These were my results from an online test of political beliefs. I was in the same box as Ghandi, so I figure that's a good thing. But I was also pretty close to Bono, so I can't rule out the possibility that I am a giant tool. You are a Social Liberal and an... Economic Liberal You are best described as a:
Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test |
My Political Beliefs
The Stock Racist
Few things sink a film as fast as a two-dimensional stock character, be it the gay best friend, the renegade cop or the hooker with the heart of gold. But in the last few months I've discovered a new stock character who’s soiling the screen. I’m talking about The Racist.
I’ve known some fairly racist individuals, but I’ve never met anyone like The Racist of modern cinema, who struts around with guns blazing and a racial slur tattooed on his forehead.
It started when I finally saw Paul Haggis’ film Crash. It’s a film about race, and it certainly had some powerful moments, but several characters seemed to be speaking the subtext of bigotry rather than anything I could believe as dialogue. I believe that many white people feel intimidated when they’re approached by young black men; I don’t believe they turn to their companions and say, "these young black men are probably criminals."
Crash isn’t that over-the-top, but at times it veered pretty close. In one particular scene, Don Cheadle’s character meets with a white political operative who throws out black stereotypes like he’s talking about the Knicks game. It’s so brazen that the scene feels like an indictment of bigots rather than a portrayal of one.
It’s that indictment quality that really makes these Racist characters so insufferable. Not that racism shouldn’t be indicted, but most actors or writers worth a damn will tell you that if you judge a character while you’re creating them all you’ll get is cardboard.
Another film long on my to-see list, A Day Without a Mexican, tried to construct an entire film around the stock Racist. The ingenious plot, that one morning all Mexicans living in America suddenly vanish, is spoiled by the banal honkeys left in the wake. It’s a world where uber-ignorant millionaires spew vitriol about Mexicans while their Mexican housekeeper serves them breakfast.
The Racist character has apparently never been to a mandatory staff meeting on multiculturalism, or for that matter ever been told that "wet back" isn’t a term one should shout at the mall food court. It just doesn’t reflect anything I’ve seen in the real world.
There are plenty of racists – don’t get me wrong. But racism tends to be right below the surface. The manager at Denny’s may not hire the black kid, but he’s not so likely to announce to the wait staff "I’m not hiring this kid because he’s black." The Racist character on the other hand is more than happy to make such a proclamation, then go back to shining his belt buckle.
It’s not just that the covert racist is more real, from a writing standpoint he’s a hell of a lot more interesting. Show me a character who says exactly what they feel and I’ll show you a boring ass film. Unfortunately, that’s what I’ve been seeing.
I’ve known some fairly racist individuals, but I’ve never met anyone like The Racist of modern cinema, who struts around with guns blazing and a racial slur tattooed on his forehead.
It started when I finally saw Paul Haggis’ film Crash. It’s a film about race, and it certainly had some powerful moments, but several characters seemed to be speaking the subtext of bigotry rather than anything I could believe as dialogue. I believe that many white people feel intimidated when they’re approached by young black men; I don’t believe they turn to their companions and say, "these young black men are probably criminals."
Crash isn’t that over-the-top, but at times it veered pretty close. In one particular scene, Don Cheadle’s character meets with a white political operative who throws out black stereotypes like he’s talking about the Knicks game. It’s so brazen that the scene feels like an indictment of bigots rather than a portrayal of one.
It’s that indictment quality that really makes these Racist characters so insufferable. Not that racism shouldn’t be indicted, but most actors or writers worth a damn will tell you that if you judge a character while you’re creating them all you’ll get is cardboard.
Another film long on my to-see list, A Day Without a Mexican, tried to construct an entire film around the stock Racist. The ingenious plot, that one morning all Mexicans living in America suddenly vanish, is spoiled by the banal honkeys left in the wake. It’s a world where uber-ignorant millionaires spew vitriol about Mexicans while their Mexican housekeeper serves them breakfast.
The Racist character has apparently never been to a mandatory staff meeting on multiculturalism, or for that matter ever been told that "wet back" isn’t a term one should shout at the mall food court. It just doesn’t reflect anything I’ve seen in the real world.
There are plenty of racists – don’t get me wrong. But racism tends to be right below the surface. The manager at Denny’s may not hire the black kid, but he’s not so likely to announce to the wait staff "I’m not hiring this kid because he’s black." The Racist character on the other hand is more than happy to make such a proclamation, then go back to shining his belt buckle.
It’s not just that the covert racist is more real, from a writing standpoint he’s a hell of a lot more interesting. Show me a character who says exactly what they feel and I’ll show you a boring ass film. Unfortunately, that’s what I’ve been seeing.
Must See TV
Have you seen R. Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet" music video, "urban opera," or whatever the hell it is? If not, you make damn sure that you do.
I realize this thing was released over the summer, so please excuse my belated awe. But if, like me, your finger's not on the hip-hop pulse, you are in for a treat. "Trapped in the Closet" is like a movie serial mixed with the worst song you've ever heard in your life.
In twelve parts, R. Kelly narrates a story by singing everything that's happening on screen exactly as it's happening. As in: "I'm standing in the closet, now I'm opening the door..." Meanwhile, on screen, R. Kelly's character stands in a closet and opens a door. It's not so much storytelling as it is narrative for the blind.
The DVD goes even one step further, with interviews with the actors as their characters. So you can actually watch R. Kelly, with "Sylvester" on the bottom of the screen, say "yeah, I was standing in the closet. Then I opened the door."
As bad as the concept is, the story is worse. The epic serial seems to be about a group of people linked only by the fact that they're all cheating on their spouses with each other. After what Kelly obviously thinks is the gritty truth about love and human nature, the story reaches a moving climax when a midget shits himself. Seriously. But I guess it's the type of romantic advice you should expect from a guy who likes to pee on teenagers.
It's impossible to really describe "Trapped in the Closet." If you were to pause it at any point, and imagine the most ridiculous thing that could possibly happen, you would be surprised to resume and watch something even more absurd. It is so shockingly bad, only the wannabes at Rolling Stone could love it.
I've already said too much. If you want to watch a piece of pop culture trash so sad that you'll laugh, so funny that you'll cry, I cannot reccomend "Trapped in the Closet" highly enough.
I realize this thing was released over the summer, so please excuse my belated awe. But if, like me, your finger's not on the hip-hop pulse, you are in for a treat. "Trapped in the Closet" is like a movie serial mixed with the worst song you've ever heard in your life.
In twelve parts, R. Kelly narrates a story by singing everything that's happening on screen exactly as it's happening. As in: "I'm standing in the closet, now I'm opening the door..." Meanwhile, on screen, R. Kelly's character stands in a closet and opens a door. It's not so much storytelling as it is narrative for the blind.
The DVD goes even one step further, with interviews with the actors as their characters. So you can actually watch R. Kelly, with "Sylvester" on the bottom of the screen, say "yeah, I was standing in the closet. Then I opened the door."
As bad as the concept is, the story is worse. The epic serial seems to be about a group of people linked only by the fact that they're all cheating on their spouses with each other. After what Kelly obviously thinks is the gritty truth about love and human nature, the story reaches a moving climax when a midget shits himself. Seriously. But I guess it's the type of romantic advice you should expect from a guy who likes to pee on teenagers.
It's impossible to really describe "Trapped in the Closet." If you were to pause it at any point, and imagine the most ridiculous thing that could possibly happen, you would be surprised to resume and watch something even more absurd. It is so shockingly bad, only the wannabes at Rolling Stone could love it.
I've already said too much. If you want to watch a piece of pop culture trash so sad that you'll laugh, so funny that you'll cry, I cannot reccomend "Trapped in the Closet" highly enough.
A kidnapping by any other name...
I understand that journalists, like the rest of us, are often saddled with the bullshit terminology invented by the Government, particularly the Bush administration. It’s why this disaster in Iraq, titanic federal incompetence and human rights violations are called "Operation Enduring Freedom." But we’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and I think it’s got to be at "rendition."
"Rendition" is the word those heroes at the CIA have employed to describe their policy of pulling people off the street in Baghdad, Kabul (and probably Chicago) and flying them to secret bases around the world to interrogate them. That’s kidnapping, plain and simple. There’s just no other way to call it.
Not to get all high school graduation, but Webster’s dictionary defines "rendition" as … well, a lot of things – and none of them have to do with kidnapping. The closest definition seems to be "a surrender." Is that really what’s happening here? I suppose when you put a black bag over some guy’s head and throw them into the back of an unmarked van, the victim does "surrender." But to label that entire chain of events "rendition" is missing the forest for the giant pile of steaming bullshit.
Why not just rename assassination "happy love hugs." Is that any less ridiculous?
Fearless Leader has responded to questions about kidnapping by re-iterating that the United States does not torture, as if by the force of his declaration all photographic evidence to the contrary will disappear into the ether. But even if we give Dubya the benefit of the doubt, does that make things any better? Kidnapping people without even formal charges and flying them to secret prisons seems pretty damn reprehensible to me whether their nuts are hooked up to car batteries or not.
But as reprehensible as government officials have been in this whole affair, we don’t exactly come out smelling like a rose, either. We aren’t bound by royal decree to adopt the doublespeak of the Bush administration. Just because their corporate masters don’t like additional taxation of multi-millionaires doesn’t mean we all have to call it the "death tax."
And no matter what their internal memos and slippery press officers say, we sure as hell shouldn’t start calling kidnapping "rendition."
"Rendition" is the word those heroes at the CIA have employed to describe their policy of pulling people off the street in Baghdad, Kabul (and probably Chicago) and flying them to secret bases around the world to interrogate them. That’s kidnapping, plain and simple. There’s just no other way to call it.
Not to get all high school graduation, but Webster’s dictionary defines "rendition" as … well, a lot of things – and none of them have to do with kidnapping. The closest definition seems to be "a surrender." Is that really what’s happening here? I suppose when you put a black bag over some guy’s head and throw them into the back of an unmarked van, the victim does "surrender." But to label that entire chain of events "rendition" is missing the forest for the giant pile of steaming bullshit.
Why not just rename assassination "happy love hugs." Is that any less ridiculous?
Fearless Leader has responded to questions about kidnapping by re-iterating that the United States does not torture, as if by the force of his declaration all photographic evidence to the contrary will disappear into the ether. But even if we give Dubya the benefit of the doubt, does that make things any better? Kidnapping people without even formal charges and flying them to secret prisons seems pretty damn reprehensible to me whether their nuts are hooked up to car batteries or not.
But as reprehensible as government officials have been in this whole affair, we don’t exactly come out smelling like a rose, either. We aren’t bound by royal decree to adopt the doublespeak of the Bush administration. Just because their corporate masters don’t like additional taxation of multi-millionaires doesn’t mean we all have to call it the "death tax."
And no matter what their internal memos and slippery press officers say, we sure as hell shouldn’t start calling kidnapping "rendition."
The not-so-awful Truth about Home Theaters
I can remain silent no longer. This will no doubt cost me whatever street cred I now have as a film aficionado and general person of taste. More and more people are shunning the Movie Theater to watch films on there ever more powerful home theater systems.
And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
Patrick Goldstein’s article in today’s LA Times is only the latest to prophesy the end of the Movie Theater. For his part, Goldstein focuses on the impact on the business side of the equation, which I don’t doubt will be revolutionary. The Talent (writers, actors, etc.) get a ridiculously small cut of DVD revenue, so the move toward home exhibition will no doubt lead to some bloody contract negotiations.
But leave the business models to the suits. What I’m interested in is if going from the multiplex to the home theater is a bad thing for we the filmgoers.
Your local cinephile would have you believe this is catastrophic. They’re fond of pointing out that movie going has historically been a collective experience, something that can only truly be experienced in that idyllic darkened room where a hundred other people hold their breaths at the same moment. It’s a beautiful ideal, but I’m not so sure that it’s true, or that it has much to do with the experience of watching a movie.
First, the obvious: A lot of things about going to the movie theater suck. Cell phones, commercials, $7 popcorn – you know the litany of complaints. I think a lot of this gets overblown, and I’m not so sure that going to a movie is any more annoying than it ever was. But the point is that the ideal world of the darkened cinema rarely manifests itself.
Beyond quibbles over the moviegoing experience, I question the whole notion that the big dark roomful of strangers is essential to enjoying a film. I’ve been moved by films I saw in a theater, absolutely. But I’ve been moved at least as often by films I watched on a television set. The first time I saw Taxi Driver was on a 13" TV with the sound turned down low so as not to wake my friend’s parents. And it was amazing. To this day it’s one of the most powerful, striking films I’ve ever seen. And I’ve never watched it in a movie theater.
So if a film retains its impact outside a cinema, what’s the importance of that roomful of strangers? A movie may be more fun with a big group of people, but that’s true of most things – sports, drinking, sex. The cinephile’s love for the Movie Theater is as much about liking to hang out in crowds as it is about the experience of watching a film.
The one thing the theater has going for it is immersion. The whole thing about the darkness, a really big screen (if you can find one) – that is a great way to experience the film as intensely as possible. And that’s where home exhibition can fall short. Watching a movie with all the lights on, talking on the phone and balancing your checkbook. That’s a sub-par experience if ever there was one. And what’s this business of watching TV (and maybe movies) on an IPod? I’m not sure it’s possible to immerse yourself in a screen the size of my Visa card.
But the Home Theater Movement, if that’s what you want to call it, is actually working to correct many of the problems with watching a film NOT in a theater. A big screen television with a solid surround sound system can create an experience at least as intense as the AMC 16.
I don’t want to see theatrical exhibition disappear. There is something unique about that experience. But is it superior? Is it the ultimate, definitive way to enjoy a film? I don’t think so. I prefer to focus more on the film than on the room I watch it in.
And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
Patrick Goldstein’s article in today’s LA Times is only the latest to prophesy the end of the Movie Theater. For his part, Goldstein focuses on the impact on the business side of the equation, which I don’t doubt will be revolutionary. The Talent (writers, actors, etc.) get a ridiculously small cut of DVD revenue, so the move toward home exhibition will no doubt lead to some bloody contract negotiations.
But leave the business models to the suits. What I’m interested in is if going from the multiplex to the home theater is a bad thing for we the filmgoers.
Your local cinephile would have you believe this is catastrophic. They’re fond of pointing out that movie going has historically been a collective experience, something that can only truly be experienced in that idyllic darkened room where a hundred other people hold their breaths at the same moment. It’s a beautiful ideal, but I’m not so sure that it’s true, or that it has much to do with the experience of watching a movie.
First, the obvious: A lot of things about going to the movie theater suck. Cell phones, commercials, $7 popcorn – you know the litany of complaints. I think a lot of this gets overblown, and I’m not so sure that going to a movie is any more annoying than it ever was. But the point is that the ideal world of the darkened cinema rarely manifests itself.
Beyond quibbles over the moviegoing experience, I question the whole notion that the big dark roomful of strangers is essential to enjoying a film. I’ve been moved by films I saw in a theater, absolutely. But I’ve been moved at least as often by films I watched on a television set. The first time I saw Taxi Driver was on a 13" TV with the sound turned down low so as not to wake my friend’s parents. And it was amazing. To this day it’s one of the most powerful, striking films I’ve ever seen. And I’ve never watched it in a movie theater.
So if a film retains its impact outside a cinema, what’s the importance of that roomful of strangers? A movie may be more fun with a big group of people, but that’s true of most things – sports, drinking, sex. The cinephile’s love for the Movie Theater is as much about liking to hang out in crowds as it is about the experience of watching a film.
The one thing the theater has going for it is immersion. The whole thing about the darkness, a really big screen (if you can find one) – that is a great way to experience the film as intensely as possible. And that’s where home exhibition can fall short. Watching a movie with all the lights on, talking on the phone and balancing your checkbook. That’s a sub-par experience if ever there was one. And what’s this business of watching TV (and maybe movies) on an IPod? I’m not sure it’s possible to immerse yourself in a screen the size of my Visa card.
But the Home Theater Movement, if that’s what you want to call it, is actually working to correct many of the problems with watching a film NOT in a theater. A big screen television with a solid surround sound system can create an experience at least as intense as the AMC 16.
I don’t want to see theatrical exhibition disappear. There is something unique about that experience. But is it superior? Is it the ultimate, definitive way to enjoy a film? I don’t think so. I prefer to focus more on the film than on the room I watch it in.
