Ramblings of Max's P.U.

Same Verse

2011-04-08T15:31:00.000-07:00

It's 2011, but it feels like yesterday. The entrenched political parties that have ground our country to this impasse continue to sling accusations and blame at each other as the clock ticks down. Clearly both parties are content to destroy the financial credibility of our nation, having already allowed their exploitative peers to loot the coffers.

Time for sensible folk to turn off the televisions, computers, mobile devices, and head for the beach, the theaters, the fast food joints, the fine dining establishments, the sporting venues, the malls...

Just how necessary or important is the federal government? Guess we're about to find out, or so they hope...

Fools, them and us all.

2010-06-11T13:01:00.000-07:00

So much depressing news, so little desire to attend to any of it. There's oil sludge that is changing our way of life, whether or not we realize it; there are wars and rumors of war, (as always, actually); there are vitriolic election campaigns expending enough resources to fix the problems the respective candidates are promising to fix once they are elected - yeah, right - just take that campaign money and fix the problems now, so much more useful and persuasive to me than all this mudslinging going on...

The oil issue may well prove to be as significant as major climate changes or shifting tectonic plates, at least insomuch as it's consequences impact human society and global ecology.

I have posited before and will repeat now that this planet will survive our follies; it is we who have the most to lose. Should our ecological system have to strike a new balance, it will. That balance need not include viability for human existence. How important will the bottom line of anyone's spreadsheets be then?

Too Much TV

2010-03-03T09:34:00.000-08:00

People say one shouldn't watch too much tv, and now that I've been exposed to so much CNN, I have to agree. Seems like there's been a shakeup at CNN recently, and I don't think much of the current lineup of anchors, though I'm glad enough that at least one is evidently gone for good. What's left, though, seems to lean toward the inane, the melodramatic, and the obsessed - with trivialities and ratings (that's redundant, isn't it?).

The proper way to watch tv is via some version of DVR or download that allows one to select programming, omit crass commercials (if not the no less subtle but surely shorter product placement integrations), and pause, rewind, fast-forward, and delete at will.

I have observed that as programming and access rapidly morph for the upcoming generation, traditional tv sets marketed to older viewers are simply exploding in screen size. One can now watch/interact with feeds either live or canned on viewing surfaces ranging from itty bitty to larger than one might have domicile space for housing such monstrosities. All I can do is dream of being able to afford a house that can hold the screen of my dreams . . . while I fend off incipient signs of carpal tunnel from extensive use of my handheld devices . . .

Perhaps, as Shannon suggests, the solution is less viewing time . . . no, that can't be it; can it? Can it - yes! that's the solution . . . packrats, anyone?

Small Claims and Other Nuisances

2009-10-22T15:42:00.000-07:00

There's a commercial for Home Depot running on television these days that suggests doing one's own tiling is so much simpler, smoother, and more cost effective than hiring a professional. Before my very first adventure with a professional general contractor, I would have scoffed, knowing full well what I know not. Now, as I watch the ad, however, I see glimpses of what I watched done over the course of a couple of days and I realize the truth of the matter, now that I have seen the deed demonstrated...

And oh what an expensive tutelage that has been!

- There was the eager estimate, followed by the startled delay.
- There was the unexpected extra work followed by the inevitable additional contracting for unanticipated services.
- There was the one day only employee who thought himself a freelancer and was therefore cut adrift, leaving a hefty portion of work unbegun, never mind unfinished.
- There was the mad scramble to find others who would fulfill the terms of the contract (should not have been my problem).
- There was the earnest and meticulous (read slow) weekend and holiday work done by lone operators.

All followed by the unexpected subpoena to small claims court, a summons that cannot be ignored.

But everyone was very nice, and several were very cute, which really should count for something, shouldn't it?

But evidently the subpoena was for show as testimony from me was deemed irrelevant and therefore not allowed - which I coulda told anyone who'd listen...

