Vegas
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas… because that’s where the money remains; the House makes sure of that. Hope springs eternal in the human breast, a truism on which that desert town has been built and on which it continues to grow, like an unchecked cancer. The suburban sprawl smites the eye from the air as the plane tops the outermost ridge. The Strip, that garish neon line of outrageous architecture, though still clearly visible, is not necessarily the most striking aspect of that first aerial view. No longer is this town an oasis of hedonism in a pristine desert. Like the wild and woolly frontier of old, it has become bounded and subdivided, row upon row of neatly lined tract housing and planned communities radiating outward from its twin hubs (the new Strip and the original Downtown District), encasing its morality-free zones in the outer trappings of respectability. Nevertheless, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, along with the initial outlays that fund each venture, personal and corporate alike.
I claim to return each time as luggage, yet return I do, and each visit I leave behind my regular contributions of nonexistent funds, taking only calories and memories upon my departure.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
The Christmas Shopping Season
The Christmas Shopping Season has begun:
Peace will not return until its annual course has been run.
Woe betide those who venture unknowing
Into malls where madness is showing
Or into stores where hawkers eagerly sell
All about which one has long heard tell
Baubles and trinkets and gadgets galore
The cost of which poor nations deplore
But the ownership of which must be gained this season
If one is to retain any semblance of reason
As each family member succumbs to the lure
Of temptation beyond the means of the poor
Except through the use of plastic that teases
With faulty promises to provide that which pleases
Only time is an issue of little importance
Unless you like reading fine print perchance
But do not trouble with such a small detail
For it will only distress you without fail
Just enjoy the season
That has become its own reason
Or else run and hide
Till the turn of the tide
Peace will not return until its annual course has been run.
Woe betide those who venture unknowing
Into malls where madness is showing
Or into stores where hawkers eagerly sell
All about which one has long heard tell
Baubles and trinkets and gadgets galore
The cost of which poor nations deplore
But the ownership of which must be gained this season
If one is to retain any semblance of reason
As each family member succumbs to the lure
Of temptation beyond the means of the poor
Except through the use of plastic that teases
With faulty promises to provide that which pleases
Only time is an issue of little importance
Unless you like reading fine print perchance
But do not trouble with such a small detail
For it will only distress you without fail
Just enjoy the season
That has become its own reason
Or else run and hide
Till the turn of the tide
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Restless, Restive, Restful
Restless, Restive, Restful
There are evidently many different kinds of travelers in this world. Three are those who cannot be still while away from home, reminiscent of sharks that must move or die; those who cannot or will not move though they (and those trapped behind them) desperately desire progress (of any sort), their inertia being a byproduct of indecisiveness in the wake of poor planning coupled disastrously with an unwillingness either to lead or to follow; and those whose company somehow makes travel its own kind of home, who serve as a touchstone in the chaotic madness that inevitably occurs when numerous tourists congregate in an environment to which they have no nesting attachments. For the past several days I have been in the company of all three.
Please note that this is not intended as a finite list but merely as a cross-section with which I have been in recent contact.
There are evidently many different kinds of travelers in this world. Three are those who cannot be still while away from home, reminiscent of sharks that must move or die; those who cannot or will not move though they (and those trapped behind them) desperately desire progress (of any sort), their inertia being a byproduct of indecisiveness in the wake of poor planning coupled disastrously with an unwillingness either to lead or to follow; and those whose company somehow makes travel its own kind of home, who serve as a touchstone in the chaotic madness that inevitably occurs when numerous tourists congregate in an environment to which they have no nesting attachments. For the past several days I have been in the company of all three.
Please note that this is not intended as a finite list but merely as a cross-section with which I have been in recent contact.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Notice
To those of you checking in on me, I’ll be away from my customary Internet connection for the next several days. I hope to be back by next week at the latest.
Max’s P.U.
11-19-05
Max’s P.U.