Inside the NFL
I've known for quite a while how good Inside the NFL is, but until I re-subscribed to HBO a few months ago, I didn't really know how good Inside the NFL is.
I've been trying to get back into the NFL for a few years now. Back in the days before jobs, wives and other complications, I was your typical kid who knows everything that's going on in the NFL (and MLB, NBA, Big-10...). Over the years I've scaled back on everything except baseball, the Lord's game. But I have missed that kinship with the NFL. I tried Fantasy Football. I tried watching Fox NFL Sunday every week. Nothing really forged that connection - until I started watching Inside the NFL.
The main thing is the highlights. Inside the NFL puts together each highlight package with the cinematic gusto of NFL films. The segments are expertly edited, favoring cameras on the field and sidelines to the bland, "best plays via Tivo" approach of other networks. It gives the games an epic feel.
But as stirring as the visuals on Inside the NFL are, where the show really separates itself is on the audio side. Unlike every other NFL program on television, HBO's analyst desk isn't populated by ridiculous former players and their legion of drooling wannabes. Whether it's Chris Berman's banal pop culture references, Terry Bradshaw's "aw shucks" redundancies, or Michael Irvin's painful "I know what it's like to be a player" schtick, there's a lot being said but not much worth saying. Most of the commentators on the other networks are guys I wouldn't listen to at the bar, much less on my television.
If there were a network that presented every sporting event with commentary from Bob Costas, I would watch it. The man is intelligent, articulate and not afraid that being so will lose him any street cred. Cris Collinsworth is a formidible intellect himself, and it's great to see him liberated from the Bradshaw/Howie Long circus on Fox. As for Dan Marino and Chris Carter ... well ... let's just say they don't take anything away from Costas and Collinsworth.
There's a lot of good programming on HBO. But as great as Curb Your Enthusiasm, Extras, Real Sports and the rest are, Inside the NFL is worth the price of admission.
I've been trying to get back into the NFL for a few years now. Back in the days before jobs, wives and other complications, I was your typical kid who knows everything that's going on in the NFL (and MLB, NBA, Big-10...). Over the years I've scaled back on everything except baseball, the Lord's game. But I have missed that kinship with the NFL. I tried Fantasy Football. I tried watching Fox NFL Sunday every week. Nothing really forged that connection - until I started watching Inside the NFL.
The main thing is the highlights. Inside the NFL puts together each highlight package with the cinematic gusto of NFL films. The segments are expertly edited, favoring cameras on the field and sidelines to the bland, "best plays via Tivo" approach of other networks. It gives the games an epic feel.
But as stirring as the visuals on Inside the NFL are, where the show really separates itself is on the audio side. Unlike every other NFL program on television, HBO's analyst desk isn't populated by ridiculous former players and their legion of drooling wannabes. Whether it's Chris Berman's banal pop culture references, Terry Bradshaw's "aw shucks" redundancies, or Michael Irvin's painful "I know what it's like to be a player" schtick, there's a lot being said but not much worth saying. Most of the commentators on the other networks are guys I wouldn't listen to at the bar, much less on my television.
If there were a network that presented every sporting event with commentary from Bob Costas, I would watch it. The man is intelligent, articulate and not afraid that being so will lose him any street cred. Cris Collinsworth is a formidible intellect himself, and it's great to see him liberated from the Bradshaw/Howie Long circus on Fox. As for Dan Marino and Chris Carter ... well ... let's just say they don't take anything away from Costas and Collinsworth.
There's a lot of good programming on HBO. But as great as Curb Your Enthusiasm, Extras, Real Sports and the rest are, Inside the NFL is worth the price of admission.
Don't criticize what you can't understand
If, as I did this morning, you hear the plaintive warble of Bob Dylan's "The Times They are a Changin'" coming from your television set - turn it off. Unless you happen to be watching Martin Scorcese's recent documentary, you are about to be treated to a commercial for Kaiser Permanente, and a musical mortal sin.
I'm not one of these puritanical music snobs who believes simply using the song in a commercial is an afront. If the man's got something to sell, he may as well play me some good music while he's doing it. But twisting Mr. Dylan's words, in possibly the most iconic rock song EVER, that's inexcusable.
If you haven't seen the atrocity, the commercial features some old bastard going about his daily routine. Eventually, we see him jogging and doing other healthy stuff, and the commercial ends with the words "Be Your Own Cause." You've got to be f***ing kidding me.
Be Your Own Cause? The message is clearly "wasn't it quaint when we used to have ideals? Now, let's just take care of ourselves." Who wrote this garbage, the Republican National Committee? Oh wait, they never had ideals. But I guess it's not enough that our defining national trait is egocentrism, now we have to elevate it to the level of idealism.
"What's that, you're an advocate for social change? Well, I'm an activist myself. I'm trying to drop 13 pounds from my ass."
Of course, it's exactly the same contradiction Tim Robbins spoofed in his brilliant film Bob Roberts, where a Republican politician/folk singer sings "The Times are Changin' Back." All Kaiser Permanente has done is remove irony.
Whether you're a college freshman standing on a street corner with an anti-war sign or just someone who occasionally questions the status quo, "The Times They are a Changin'" is a song that resonates with a sense of better days ahead. It's a song that thumbs its nose at cynicism and wears its heart on its sleeve. To poke fun at the song's earnestness for no better reason than to promote healthcare management, whatever that evil shit is, makes me sick.
This is the most offensive remarketing of a great song I can remember in a commercial, but it's far from the first. Do you think Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" was a passion for Royal Carribean Cruises? Was "London Calling" the Clash to buy a Jaguar? Did Janis Joplin really want someone to buy her a "Mercedes Benz?" And what's with all these ads using Nick Drake songs? As if I'm not already thinking about suicide while I'm watching commercials.
It's really not that I mind good music in commercials. I'd rather listen to Bob Dylan than Jessica Simpson in any setting. But if advertisers want to handle the goods, they need to show some damned respect.
I'm not one of these puritanical music snobs who believes simply using the song in a commercial is an afront. If the man's got something to sell, he may as well play me some good music while he's doing it. But twisting Mr. Dylan's words, in possibly the most iconic rock song EVER, that's inexcusable.
If you haven't seen the atrocity, the commercial features some old bastard going about his daily routine. Eventually, we see him jogging and doing other healthy stuff, and the commercial ends with the words "Be Your Own Cause." You've got to be f***ing kidding me.
Be Your Own Cause? The message is clearly "wasn't it quaint when we used to have ideals? Now, let's just take care of ourselves." Who wrote this garbage, the Republican National Committee? Oh wait, they never had ideals. But I guess it's not enough that our defining national trait is egocentrism, now we have to elevate it to the level of idealism.
"What's that, you're an advocate for social change? Well, I'm an activist myself. I'm trying to drop 13 pounds from my ass."
Of course, it's exactly the same contradiction Tim Robbins spoofed in his brilliant film Bob Roberts, where a Republican politician/folk singer sings "The Times are Changin' Back." All Kaiser Permanente has done is remove irony.
Whether you're a college freshman standing on a street corner with an anti-war sign or just someone who occasionally questions the status quo, "The Times They are a Changin'" is a song that resonates with a sense of better days ahead. It's a song that thumbs its nose at cynicism and wears its heart on its sleeve. To poke fun at the song's earnestness for no better reason than to promote healthcare management, whatever that evil shit is, makes me sick.
This is the most offensive remarketing of a great song I can remember in a commercial, but it's far from the first. Do you think Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" was a passion for Royal Carribean Cruises? Was "London Calling" the Clash to buy a Jaguar? Did Janis Joplin really want someone to buy her a "Mercedes Benz?" And what's with all these ads using Nick Drake songs? As if I'm not already thinking about suicide while I'm watching commercials.
It's really not that I mind good music in commercials. I'd rather listen to Bob Dylan than Jessica Simpson in any setting. But if advertisers want to handle the goods, they need to show some damned respect.
Vote No on Everything
As a service to readers living in the State of California, I feel it is my civic duty as a self-published, marginally-informed pundit to offer my endorsements for Tuesday’s special election: Vote No on Everything.
I’m not just suggesting Vote No in order to be rebellious or anarchistic. I’m not suggesting Vote No because it’s "cool." I suggest Vote No because ballot initiatives are lousy policy, giving the power to the people. And have you met the people? The people are morons.
In all seriousness, I understand why people like the idea of ballot initiatives. "Cast your vote and take back control from those pin-heads in (Sacramento, Des Moines, wherever)." But the fact is we live in a representative democracy. Unless we decide we want to head to our local church or elementary school on a weekly basis to vote for every piece of proposed legislation, all these initiatives do is tie the hands of our elected officials and create a mess down the road.
An example?
I was the education beat reporter in Ames, Iowa during a stretch of budget cuts. So I spent countless hours in the back of School Board and other committee meetings with a notepad, pencil and look of sheer boredom. But I did learn a few things.
Each school district’s budget, like the state budget itself, contains many programs that cannot be cut under any circumstances. The reason is often because they were mandated by ballot initiative. I’m sure the people who voted to mandate special education or after school programs felt they were doing a good thing – but there’s a problem. Nobody ever passes an initiative mandating math classes. After all, the school would never cut math classes, right? But when it’s time for budget cuts and all those special programs are untouchable, guess what gets the axe? No new protractors this fiscal year.
These mandatory spending bills are only one type of voter initiative, but they illustrate the larger problem with the system. Voter initiatives create rigid, often arbitrary barriers that are difficult to correct.
The sheer volume of the problem in California is staggering. Every ballot is weighed down by a series of often-conflicting initiatives. On last year’s ballot, Propositions 60 and 62 both dealt with whether or not voters should be allowed to vote for any candidate regardless of party affiliation in a primary election. Rather than one Proposition to which voters could vote yes or no, voters had to vote yes to one and no to the other oppositely worded proposition.
The result? 14 percent of voters voted either yes or no for both. That’s a lot of confused voters dictating state policy.
And let’s not forget the most offensive voter initiative in recent memory – the California recall election. Governor Gray Davis was removed from office by the same voters who elected him just a year before. Was there corruption? Had Gray Davis broken the law? No. Voters just didn’t like him that much and/or wanted to see Arnold f***ing Schwarzenegger in office. So now we’ve got a buffoon muscle man in office while our economy continues to tank. Thanks, voters.
I for one am sick of sorting through the mess of ballot initiatives and even more sick of the horrible legislation they create. So from now on, I’ll Vote No on everything. Measures I support, measures I oppose – it doesn’t matter. I’ll Vote No on the entire, broken process.
I’m not just suggesting Vote No in order to be rebellious or anarchistic. I’m not suggesting Vote No because it’s "cool." I suggest Vote No because ballot initiatives are lousy policy, giving the power to the people. And have you met the people? The people are morons.
In all seriousness, I understand why people like the idea of ballot initiatives. "Cast your vote and take back control from those pin-heads in (Sacramento, Des Moines, wherever)." But the fact is we live in a representative democracy. Unless we decide we want to head to our local church or elementary school on a weekly basis to vote for every piece of proposed legislation, all these initiatives do is tie the hands of our elected officials and create a mess down the road.
An example?
I was the education beat reporter in Ames, Iowa during a stretch of budget cuts. So I spent countless hours in the back of School Board and other committee meetings with a notepad, pencil and look of sheer boredom. But I did learn a few things.
Each school district’s budget, like the state budget itself, contains many programs that cannot be cut under any circumstances. The reason is often because they were mandated by ballot initiative. I’m sure the people who voted to mandate special education or after school programs felt they were doing a good thing – but there’s a problem. Nobody ever passes an initiative mandating math classes. After all, the school would never cut math classes, right? But when it’s time for budget cuts and all those special programs are untouchable, guess what gets the axe? No new protractors this fiscal year.
These mandatory spending bills are only one type of voter initiative, but they illustrate the larger problem with the system. Voter initiatives create rigid, often arbitrary barriers that are difficult to correct.
The sheer volume of the problem in California is staggering. Every ballot is weighed down by a series of often-conflicting initiatives. On last year’s ballot, Propositions 60 and 62 both dealt with whether or not voters should be allowed to vote for any candidate regardless of party affiliation in a primary election. Rather than one Proposition to which voters could vote yes or no, voters had to vote yes to one and no to the other oppositely worded proposition.
The result? 14 percent of voters voted either yes or no for both. That’s a lot of confused voters dictating state policy.
And let’s not forget the most offensive voter initiative in recent memory – the California recall election. Governor Gray Davis was removed from office by the same voters who elected him just a year before. Was there corruption? Had Gray Davis broken the law? No. Voters just didn’t like him that much and/or wanted to see Arnold f***ing Schwarzenegger in office. So now we’ve got a buffoon muscle man in office while our economy continues to tank. Thanks, voters.
I for one am sick of sorting through the mess of ballot initiatives and even more sick of the horrible legislation they create. So from now on, I’ll Vote No on everything. Measures I support, measures I oppose – it doesn’t matter. I’ll Vote No on the entire, broken process.
Coming Down is the Hardest Thing
I generally don’t buy into the notion that kids these days have it easier than in the old days. Are things different now? Certainly. But when people lament that "things ain’t like they used to be" they tend to employ a pretty selective memory. That said, this business of canceling school the day after Halloween ain’t the way things used to be.
I’m aware of at least a handful of districts in Southern California that cancelled elementary classes on Tuesday because the kids would be too hopped up on sugar to concentrate. Maybe this has gone on in the past, but this is the first I’ve heard of it. My reaction: What a load of bullshit.
I don’t doubt the candy rush makes these schools more like methadone clinics on Nov. 1. But I say that’s all the more reason to get these children to school, where they can get the help they need. If anything, the schools should bring in more drug counselors for all the kids who start crying, fighting or soiling themselves. If an addict is going to turn their life around, we need to keep them off the streets.
What kind of a precedent does it set for teachers to cancel school simply because the students may be less inclined to pay attention? The kids are never inclined to pay attention – that’s why it’s called "school" and not a "water slide park." By this logic, shouldn’t classes be cancelled the day before summer or Christmas break? The kids are bouncing off the walls on those days as well. Of course, if we cancel class the day before break, it actually makes the day before that the day before break, so maybe we should cancel class that day as well...
We need to prepare these kids for what they’ll face when they enter the workplace – a menial job with only a week of paid vacation ... if they’re lucky. If we want to encourage more of these kids to go to college, let’s make them close the school on Christmas Eve – stick around until midnight moping the floors. Welcome to your life without a high school diploma, or with a college degree if you go into the arts.
I’m not one to pile on teachers, who get often blamed for not achieving more with horribly inadequate resources. But isn’t this business of canceling class after Halloween what the self-help community refers to as "enabling"?
But as long as I’m on the subject of teachers, I can’t resist recounting a news item from my homeland.
In the little town of Boone, Iowa, the students have a tradition of TPing teachers’ homes the week of Homecoming. One teacher didn’t want this to happen, so he took matters into his own hands. When a pack of pimply teenagers arrived on his front lawn, he burst out the front door swinging a sword, cutting one student’s hand.
This wasn’t in the published reports, but I have it from a friend whose mother teaches in the district that the teacher was dressed as a ninja while he was wielding the sword. Awesome.
So perhaps today’s youths are more precocious than in the past, be they toilet paper vandals or Three Musketeers junkies. Teachers of America, you have two options. Will you bury your heads in the sand and cancel classes, or come at the problem head-on, dressed as a ninja and wielding a sword? The choice is yours.
I’m aware of at least a handful of districts in Southern California that cancelled elementary classes on Tuesday because the kids would be too hopped up on sugar to concentrate. Maybe this has gone on in the past, but this is the first I’ve heard of it. My reaction: What a load of bullshit.
I don’t doubt the candy rush makes these schools more like methadone clinics on Nov. 1. But I say that’s all the more reason to get these children to school, where they can get the help they need. If anything, the schools should bring in more drug counselors for all the kids who start crying, fighting or soiling themselves. If an addict is going to turn their life around, we need to keep them off the streets.
What kind of a precedent does it set for teachers to cancel school simply because the students may be less inclined to pay attention? The kids are never inclined to pay attention – that’s why it’s called "school" and not a "water slide park." By this logic, shouldn’t classes be cancelled the day before summer or Christmas break? The kids are bouncing off the walls on those days as well. Of course, if we cancel class the day before break, it actually makes the day before that the day before break, so maybe we should cancel class that day as well...