Evidently I need to work on my screening skills. See, I thought I should cut the fellow some slack cuz he's not cute, and I didn't want my innate prejudice to color my judgment... which, it turns out, was on the money... not that I ever listen to me... why should I, after all, if no one else does? ;->

Canonization

2009-10-11T20:31:00.000-07:00

Hottest news in Hawaii today, barring the weather of course, is the canonization of Father Damien, who dedicated his life to working with the lepers of Molokai until and after he himself contracted Hansen's Disease. Today in Rome (10:00 pm HST last night) Pope Benedict the numeral conferred sainthood on the man. (Can you tell I'm not Roman Catholic?)

There have been news clips of the Hawaii contingent participating in a private mass yesterday, singing Hawaiian hymns as part of the service. One cannot help but wonder whether or not there was any discussion or fear over allowing such pagan-sounding strains to echo through the hallowed halls. Personally, I thought it was really cool, but then, I always love to hear hearty Hawaiian strains abroad. (And I don't mean the only song some folks think Brother Iz ever recorded, that froggy anthem...)

Father Damien really was a cool dude, working tirelessly and evidently without expectation or requirement of earthly reward. He even went on working among his people after he himself contracted the disease. That's dedication - though to be fair, where else was he going to go? Still, he didn't have to keep working; he could have flopped down and bellyached, as so many did and do.

What's perhaps a little more cynicism-engendering is the sudden recent flow of ads in conjunction with his canonization... Eh, sure and it's the American way...

Fearmongers

2009-09-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

As part of the fallout and follow-up from South Carolina Representative Joe Wilson's faux pas last evening during President Barack Obama's address to the joint Congress:

Republican Minority Leader John Boehner ... suggested some Americans were terrified by the administration’s health care and budget proposals.

“I believe that people ought to be respectful, that we ought to have civil discourse in America, but don't underestimate the amount of emotion that people are feeling,” the GOP leader told reporters. “Americans are frustrated. They're angry. And most importantly, they're scared to death. They're scared to death that the country that they grew up in is not going to be the country that their kids and grandkids grew up in.”

Seriously, is the American in which we now live the country that our own grandparents inhabited? Would we even want to live in such a place ourselves?

Been reading Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series, and I have to say that there's no way this 20-21st century entity has any desire whatsoever to live in the same atmosphere and culture that my forebears endured. Personally, I like indoor plumbing, fast cars, fast food, brain-numbing network television, endless reruns on cable, 24/7 Internet access...

I have no desire to spend the bulk of my time and efforts hunting and harvesting, making and mending. I think the 7/11 concept is brilliant, and I want more immediate gratification, not less. Why on earth would I want to live in the same land that my ancestors inhabited?

More to the point, why would I wish the ills of our present society on the next generation? I grew up with the understanding that my parents worked so frigging hard so that I wouldn't have to do likewise. I studied hard in school so that my life and the lives of any offspring I might produce might have an even richer, more fulfilling range of opportunities from which to carve out their own experiences. So why on earth would a seemingly intelligent adult charged with the fashioning of said future by means of legislation desire to trap the youth who are our future in our past?

Go figure.

Really?!?!?

2009-09-03T18:40:00.000-07:00

This morning's casually caught news article suggests that there are those within the U.S. military who consider paying the Taliban protection money to forestall attacks a reasonable investment. Well, there is a history within this country on a civil level of such behavior... Somehow, though, it does not seem possible that such behavior will sit any better with contemporary society than it did with early and mid-twentieth century America when it became widespread knowledge. On the other hand, there are a number of films glorifying violence that suggest that it was not the many but the few, or even just one, who made the difference and ended the practice by taking a stand against acceptance of such practices. Is that what is required even now?

It is difficult to believe that today's members of the military, raised on vigilante films, would blithely turn a blind eye to such malfeasance. Of course, today's volunteers don't necessarily join for patriotic fervor, any more than volunteers of any era have...

Huh.