11-19-05
Thursday, November 17, 2005
On Disneys Ongoing Absent Mothers
On Disney’s Ongoing Absent Mothers
One is not truly, completely orphaned while one has a mother or mother-figure in life. Those who fulfill their parental duties, not just for a year, but for as long as it takes, make life smoother and saner for their charges. Not all women who bear children fulfill their duties, of course, any more than one can say that any male would make an acceptable father figure, should he choose to accept such a title. Still, there’s something about a maternal presence that just makes life a bit richer, a bit more bearable, even as it can be one of the more irritating, nagging, harassing experiences in life…
Disney’s ongoing awareness of the consequences of the absence of such a presence draws criticism from those who serve as mothers. It is easy to feel slighted and overlooked. The truth, however, is that without conflict there is no narrative, and the function of a good mother is to cut off conflict before it can begin. After all, everyone should know that Mother’s Will is law, whether or not Father’s Word is given lip service honor. If a woman were president, so the feminists say, there would be no war. When a woman is in charge, there are no problems because she does not allow them. Disney’s latest film, Chicken Little, acknowledges this fundamental truth through the alien mother figure, who reins in her husband when he tries to use “the Big Voice”, first on the Earthlings, then on her.
Far from ignoring mothers, Disney is very aware of their value and place in society: behind the scenes pulling the strings of power. The absence of mothers is, in fact, the source of all trouble in a Disney movie, not a desirable status quo.
One is not truly, completely orphaned while one has a mother or mother-figure in life. Those who fulfill their parental duties, not just for a year, but for as long as it takes, make life smoother and saner for their charges. Not all women who bear children fulfill their duties, of course, any more than one can say that any male would make an acceptable father figure, should he choose to accept such a title. Still, there’s something about a maternal presence that just makes life a bit richer, a bit more bearable, even as it can be one of the more irritating, nagging, harassing experiences in life…
Disney’s ongoing awareness of the consequences of the absence of such a presence draws criticism from those who serve as mothers. It is easy to feel slighted and overlooked. The truth, however, is that without conflict there is no narrative, and the function of a good mother is to cut off conflict before it can begin. After all, everyone should know that Mother’s Will is law, whether or not Father’s Word is given lip service honor. If a woman were president, so the feminists say, there would be no war. When a woman is in charge, there are no problems because she does not allow them. Disney’s latest film, Chicken Little, acknowledges this fundamental truth through the alien mother figure, who reins in her husband when he tries to use “the Big Voice”, first on the Earthlings, then on her.
Far from ignoring mothers, Disney is very aware of their value and place in society: behind the scenes pulling the strings of power. The absence of mothers is, in fact, the source of all trouble in a Disney movie, not a desirable status quo.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Little Lost Boys
Batman Forever and Chicken Little
There’s an animated update of the Batman saga that depicts the original Batman’s successor battling against a former wannabe successor who has been genetically altered to replicate the original Joker. At the climax of their battle there is a jibe that “the Great Batman” is nothing more than a little lost boy grieving for his lost parents and struggling to win approval that will never come. The current animation of the Chicken Little saga takes a similar slant, only this protagonist is still young and though his mother is gone, his impossible to please father is still very much alive. In each case, the protagonist is driven to essay great deeds in order to please unaware parental units. Internet critiques notwithstanding, this is very much a young child’s dilemma, not so much that of a pubescent child, whose peer group replaces the parental unit as the intended audience that motivates actions (and conversely, inaction). There are, of course, those who will argue that some males never get past the need to please inattentive father figures, regardless of peer group approbation or worldly success. I would further posit that that may not even be gender-restricted…
Then there is the too-knowledgeable female friend. In the Batman saga, there is Barbara Gordon, the current police commissioner and daughter of the former commissioner, who serves the narrative function of relating historical background and providing character analysis to bridge the generations and supply a sense of continuity for those who have not been following the story with sufficient attention to detail. In this Chicken Little narrative, there is Abby Mallard, reminiscent of Hermione Granger in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, inexplicably able to offer pop psychoanalysis and advice beyond what one might expect of a peer of such clueless males. Again, this is a female character whose purpose is clearly to provide explanatory bridges of exposition for inattentive characters and members of the audience.