We need to prepare these kids for what they’ll face when they enter the workplace – a menial job with only a week of paid vacation ... if they’re lucky. If we want to encourage more of these kids to go to college, let’s make them close the school on Christmas Eve – stick around until midnight moping the floors. Welcome to your life without a high school diploma, or with a college degree if you go into the arts.
I’m not one to pile on teachers, who get often blamed for not achieving more with horribly inadequate resources. But isn’t this business of canceling class after Halloween what the self-help community refers to as "enabling"?
But as long as I’m on the subject of teachers, I can’t resist recounting a news item from my homeland.
In the little town of Boone, Iowa, the students have a tradition of TPing teachers’ homes the week of Homecoming. One teacher didn’t want this to happen, so he took matters into his own hands. When a pack of pimply teenagers arrived on his front lawn, he burst out the front door swinging a sword, cutting one student’s hand.
This wasn’t in the published reports, but I have it from a friend whose mother teaches in the district that the teacher was dressed as a ninja while he was wielding the sword. Awesome.
So perhaps today’s youths are more precocious than in the past, be they toilet paper vandals or Three Musketeers junkies. Teachers of America, you have two options. Will you bury your heads in the sand and cancel classes, or come at the problem head-on, dressed as a ninja and wielding a sword? The choice is yours.
Q&A
If you’ll excuse a snooty generalization, promoting dialogue among artists is a good thing. That said, we’ve got to come up with something better than the proverbial Q&A.
If you’ve ever stuck around after an advance showing of a film or play, you probably know what I’m talking about. Some writer, director or actor sits on a stool while the least intelligent people in the room hurl inane questions. The typical Q&A is arranged like a firing squad and about as comfortable to watch.
The most obnoxious moments occur when some misdirected soul begs the artist to read their script or give them an audition. The rest of us squirm in our seats and resent the questioner’s lack of tact and the fact that we all want to ask the same thing. Other moments transcend awkward to reach the level of theater of the absurd. During a Q&A with Oliver Stone at the University of Iowa, one student asked the director: Did he like Ween? Did Woody Harelson like Ween? Does the director have any plans to work with Ween? This line of questioning continued until the student’s microphone was turned off.
Just as out of place, though less entertaining, are those whose "questions" are just grandstanding to show off how much they know. These questions generally last several minutes and include references to things like mis ‘en scene, lesser-known films by Goddard and recent New Yorker articles. When the question finally ends, there are a few moments of silence before the person on the stool asks, "I’m sorry, what was your question?"
But the assholes aren’t only to be found in the crowd – many times they sit on the stool. I certainly understand that sitting up there and suffering the questions of what are often fools is no pleasant task. But if you’re going to bother to show up it should be for some higher purpose than to convince a roomful of fans what a cocky jerk you are.
On the other end of the spectrum is the guy on the stool who nobody wants to talk to. I think the best way to avoid that is not to overestimate your intellectual cache. I’ve been to uber amateur 10-minute plays that ended with a Q&A. Why? Did these well-meaning folks honestly believe that my mind would be so blown in those ten minutes that I would want to discuss it for an hour? Often, these type of events are organized by people who think too highly of themselves and have produced a steaming pile of crap. And I feel it would be poor etiquette to ask "why was your film/play/whatever so terrible?"
In fact, etiquette is the rope that binds me to these events in the first place. Somewhere in my polite Midwestern circuitry, I’m hard wired to believe it would be rude to just get up and leave. Instead, I remain in my seat with teeth and fists clenched praying for it all to be over.
And the truth is, for all the banality of the Q&A, there is almost always at least one insightful comment, be it from the artist or the gallery. At one recent event, playwright Craig Lucas said he never allows anyone to loiter around the stage/set unless they are watching the actors. He feels they throw off the energy of the performances. That clicked with me – something I’ve been aware of but never crystalized into thought. That is a Q&A at its best. Unfortunately, those moments tend to be few and far between.
The spirit of the Q&A is right on, but I just don’t think it plays out in practice. I’ve been to sessions with artists I greatly admire, but I don’t have anything to ask them. I’m not so baffled by the minutia of their technique as I am dazzled by the whole of their achievement. If you actually had the chance to sit down with Bob Dylan, what would you really ask except "how come you’re so fucking good?"
I don’t know what the alternative is, so let’s just look for a way to connect artists and aspiring artists that doesn’t involve a stool.
If you’ve ever stuck around after an advance showing of a film or play, you probably know what I’m talking about. Some writer, director or actor sits on a stool while the least intelligent people in the room hurl inane questions. The typical Q&A is arranged like a firing squad and about as comfortable to watch.
The most obnoxious moments occur when some misdirected soul begs the artist to read their script or give them an audition. The rest of us squirm in our seats and resent the questioner’s lack of tact and the fact that we all want to ask the same thing. Other moments transcend awkward to reach the level of theater of the absurd. During a Q&A with Oliver Stone at the University of Iowa, one student asked the director: Did he like Ween? Did Woody Harelson like Ween? Does the director have any plans to work with Ween? This line of questioning continued until the student’s microphone was turned off.
Just as out of place, though less entertaining, are those whose "questions" are just grandstanding to show off how much they know. These questions generally last several minutes and include references to things like mis ‘en scene, lesser-known films by Goddard and recent New Yorker articles. When the question finally ends, there are a few moments of silence before the person on the stool asks, "I’m sorry, what was your question?"
But the assholes aren’t only to be found in the crowd – many times they sit on the stool. I certainly understand that sitting up there and suffering the questions of what are often fools is no pleasant task. But if you’re going to bother to show up it should be for some higher purpose than to convince a roomful of fans what a cocky jerk you are.
On the other end of the spectrum is the guy on the stool who nobody wants to talk to. I think the best way to avoid that is not to overestimate your intellectual cache. I’ve been to uber amateur 10-minute plays that ended with a Q&A. Why? Did these well-meaning folks honestly believe that my mind would be so blown in those ten minutes that I would want to discuss it for an hour? Often, these type of events are organized by people who think too highly of themselves and have produced a steaming pile of crap. And I feel it would be poor etiquette to ask "why was your film/play/whatever so terrible?"
In fact, etiquette is the rope that binds me to these events in the first place. Somewhere in my polite Midwestern circuitry, I’m hard wired to believe it would be rude to just get up and leave. Instead, I remain in my seat with teeth and fists clenched praying for it all to be over.
And the truth is, for all the banality of the Q&A, there is almost always at least one insightful comment, be it from the artist or the gallery. At one recent event, playwright Craig Lucas said he never allows anyone to loiter around the stage/set unless they are watching the actors. He feels they throw off the energy of the performances. That clicked with me – something I’ve been aware of but never crystalized into thought. That is a Q&A at its best. Unfortunately, those moments tend to be few and far between.
The spirit of the Q&A is right on, but I just don’t think it plays out in practice. I’ve been to sessions with artists I greatly admire, but I don’t have anything to ask them. I’m not so baffled by the minutia of their technique as I am dazzled by the whole of their achievement. If you actually had the chance to sit down with Bob Dylan, what would you really ask except "how come you’re so fucking good?"
I don’t know what the alternative is, so let’s just look for a way to connect artists and aspiring artists that doesn’t involve a stool.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend
After writing with glee when the Cardinals pulled within one game of the NL Championship, several folks have been kind enough to ask my thoughts now that they're out of it and that team from Houston is in.
The truth is this: I am not happy about it.
I am a Cardinal loyalist, and I believe in following that to its logical extension - being a National League loyalist. I root for the NL in the All-Star Game and in the World Series. After all, what's good for the league is good for the team, etc., etc. Not to mention the whole Designated Hitter thing, which taints the AL like an assault conviction on a preschool teacher.
But I am also a petty, petty man. Therefore, I find myself pulling for the White Sox and reveling in the Astros recent disasters. In a month, or maybe even two weeks, I think I'd be cheering for the 'Stros. But the wound is so fresh that I want to see those punks get their asses flogged.
It has been pointed out to me that an Astros win would look better for the Cardinals. It would mean that they were only beaten by the very best team in baseball. I accept this logic but refuse to follow it. The power of reason cannot satiate my thirst for revenge.
Enjoy the World Series ... unless you're an Astros fan.
The truth is this: I am not happy about it.
I am a Cardinal loyalist, and I believe in following that to its logical extension - being a National League loyalist. I root for the NL in the All-Star Game and in the World Series. After all, what's good for the league is good for the team, etc., etc. Not to mention the whole Designated Hitter thing, which taints the AL like an assault conviction on a preschool teacher.
But I am also a petty, petty man. Therefore, I find myself pulling for the White Sox and reveling in the Astros recent disasters. In a month, or maybe even two weeks, I think I'd be cheering for the 'Stros. But the wound is so fresh that I want to see those punks get their asses flogged.
It has been pointed out to me that an Astros win would look better for the Cardinals. It would mean that they were only beaten by the very best team in baseball. I accept this logic but refuse to follow it. The power of reason cannot satiate my thirst for revenge.
Enjoy the World Series ... unless you're an Astros fan.
The Great Pujols
Monday was the kind of a night that makes being a team fanatic worthwhile.
The evening began with my beloved Cardinals (a.k.a. The Greatest Team in America) trailing 3 games to 1 to some punk team from George W. Bush's home state. I slumped into my couch with a beer and a sense of impending doom.
Just before the game began, the phone rang. It was my parents calling to remind me that baseball is just a game and not worth causing damage to my heart, mind and soul. I appreciated their concern, though it made me realize my fanatacism must reach the realm of addiction to cause such an intervention. I also suspected they had spoken to my wife.
Maybe it was the phone call, but I watched Game 5 with much less passion than the first part of the series. When the Astros went ahead 1-0, and then again 4-2, I didn't cuss with a ferocity that caused the cat to hide in the bedroom and my neighbors to consider calling the police. The Astros success seemed like more of a foregone conclusion at that point. Call it a defense mechanism.
I stayed passive when David Eckstein punched out a base hit with two strikes and two outs in the ninth. When Jim Edmonds stepped to the plate, I didn't pray for a homerun. I just watched each pitch as intensely as I could, expecting every one to be the last of the season. Every honest Cardinal fan will tell you they saw Jim Edmonds striking out as clearly as if it happened - but it didn't.
Few times are fans rewarded with something as mythic, as perfect as Albert Pujols titanic homerun. It wasn't a fly ball that carried into the seats. This thing was epic. I swear it was still rising when it hit the plexiglass windows on the other side of the train tracks.
That's the flip-side of true fan devotion. For suffering countless moments of rage, humiliation, frustration, despair, not to mention the concerned intervention of loved ones, the true fan is rewarded with moments of unchecked euphoria. It's like mainlining adrenaline.
It's a common justification of abusive relationships to say you need the lowest lows to feel the highest highs, but at least in baseball it is true. And don't try to tell me Albert Pujols isn't the greatest player you've ever seen.
The Worst of LA: The Best of LA
The stacks of what look like phone books at every bus stop can mean only one thing: LA Weekly's annual "Best of LA" issue has hit the news stands. Some of the southland's hippest writers have indexed what's what in the City of Angels - now if I could only understand what the hell they're talking about.
Simply dividing the gargantuan issue into sections like "restaurants" or "bars" apparently wouldn't have been hip enough. Instead, the issue is marked with headings like "encounters" and "terrain" - each chapter sounding like the name of a shitty bar. I've got nothing against a little creative design, I just don't want to flip through 200 pages of porno ads to find where to get a cheeseburger.
But it's not just the spine of the issue that lacks coherence. Rather than highlighting the best spot to take a hike, or the best taco stand, each entry is a stream-of-conscious rant only tangentially associated with some person, place or thing in LA. It's like reading a AAA Guide written by Jack Kerouac - or rather, a AAA Guide written by twentysomethings who won't shut up about Jack Kerouac.
Every entry seems to be a navel-gazing first-person essay on the beautiful pain of being artistic, poor and underappreciated ... oh yeah, and in Los Angeles. Here's my favorite opening line: "Distraught, displaced, dispossessed individuals walk in a zombie-like daze." See what I mean?
I realize that I'm just a hopeless square for failing to see the beauty of this "Best of LA" issue. Can't I see that the truly great things about LA are the little moments we pass by every day, like a paper bag blowing in the wind? No, what I'm advocating is just another boring "Best of" list. I can't deny that the five pounds of pulp I hold in my hand is more inventive than that. But if the editors wanted to publish a 400-page undergraduate literary journal, why call it the LA Weekly's "Best of LA 2005"?
I enjoy reading Hunter Thompson or Tom Wolfe, but not every written word can be gonzo. If someone writes down directions for me, I hope to God they don't start with "It was already midnight and the mescaline was beginning to wear off."
Lord knows there's a lot wrong with the mainstream press. So I often turn to the alternative press in hopes of finding something better, but sadly, I rarely do. If they take on issues the mainstream rags won't touch, I say thank God. If they want to blend in more literary approach, I say fine. But the tone and content tend to be so self-congratulatory, so smugly "alternative," that the information often boils down to nothing but "we're hip, are you?"
If only the alternative press would dazzle us by being plugged-in, not aloof, with sharp observation instead of vague musing, with plain-spoken truths instead of abstract cliche. That might be a phone book worth picking up - porno ads and all.
Simply dividing the gargantuan issue into sections like "restaurants" or "bars" apparently wouldn't have been hip enough. Instead, the issue is marked with headings like "encounters" and "terrain" - each chapter sounding like the name of a shitty bar. I've got nothing against a little creative design, I just don't want to flip through 200 pages of porno ads to find where to get a cheeseburger.
But it's not just the spine of the issue that lacks coherence. Rather than highlighting the best spot to take a hike, or the best taco stand, each entry is a stream-of-conscious rant only tangentially associated with some person, place or thing in LA. It's like reading a AAA Guide written by Jack Kerouac - or rather, a AAA Guide written by twentysomethings who won't shut up about Jack Kerouac.
Every entry seems to be a navel-gazing first-person essay on the beautiful pain of being artistic, poor and underappreciated ... oh yeah, and in Los Angeles. Here's my favorite opening line: "Distraught, displaced, dispossessed individuals walk in a zombie-like daze." See what I mean?
I realize that I'm just a hopeless square for failing to see the beauty of this "Best of LA" issue. Can't I see that the truly great things about LA are the little moments we pass by every day, like a paper bag blowing in the wind? No, what I'm advocating is just another boring "Best of" list. I can't deny that the five pounds of pulp I hold in my hand is more inventive than that. But if the editors wanted to publish a 400-page undergraduate literary journal, why call it the LA Weekly's "Best of LA 2005"?
I enjoy reading Hunter Thompson or Tom Wolfe, but not every written word can be gonzo. If someone writes down directions for me, I hope to God they don't start with "It was already midnight and the mescaline was beginning to wear off."
Lord knows there's a lot wrong with the mainstream press. So I often turn to the alternative press in hopes of finding something better, but sadly, I rarely do. If they take on issues the mainstream rags won't touch, I say thank God. If they want to blend in more literary approach, I say fine. But the tone and content tend to be so self-congratulatory, so smugly "alternative," that the information often boils down to nothing but "we're hip, are you?"
If only the alternative press would dazzle us by being plugged-in, not aloof, with sharp observation instead of vague musing, with plain-spoken truths instead of abstract cliche. That might be a phone book worth picking up - porno ads and all.
Sportscaster Correction #153979
Sportscasting has somehow become the one bastion of journalism where it is completely acceptable at all times to make observations and statements of fact that have no basis in reality whatsoever.
Before Game 3 of the ALDS Friday night, Joe Morgan (among others) remarked that Yankee's Starter Randy Johnson is a "big game pitcher." For the record, Johnson's post-season record is 7-8, and his ERA in division series is well over 4.00. Those numbers are not particularly impressive, but because Johnson is a big-time superstar pitcher, he must also be a "big game pitcher," right? After Johnson gave up five runs in less than three innings, of course the talk was that this was a very unusual outing for Mr. Reliable.
An incident during Thursday's Cardinals/Padres game was even more wince-enducing. The Cards went to the bullpen for a left-hander late in the game, with Tony LaRussa going to Randy Flores instead of his usual guy, Ray King. Steve Phillips and the others in the ESPN booth spent about the next five minutes talking about how Ray King must have fallen out of favor with LaRussa, and how a manager can't worry about hurting a player's feelings. Then, after the game it was learned that Ray King's father died the night before the game. So I suppose that could have been the reason Tony LaRussa didn't ask him to pitch, but screw the facts, let's just do some more speculatin'!