New Month Old News

2009-09-01T16:22:00.000-07:00

Nothing of note comes to mind as I listen to the news: fire, abduction, abuse, war, death... Perhaps I should change the channel, try some different sources for new material. Perhaps I should be content to lose myself in unrelated writings for awhile... except that my muddy mind insists on seeing parallels with the present day, with the world in which I live and move and breathe, with everything I read, watch, hear - most irritating, and not just to those around me, either. Ah well...

Perhaps the changing of the seasons will bring new ideas. Certainly it has brought new experiences to this old house.

And Now... We're Back

2009-08-31T14:54:00.000-07:00

Nearly a week of mourning, this time with less cynicism simply because the public figure was a politician of note from one of the most publicly tragic families in the nation. Guess it helps that Kennedy died from disease rather than drug overdose...

Still, the official media mourning is done and they're back to sensational news stories. What is wrong with these people? Granted, sensationalism sells and garners ratings, but must they be so enthusiastic in their coverage?

Wait - I know the answer to this one...

Has It Been Since Tuesday?

2009-08-29T03:36:00.000-07:00

The news has been replete with coverage of the passing of Senator Edward M. Kennedy, youngest of the nine offspring of Joseph and Rose Kennedy of Massachusetts. The youngest and least promising of four sons and five daughters, Kennedy required nearly half a century to achieve the acclaimed stature of his older male siblings. Still, folk are quick to point out that while the elder brothers were all about promises cut short, the youngest, least promising of the brood has proven to be the most productive, if only because he has achieved the greatest longevity. Give a fellow enough time, anything can happen - and has. Good for him.

All the potential in the world is for naught without fulfillment; all an individual's flaws can be overlooked if they prove to be stepping stones to insight, maturity, greatness.

GW was an indifferent scholar whose presidency was of like tenor; Teddy, expelled from Harvard for cheating, does not seem ever to have demonstrated indifference - with the result that he has a lifetime of achievements in legislation to which people now point as the only sensible way to view reality.

(Just look at all the things Claire, Bree, & Roger take for granted, despite having departed prior to most of the youngest Kennedy's notable achievements.) ;->

Gotta Love ‘Em

2009-08-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

Listening to political news these days is reminiscent of watching Saturday morning cartoons as a child: there’s a real need for suspension of disbelief in order to be able to follow the various stories without finding oneself persistently distracted by conflicting details and improbabilities.

Take, for instance, the primary argument for putting health care reform on hold: the cost is deemed to be prohibitive in the current economic climate. Okay, so let’s wait until there is more widespread prosperity. Meanwhile, those who cannot afford healthcare because of pre-existing conditions, unemployment, or underemployment will, like chaff, blow away, thus naturally easing the strain on the current health care system. Once that occurs, surely health care will be more affordable for the survivors, yes?

Likewise, those who recently threatened senior citizens with the now debunked notion of Death Panels, are staunch in their defense of the current system, calling it free choice. Have they somehow missed the spate of movies last decade and the news stories this decade, all about how insurance agencies have been playing a disturbing waiting game, denying coverage for the desperately ill until the claims stop because the claimants are deceased? Why, yes, surely it must be better to be ripped off and left to die by private enterprise rather than non-starting government dictates.

Am I missing something?

Probably.

I’ve always been a little light on attention to details, or so I’ve been informed, reliably or otherwise…

Noise in the News

2009-08-24T17:36:00.000-07:00

The truth of the matter is that legal change is and always has been intentionally slow, ponderous even. That's the way the Founding Fathers set things up, precisely so that this nation would not be so susceptible to the willful capriciousness of individuals briefly holding power (elected officials), nor readily vulnerable to the wiles of self-serving lobbyists. At least, that's what I think I was taught in my tender formative years (high school Civics and Government classes).

Of course, that doesn't sit at all well with those born of the Instant Gratification era, i.e., everyone not yet eligible for an Aricept prescription...