These tales all seem to fit into the standard Peter Pan format of little lost motherless boys in search of father figure approval through feats of physical prowess, aided and abetted by close male companions and advised by preternaturally wise female peers who clearly outstrip them in terms of maturity.
There’s an animated update of the Batman saga that depicts the original Batman’s successor battling against a former wannabe successor who has been genetically altered to replicate the original Joker. At the climax of their battle there is a jibe that “the Great Batman” is nothing more than a little lost boy grieving for his lost parents and struggling to win approval that will never come. The current animation of the Chicken Little saga takes a similar slant, only this protagonist is still young and though his mother is gone, his impossible to please father is still very much alive. In each case, the protagonist is driven to essay great deeds in order to please unaware parental units. Internet critiques notwithstanding, this is very much a young child’s dilemma, not so much that of a pubescent child, whose peer group replaces the parental unit as the intended audience that motivates actions (and conversely, inaction). There are, of course, those who will argue that some males never get past the need to please inattentive father figures, regardless of peer group approbation or worldly success. I would further posit that that may not even be gender-restricted…
Then there is the too-knowledgeable female friend. In the Batman saga, there is Barbara Gordon, the current police commissioner and daughter of the former commissioner, who serves the narrative function of relating historical background and providing character analysis to bridge the generations and supply a sense of continuity for those who have not been following the story with sufficient attention to detail. In this Chicken Little narrative, there is Abby Mallard, reminiscent of Hermione Granger in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, inexplicably able to offer pop psychoanalysis and advice beyond what one might expect of a peer of such clueless males. Again, this is a female character whose purpose is clearly to provide explanatory bridges of exposition for inattentive characters and members of the audience.
These tales all seem to fit into the standard Peter Pan format of little lost motherless boys in search of father figure approval through feats of physical prowess, aided and abetted by close male companions and advised by preternaturally wise female peers who clearly outstrip them in terms of maturity.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Outsider Looking In
Outsider Looking In
One of the great pleasures of my childhood to reemerge in the early nineties was The Addams Family. Today the second installment of the movie franchise, Addams Family Values, was playing on cable television. I was forcibly reminded by Uncle Fester, his predator Debbie, and young Wednesday Addams of that painfully familiar feeling of being an outsider looking through a window at that which is considered the “normal” world.
This notion of nonconformity with conventionality was, of course, one of the battle cries of the sixties in the United States. Seeing Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven later in the day, however, reminded me that these same United States began existence as the forlorn outcast stepchild of the European nations of the eighteenth century. Cinderella resolved her similar status by marrying her prince; the United States has resolved the problem of being the outsider by infiltrating every corner of the globe that has proven susceptible to commercialism and/or technolust, selling the commerce-driven culture that has arisen from the seething cauldron in which so many cultures and races from around the globe have marinated, steeped, and stewed for the past three hundred years and more.
Now instead of being the outsider looking in, many Americans smugly believe people of other nations to be viewing this country as the “inside”. Though voices across the Internet increasingly suggest otherwise, a look at the entertainment industry suggests that the more insidious aspects of American culture continues to thrive, particularly where it gives rise to the greatest criticisms.
None of these observations sound new to me, but the film connections revived them in my mind. Next stop: the insidious influences of cable programming.
(Did anyone else notice that cable aired True Lies and Eighth Day in the wake of California’s recent Special Statewide Election?)
One of the great pleasures of my childhood to reemerge in the early nineties was The Addams Family. Today the second installment of the movie franchise, Addams Family Values, was playing on cable television. I was forcibly reminded by Uncle Fester, his predator Debbie, and young Wednesday Addams of that painfully familiar feeling of being an outsider looking through a window at that which is considered the “normal” world.
