and "We Built This City" reared their ugly head and won the coveted top spots I realized this list is made by 30-year-olds. Crusty, pungent, has-been 30-year-olds... Who, besides geriatrics, remembers listening to "The Heart of Rock & Roll" or "The Final Countdown" when they had the immediacy of a contemporary offering?
- Out of fifty songs, nine were from this decade alone. Out of 10,000 years of music composition nine of the worst sonic atrocities have been made in the last five years.
5.04.2004
Plugging the Sasser hole
As you may be aware, there's a new worm making the rounds on the computer virus network called Sasser. Yesterday, I downloaded a removal utility that found two instances of Sasser on my home PC and removed them (and a trojan horse, too, but I don't want to steal anyone's thunder).
The worm appeared only to overload my CPU so that I was unable to do much of anything. It was more of an annoyance than anything else -- before I got the virus, I merely stopped the application that was hogging all the processing power. However, Microsoft apparently thought it not so much a pest as a pain-in-the-ass, judging by the turn of phrase in the article:
As you may be aware, there's a new worm making the rounds on the computer virus network called Sasser. Yesterday, I downloaded a removal utility that found two instances of Sasser on my home PC and removed them (and a trojan horse, too, but I don't want to steal anyone's thunder).
The worm appeared only to overload my CPU so that I was unable to do much of anything. It was more of an annoyance than anything else -- before I got the virus, I merely stopped the application that was hogging all the processing power. However, Microsoft apparently thought it not so much a pest as a pain-in-the-ass, judging by the turn of phrase in the article:
- Sasser appeared on Friday and exploits a recently disclosed hole in a component of Windows called the Local Security Authority Subsystem Service, or LSASS. Microsoft released a software patch, MS04-011, on April 13 that plugs the LSASS hole.