Add to the mix short speak, short attention spans, large egos, and voracious corporate appetites for ratings and profits - and you get muddy thinking, intemperate speech, and short fuses. And yet we need to be grateful that we are also guaranteed free speech, foolish though we may deem much of it.

The protection of free speech, of course, is predicated on the theory that those who actually participate in the political process are possessed of effective critical thinking skills, while those who lack such gifts also lack the wherewithall to act, effectively or otherwise. This, of course, is where the old adage, "A little knowledge is dangerous," enters the picture...

We live in an era wherein individuals are able to surf the Net and post indiscriminately, without the necessity of actually being able to think clearly. Worse, we live in a time when those who can think clearly do not necessarily share one standard of moral behavior. The results are self-evident.

So we have individuals speaking for the mass media as a whole, or at least being given credit for doing so. We have a growing assumption that Michael Jackson was murdered, that someone will have to pay, and that it is the business of the public to care. We have public personalities making rash, inflammatory pronouncements and well-funded lobbyists launching inflammatory ad campaigns, and it doesn't even matter which perspective they represent - the target audiences are buying the swill in sufficient quantities that public opinion, never a homogenous thing anyway, is becoming so polarized that nation's representatives are becoming paralyzed, more fearful of political fallout than failure to effect civic reform.

Funny thing is that everyone proposing solutions is right: private sectors need to step up already existing efforts to help out, new private efforts need leadership and initiative, government needs to intervene where private enterprise refuses to police and/or reform itself, and the flower power of legislators' youth needs to be implemented as reality, not merely nostalgia available for crass commercial exploitation.

No, no, I'm not advocating a hippy state; but the idealism of the 60s should have had sufficient time to mull and mature into useful, functional applications by now. There should be something more than sappy music and faded memories to show for all that energy and brainpower that was on display, that changed the way the whole world looks and functions. What's more, that gifted generation has had time to produce eager offspring who have produced ever more gifted offspring - so where's the new Bounce?

Why so much white noise?
Where's the pudding proof?
Not just all the poop...

Losing Touch

2009-08-20T15:48:00.000-07:00

A friend on a multiple city business trip shares a widespread disaffection for interminably oppressive heat. Seriously, is this not less expensive than a spa membership, this indoor outdoor sauna sensation?

Still, I am troubled by the revelation that so many downtown cities evidently have sliding sidewalks encased in clear tubes that allow connectivity between buildings regardless of meteorological conditions outside. Why troubled, you may well ask. It does seem a fine sign of progress that civilization is able to provide comfort and ease even in the most inclement of weather, be it too hot and dry or too cold and wet. True, one can travel with ease and keep paperwork unblemished... still, there seems something sad in the loss of connection with something as simple as fresh air. Granted, downtown air tends not to be quite so fresh nor so enjoyable as one might reasonably expect of the great outdoors. Still, there is a sad surrender, much like the ways in which we city dwellers have lost touch with food sources and thus with the natural cycles of life death and renewal.

Think I've been reading too much Gabaldon lately...

Rambling Thru

2009-08-20T03:36:00.000-07:00

So many famous people dying these days, regular folk too, though with far less hoopla... People arguing over whether or not the American healthcare system is in need of reform, let alone how any reform might practically be managed... Media eagerly egging on opposition voices to take umbrage that Obama has invoked "Biblical language" to make his point - how, I ask, is contemplating providing for those who are incapable of providing for themselves not a topic for "Biblical" language? Isn't social assistance all about being one's brother's keeper, about extending a loving hand to those less fortunate, those in need? How is such language out of order? How is the concept of caring for others not fundamentally Christian? Eh...

Time Keeps on Slipping

2009-06-05T15:09:00.000-07:00

There's a song from my youth that says "Time keeps on slipping slipping slipping into the future..." Hard to argue with that.