Before Game 3 of the ALDS Friday night, Joe Morgan (among others) remarked that Yankee's Starter Randy Johnson is a "big game pitcher." For the record, Johnson's post-season record is 7-8, and his ERA in division series is well over 4.00. Those numbers are not particularly impressive, but because Johnson is a big-time superstar pitcher, he must also be a "big game pitcher," right? After Johnson gave up five runs in less than three innings, of course the talk was that this was a very unusual outing for Mr. Reliable.
An incident during Thursday's Cardinals/Padres game was even more wince-enducing. The Cards went to the bullpen for a left-hander late in the game, with Tony LaRussa going to Randy Flores instead of his usual guy, Ray King. Steve Phillips and the others in the ESPN booth spent about the next five minutes talking about how Ray King must have fallen out of favor with LaRussa, and how a manager can't worry about hurting a player's feelings. Then, after the game it was learned that Ray King's father died the night before the game. So I suppose that could have been the reason Tony LaRussa didn't ask him to pitch, but screw the facts, let's just do some more speculatin'!
Saturday Night Dead
For at least as long as I've been watching Saturday Night Live, people have complained that the show isn't as good as it used to be. Some of the complaints can be chalked up to simple nostalgia, but in the last few years it has grown impossible to deny that the flagship of sketch comedy is sinking.
As a true believer in the beauty of sketch, I take offense at the standards of writing and performance that air Saturday nights at 11:30. I've done my tour in the bush leagues of sketch and have friends who are still cutting their teeth at the Groundlings and elsewhere. So, am I a pro? No. But I do know what good sketch comedy looks like.
Most sketches are either character or concept pieces. A few years ago, SNL became obsessed with trying to turn concept sketches into character sketches. Take the cheerleader sketch Will Ferrel and Cheri Oteri - a funny one-off concept sketch. But because the bit hit once, they did a dozen or so more variations of exactly the same skit. Same jokes, same setup, same everything. Goth Talk, Mango, The Lovers - it's tough to recall a funny concept that didn't turn into a never-ending loop of the same damn thing.
But the days of repetition gave way to something even worse. The dominant structure for recent sketches seems to be to come up with a zany character and then just have them clown around. What the hell is supposed to be funny about Tracy Morgan's Brian Fellows character, or Maya Rudolph's Donatella Versace, or anything performed by Horatio Sanz? These skits have all the comic sophistication of one of the fraternity brothers putting on a wig and a skirt.
There will always be skits that bomb, or concepts that look better on paper, but in many recent SNL sketches it's impossible to tell what the joke is even supposed to be. If you watch closely, you'll notice a few seconds of pause between when the sketch ends and when the crowd applauds. Why? Because the sketches are so directionless, so lacking in structure, so wholly unsatisfying that it's hard to know when they're over.
I know what most of you are thinking - if SNL is so lousy, why don't you just stop watching? You're right and I wish I could. But as bad as it gets, I keep coming back for more. I'm in an abusive relationship with SNL. I just wish the writers and performers would go to counseling so things would be like they used to be.
As a true believer in the beauty of sketch, I take offense at the standards of writing and performance that air Saturday nights at 11:30. I've done my tour in the bush leagues of sketch and have friends who are still cutting their teeth at the Groundlings and elsewhere. So, am I a pro? No. But I do know what good sketch comedy looks like.
Most sketches are either character or concept pieces. A few years ago, SNL became obsessed with trying to turn concept sketches into character sketches. Take the cheerleader sketch Will Ferrel and Cheri Oteri - a funny one-off concept sketch. But because the bit hit once, they did a dozen or so more variations of exactly the same skit. Same jokes, same setup, same everything. Goth Talk, Mango, The Lovers - it's tough to recall a funny concept that didn't turn into a never-ending loop of the same damn thing.
But the days of repetition gave way to something even worse. The dominant structure for recent sketches seems to be to come up with a zany character and then just have them clown around. What the hell is supposed to be funny about Tracy Morgan's Brian Fellows character, or Maya Rudolph's Donatella Versace, or anything performed by Horatio Sanz? These skits have all the comic sophistication of one of the fraternity brothers putting on a wig and a skirt.
There will always be skits that bomb, or concepts that look better on paper, but in many recent SNL sketches it's impossible to tell what the joke is even supposed to be. If you watch closely, you'll notice a few seconds of pause between when the sketch ends and when the crowd applauds. Why? Because the sketches are so directionless, so lacking in structure, so wholly unsatisfying that it's hard to know when they're over.
I know what most of you are thinking - if SNL is so lousy, why don't you just stop watching? You're right and I wish I could. But as bad as it gets, I keep coming back for more. I'm in an abusive relationship with SNL. I just wish the writers and performers would go to counseling so things would be like they used to be.
Jaa Rule
The thing about kung-fu pictures is, you either get them or you don't. Or, perhaps it should be put that you either love watching people kick ass or you don't. Me? I love watching people kick ass.
And few people kick ass like Tony Jaa. I recently got around to watching Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior, and the feeling is like the first time I saw Jackie Chan in Rumble in the Bronx. Like Chan, Jaa does things with his body that have to be seen to be believed - all without wires or stuntmen.
In addition to Jaa's superb athleticism, the physicality is striking because Jaa practices Muay Thai. I'm far from an expert in the martial arts, so I'll sum up Muay Thai by simply saying it involves a lot of knee and elbow strikes and is stunning to watch.
Ong-Bak does the genre right by framing the spectacular fight sequences with a simple, straight-ahead folk tale. A valuable object is stolen from a small village. The villagers are forced to send their best fighter to the city to retrieve it, etc., etc. The characters are all familiar archetypes, but they all do just enough to keep the story moving and the focus on the action.
It's not an "important film" or something that will resonate in your soul days after, but for a graceful and fresh martial arts film, you'd be hard pressed to find its equal.
Even if the Saints go marching in
I love metaphor as much as the next guy, but I am convinced that even if the New Orleans Saints win the Super Bowl, the city will not magically emerge from rubble and wipe away all memory of Hurricane Katrina.
Most sportscasters do not seem to share my view. From one side of their mouth, they muse how insignificant sports seem in the wake of human tragedy. But from the other side, they suggest that a win by the Saints or the LSU Tigers could inspire the huddling masses yearning to be dry. I don’t doubt that a Saints win could boost the spirit of a displaced Saints fan, but the sentiment seems too close to sending Rambo back to Vietnam so that "this time we can win."
The same thing happened in the wake of 9/11, with many suggesting that a New York Yankee win in the World Series would be good for America. But it belies the tragedy of these events to try to cast a rematch as Yankees vs. Terrorists or Saints vs. Hurricane. Recovering from these events is complex and impossible to quantify. But that doesn’t mean we should throw our hands in the air and be satisfied with "Saints win."
I guess it shows that even in times of national crisis, we can find a reason to throw our unqualified support behind enormous corporate interests. I don’t find that comforting.
Most sportscasters do not seem to share my view. From one side of their mouth, they muse how insignificant sports seem in the wake of human tragedy. But from the other side, they suggest that a win by the Saints or the LSU Tigers could inspire the huddling masses yearning to be dry. I don’t doubt that a Saints win could boost the spirit of a displaced Saints fan, but the sentiment seems too close to sending Rambo back to Vietnam so that "this time we can win."
The same thing happened in the wake of 9/11, with many suggesting that a New York Yankee win in the World Series would be good for America. But it belies the tragedy of these events to try to cast a rematch as Yankees vs. Terrorists or Saints vs. Hurricane. Recovering from these events is complex and impossible to quantify. But that doesn’t mean we should throw our hands in the air and be satisfied with "Saints win."
I guess it shows that even in times of national crisis, we can find a reason to throw our unqualified support behind enormous corporate interests. I don’t find that comforting.
Bio
Ben is a filmmaker, freelance writer and Professor of Theater & English. Born and raised in Iowa, he earned a BA from Iowa State University and later an MFA from the School of Film & Television at Chapman University.
His short films have been screened at independent festivals and on television, while his screenplay Cooking Live won the Cecil B. DeMille Award from Chapman University. As a columnist and film reviewer, his work has appeared in such publications as Television Week and Film Threat. He has also worked as a staff writer for daily newspapers including the Los Angeles Times.
Since 2005, Ben has taught courses in film, theater and English at several colleges. He currently lives with his wife Naura in the Los Angeles area.
His short films have been screened at independent festivals and on television, while his screenplay Cooking Live won the Cecil B. DeMille Award from Chapman University. As a columnist and film reviewer, his work has appeared in such publications as Television Week and Film Threat. He has also worked as a staff writer for daily newspapers including the Los Angeles Times.
Since 2005, Ben has taught courses in film, theater and English at several colleges. He currently lives with his wife Naura in the Los Angeles area.
Personal (2006)
HD video
Color
5:13
George spends his days alone in the house he shared with his mother. He tries to reach out through a personal ad, but when a real woman comes into his life, will he be able to respond?
Written & Directed by Ben Godar
Cast: Alex Fernandez, Melody Doyle
The Persecution of Al Kida
2004
16mm
Color
4:30
Al always lived a normal life. Now he can't leave the house without causing a commotion. After learning he's not alone, Al tries to regain control of his life.
Cast: Dan Cole, Maximilian Mastrangelo, Di Burbano, Sean Kehoe
Screenings:
New York Short Short Festival, 2006
Cedar Rapids Independent Film Festival, 2005
Aired on statewide television as part of Iowa Independent Filmmaker Showcase, 2006
The Persecution of Al Kida on IMDB
Nefarious Design
Like most sound-minded Americans, I stand in awe of this newly hatched scheme THEY call "Intelligent Design." But it's becoming clear to me that there are two distinct parts to this movement, and the more harmless sounding one is the one we should be worried about.
The core "theory" behind intelligent design is just a more sanitized version of the creationism pill they've been trying to get us to swallow for years. After reading several explanations of the theory, I think it can best be described as: "Dude, the world is, like, so complex, there must have been some super dude that created it all." The notion is so anti-scientific in its reasoning, I just don't see it as a serious threat to our national sanity. If anything, it's the last salvo of the extreme Christian right to force their origin story on the general public.
But there's something more covert in these intelligent design arguments. The theory itself is being swept under the rug as proponents play the "all points of view should be taught" card. It's a clever way to throw the pluralists own arguments back in their faces. George W. employed the tactic during his recent, highly-publicized remarks. Despite some reports that Bush layed alms at the altar of intelligent design, all he really said was "I think part of education is to expose people to different schools of thought. You're asking me whether or not people ought to be exposed to different ideas, the answer is yes." It sounds harmless, but it's not.
Many Americans still hold deeply racist beliefs. That does not mean that their opinions, based solely in bigotry, should be taught as an "alternative" during a history lesson on the civil rights movement. But that's the logical extension of this intelligent design rhetoric. The fact that so many Americans believe in some kind of God means that belief has a place in society, not necessarily in a science class. Bringing intelligent design into a science class doesn't introduce an alternative scientific theory, it introduces an alternative to science. It's the equivalent of a math teacher saying "Don't believe in geometry? Try sociology."
Or what about a lesson on ghosts? Most people believe in ghosts, so why not follow a lesson on human physiology with a lesson on ghosts? "Okay, now that we're done talking about mitosis, who knows how to kill a Wolfman?"
As someone currently teaching middle and high school students, I can also say that this argument is completely impractical. There's a reason that Comparative Religion classes are taught in college, even then at the 300 or 400 level. Middle and High School students don't generally have the intellectual maturity to juggle these concepts. The average high school student is able only to follow a basic chain of causality, with an understanding that there is more than one point of view. They work hard to grasp concepts like evolution from just the scientific standpoint, let alone some other paradigm.
There's a big difference between being open-minded to all viewpoints and demanding your viewpoint is presented in every situation. If you want to believe something akin to intelligent design, fine, more power to you. That's what Sunday School is for. But if you want your religious beliefs presented in every class, including science and P.E., that's what home schooling or Utah are for.
The core "theory" behind intelligent design is just a more sanitized version of the creationism pill they've been trying to get us to swallow for years. After reading several explanations of the theory, I think it can best be described as: "Dude, the world is, like, so complex, there must have been some super dude that created it all." The notion is so anti-scientific in its reasoning, I just don't see it as a serious threat to our national sanity. If anything, it's the last salvo of the extreme Christian right to force their origin story on the general public.
But there's something more covert in these intelligent design arguments. The theory itself is being swept under the rug as proponents play the "all points of view should be taught" card. It's a clever way to throw the pluralists own arguments back in their faces. George W. employed the tactic during his recent, highly-publicized remarks. Despite some reports that Bush layed alms at the altar of intelligent design, all he really said was "I think part of education is to expose people to different schools of thought. You're asking me whether or not people ought to be exposed to different ideas, the answer is yes." It sounds harmless, but it's not.
Many Americans still hold deeply racist beliefs. That does not mean that their opinions, based solely in bigotry, should be taught as an "alternative" during a history lesson on the civil rights movement. But that's the logical extension of this intelligent design rhetoric. The fact that so many Americans believe in some kind of God means that belief has a place in society, not necessarily in a science class. Bringing intelligent design into a science class doesn't introduce an alternative scientific theory, it introduces an alternative to science. It's the equivalent of a math teacher saying "Don't believe in geometry? Try sociology."
Or what about a lesson on ghosts? Most people believe in ghosts, so why not follow a lesson on human physiology with a lesson on ghosts? "Okay, now that we're done talking about mitosis, who knows how to kill a Wolfman?"
As someone currently teaching middle and high school students, I can also say that this argument is completely impractical. There's a reason that Comparative Religion classes are taught in college, even then at the 300 or 400 level. Middle and High School students don't generally have the intellectual maturity to juggle these concepts. The average high school student is able only to follow a basic chain of causality, with an understanding that there is more than one point of view. They work hard to grasp concepts like evolution from just the scientific standpoint, let alone some other paradigm.
There's a big difference between being open-minded to all viewpoints and demanding your viewpoint is presented in every situation. If you want to believe something akin to intelligent design, fine, more power to you. That's what Sunday School is for. But if you want your religious beliefs presented in every class, including science and P.E., that's what home schooling or Utah are for.
Just read the scores, monkey
Talk radio is full of barking idiots, but even the Rush Limbaughs of the world must cower before the awesome ignorance that is sports talk radio.
From time to time, I'll flip the dial to 710am, our local ESPN Radio affiliate, in the misguided hope of hearing some scores or other useful information. But I've come to realize that it's only called "Sports Radio" because "a bunch of jackasses talking about nothing" wasn't catchy enough. Whether it's a nationally syndicated show or some local scrubs, every show is nothing but some guy running his mouth with nothing to back up his argument. Opinions are like assholes, and so are Sports Radio DJs.
I don't even mind so much when their groundless rants are at least about sports. The other day I heard Colin Cowheard assert at least a dozen times that football coaches make a bigger impact than baseball coaches. I don't know that there's much of a point to that argument, and it seems to be contradicted by guys like Tony LaRussa and Sparky Anderson, but whatever. The thing is, 90% of the time these buffoons aren't even talking about sports.
Tonight I listened to 10 minutes of these guys reading the names of bizarre phobias and then making asinine comments. "Did you know there's such thing as Papaphobia, fear of the Pope?" (Sound effect of a cow mooing for no f***ing reason) They topped that only by making a joke about how the French always surrender during war. If that's biting social commentary, I don't know what isn't.
But nothing tops a recent episode of the Joe McDonnell show, during which the hosts read an account of six people being killed at a cock fight in Mexico and giggled like school girls. Now I admit a cock fight can be a great source of comedy, but graphic accounts of people being stabbed to death isn't the best source for lame-ass one-liners.
You will hear more misinformation about politics in 45 minutes of Sports Radio than Fox News can cram into an entire day - and they're really trying. Why is the debate over the supposed bias of news agencies like CBS and NPR when these sports DJs blurt out something that is blatantly false every 15 seconds?
I don't begrudge a man for being ignorant. In truth, most of us are when it comes to most things. And if you feel the need to share your crackpot theories with those around the lunch counter - more power to you. But to spout that garbage over the airwaves in the second-largest media market in America - that just makes you an asshole.