This notion of nonconformity with conventionality was, of course, one of the battle cries of the sixties in the United States. Seeing Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven later in the day, however, reminded me that these same United States began existence as the forlorn outcast stepchild of the European nations of the eighteenth century. Cinderella resolved her similar status by marrying her prince; the United States has resolved the problem of being the outsider by infiltrating every corner of the globe that has proven susceptible to commercialism and/or technolust, selling the commerce-driven culture that has arisen from the seething cauldron in which so many cultures and races from around the globe have marinated, steeped, and stewed for the past three hundred years and more.
Now instead of being the outsider looking in, many Americans smugly believe people of other nations to be viewing this country as the “inside”. Though voices across the Internet increasingly suggest otherwise, a look at the entertainment industry suggests that the more insidious aspects of American culture continues to thrive, particularly where it gives rise to the greatest criticisms.
None of these observations sound new to me, but the film connections revived them in my mind. Next stop: the insidious influences of cable programming.
(Did anyone else notice that cable aired True Lies and Eighth Day in the wake of California’s recent Special Statewide Election?)
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Keiki Movie for Multiple Generations
Have you ever noticed that the most successful movies marketed for children appeal to the adults who accompany them as well? Have you ever noticed looks of curiosity as young viewers wonder why the adults in the audience are laughing?
Today I had the pleasure of viewing Chicken Little, a film that makes many visual, musical, and quotable references to films of the seventies in particular. I confess I laughed through the whole movie, including credits, and only stopped to question the underlying messages in hindsight. At the time of the viewing, however, I did feel a bit older than usual, realizing as I did that the references aimed at adults target a generation younger than that in which I was a child. This is, I think, the first time I've noticed such a thing, prior movies having drawn squarely upon my childhood memories. I realized with a start that I am now old enough to be the grandparent of someone whose mother was a pregnant teen... hm...
That got me to thinking about what kind of messages are being sent to the current generations of parents and children. I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with what I noticed. While I like the idea that parents need to be reminded that their children need to know that they are unconditionally loved, I'm not so sure about the idea of unconditional credence. After all, this being the human race, there are those among us who always have and always will find gullible adults too tempting to resist... Let's face it: not all parents are smarter than their offspring, and not all parents actually benefit from the greater number of years they have had in which to accumulate experience, self-help parenting books notwithstanding.
Then there's the idea that an arrogant bully is best served and improved by being feminized; what's up with that? Neither arrogance nor bullying is the exclusive domain of males. In fact, I distinctly remember my teachers emphasizing the fact that females in the wild are more aggressive than their male counterparts, not less; I have not since noticed any difference within human society. So just what misconceptions are we passing on to the next generation?
Still, this is the wittiest movie aimed at children that I've seen since the original Shrek. IMHO it's a must-see.
(Curious George next Spring: I'm very excited!)
Today I had the pleasure of viewing Chicken Little, a film that makes many visual, musical, and quotable references to films of the seventies in particular. I confess I laughed through the whole movie, including credits, and only stopped to question the underlying messages in hindsight. At the time of the viewing, however, I did feel a bit older than usual, realizing as I did that the references aimed at adults target a generation younger than that in which I was a child. This is, I think, the first time I've noticed such a thing, prior movies having drawn squarely upon my childhood memories. I realized with a start that I am now old enough to be the grandparent of someone whose mother was a pregnant teen... hm...
That got me to thinking about what kind of messages are being sent to the current generations of parents and children. I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with what I noticed. While I like the idea that parents need to be reminded that their children need to know that they are unconditionally loved, I'm not so sure about the idea of unconditional credence. After all, this being the human race, there are those among us who always have and always will find gullible adults too tempting to resist... Let's face it: not all parents are smarter than their offspring, and not all parents actually benefit from the greater number of years they have had in which to accumulate experience, self-help parenting books notwithstanding.
Then there's the idea that an arrogant bully is best served and improved by being feminized; what's up with that? Neither arrogance nor bullying is the exclusive domain of males. In fact, I distinctly remember my teachers emphasizing the fact that females in the wild are more aggressive than their male counterparts, not less; I have not since noticed any difference within human society. So just what misconceptions are we passing on to the next generation?