This morning was so full of productivity. I thought I had the world on a downhill pull. Funny how quickly the day (and the caffeine fueling one) can slip away... Now as I look at the clock, I realize that I have perhaps spent more time than originally intended on some other blog sites. What's more, this, too, is extruding personal bellybutton fuzz from the ends of my erstwhile fingertips. Ah well...

So... starting up with writing again, even with CNN droning endlessly in the background, doesn't seem to be generating any interesting thoughts for me...

Sure, it's a great tragedy that the Air France FLT #447 went down en route from Brazil to Paris; and yes, it's both interesting and disturbing that images and soundbites of Obama in Buchenwald are being juxtaposed with images and soundbites of Hitler addressing his followers prior to the eruption of the Third Reich on Europe in particular and the world in general, especially in the wake of Obama's speech in Cairo yesterday... and yes, I do still think that Rick Sanchez lacks substance, proud as he is of being the first to conduct a "national conversation", just because he agreed to try out the incorporation of some new technological toys that caught the eye of one of his bosses (was it only last summer?) - he's still way too defensive of perceived slights from other media personalities... Much less riveting to me are the peculiar circumstances under which the corpse of David Carradine was recently discovered hanging in his hotel room in Bangkok, Thailand... Sure, I was just slightly older than the target audience that raptly watched the tv series, Kung Fu, but regardless of age, the appropriation of Bruce Lee's brilliant idea by a haole, and such a disrespectful and talent-free one at that, has always and will forever offend me. Ah well...

So where is the deep end of the pool into which I wish to jump?

Perhaps the most engaging ideas I have encountered today come from Lois McMaster Bujold's MySpace page, wherein she has been reviewing her nonfiction readings. Clearly these are the sorts of things that have been informing her own mental meanderings and underlie her ruminations within the novels I so greatly enjoy reading and rereading. I am in need of mental refreshing, and I need new wells into which to plunge my musty muzzle. Perhaps these suggestions will help. :-)

Sotomayor, et al

2009-06-03T11:53:00.000-07:00

In the air there is much ado these days regarding the upward mobility of the educated products of the previously impoverished generations. Rick Sanchez of CNN presents himself as a success story similar to the first Latina candidate to the Supreme Court, and indeed, he is.

What, after all, do those born to privilege expect several generations after the initial egalitarian movements in education? Was there no expectation that the brightest and best of those provided equal opportunity would in the fullness of time rise, like all cream, to "the top"?

Foremost, of course, is the recently elected president of the United States, Barack Obama. Here is a man born of a Kenyan exchange student whose American education began in Hawaii and culminated at Harvard; and a daughter of itinerant entrepreneurs originally from Kansas but whose travels took them to the Northwest and on to Hawaii, the daughter going on to Indonesia before returning to Hawaii. Is it any wonder that their son should continue the family tradition of widely traveling, from Hawaii to the White House and on around the world in search of world peace and national economic prosperity?

Not one to rest on his laurels and gloat over those still on the rise, Obama has reached out to others of the formerly and currently underrepresented to join him in leading our nation. A quick canvass of his Cabinet nominees and administrative appointees provides ample proof of this. Sotomayor is just a very high profile example of this ongoing policy.

Not to be left behind and representative of parallel success stories, Rick Sanchez is now pointing out his own ethnic background and personal professional achievements. Good for him. He is representative of the changing landscape of American leadership.

I do find it fascinating that CNN seems to have been stepping up its advancement and featuring of nonwhite reporters in key anchor positions ever since Obama's increasingly successful campaign, culminating in his election. CNN promotions seem to have coincided with his inauguration. One mustn't be too cynical in the face of warranted success. The doors have opened; may they never reclose.

What's Really Important Today

2009-03-20T15:57:00.001-07:00

There's much ado in the news today, but do I care? The only thing that really matters today is that the final episode of Battlestar Galactica, revised for the 21st century, is airing this evening. Fortunately, I am in a time zone that does not need to wait till nightfall. Better still, I am on a schedule that does not mind. See, there can be an upside to lack of gainful employment, onerous as ungainful employment may be...