From time to time, I'll flip the dial to 710am, our local ESPN Radio affiliate, in the misguided hope of hearing some scores or other useful information. But I've come to realize that it's only called "Sports Radio" because "a bunch of jackasses talking about nothing" wasn't catchy enough. Whether it's a nationally syndicated show or some local scrubs, every show is nothing but some guy running his mouth with nothing to back up his argument. Opinions are like assholes, and so are Sports Radio DJs.
I don't even mind so much when their groundless rants are at least about sports. The other day I heard Colin Cowheard assert at least a dozen times that football coaches make a bigger impact than baseball coaches. I don't know that there's much of a point to that argument, and it seems to be contradicted by guys like Tony LaRussa and Sparky Anderson, but whatever. The thing is, 90% of the time these buffoons aren't even talking about sports.
Tonight I listened to 10 minutes of these guys reading the names of bizarre phobias and then making asinine comments. "Did you know there's such thing as Papaphobia, fear of the Pope?" (Sound effect of a cow mooing for no f***ing reason) They topped that only by making a joke about how the French always surrender during war. If that's biting social commentary, I don't know what isn't.
But nothing tops a recent episode of the Joe McDonnell show, during which the hosts read an account of six people being killed at a cock fight in Mexico and giggled like school girls. Now I admit a cock fight can be a great source of comedy, but graphic accounts of people being stabbed to death isn't the best source for lame-ass one-liners.
You will hear more misinformation about politics in 45 minutes of Sports Radio than Fox News can cram into an entire day - and they're really trying. Why is the debate over the supposed bias of news agencies like CBS and NPR when these sports DJs blurt out something that is blatantly false every 15 seconds?
I don't begrudge a man for being ignorant. In truth, most of us are when it comes to most things. And if you feel the need to share your crackpot theories with those around the lunch counter - more power to you. But to spout that garbage over the airwaves in the second-largest media market in America - that just makes you an asshole.
Turn Off the News
One popular assumption I've never bought into is that when you have a television in a public place, it should be turned to a news channel - usually CNN. Hotel lobbies, airport terminals, even the waiting room at Jiffy Lube broadcast nothing but a stream of headline news garbage.
I'm sure news is the official programming of waiting rooms because it's something everyone has some interest in, and I admit there's reason in this argument. But let's take a step back and think about what topics dominate the news - politics and religion. Not exactly the best waiting room conversation.
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I don't want to have a debate over international terrorism with the guy next to me at the airport. They always seem to end with me either nodding and smiling, swallowing my rage, or calling the guy an ignorant bigot - which also tends to make things a bit uncomfortable.
But I'm not one of these people who complains without offering a solution. Those televisions need to have something on, something that won't spark hostility. I think I've come up with the answer: The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. What show sparks less debate than The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? There isn't one. The only real potential for comment is if some guy mutters "this show sucks." That will only lead to the simple response "yes, this show certainly does suck." Consensus.
And if people still insist on tuning these TVs to the news, maybe we could at least segregate our waiting rooms a bit. People of sound mind could sit on one side, while uninformed Bush drones could sit on the other. Yes, I know, we need more of a dialogue if we're ever going to achieve unity in this country. But I'm not in the mood to start it while I'm waiting for an oil change.
I'm sure news is the official programming of waiting rooms because it's something everyone has some interest in, and I admit there's reason in this argument. But let's take a step back and think about what topics dominate the news - politics and religion. Not exactly the best waiting room conversation.
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I don't want to have a debate over international terrorism with the guy next to me at the airport. They always seem to end with me either nodding and smiling, swallowing my rage, or calling the guy an ignorant bigot - which also tends to make things a bit uncomfortable.
But I'm not one of these people who complains without offering a solution. Those televisions need to have something on, something that won't spark hostility. I think I've come up with the answer: The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. What show sparks less debate than The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? There isn't one. The only real potential for comment is if some guy mutters "this show sucks." That will only lead to the simple response "yes, this show certainly does suck." Consensus.
And if people still insist on tuning these TVs to the news, maybe we could at least segregate our waiting rooms a bit. People of sound mind could sit on one side, while uninformed Bush drones could sit on the other. Yes, I know, we need more of a dialogue if we're ever going to achieve unity in this country. But I'm not in the mood to start it while I'm waiting for an oil change.
Imploding Towers
Ah, who doesn't relish those carefree memories of college? Well, mine exploded on Tuesday. Part of them anyway.
Iowa State University demolished half of the Towers dormitory complex - the fabled "suitcase" buildings. Urban legends about the origins and fate of the Towers have floated around for years. Several people told me the 39-year-old buildings were only intended to last for eight years. Somehow, I always doubted that the 11-story concrete structures were ever intended as "temporary" housing. But the final bell tolled for Knapp-Storms when the concrete facades began crumbling, dropping chunks of concrete on the students below.
Having lived for two years in the Towers, a time when I learned a lot about the world and about myself, watching the buildings come down made me think "WHAT A SWEET EXPLOSION!"
Do you like to watch things blow up? Of course you do. Check out some great video footage from KCCI-TV.
George W. Nixon
Few things are as pervasive or annoying as the proverbial Watergate comparisons that accompany every presidential scandal. Remember Lewinskygate? Travelgate? It's as if "gate" were the Latin root for scandal, not just the name of a hotel that happened to be the piece of rope Tricky Dick hung himself with.
But the developing story of Bush officials leaking the name of a CIA operative as an act of revenge recalls the Nixon days in more than name alone. The crown jewel of Nixon's undoing was, of course, the Republican orchestrated break-in to Democratic campaign headquarters at the Watergate Hotel. But the break-in was far from the only seedy thing going on. The investigation revealed a pattern of abuse-of-power. Nixon and his cronies regularly ordered surveillance and generally made trouble for anyone they considered a political enemy. In fact, the articles of impeachment make more mention of Nixon's use of White House power to bully than the break-in itself.
What does this have to do with George W. Bush? Quite a damn bit, actually. Administration officials may not be accused of anything so obviously criminal as the Watergate break-in, but the intent is the same. Bush and friends are clearly using their power to threaten anyone who gets in their way. Revealing the identity of an undercover agent because her husband (correctly) told the world you were full of shit about WMDs is absolutely despicable. And that's what the Bush people have done. They put an American agent in danger to protect their ability to send us to war over a lie. Call me a moral relativist if you will, but I find that more deplorable than schtoinking an intern in the Oval Office.
The White House is already fortifying its position of plausible deniability, and it's exactly the type of spineless leadership you'd expect from this President. The question of who knew and who authorized this leak of information is going to be forced as low down the food chain as possible. But it strains common sense to believe that the man known as "Bush's Brain" would have orchestrated this without the W. knowing what was going on.
And even if Bush didn't know, he's still on the hook - just like he's on the hook for the Iraq war. Harry Truman had that great slogan for leadership - Presidential or otherwise. "The buck stops here." All it really means is when you're the boss, you take responsibility for the good and the bad. This President made a case for war based on false information, then tried to excuse himself by saying he was only presenting what was given to him by intelligence officials. Now he's in the process of laying the blame for the CIA agent leak on his underlings. It doesn't work that way, Chief.
The Talking Heads (and by all accounts the Special Prosecutor) seem to be debating whether or not a crime was committed with this leak, and if so who is guilty. That seems like a moot point. What's clear is that our top executives are at best incompetent, and at worst using their power to push around those with a different point of view, often known as the truth.
For a great primer on the whole Karl Rove/CIA agent leak story, check out this article in today's San Francisco Chronicle.
But the developing story of Bush officials leaking the name of a CIA operative as an act of revenge recalls the Nixon days in more than name alone. The crown jewel of Nixon's undoing was, of course, the Republican orchestrated break-in to Democratic campaign headquarters at the Watergate Hotel. But the break-in was far from the only seedy thing going on. The investigation revealed a pattern of abuse-of-power. Nixon and his cronies regularly ordered surveillance and generally made trouble for anyone they considered a political enemy. In fact, the articles of impeachment make more mention of Nixon's use of White House power to bully than the break-in itself.
What does this have to do with George W. Bush? Quite a damn bit, actually. Administration officials may not be accused of anything so obviously criminal as the Watergate break-in, but the intent is the same. Bush and friends are clearly using their power to threaten anyone who gets in their way. Revealing the identity of an undercover agent because her husband (correctly) told the world you were full of shit about WMDs is absolutely despicable. And that's what the Bush people have done. They put an American agent in danger to protect their ability to send us to war over a lie. Call me a moral relativist if you will, but I find that more deplorable than schtoinking an intern in the Oval Office.
The White House is already fortifying its position of plausible deniability, and it's exactly the type of spineless leadership you'd expect from this President. The question of who knew and who authorized this leak of information is going to be forced as low down the food chain as possible. But it strains common sense to believe that the man known as "Bush's Brain" would have orchestrated this without the W. knowing what was going on.
And even if Bush didn't know, he's still on the hook - just like he's on the hook for the Iraq war. Harry Truman had that great slogan for leadership - Presidential or otherwise. "The buck stops here." All it really means is when you're the boss, you take responsibility for the good and the bad. This President made a case for war based on false information, then tried to excuse himself by saying he was only presenting what was given to him by intelligence officials. Now he's in the process of laying the blame for the CIA agent leak on his underlings. It doesn't work that way, Chief.
The Talking Heads (and by all accounts the Special Prosecutor) seem to be debating whether or not a crime was committed with this leak, and if so who is guilty. That seems like a moot point. What's clear is that our top executives are at best incompetent, and at worst using their power to push around those with a different point of view, often known as the truth.
For a great primer on the whole Karl Rove/CIA agent leak story, check out this article in today's San Francisco Chronicle.
To the moon Alice ... I mean, Andy
My gay upstairs neighbors have started fighting very loudly, and I must say it's a culturally confusing situation.
Of course it's awkward - it always is when couples start referring to each other as "you f***ing asshole!" So it's got that whole COPS, white trash domestic disturbance flair. But the fact that it's two dudes puts the whole thing in a different light.
If a husband and wife are fighting, you think to yourself "if he hits her, I'm going to have to call the cops." But with two men I find myself thinking "sweet, maybe there's going to be a fight." Instead of "I hope Judy can get out of that awful situation," we neighbors ask questions like "do you think Ken could kick Gary's ass?" They seem pretty evenly matched to me, and believe it or not they're both in really good shape.
Let's face it, there's a rhythm to how men and women fight. The woman's voice will generally reach a very high pitch, and she'll unload a litany of complaints at blinding speed. Then the man will say something to the effect of "well, f*** it then", tip over a piece of furniture and slam the door on his way to the bar. Instead, I'm getting two guys saying "f*** it" and tipping something over. I just hope they've worked out different bars to go to.
Of course it's awkward - it always is when couples start referring to each other as "you f***ing asshole!" So it's got that whole COPS, white trash domestic disturbance flair. But the fact that it's two dudes puts the whole thing in a different light.
If a husband and wife are fighting, you think to yourself "if he hits her, I'm going to have to call the cops." But with two men I find myself thinking "sweet, maybe there's going to be a fight." Instead of "I hope Judy can get out of that awful situation," we neighbors ask questions like "do you think Ken could kick Gary's ass?" They seem pretty evenly matched to me, and believe it or not they're both in really good shape.
Let's face it, there's a rhythm to how men and women fight. The woman's voice will generally reach a very high pitch, and she'll unload a litany of complaints at blinding speed. Then the man will say something to the effect of "well, f*** it then", tip over a piece of furniture and slam the door on his way to the bar. Instead, I'm getting two guys saying "f*** it" and tipping something over. I just hope they've worked out different bars to go to.
Live Strong Etc.
Maybe it's just my Midwestern sense of modesty but I cringe every time I see one of these "I gave money to a cause" wrist bands.
You know what I'm talking about. As far as I know, it all started with those yellow, rubber, Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" bracelets. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but here in the City of Angels you couldn't cross the street without running into some hipster/hipstette who was wearing one. It got so big there were even people selling phony yellow wristbands to make a profit. I thought the whole thing had run its course, but now I see people wearing blue, green, red, whatever. And each one apparently denotes that the wearer has the high moral standing of having donated a couple bucks to some worthy cause.
I don't begrudge these charities for attempting to raise the old awareness, but is that really what's happening here? Hats off to Lance for raising all that money for cancer or cycling or living strong or whatever the hell that was all about. But sporting a piece of jewelry to alert the world that you donated some money to charity makes you kind of a tool in my book.
I guess I have an old fashioned notion of charity, where you give to a worthy cause because it feels like the right thing to do. Demanding recognition cheapens the transaction. The wrist band phenomenon pisses me off for the same reason I can't stand wealthy people donating money to have buildings named after them. It's great when our financial superiors lay down the cash for a new concert hall or University building. But then naming the building after yourself turns it into something other than a selfless act.
Give to charity - whatever your means. But do it for some satisfaction other than your name on a building or a trendy wristband.
You know what I'm talking about. As far as I know, it all started with those yellow, rubber, Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" bracelets. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but here in the City of Angels you couldn't cross the street without running into some hipster/hipstette who was wearing one. It got so big there were even people selling phony yellow wristbands to make a profit. I thought the whole thing had run its course, but now I see people wearing blue, green, red, whatever. And each one apparently denotes that the wearer has the high moral standing of having donated a couple bucks to some worthy cause.
I don't begrudge these charities for attempting to raise the old awareness, but is that really what's happening here? Hats off to Lance for raising all that money for cancer or cycling or living strong or whatever the hell that was all about. But sporting a piece of jewelry to alert the world that you donated some money to charity makes you kind of a tool in my book.
I guess I have an old fashioned notion of charity, where you give to a worthy cause because it feels like the right thing to do. Demanding recognition cheapens the transaction. The wrist band phenomenon pisses me off for the same reason I can't stand wealthy people donating money to have buildings named after them. It's great when our financial superiors lay down the cash for a new concert hall or University building. But then naming the building after yourself turns it into something other than a selfless act.
Give to charity - whatever your means. But do it for some satisfaction other than your name on a building or a trendy wristband.
The 4th of July
The 4th of July is here again, and so is my annual rant on how misdirected our celebration has become.
It's gotten to the point where every Independence Day celebration begins and ends by remembering the noble veterans who fought and even died in armed conflicts. Should we remember those who fought for this country? Absolutely. That's what we have Veterans Day for. And we even have Memorial Day to specifically remember those who died. The 4th of July is something different.
Today is supposed to be a day we celebrate our nation as a whole - especially our stated values of freedom and equality. And our nation is more than just a sum of its armed conflicts - justified and otherwise.
When I think about the men and women who made this country great, I think about those who fought unarmed battles on our own shores. If you really hold the ideals of freedom and equality high, how can you not honor those who waged war for labor and civil rights? Many of these people also gave their lives, and without the benefit of the popular and federal approval that comes with fighting in a war.
And yes, we do have Labor Day and to some extent Martin Luther King Day to remember these sacrifices. But our disingenuous fixation on the sacrifices of war threatens to turn every holiday into the same faux patriotic lip service. We're not far from a time when Labor Day is the day we remember the men and women who work hard and then give their lives defending this country. Or perhaps Groundhog Day will become the day a small rodent tells us if there will be six more weeks of winter in which we can remember the men and women who gave their lives defending this country. You see where it's going.
We've gotten to the point where we honor the fighting more than we honor the cause, and that's just not right. So as you indulge in charred meat and beer, please take a moment to remember all the great things about this nation other than shooting people from other nations.
It's gotten to the point where every Independence Day celebration begins and ends by remembering the noble veterans who fought and even died in armed conflicts. Should we remember those who fought for this country? Absolutely. That's what we have Veterans Day for. And we even have Memorial Day to specifically remember those who died. The 4th of July is something different.
Today is supposed to be a day we celebrate our nation as a whole - especially our stated values of freedom and equality. And our nation is more than just a sum of its armed conflicts - justified and otherwise.
When I think about the men and women who made this country great, I think about those who fought unarmed battles on our own shores. If you really hold the ideals of freedom and equality high, how can you not honor those who waged war for labor and civil rights? Many of these people also gave their lives, and without the benefit of the popular and federal approval that comes with fighting in a war.
And yes, we do have Labor Day and to some extent Martin Luther King Day to remember these sacrifices. But our disingenuous fixation on the sacrifices of war threatens to turn every holiday into the same faux patriotic lip service. We're not far from a time when Labor Day is the day we remember the men and women who work hard and then give their lives defending this country. Or perhaps Groundhog Day will become the day a small rodent tells us if there will be six more weeks of winter in which we can remember the men and women who gave their lives defending this country. You see where it's going.