Still, this is the wittiest movie aimed at children that I've seen since the original Shrek. IMHO it's a must-see.
(Curious George next Spring: I'm very excited!)
Friday, November 11, 2005
What a Week
Wow! I can't believe I haven't been here since Monday! So much has happened in such a short time.
There was a Special Statewide Election, after which the governor admitted that his wife had advised against it, though he neither heeded her then nor apologizes now.
Bill Reilly used his position as a pundit on national radio to invite terrorists to attack San Francisco and destroy Coit Tower; exactly what sort of solid citizenship does he think he's modeling for the next generation that he purports to so dearly cherish?
There are new hirings at United Airlines, which means that my frequent flyer miles should last through the upcoming holiday season...
There was a 4-alarm fire on the edge of Oakland Chinatown at a business aptly named the "Chinese Market". Why complicate things?
Max put me to bed last night and awoke me this morning. His intentions were good; mine less so:
I awoke, felt ambitious, walked, ran errands, walked, then succumbed to the backlash of the combined outrage of body and mind by enjoying throwback meals at lunch and dinner. You'd think I could be smarter than me, wouldn't you? Obviously not...
Well, then, if I cannot conquer myself, at least I can make a good run at the garage. I promised myself that I would master it before the end of the year; now that time fast approaches. I need to match speeds... More important, these ramblings need to take on clearer definition.
There was a Special Statewide Election, after which the governor admitted that his wife had advised against it, though he neither heeded her then nor apologizes now.
Bill Reilly used his position as a pundit on national radio to invite terrorists to attack San Francisco and destroy Coit Tower; exactly what sort of solid citizenship does he think he's modeling for the next generation that he purports to so dearly cherish?
There are new hirings at United Airlines, which means that my frequent flyer miles should last through the upcoming holiday season...
There was a 4-alarm fire on the edge of Oakland Chinatown at a business aptly named the "Chinese Market". Why complicate things?
Max put me to bed last night and awoke me this morning. His intentions were good; mine less so:
I awoke, felt ambitious, walked, ran errands, walked, then succumbed to the backlash of the combined outrage of body and mind by enjoying throwback meals at lunch and dinner. You'd think I could be smarter than me, wouldn't you? Obviously not...
Well, then, if I cannot conquer myself, at least I can make a good run at the garage. I promised myself that I would master it before the end of the year; now that time fast approaches. I need to match speeds... More important, these ramblings need to take on clearer definition.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Im spending this day
I’m spending this day
Making my way
Through caffeine withdrawal
It’s just so hard
To go out in the yard
And play with my trowel
The rain has ceased
The sun’s been released
But my brain remains fogbound
Though my head aches
Whatever it takes
I mustn’t flinch at every sound
I hear my sons scratching
They hear the latch catching
And then they’re outward bound
They have such energy
Such desire to roam free
As long as I’m around
But though I try to read
Or mount an effort for any other deed
I just doze off . . . repeatedly
Making my way
Through caffeine withdrawal
It’s just so hard
To go out in the yard
And play with my trowel
The rain has ceased
The sun’s been released
But my brain remains fogbound
Though my head aches
Whatever it takes
I mustn’t flinch at every sound
I hear my sons scratching
They hear the latch catching
And then they’re outward bound
They have such energy
Such desire to roam free
As long as I’m around
But though I try to read
Or mount an effort for any other deed
I just doze off . . . repeatedly
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Once More
Once More
Once more into the City, dear friends, once more into the breach I plunged. It’s amazing how smooth the drive can be when one simply has sufficient passengers to benefit from the designated carpool lanes. Parking, of course, still bites, but that’s still one less challenge and frankly, the cost of parking becomes comparable to the cost of transporting all those passengers.
The day was unseasonably warm, a perfect day (and night) for celebrating Halloween outdoors. All day long people in costume could be seen throughout the City. By sunset such folk were taking over the streets. It was like being in a horror flick like Night of the Living Dead or something: surreal. Morning brought news that there had only been two shootings, however, down from 2002’s four stabbings in the streets. It’s good to know that street violence is decreasing. . .