The original series aired during my first years out of college, when I was beginning my great adventure also known as independent adulthood; hence, I was able to watch what I would. As such, I chose to fritter away my time on that first series, waiting hopefully for the promise of the premise that never quite materialized. Now, on the other side of my work experiences, I find myself without quite the same ease of access to indiscriminate programming selections, even as the re-envisioned series has finally found writers worthy of its promised premise. Tonight the series will end as it should have the first time around, instead of spinning off from ponderous to ludicrous, although I did just see an ad threatening a prequel series... But I digress (as usual)

This is a most excellent time to be alive, global economy notwithstanding. After all, the first series also emerged in a time of economic recession. Coincidence? Hm... Anyway, now is a time when reruns are readily available, when cable channels regularly hold series fests preceding finales (or just to entice holiday viewing), when catching up with missed episodes can be done online, when episodes are available both on dvd and for downloading from online distributors. So coming to the series even as it is ending is not a problem, aside from trying to grasp the scope before tonight's big sendoff.

It's all good: I regularly play catch-up with series after they become popular, either midstream or just as they are about to close out their original runs. Most recently there were the collected works of Roger Zelazny, the Harry Potter series, and now this. That's the epimethean in me.

My Turn for Cynicism

2009-03-18T16:10:00.001-07:00

The news is abuzz today with talk of righteous indignation over the awarding of incentive rewards, a.k.a. unmerited bonuses, to AIG, the insurance company that was allowed to grow too big for anyone's britches, anti-monopoly laws well circumvented (as they weren't the only kids on the block screwing every available pooch in the increasingly complicated global financial neighborhood). Truly we are long overdue for an overhaul of regulations, legislations, and governance last updated before too many of us were even a glimmer in anyone's eye.

But I digress (as usual)...

My cynicism today comes at the "breaking news" that the Obama administration knew about the awarding of the protested incentive payments last week, at least a weekend before Monday's official protestations of outrage. Some news anchors were almost wetting their pants with excitement as field reporters eagerly sought the source of the disavowed clause that provides the loophole by which AIG was able to cut the checks that distributed the disputed "bonuses" in the first place. One of my hypotheses was that some ambitious clerk had slipped the clause into the formal write-up of the legislation after the final draft was submitted for preparation of publication. Then came word that the Executive branch had foreknowledge. This, of course, supports my faith that someone there actually read the final copy before signing, just as several earnest reporters did in feverish preparation for the official signing following a three-day weekend.

Now, however, I have another theory, one that I don't really believe but which makes for interesting speculation and possible fodder for post-term publication: what if the Administration knowingly let AIG cut the checks precisely because it anticipated the public outrage? The checks had to be distributed in order to fulfill the letter of the law and prevent potential civil suits. Now, however, public opinion is available to coerce the return of at least some of those funds, while the financial giant that has dipped so irksomely into public resources is offered up as a cautionary scapegoat for all others in the financial world who have been sitting on funds and toying with creatively self-serving ideas. And who has wielded the sword of public opinion as effectively in the last half century as our very own fearless leader? Or is someone else hoping to wield him? Hm...

I gotta get a life...

Just No Pleasing Some Folks

2009-03-17T16:21:00.000-07:00

Listening to the news incessantly can be irritating. Yes, stating the obvious does seem foolish, but there you have it.

When Obama was running for office, critics said he was inexperienced and naive. When he took office, nay sayers continued to criticize both what he hadn't gotten to yet and what he proposed; that continues. Evidently the courtship was so intense that they've no desire to await any sort of honeymoon period.

Then there are those in Congress for whom no concessions will suffice. Cooperation is a word they understand they need to use, but matching action seems beyond their reach, and always will be, much like fruit and drink to the Greek Tantalus. They prefer to offer themselves up as impediments, their only proffered resolutions to be the lack thereof...