We've gotten to the point where we honor the fighting more than we honor the cause, and that's just not right. So as you indulge in charred meat and beer, please take a moment to remember all the great things about this nation other than shooting people from other nations.
Lemon Chicken, Pissing and Freedom
Opposition to the horrifying, Kafka-style catastrophe that is Guantanamo Bay is finally getting some ink. So why is everybody so fixated on the accommodations?
A few months ago outrage surged when it was reported that interrogators flushed a Koran down a toilet. The Pentagon later clarified that no such flushing had occurred, some guy just pissed on one a little. Then about a week ago, Rep. Duncan Hunter tried to refute all allegations of torture by revealing to the world that lemon chicken is on the detainee menu.
If you are taken from your family in secret and held without being charged, does it really matter what you're eating or who's pissing on what? I would have thought this point was obvious, but most news reports on the issue seem to shift quickly into a lifestyle piece on a day in the life of a detainee.
I've heard at least two dozen pundits debate what constitutes torture (usually it's agreed to be somewhere between an uncomfortable chair and a kick in the nuts). That's an interesting conversation to toss around the old water cooler, but it's not even relevant here. Taking a prisoner without any charge and denying them access to the outside world is a human rights violation on an even higher order than torture.
Why this obsession with how the other half (detainees) live? Is there really some guy eating Chef Boyardee out of the can who hears these prisoners are eating lemon chicken and thinks "the bastards, lock 'em up forever"? Unfortunately, I'm sure that there is. People make the same gripes about our home grown felons. How many times have you heard some yahoo complain that those guys down at the prison have cable TV? When I toured the new jail in Glendale, they told me the TVs helped keep the inmates calm and less likely to stab the guards. That seemed like a pretty good reason to me.
If you're locked up, it doesn't really matter which channels you get or what's on the dinner menu.
A few months ago outrage surged when it was reported that interrogators flushed a Koran down a toilet. The Pentagon later clarified that no such flushing had occurred, some guy just pissed on one a little. Then about a week ago, Rep. Duncan Hunter tried to refute all allegations of torture by revealing to the world that lemon chicken is on the detainee menu.
If you are taken from your family in secret and held without being charged, does it really matter what you're eating or who's pissing on what? I would have thought this point was obvious, but most news reports on the issue seem to shift quickly into a lifestyle piece on a day in the life of a detainee.
I've heard at least two dozen pundits debate what constitutes torture (usually it's agreed to be somewhere between an uncomfortable chair and a kick in the nuts). That's an interesting conversation to toss around the old water cooler, but it's not even relevant here. Taking a prisoner without any charge and denying them access to the outside world is a human rights violation on an even higher order than torture.
Why this obsession with how the other half (detainees) live? Is there really some guy eating Chef Boyardee out of the can who hears these prisoners are eating lemon chicken and thinks "the bastards, lock 'em up forever"? Unfortunately, I'm sure that there is. People make the same gripes about our home grown felons. How many times have you heard some yahoo complain that those guys down at the prison have cable TV? When I toured the new jail in Glendale, they told me the TVs helped keep the inmates calm and less likely to stab the guards. That seemed like a pretty good reason to me.
If you're locked up, it doesn't really matter which channels you get or what's on the dinner menu.
Save Public Broadcasting (a rational approach)
We've all seen that damn "Save Public Broadcasting and Sesame Street" e-mail that's been floating around for years - usually sent by the same jackass who thinks Bill Gates will give them a hundred bucks for nothing. But last week, a proposal surfaced in the House of Representatives seeking to cut federal funding for public broadcasting by 45%.
Now is the time for right-minded citizens to take action. I strongly recommend checking the website of your local NPR affiliate and doing whatever they suggest. KPCC, my own local station, suggests the old write your Congressman routine. They provide a sample letter and a link to find your Representative, so even if you're outside of SoCal you might want to check it out.
There are several petitions floating around, but given the history of fraudulent "Save Sesame Street" spam, I recommend against signing these. If you are devoted to the petition approach, the most legitimate option I'm aware of comes from MoveOn.org.
While I realize it's not in the spirit of a rally, I think it's important to bring some clarity to this issue of federal funding for public broadcasting. Proponents of cuts to federal funding point out that Washington provides only 15% of the total budget for public radio and television. So despite what certain e-mails might say, the proposed cuts would be unlikely to send Big Bird and Ira Glass directly to the unemployment line. But that doesn't mean the cuts are justified or that nobody would be adversely effected.
Broadcasters in small markets could be eliminated altogether, because they are unable to raise as much revenue through fund drives as their big city peers. Just within the last year, the PBS affiliate in not-exactly-small market Orange County was nearly sold to a big money Christian broadcaster because of financial difficulty. It was saved at the eleventh hour by a band of business folks who recognized the value of public broadcasting.
The dedication of public broadcasting listeners/viewers should not be used to justify reducing federal funds. The fact that NPR in particular can raise such a large percentage of its operating budget is a testament to the fact that it is the single best source for non-commercial news. In an era when most people would rather just reaffirm their views with Fox News or Air America, it's important to reaffirm the value of federally supported broadcasting with a singular focus on serving the public interest.
The reputation of NPR and PBS have taken unfair shots lately from Kenneth Tomlinson, the right-wing President of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. He accused both of a liberal bias, despite recent (and historical) research which suggests the reporting is incredibly balanced. Network news is nothing more than another arm in the worldwide branding strategy of large media companies. The core value of publicly funded broadcasting is that it will never skew its reporting to prop up the parent company's summer blockbuster.
The proposed cuts were debated in sub-committee today and could be considered by the full House next week, so now's the time to get involved.
Now is the time for right-minded citizens to take action. I strongly recommend checking the website of your local NPR affiliate and doing whatever they suggest. KPCC, my own local station, suggests the old write your Congressman routine. They provide a sample letter and a link to find your Representative, so even if you're outside of SoCal you might want to check it out.
There are several petitions floating around, but given the history of fraudulent "Save Sesame Street" spam, I recommend against signing these. If you are devoted to the petition approach, the most legitimate option I'm aware of comes from MoveOn.org.
While I realize it's not in the spirit of a rally, I think it's important to bring some clarity to this issue of federal funding for public broadcasting. Proponents of cuts to federal funding point out that Washington provides only 15% of the total budget for public radio and television. So despite what certain e-mails might say, the proposed cuts would be unlikely to send Big Bird and Ira Glass directly to the unemployment line. But that doesn't mean the cuts are justified or that nobody would be adversely effected.
Broadcasters in small markets could be eliminated altogether, because they are unable to raise as much revenue through fund drives as their big city peers. Just within the last year, the PBS affiliate in not-exactly-small market Orange County was nearly sold to a big money Christian broadcaster because of financial difficulty. It was saved at the eleventh hour by a band of business folks who recognized the value of public broadcasting.
The dedication of public broadcasting listeners/viewers should not be used to justify reducing federal funds. The fact that NPR in particular can raise such a large percentage of its operating budget is a testament to the fact that it is the single best source for non-commercial news. In an era when most people would rather just reaffirm their views with Fox News or Air America, it's important to reaffirm the value of federally supported broadcasting with a singular focus on serving the public interest.
The reputation of NPR and PBS have taken unfair shots lately from Kenneth Tomlinson, the right-wing President of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. He accused both of a liberal bias, despite recent (and historical) research which suggests the reporting is incredibly balanced. Network news is nothing more than another arm in the worldwide branding strategy of large media companies. The core value of publicly funded broadcasting is that it will never skew its reporting to prop up the parent company's summer blockbuster.
The proposed cuts were debated in sub-committee today and could be considered by the full House next week, so now's the time to get involved.
Shoot Me Baby One More Time
I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of trash, camp and schlock. But like anything else worth enjoying, the realm of camp has been invaded by the rumbling hordes of mass culture. The result? Between "The Surreal Life" and a Def Lepard comeback tour, it takes a Ph.D. in cultural studies to sort out what’s deliciously trashy and what’s just plain shit.
But last week I found something that got all my guilty pleasure sensors tingling. I’m talking about Hit Me Baby One More Time.
The show digs up a handful of washed up bands to compete against each other each week. In the first half-hour, they each play their one hit song. In the last half-hour, each group returns to perform a cover version of some of the worst Top 40 garbage you can imagine.
Now, I realize this sounds like nothing more than a variation on the American Idol theme. I understand that concern. I don’t think it’s possible to revel in the type of trashiness that is American Idol. With it’s corporate sheen, raging popularity and unironic self-importance, watching American Idol is like eating a Big Mac at a Wal-Mart food court. Trust me – Hit Me Baby One More Time is an entirely different animal.
The real beauty of the show is how it tiptoes the line between loving tribute and the macabre freak show it really is. It’s a long tradition of the game/reality show that ordinary people play for money, celebrities play for charity. To avoid insulting their one-time celebrity, the winnings are donated to charity – but it looked to me like Flock of Seagulls could use a few bucks themselves. And isn’t that what makes a show like this great? There’s something transcendent about watching a group of fat, bald 40-somethings slog through the same chords they’ve played 10,000 times before. I’m not kidding – I actually caught myself looking around the stage for a gong.
In the Seagulls brief video diary, their lead singer/keyboardist (don’t see that one anymore) said his new wife "just thinks it’s cool to be married to someone in a band." She had that stringy haired, queen of the trailer court look that one finds well down the groupie food chain. It was enough to scare any 16-year-old with a new guitar off rock n’ roll for good.
Even more enjoyable are the brief interviews with the show’s host, whose British accent even sounds like a ruse. The best moment from week one was when he asked Tiffany her advice for up-and-coming young singers. How could this show be watched with anything but a sense of ironic detachment?
And in yet another horrifying/hilarious comment on our attention span, the bands don’t even perform all of their three-minute hit singles. How’s that for a tribute to the hit makers of yore? "Yeah, uh, Loverboy, we can’t let you play all of the one song you do well so we have time for you to play half of some turd by Faith Hill."
I’m sure some will read this and think it’s not a very classy way to spend an evening. It’s not. Let me reiterate – I like trash. If I was advocating classy entertainment, I would have started this with "I was re-reading Finnegan’s Wake last week..." But if a group of "musicians" want to put on spandex pants and ride the wave of one Top 40 hit, I think being trotted back into the limelight for my amusement is a small price to pay.
And God bless Hit Me Baby One More Time for giving us that amusement.
But last week I found something that got all my guilty pleasure sensors tingling. I’m talking about Hit Me Baby One More Time.
The show digs up a handful of washed up bands to compete against each other each week. In the first half-hour, they each play their one hit song. In the last half-hour, each group returns to perform a cover version of some of the worst Top 40 garbage you can imagine.
Now, I realize this sounds like nothing more than a variation on the American Idol theme. I understand that concern. I don’t think it’s possible to revel in the type of trashiness that is American Idol. With it’s corporate sheen, raging popularity and unironic self-importance, watching American Idol is like eating a Big Mac at a Wal-Mart food court. Trust me – Hit Me Baby One More Time is an entirely different animal.
The real beauty of the show is how it tiptoes the line between loving tribute and the macabre freak show it really is. It’s a long tradition of the game/reality show that ordinary people play for money, celebrities play for charity. To avoid insulting their one-time celebrity, the winnings are donated to charity – but it looked to me like Flock of Seagulls could use a few bucks themselves. And isn’t that what makes a show like this great? There’s something transcendent about watching a group of fat, bald 40-somethings slog through the same chords they’ve played 10,000 times before. I’m not kidding – I actually caught myself looking around the stage for a gong.
In the Seagulls brief video diary, their lead singer/keyboardist (don’t see that one anymore) said his new wife "just thinks it’s cool to be married to someone in a band." She had that stringy haired, queen of the trailer court look that one finds well down the groupie food chain. It was enough to scare any 16-year-old with a new guitar off rock n’ roll for good.
Even more enjoyable are the brief interviews with the show’s host, whose British accent even sounds like a ruse. The best moment from week one was when he asked Tiffany her advice for up-and-coming young singers. How could this show be watched with anything but a sense of ironic detachment?
And in yet another horrifying/hilarious comment on our attention span, the bands don’t even perform all of their three-minute hit singles. How’s that for a tribute to the hit makers of yore? "Yeah, uh, Loverboy, we can’t let you play all of the one song you do well so we have time for you to play half of some turd by Faith Hill."
I’m sure some will read this and think it’s not a very classy way to spend an evening. It’s not. Let me reiterate – I like trash. If I was advocating classy entertainment, I would have started this with "I was re-reading Finnegan’s Wake last week..." But if a group of "musicians" want to put on spandex pants and ride the wave of one Top 40 hit, I think being trotted back into the limelight for my amusement is a small price to pay.
And God bless Hit Me Baby One More Time for giving us that amusement.
Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence
Last night, it was my honor to win the Best Feature Screenplay award at Chapman University's annual film awards. The "Cecil Award" went to my script Cooking Live, but I was lucky enough that my script Ponzi was also nominated in the same category.
Thanks to all who were supportive during the writing process and/or who said nice things about the scripts. My apologies for the quality of the photo above.
Find Death at eBay
The above image is one of the more disturbing products of automated Web advertising that I've run into. My simple search for the band "Death Cab for Cutie" turned into an existential experience. Essence may precede existence, but eBay supersedes all.
(click on the photo to get a better look at it)
A Deficit in Reason
It was an interesting week for those of us who like to see these people who moan that the world has gone morally bankrupt proven to be the fools that they are. If you blinked, you may have missed it.
Zell Miller, the barking Georgia (Democrat) last seen challenging Chris Matthews to a duel after the Republican National Convention, showed up on The Daily Show to promote his new book, A Deficit in Decency. Miller makes the usual complaints that we're a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, why can't things be like they were in the '50s, blah, blah, blah. Miller pointed to these damn, steroid-taking baseball players as yet another example that all that was good is now gone. It was also interesting that his examples of respectable old timers were all white (Mickey Mantle) and the modern players were all black.
An interesting thing happened the very next day. Former Major League pitcher Tom House told the SF Chronicle that he used steroids, growth hormone and anything else he can get his hands on in the '60s and '70s. He also said that his behavior was what you might call the norm.
So what do you know? It would appear that athletes today are exactly as indecent as they were 40 years ago. It may not seem so significant what ballplayers put into their bodies, but this is exactly the kind of thing that makes me want to slap the crazy out of Zell Miller. This manufactured outrage over how far our morals have slipped is never, never based on fact. Do you think there's just too darn much sex on TV these days? Well, about a hundred years ago that wasn't a problem, but there were 230 people lynched in America in a single year. I'll take a deficit in decency over a surpluss of lynchings any day.
Zell Miller, the barking Georgia (Democrat) last seen challenging Chris Matthews to a duel after the Republican National Convention, showed up on The Daily Show to promote his new book, A Deficit in Decency. Miller makes the usual complaints that we're a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, why can't things be like they were in the '50s, blah, blah, blah. Miller pointed to these damn, steroid-taking baseball players as yet another example that all that was good is now gone. It was also interesting that his examples of respectable old timers were all white (Mickey Mantle) and the modern players were all black.
An interesting thing happened the very next day. Former Major League pitcher Tom House told the SF Chronicle that he used steroids, growth hormone and anything else he can get his hands on in the '60s and '70s. He also said that his behavior was what you might call the norm.
So what do you know? It would appear that athletes today are exactly as indecent as they were 40 years ago. It may not seem so significant what ballplayers put into their bodies, but this is exactly the kind of thing that makes me want to slap the crazy out of Zell Miller. This manufactured outrage over how far our morals have slipped is never, never based on fact. Do you think there's just too darn much sex on TV these days? Well, about a hundred years ago that wasn't a problem, but there were 230 people lynched in America in a single year. I'll take a deficit in decency over a surpluss of lynchings any day.
Out with the Old and in with the ... Old
The fascinating journey of Family Guy came to a conclusion, or rather a beginning, last night when the show re-premiered on Fox. Fan non-fans or those who haven't been following along at home, the show was cancelled three years ago after struggling for viewers for most of its run. Cartoon Network picked it up, growing a new batch of fans, and the show's DVDs flew off the shelves.
So Fox brought the show back from the dead after three years, based almost solely on its ability to sell DVDs. In interviews, Fox execs have more or less admitted it doesn't matter what kind of ratings the show gets on the air. They expect to make their money back and more in what they call "ancillary markets."