The drive back through rush hour traffic, deceptive because of the darkness that has resulted from the switching of the clocks, was a flashback to half-remembered frustrations, but it provided just the transition to enhance appreciation of the difference in atmosphere here in the new neighborhood. Here the 25 m.p.h. speed limit is actually honored, and last night it was even more carefully followed. Everywhere there were parents and children out in full force, mostly in costume. There were almost as many houses decorated as one might reasonably expect for Christmas, energy costs notwithstanding. Fortunately, there did not seem to be much evidence of animal abuse in the form of four-footed costumers, at least not around here. . .
This morning also brought clear evidence that walking all over the City does not adequately offset consistently eating in the City’s finer dining establishments. . . Fortunately, candy is not one of my indulgences, so last evening’s enterprises should not be a factor here, though leftovers can sometimes be dangerous simply because of proximity.
This morning saw a heartwarming farewell between the Boys and their “Aunty Carol”, who is even now winging her way back across the Pacific to her four-footed son, Oscar, the canine cousin. JJ continues to sniff the bedding this indulgent lady has left behind. He will miss her, even though he does not care for the smell of rubber on the new toys she left behind. Max simply sees a return to normalcy; he is the more reserved of the two.
My toes tingle
My feet bark
All I want to do today
Is park
My head aches
My nose and eyes run
I’m feeling miserable
Though I welcome the sun
Never before
Do I remember an assault
Of allergies;
Am I at fault?
I’ve cleaned the house
I’ve changed my clothes
I’ve raked the leaves
And run the hose
It’s time to stop
And think again
What else to clean
In this pigpen
Once more into the City, dear friends, once more into the breach I plunged. It’s amazing how smooth the drive can be when one simply has sufficient passengers to benefit from the designated carpool lanes. Parking, of course, still bites, but that’s still one less challenge and frankly, the cost of parking becomes comparable to the cost of transporting all those passengers.
The day was unseasonably warm, a perfect day (and night) for celebrating Halloween outdoors. All day long people in costume could be seen throughout the City. By sunset such folk were taking over the streets. It was like being in a horror flick like Night of the Living Dead or something: surreal. Morning brought news that there had only been two shootings, however, down from 2002’s four stabbings in the streets. It’s good to know that street violence is decreasing. . .
The drive back through rush hour traffic, deceptive because of the darkness that has resulted from the switching of the clocks, was a flashback to half-remembered frustrations, but it provided just the transition to enhance appreciation of the difference in atmosphere here in the new neighborhood. Here the 25 m.p.h. speed limit is actually honored, and last night it was even more carefully followed. Everywhere there were parents and children out in full force, mostly in costume. There were almost as many houses decorated as one might reasonably expect for Christmas, energy costs notwithstanding. Fortunately, there did not seem to be much evidence of animal abuse in the form of four-footed costumers, at least not around here. . .
This morning also brought clear evidence that walking all over the City does not adequately offset consistently eating in the City’s finer dining establishments. . . Fortunately, candy is not one of my indulgences, so last evening’s enterprises should not be a factor here, though leftovers can sometimes be dangerous simply because of proximity.
This morning saw a heartwarming farewell between the Boys and their “Aunty Carol”, who is even now winging her way back across the Pacific to her four-footed son, Oscar, the canine cousin. JJ continues to sniff the bedding this indulgent lady has left behind. He will miss her, even though he does not care for the smell of rubber on the new toys she left behind. Max simply sees a return to normalcy; he is the more reserved of the two.
My toes tingle
My feet bark
All I want to do today
Is park
My head aches
My nose and eyes run
I’m feeling miserable
Though I welcome the sun
Never before
Do I remember an assault
Of allergies;
Am I at fault?
I’ve cleaned the house
I’ve changed my clothes
I’ve raked the leaves
And run the hose
It’s time to stop
And think again
What else to clean
In this pigpen
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