Then there's the afternoon tv critic who simply refuses to be pleased. Evidently the government is not tough enough on criminals and illegal aliens, not adequately staffed or supplied, too involved in job creation, too bureaucratic. The economy is recovering too slowly because investors don't trust what they're hearing and seeing, yet when investors step forward, interested in the creation of energy alternatives, they are unwelcome because they are not American - you know, those sitting on the fence, feeling the pinch, wiped out by recent events...

Nothing's ever right, no one's good enough, nothing's gonna get better...

Okay, Pollyanna isn't what I'm advocating here, but would a little more even-handedness be so terrible? Probably, for such critics' ratings, anyway...

Who's cynical?

Big Brother for Sale

2009-02-07T15:28:00.000-08:00

Who among us hasn't read George Orwell's 1984, either in high school or in college? One of my earliest recollections of the text is of wondering how the government managed to install so many devices in so many private locales and at what cost. Well, now I have my answer.

Just saw a commercial advertising the increasingly ubiquitous home security equipment now available for purchase and installation by concerned families. There is a distinct sense that we live in an embattled society wherein one's abode is, indeed, a fortress, or should be. What right-thinking parent would dare to leave their loved ones and valuables unprotected for even an instant? The need for 24-hour surveillance equipment should be self-evident, or should it?

Am I, in fact, as naive as Cheney believes the newly elected President to be? Is the threat of physical danger so imminent and all-pervasive that failure to take preemptive measures dooms those still foolish enough to trust in common decency as the rule rather than the exception? Is only might able to make right, and not vice versa? After all, King Arthur and his Round Table not only fell, they have disappeared into the mists of legend...

And yet, as much as I love cool tech toys, I cannot bring myself to actively participate in this widespread paranoia. I cannot and will not actually pay to invite Big Brother into my personal living spaces. Like Underdog, he's far too truly everywhere these days as it is (and I liked Underdog; BB not so much).

A Better Take

2008-10-11T12:19:00.000-07:00

The news article linked here, , finally reports John McCain acting the hero he has been attempting to portray himself over the course of this campaign. He once said, "Better to lose a war than a campaign"; now it seems he finally realizes that it is better to lose a campaign than one's honor, which surely has been more than adequately besmirched in recent days and weeks by increasingly rabid radical supporters. Those who see McCain as representative of demagoguery and hate mongering do their idol a disservice. Perhaps McCain reclaims his honor too late for this campaign, but it is never too late to do so for the man himself.

Seriously, if McCain had actually gone to Washington and fought the bailout bill instead of desperately flailing before attempting to assist in its passage, if he had called out the hate mongers when they first surfaced, if he had resisted the easy path of turning GOP young guns loose on his campaign when his numbers first floundered, I might have thought him enough of a leader to respect and at least consider.

Now at least, I am once more willing to consider the merits of the man who has actually contributed much to the legislation some of us take for granted today.

Still not good enough for president when reflex responses matter so much more, but an honorable legislator, truly.

Monday Freefall Part Next

2008-10-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

It's the first Monday in October, but instead of leading off with stories about the Supreme Court opening a new round of sessions, the news is full of more freefall on Wall Street and its counterparts around the globe. It's good to be able to go global, isn't it?

In case anyone is confused, the legislation so urgently demanded by Bush and supported by both presidential candidates is intended to assist the lending industry, a different beast than the Wall Street that so many citizens were so eager to assure their spooked Representatives they did not want to help bail out. Now while I'm all for helping to alleviate credit debt, I remain leery of anything recommended by G.W., especially anything urgently recommended by G.W....

And it's good to know that both Democrat and Republican candidates are adamantly for change and for blowing off lobbyists, as long as said folk bow out gracefully while still leaving their ample donations at the door on their ways out...

So where was all this vaunted leadership when that lovely bill was being crafted? Where is there evidence of direct assistance to the financially distressed in the streets (literally), as opposed to continuing to rely on the theory of trickle down economics, which seems to be at the heart of the idea of buying up bad debt? And why are we only now hearing about the private companies that will be serving as "economic experts" who will be doing the actually buying and processing of said bad debts?