This is probably the greatest victory for a group of TV fans, who now tend to mobilize after any show is cancelled. At least Out Here, where such things make the news, every week or so we see a group of a dozen people standing outside a studio gate, pleading for the life of some show that nobody is watching. I respect these folks commitment - I wish more people cared so strongly about art or entertainment or whatever TV is. But there is often a depressing futility to it, and I'm sure the Family Guy saga will only add fuel to the fire.
Watching the first new episode in three years, I was struck by how old fashioned Family Guy really is. The show is known for its shock value, which sometimes has a strained juvenile quality, and sometimes has an ingenious juvenile quality. But the structure of the show harkens back to early TV comedies and variety programs. Is there a story to a Family Guy episode? Yes, but it is only a loose structure that allows for maximum jokes and pop culture references. We watch Family Guy wondering "what is Peter going to say?" the same way we might wonder "what is Jackie Gleason going to say?" We don't expect to be drawn into a hilarious, insightful story (the way we might with The Simpsons). Instead, we're just watching for some good schtick.
Congrats to devoted fans on bringing back their favorite schtick.
So Fox brought the show back from the dead after three years, based almost solely on its ability to sell DVDs. In interviews, Fox execs have more or less admitted it doesn't matter what kind of ratings the show gets on the air. They expect to make their money back and more in what they call "ancillary markets."
This is probably the greatest victory for a group of TV fans, who now tend to mobilize after any show is cancelled. At least Out Here, where such things make the news, every week or so we see a group of a dozen people standing outside a studio gate, pleading for the life of some show that nobody is watching. I respect these folks commitment - I wish more people cared so strongly about art or entertainment or whatever TV is. But there is often a depressing futility to it, and I'm sure the Family Guy saga will only add fuel to the fire.
Watching the first new episode in three years, I was struck by how old fashioned Family Guy really is. The show is known for its shock value, which sometimes has a strained juvenile quality, and sometimes has an ingenious juvenile quality. But the structure of the show harkens back to early TV comedies and variety programs. Is there a story to a Family Guy episode? Yes, but it is only a loose structure that allows for maximum jokes and pop culture references. We watch Family Guy wondering "what is Peter going to say?" the same way we might wonder "what is Jackie Gleason going to say?" We don't expect to be drawn into a hilarious, insightful story (the way we might with The Simpsons). Instead, we're just watching for some good schtick.
Congrats to devoted fans on bringing back their favorite schtick.
Family Friendly Fascism
There’s a major battle going on right now between the filmmaking community and groups of arrogant, right-wing fascists who are editing so-called "clean" versions of Hollywood films. It’s more than just a horrible precedent, it’s frightening move toward a nation of group think.
A handful of companies, with names like Clean Flicks, CleanFilms and Family Flix, purchase commercial copies of popular DVDs, edit out content they find "objectionable" and resell their versions. By purchasing a copy for every copy they sell, they claim their butchering of the artists’ work falls under the doctrine of "fair use." It’s hard to know the size of their market, but one company’s edited versions are available in more than 100 stores.
You won’t be surprised to learn most of these companies are headquartered in Utah, and all purport to adhere to some generalized Christian code of how much boob is family friendly. The fact is that what they cut varies. All remove whatever they deem "sexually explicit," but Family Flix also cuts any trace of homosexual behavior. If you ask nicely, I’m sure they would also remove Blacks and Jews. Bigots have a right to watch whatever they want, but to recut a film so it fits your narrow world view – and then present it as the work of the director – that’s just plain offensive.
What tremendous entitlement these people feel. It’s hard to fathom the hubris it takes to assert that all films should be tailored to your particular tastes. These film cutters say they’re only offering choice, but the choice is already there: Don’t watch the f***ing movie.
On one hand, these hacks complain that Hollywood films are too violent and profane. On the other, they insist on watching these films. There’s plenty of films that are created for young children and prudes. Just because your whacko views put you outside the cultural mainstream, what gives you the right to disfigure mainstream art so you can feel like you’re part of the party?
If there is any dedication to art in this country, and evidence seems to the contrary, we need to revive the legal concept of "moral rights." Even though directors and screenwriters don’t own the copyright on their films, moral rights give them legal recourse should their work be altered negatively. Moral rights in Europe are strong enough that Monty Python won a multi-million dollar settlement when ABC recut Flying Circus.
There are legal challenges that should shut down the firms that sell recut films, but Congress recently paved the way for ClearPlay, makers of specialty DVD players which skip over offensive material without physically altering the actual DVD. ClearPlay is a much less offensive application, but it still presents a version of a film that was not made by the filmmakers. And it still puts the power to pick which words, boobs and shootings are offensive into the hands of some third party.
So what about the edited versions that have aired on TV and airlines for years? Those are cut by the filmmakers as part of their contract. And several directors have said they would approve of those versions being made available for sale. But even that’s not enough for some of these faux Christian Crusaders, who claim Hollywood doesn’t have the moral authority to cut its own films. But what gives them that authority? The fact is there is no one version of a film that would fit every fundamentalists particular biases.
For more on this debate, I recommend a one-hour special airing on AMC this month entitled "Bleep." I also recommend telling anyone who supports these groups to go f*** themselves.
A handful of companies, with names like Clean Flicks, CleanFilms and Family Flix, purchase commercial copies of popular DVDs, edit out content they find "objectionable" and resell their versions. By purchasing a copy for every copy they sell, they claim their butchering of the artists’ work falls under the doctrine of "fair use." It’s hard to know the size of their market, but one company’s edited versions are available in more than 100 stores.
You won’t be surprised to learn most of these companies are headquartered in Utah, and all purport to adhere to some generalized Christian code of how much boob is family friendly. The fact is that what they cut varies. All remove whatever they deem "sexually explicit," but Family Flix also cuts any trace of homosexual behavior. If you ask nicely, I’m sure they would also remove Blacks and Jews. Bigots have a right to watch whatever they want, but to recut a film so it fits your narrow world view – and then present it as the work of the director – that’s just plain offensive.
What tremendous entitlement these people feel. It’s hard to fathom the hubris it takes to assert that all films should be tailored to your particular tastes. These film cutters say they’re only offering choice, but the choice is already there: Don’t watch the f***ing movie.
On one hand, these hacks complain that Hollywood films are too violent and profane. On the other, they insist on watching these films. There’s plenty of films that are created for young children and prudes. Just because your whacko views put you outside the cultural mainstream, what gives you the right to disfigure mainstream art so you can feel like you’re part of the party?
If there is any dedication to art in this country, and evidence seems to the contrary, we need to revive the legal concept of "moral rights." Even though directors and screenwriters don’t own the copyright on their films, moral rights give them legal recourse should their work be altered negatively. Moral rights in Europe are strong enough that Monty Python won a multi-million dollar settlement when ABC recut Flying Circus.
There are legal challenges that should shut down the firms that sell recut films, but Congress recently paved the way for ClearPlay, makers of specialty DVD players which skip over offensive material without physically altering the actual DVD. ClearPlay is a much less offensive application, but it still presents a version of a film that was not made by the filmmakers. And it still puts the power to pick which words, boobs and shootings are offensive into the hands of some third party.
So what about the edited versions that have aired on TV and airlines for years? Those are cut by the filmmakers as part of their contract. And several directors have said they would approve of those versions being made available for sale. But even that’s not enough for some of these faux Christian Crusaders, who claim Hollywood doesn’t have the moral authority to cut its own films. But what gives them that authority? The fact is there is no one version of a film that would fit every fundamentalists particular biases.
For more on this debate, I recommend a one-hour special airing on AMC this month entitled "Bleep." I also recommend telling anyone who supports these groups to go f*** themselves.
Ballpark Etiquette
Now that baseball season is underway, and thank God that it is, I think it's time to lay down some clear rules for ballpark etiquette. Baseball is a very different kind of game, and as such requires certain behavior from the spectator. What follows is a summary of some of the most frequent, egregious fan behavior. Please forward this list to anyone you know who may be "that asshole."
1. Leave your f***ing beach ball at home. I will never understand the reason for paying good money to watch professional athletes, and then spending the entire game bopping a beach ball around until it drops to the lower deck. If you want to play with a beach ball, why not go to the beach? Or perhaps a Mommy and Me class. As if the bopping ball weren't enough distraction, for some reason it always creates a Lord of the Flies mentality in the stands where anyone who loses the ball is to be mocked, shunned and possibly fed to the lions.
2. Let "The Wave" die. Perhaps the only thing more asinine than shifting your attention to a beach ball is standing up and down in unison. I mean, seriously. If kids in middle school exhibited this behavior they would be sent to that classroom where all the kids wear leather jackets and the teacher is a former bouncer. If this is what you do when you're at a baseball game, YOU ARE NOT A BASEBALL FAN. Stay home so I can get a better seat.
3. Don't "boo" a bunt. Strategy is very important, and often this involves some sort of sacrifice to move a runner into scoring position. Don't be one of the morons who "boos" a player for laying down a bunt or a sac fly. This is a sure way to out yourself as not a true fan, just some guy who wanted to wear a polo shirt and have a drink outside.
4. A ballglove is for the kiddies. We're all eager for the chance to catch a ball in the stands. But if you're old enough to drive a car, you're old enough to catch it with your bare hands. There's few things as pathetic as a 39-year-old guy lunging to catch a foul ball with his K-mart mitt. Sure, a hard foul ball might break a bone or dislocate a finger. But bringing a glove to the park is the baseball equivalent of sleeping with a blanky.
5. Give the ball to a kid. The other important piece of foul ball etiquette is to always give any ball you catch to a nearby small child. Sure, we all want to catch the ball. But now you've caught it, so make some kid's day. To find a kid, I suggest looking to the ground, where most of them will be after being bowled over by adult jackasses with baseball gloves. It's a classy gesture and really, what would you do with the ball? Are you really going to put it on your mantle so you can always remember the day that you caught a foul ball from Russell Branyon?
6. Heckling is an art form. This is a touchy issue. There's a fine line between the drunken heckler who's amusing the crowd and rattling the opposing team and the drunken slob who's making everyone look around for the nearest security guard. Whether or not you're working blue, the key is that a good heckle should be original. One good tactic is to feign sympathy for a player, or offer them career advise. The point is, simply shouting F-bombs is just plain lazy. Even more pathetic is to start a chant of "(The other team) sucks." Particularly when the other team is ahead by 15 runs.
And finally, one for the ballpark operators...
Stop playing God Bless America. I know that in 2001 all that patriotic shit gave people goose bumps, but this really has to end. There's no better way piss all over a perfectly fine day at the park than to throw religion and politics in our faces. It's an uncomfortable exercise that comes bundled with all kinds of hooray for war baggage, and who needs it? It's also pretty contradictory for baseball to boast it's growing international appeal and then make all the Latin and Asian American players hear how great America is. Bring back Take Me Out to the Ballgame or even just play Centerfield for the 500th time.
Enjoy the games.
1. Leave your f***ing beach ball at home. I will never understand the reason for paying good money to watch professional athletes, and then spending the entire game bopping a beach ball around until it drops to the lower deck. If you want to play with a beach ball, why not go to the beach? Or perhaps a Mommy and Me class. As if the bopping ball weren't enough distraction, for some reason it always creates a Lord of the Flies mentality in the stands where anyone who loses the ball is to be mocked, shunned and possibly fed to the lions.
2. Let "The Wave" die. Perhaps the only thing more asinine than shifting your attention to a beach ball is standing up and down in unison. I mean, seriously. If kids in middle school exhibited this behavior they would be sent to that classroom where all the kids wear leather jackets and the teacher is a former bouncer. If this is what you do when you're at a baseball game, YOU ARE NOT A BASEBALL FAN. Stay home so I can get a better seat.
3. Don't "boo" a bunt. Strategy is very important, and often this involves some sort of sacrifice to move a runner into scoring position. Don't be one of the morons who "boos" a player for laying down a bunt or a sac fly. This is a sure way to out yourself as not a true fan, just some guy who wanted to wear a polo shirt and have a drink outside.
4. A ballglove is for the kiddies. We're all eager for the chance to catch a ball in the stands. But if you're old enough to drive a car, you're old enough to catch it with your bare hands. There's few things as pathetic as a 39-year-old guy lunging to catch a foul ball with his K-mart mitt. Sure, a hard foul ball might break a bone or dislocate a finger. But bringing a glove to the park is the baseball equivalent of sleeping with a blanky.
5. Give the ball to a kid. The other important piece of foul ball etiquette is to always give any ball you catch to a nearby small child. Sure, we all want to catch the ball. But now you've caught it, so make some kid's day. To find a kid, I suggest looking to the ground, where most of them will be after being bowled over by adult jackasses with baseball gloves. It's a classy gesture and really, what would you do with the ball? Are you really going to put it on your mantle so you can always remember the day that you caught a foul ball from Russell Branyon?
6. Heckling is an art form. This is a touchy issue. There's a fine line between the drunken heckler who's amusing the crowd and rattling the opposing team and the drunken slob who's making everyone look around for the nearest security guard. Whether or not you're working blue, the key is that a good heckle should be original. One good tactic is to feign sympathy for a player, or offer them career advise. The point is, simply shouting F-bombs is just plain lazy. Even more pathetic is to start a chant of "(The other team) sucks." Particularly when the other team is ahead by 15 runs.
And finally, one for the ballpark operators...
Stop playing God Bless America. I know that in 2001 all that patriotic shit gave people goose bumps, but this really has to end. There's no better way piss all over a perfectly fine day at the park than to throw religion and politics in our faces. It's an uncomfortable exercise that comes bundled with all kinds of hooray for war baggage, and who needs it? It's also pretty contradictory for baseball to boast it's growing international appeal and then make all the Latin and Asian American players hear how great America is. Bring back Take Me Out to the Ballgame or even just play Centerfield for the 500th time.
Enjoy the games.
Iowa State Daily Article
Today's Iowa State Daily featured an article on my short film, The Persecution of Al Kida, and Andy Brodie's short doc 'Round Midnight. Both will screen this weekend at the Cedar Rapids Independent Film Festival.
Melinda & Woody & Will
Will as Woody
I happen to be a big fan of Woody Allen, but only a real fanatic would deny that some of his recent efforts have been less-than-stellar. He's a polarizing force, and it seems that ever since that whole shagging his teenage stepchild thing came out, the critical community has been strongly against him. Even the Village Voice has dropped its advocacy of THE New York director.
But there's enough good about Melinda & Melinda that it doesn't deserve to be tossed on the slush pile with Curse of the Jade Scorpion and Hollywood Ending. The premise is simple and unconventional. Two playwrights, one who favors comedy and the other who favors tragedy, argue over dinner whether a particular story would make a better tragedy or comedy. The film then alternates between a tragic and comic version of (basically) the same story.
Both stories have some strong moments, though the comic version is more consistently entertaining. I think it was a mistake to vary a few key details, because it makes them versions of two very similar stories as opposed to versions of the same story. But I'm a firm believer that even lesser Woody Allen is better than most, and worth checking out. My wife and I have an ongoing debate about this. For me, his films aren't so much whole works but pieces in an ongoing conversation. Even in a so-so film like Deconstructing Harry, there are great bursts of ideas. On the other hand, my wife thinks all his films are about a 60-something lech getting it on with another beautiful young starlet. I must concede there is substance to her argument.
But Allen also sidesteps any ill will for his onscreen persona by casting Will Ferrell in what is clearly "the Woody Allen role." I'm a fan of Will Ferrell, but I admit I always feared he was limited to a broad, clowning type of comedy. Not so. Ferrell is the best thing in Melinda & Melinda. Instead of performing some Woody Allen impersonation, Ferrell simply plays the role the way Allen would. It's a fine distinction, but a vital one.
Melinda & Melinda is not a great movie, but it's a pretty good one built around a solid premise. If you're a fan of Woody or Will, I think you'll be entertained.
Indie Film - Cedar Rapids Style
To my devoted readers (Mom, Dad), I apologize for the long lapse since my last post. It's been a hectic few weeks here on the Left Coast. So what do I have to show for it?
I'm proud to announce that my short film The Persecution of Al Kida will be screened April 2 at the 5th annual Cedar Rapids Independent Film Festival. Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend myself. But I'm grateful to anyone in the area who takes the time to check it out. Also be sure to check out 'Round Midnight, a documentary short by my pal Andy Brodie.
I'm proud to announce that my short film The Persecution of Al Kida will be screened April 2 at the 5th annual Cedar Rapids Independent Film Festival. Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend myself. But I'm grateful to anyone in the area who takes the time to check it out. Also be sure to check out 'Round Midnight, a documentary short by my pal Andy Brodie.
Shadow Government Hides UFO Phenomena
So I watched Peter Jennings special report "U.F.O.'s: Seeing is Believing" the other night. Among the things I learned were that people who study UFOs but have no other scientific standing refer to themselves as "Ufologists," which sounds about as professional as some frat dude calling himself a "boobologist." I was also convinced that, while some sightings are unexplained and fairly incredible, the Roswell thing was pretty much a crock of shit. Just as surprising, apparently that "alien autopsy" show aired on FOX a few years back was a fabrication. I guess the fact that the most amazing revelation in human history needed a strong lead-in from World's Scariest Police Chases should have been a sign that something was awry.
There's an interesting range in the community of believers, from the straight-up scientists at SETI to those who swear they've been obducted and sodomized by aliens. There have clearly been a lot of unexplained objects in the sky. The logical jump that I don't quite follow is assuming that because the object can't be explained, it must be an alien spaceship. But if you think that's a jump, the blog Jennings read on The Daily Show was out of this world. The blogger suggested that the "shadow government" pressured Jennings into doing a recent report claiming Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone gunman, and in exchange the newsman was being allowed to finally break the truth about our contact with aliens. Now that's some first class crazy.
Whatever you think of ufologists, you can't deny they make for some interesting stories. If you don't believe me, check out Coast to Coast with Art Bell, the most entertaining AM call-in show in America.
Taking a cue from the blog community, I've made sure to include in this post phrases like "shadow government" and "conspiracy theory" in shameless hopes of increasing site traffic.
There's an interesting range in the community of believers, from the straight-up scientists at SETI to those who swear they've been obducted and sodomized by aliens. There have clearly been a lot of unexplained objects in the sky. The logical jump that I don't quite follow is assuming that because the object can't be explained, it must be an alien spaceship. But if you think that's a jump, the blog Jennings read on The Daily Show was out of this world. The blogger suggested that the "shadow government" pressured Jennings into doing a recent report claiming Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone gunman, and in exchange the newsman was being allowed to finally break the truth about our contact with aliens. Now that's some first class crazy.
Whatever you think of ufologists, you can't deny they make for some interesting stories. If you don't believe me, check out Coast to Coast with Art Bell, the most entertaining AM call-in show in America.
Taking a cue from the blog community, I've made sure to include in this post phrases like "shadow government" and "conspiracy theory" in shameless hopes of increasing site traffic.
Other People's Kids
The problem with other people’s children is you have no legal recourse.
Naura and I faced this problem over the weekend, while visiting The Devil’s home on earth – Hearst Castle. We were unlucky enough to land in a tour group full of kids running around like a pre-pubescent Lord of the Flies, not to mention their parents, who clearly decided to leave the responsibility for raising their young to tour guides and other passers by.
Now some people like to say they’ve never met a bad kid, only bad parents. That is complete horseshit. I have met quite a few bad kids. Maybe it was the parents who didn’t set appropriate limits or whatever, but the wanton destruction – that’s all Junior.
The problem with these parents who just let other people deal with their jackass kids is we don’t complete the deal. Most of us are uncomfortable parenting other people’s kids, so we usually react to their bad behavior with nothing but scornful looks to Mom and Dad, who obviously don’t give a shit. The solution is simple: We need to beat these people’s children for them.
I know “spanking” is a contentious issue, so perhaps parameters should be set by the legislature. But once those standards are in place, we the general public should have no remorse about smacking other people’s kids. I think it should be a Federal statute, but Republicans might push to make it a State thing. Fine. Maybe in Oregon you can only issue a stern verbal reprimand, while in Texas you can backhand the child with a leather strap. The point is we will finally have some acceptable recourse against the punks in the movie theater kicking the back of our chairs.
Of course, I’m not suggesting the negligent parents get off free. I think we need to throw these people in prison. Let’s finally bring some sense to our penal system – release the harmless marijuana dealers and make room for parents who let their kids throw garbage out the windows of a moving bus. Imagine this: A kid does something obnoxious in a public place. The person nearest the kid delivers a government approved beating, and any cops in the area track down the parents and handcuff them. Now that’s a police state I could live with.
And if people are really against the whole corporal punishment thing, we could always just arrest the kids too. It would probably serve as a deterrent to any other brats in the area to see a fellow 6-year-old being held face down against a squad car and maced. The LAPD already uses similar tactics with children, I’m just suggesting they be applied regardless of race.
I know even the best children can be a problem sometimes. As an adult without children, I am even mildly sympathetic to the issue. But it’s important that we acknowledge that many parents take their role no more seriously than the night of recreational sex that created the kid in the first place. When it comes to these people, for the sake of society, I think it’s a moral imperative that we beat and or jail the parents and children. After all, it takes a village.
Naura and I faced this problem over the weekend, while visiting The Devil’s home on earth – Hearst Castle. We were unlucky enough to land in a tour group full of kids running around like a pre-pubescent Lord of the Flies, not to mention their parents, who clearly decided to leave the responsibility for raising their young to tour guides and other passers by.
Now some people like to say they’ve never met a bad kid, only bad parents. That is complete horseshit. I have met quite a few bad kids. Maybe it was the parents who didn’t set appropriate limits or whatever, but the wanton destruction – that’s all Junior.
The problem with these parents who just let other people deal with their jackass kids is we don’t complete the deal. Most of us are uncomfortable parenting other people’s kids, so we usually react to their bad behavior with nothing but scornful looks to Mom and Dad, who obviously don’t give a shit. The solution is simple: We need to beat these people’s children for them.
I know “spanking” is a contentious issue, so perhaps parameters should be set by the legislature. But once those standards are in place, we the general public should have no remorse about smacking other people’s kids. I think it should be a Federal statute, but Republicans might push to make it a State thing. Fine. Maybe in Oregon you can only issue a stern verbal reprimand, while in Texas you can backhand the child with a leather strap. The point is we will finally have some acceptable recourse against the punks in the movie theater kicking the back of our chairs.
Of course, I’m not suggesting the negligent parents get off free. I think we need to throw these people in prison. Let’s finally bring some sense to our penal system – release the harmless marijuana dealers and make room for parents who let their kids throw garbage out the windows of a moving bus. Imagine this: A kid does something obnoxious in a public place. The person nearest the kid delivers a government approved beating, and any cops in the area track down the parents and handcuff them. Now that’s a police state I could live with.
And if people are really against the whole corporal punishment thing, we could always just arrest the kids too. It would probably serve as a deterrent to any other brats in the area to see a fellow 6-year-old being held face down against a squad car and maced. The LAPD already uses similar tactics with children, I’m just suggesting they be applied regardless of race.
I know even the best children can be a problem sometimes. As an adult without children, I am even mildly sympathetic to the issue. But it’s important that we acknowledge that many parents take their role no more seriously than the night of recreational sex that created the kid in the first place. When it comes to these people, for the sake of society, I think it’s a moral imperative that we beat and or jail the parents and children. After all, it takes a village.
Fear and Mourning
The Good Doctor was always a tough pill to swallow, but the news of his passing is still caught in my throat.
I won't presume to euologize Hunter Thompson, leaving that to those who know him and his work far better than I. But I do reach out to everyone else who is feeling shocked, confused, lost or hurt, and say, I hear you, brother.
What saddens me most is that he has left us at a time we really need him. Just in the last month, I've gone back and read some of Hunter's writing during the Nixon era to remind myself that politics have been a whirlwind shitstorm before and may yet get better. To me at least, that's the beauty of his words. He documented what it feels like to live under a liar like Nixon. Now that we're enduring a liar on the scale of George W. Bush, though it sometimes feels like we're blindfolded and inching ever closer to the edge, Hunter is there to remind us that we've walked here before. It's a sincere comfort.
I heard the news while driving with my wife through a rainstorm along the California Central Coast. Flipping channels, searching for a weather report, the news came to us from the lips of Matt Drudge. Drudge - the Godfather of Get It Now News that pummels us with information but gives us no kind of understanding. I hope there are far fewer Matt Drudges and more Hunter Thompsons.
And I really wish the Doctor were around to lead us on another shark hunt.
I won't presume to euologize Hunter Thompson, leaving that to those who know him and his work far better than I. But I do reach out to everyone else who is feeling shocked, confused, lost or hurt, and say, I hear you, brother.
What saddens me most is that he has left us at a time we really need him. Just in the last month, I've gone back and read some of Hunter's writing during the Nixon era to remind myself that politics have been a whirlwind shitstorm before and may yet get better. To me at least, that's the beauty of his words. He documented what it feels like to live under a liar like Nixon. Now that we're enduring a liar on the scale of George W. Bush, though it sometimes feels like we're blindfolded and inching ever closer to the edge, Hunter is there to remind us that we've walked here before. It's a sincere comfort.
I heard the news while driving with my wife through a rainstorm along the California Central Coast. Flipping channels, searching for a weather report, the news came to us from the lips of Matt Drudge. Drudge - the Godfather of Get It Now News that pummels us with information but gives us no kind of understanding. I hope there are far fewer Matt Drudges and more Hunter Thompsons.
And I really wish the Doctor were around to lead us on another shark hunt.
'Roid Rage
Anyone who's been following baseball this week has been inundated with Jose Canseco's allegations of personally injecting steroids into nearly every ass in the American League. It's been correctly acknowledged that Canseco is a world class dirt bag, and I sure as hell wouldn't buy a used car from him. But it's still pretty far-fetched to think that he simply made up all of these allegations. So what are we supposed to think?
Every sportswriter has weighed in on what this rampant doping means for baseball, and most have opted for hand-wringing and shame. But suggesting the doping tarnishes the achievements of those players makes some pretty bold assumptions about the effects of steroids and ignores the context in which the doping occurred.
It's obvious how steroids effect a power lifter or a sprinter - sports that turn on raw physical performance. It's less clear how bilking up helps a player with the precision skills required in baseball. I'm sure more muscle makes a great hitter even better. But I've seen muscle-bound guys who can't buy a homer and skinny guys with the hand/eye coordination, bat speed, etc. to get the job done. Steroids also entered the equation at exactly the time when players began rigorous physical conditioning, so it's next to impossible to divine where these . Because steroids have some effect on performance, alarmists assume they determine performance. It just ain't true.
What everyone seems to be ignoring is the fact that steroid use was NOT BANNED by Major League Baseball in the 1990s. The first official policy was drafted after the 2001 season. It is true that 'roids were illegal, and this may sound like a slippery philosophical argument, but that doesn't mean using them in baseball was cheating. It may have been illegal, unethical or dirty, but it wasn't breaking the rules. If you don't want to like these players because they were juiced, you have every right. But there's no grounds to suggest their records be wiped from the books.
But the record books are what this anger is really about. Comparing players from different generations is a second job for many, and stats are the tools of the trade. But from now until the end of time, anyone who argues Barry Bonds is the greatest hitter of all time will have BALCO thrown in their face. And that's fair. And it's nothing new. From the dead ball to the height of the mound to expansion, the dynamics of the game are in constant change. Steroids are a chapter in the history of baseball, and maybe not a noble chapter, but still a part of the book.
Every sportswriter has weighed in on what this rampant doping means for baseball, and most have opted for hand-wringing and shame. But suggesting the doping tarnishes the achievements of those players makes some pretty bold assumptions about the effects of steroids and ignores the context in which the doping occurred.
It's obvious how steroids effect a power lifter or a sprinter - sports that turn on raw physical performance. It's less clear how bilking up helps a player with the precision skills required in baseball. I'm sure more muscle makes a great hitter even better. But I've seen muscle-bound guys who can't buy a homer and skinny guys with the hand/eye coordination, bat speed, etc. to get the job done. Steroids also entered the equation at exactly the time when players began rigorous physical conditioning, so it's next to impossible to divine where these . Because steroids have some effect on performance, alarmists assume they determine performance. It just ain't true.
What everyone seems to be ignoring is the fact that steroid use was NOT BANNED by Major League Baseball in the 1990s. The first official policy was drafted after the 2001 season. It is true that 'roids were illegal, and this may sound like a slippery philosophical argument, but that doesn't mean using them in baseball was cheating. It may have been illegal, unethical or dirty, but it wasn't breaking the rules. If you don't want to like these players because they were juiced, you have every right. But there's no grounds to suggest their records be wiped from the books.
But the record books are what this anger is really about. Comparing players from different generations is a second job for many, and stats are the tools of the trade. But from now until the end of time, anyone who argues Barry Bonds is the greatest hitter of all time will have BALCO thrown in their face. And that's fair. And it's nothing new. From the dead ball to the height of the mound to expansion, the dynamics of the game are in constant change. Steroids are a chapter in the history of baseball, and maybe not a noble chapter, but still a part of the book.
The Death of the Author
The death of Arthur Miller made me think about a lot of things, like his noble use of the theater to reflect social outrage and the awkward status of artists who outlive their prime. But mostly it made me think about how much cooler it used to be to be a writer.
Exhibit A and the tagline to every story about Miller's death is the fact that he was briefly married to Marilyn Monroe. I heard a few literati on my local NPR station lamenting this fact because it might overshadow the importance of Miller's work. I see their point, but it seems to me that this fact actually elevates our appreciation of what it meant to be a writer in Arthur Miller's heyday.
Can you imagine a playwright today being married to the hottest Hollywood starlet? Let me answer that for you: No. I can virtually guarantee you that you won't pickup tomorrow's newspaper to read that Patrick Marber and Cameron Diaz have eloped in Vegas. You also won't tune in on Oscar night and see Salman Rushdie escorting Halle Berry down the red carpet. And this writer/starlet thing wasn't a phenomena isolated to Arthur Miller. In All About Eve, which I regard as accurate as a historical document, the playwright is also pursued by the hottest ingenue of the day.
The glory days of the writer were also recalled indirectly in the aftermath of Johnny Carson's death. As was recounted in several remembrances, The Tonight Show used to run 90 minutes and generally featured the interview of an author at the end. Watching footage of Carson conversing with Gore Vidal or Norman Mailer, I couldn't help but feel that popular culture has regressed.
Now, cynics might charge that I only feel this way because, as a writer, I want to be pursued by beautiful women and spout my ideas on national television. But that's only half the story.
The full truth is that in an era of George W. Bush and reality television, ideas are becoming passe, and those who write their ideas down even more marginalized. It's a crude barometer of the social climate, but if you tune in to the tail end of tonight's late night talk show, you're probably going to see the latest jackass to get kicked off Survivor. Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather see a talented writer with something interesting to say. And if they've got some pretty young thing on their arm, I figure that's par for the course.
Exhibit A and the tagline to every story about Miller's death is the fact that he was briefly married to Marilyn Monroe. I heard a few literati on my local NPR station lamenting this fact because it might overshadow the importance of Miller's work. I see their point, but it seems to me that this fact actually elevates our appreciation of what it meant to be a writer in Arthur Miller's heyday.
Can you imagine a playwright today being married to the hottest Hollywood starlet? Let me answer that for you: No. I can virtually guarantee you that you won't pickup tomorrow's newspaper to read that Patrick Marber and Cameron Diaz have eloped in Vegas. You also won't tune in on Oscar night and see Salman Rushdie escorting Halle Berry down the red carpet. And this writer/starlet thing wasn't a phenomena isolated to Arthur Miller. In All About Eve, which I regard as accurate as a historical document, the playwright is also pursued by the hottest ingenue of the day.
The glory days of the writer were also recalled indirectly in the aftermath of Johnny Carson's death. As was recounted in several remembrances, The Tonight Show used to run 90 minutes and generally featured the interview of an author at the end. Watching footage of Carson conversing with Gore Vidal or Norman Mailer, I couldn't help but feel that popular culture has regressed.
Now, cynics might charge that I only feel this way because, as a writer, I want to be pursued by beautiful women and spout my ideas on national television. But that's only half the story.
The full truth is that in an era of George W. Bush and reality television, ideas are becoming passe, and those who write their ideas down even more marginalized. It's a crude barometer of the social climate, but if you tune in to the tail end of tonight's late night talk show, you're probably going to see the latest jackass to get kicked off Survivor. Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather see a talented writer with something interesting to say. And if they've got some pretty young thing on their arm, I figure that's par for the course.
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