Personally, I'm sick and tired of having my perfectly good credit card debts being sold to increasingly rapacious holders who have consistently raised the interest rates on outstanding debt. I've given up on seeing any end in sight, aside from the promised lighted tunnel, after which I won't care anyway. But enough and too much about me -

Now that the national election campaigns are entering the final month, the rainy season is beginning and mud is flying. As a teacher I used to sit in conferences with parents of children who had been reprimanded for fighting, only to hear said parents averring that while they had taught their children not to start fights, they had also personally taught their children to make sure at least to bloody if not outright knock down and out anyone who attacked them first, either verbally or physically. Now I hear the same from an otherwise high-minded sounding candidate. All I can say is grrrrrrrr

Of course, I realize that turning the other cheek, while Christ-like, is believed to have cost at least two or three previous candidates the presidency, which I guess is why true Christians make such poor and unsuccessful politicians. Equally disturbing is the observation that those most vocally professing to be followers of Christ are the ones leading the character assassinations. IMHO, they give true believers a bad name. Of course, that's nothing new: the Roman Emperor Nero is credited with being the first high profile fellow to villify Christians, while his successors managed to do so from within the Church. Ah well...

Jesus said, "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's, and unto God that which is God's." That doesn't seem to invite political activism on any level, certainly not in His name. That's my story and I'm sticking to it (as Steve Kerr famously said in a Chicago park back in the early 90s).

Again, Already

2008-09-21T00:34:00.000-07:00

It's the Saturday ending the wildest economic roller coaster ride this country has experienced in my lifetime, culminating in what can only be called the nationalizing (read socializing) of three major financial institutions, and already members of Congress are passing about accusations and innuendo about politicking over rapid passage of the sweeping proposal presented them. As I read the aforelinked article, I could not help but be glad that someone is pausing to read and think before signing off ahead of the drying ink. Seriously, would you rubber stamp a proposal (and with such rapidity) that has emerged from the office of the one we have for too long called simply, G. W.? Is this proposal, in fact, the salvation of our American economy and way of life as we know it, or is it just another grab for power in an opportune moment such as has happened repeatedly in this land of exploitation at every opportunity? The term, "sweeping powers" sends shivers up and down my spine. I cannot but approve a closer scrutiny of conditions that will quite possibly protect those who sought to benefit at the expense of the majority, and who evidently still do...

And....

Does anyone besides those directly affected remember that we began the week facing the monumental task of picking up the pieces after the devastation of Hurricane Ike, that monster storm that has cut a wide swath across the nation, not just the impressive devastation through Texas? That was the promise of a whopping bill as well. What are those in D.C. thinking these days? Are they? Or are they experiencing more knee-jerk reactions such as those in evidence following the 9/11/01 attacks?

Cynical? Who me?

Birthing Biases

2008-08-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

Today's most disturbing news item amidst word of war and rumors of war in distant Georgia is that several families in Kansas are suing a Roman Catholic parochial school because of an English only policy recently instituted in response to playground behavior problems that resulted in an expulsion. The students and families involved are all evidently either U.S. citizens or legal immigrants. The problem seems to stem from the fact that at least one of the students was using another language on the playground to make disparaging remarks about fellow classmates, faculty, and staff, thus inciting negative attitudes and behavior in others. Though the lawsuit was filed in May, it's making the news today because the the civil suit is commencing.

When I first heard the teaser for this story, I thought there was another battle brewing about bilingual education. Unfortunately, this is not such a simple case, for this involves the attempt of a private school to control the behavior of its students. It's not a public school, so the students are there by choice, not perforce. The students involved are native English speakers, so it's not a matter of denying them academic access or hindering their learning. And let's face it: kids talking smack is an ever-present problem, regardless of where they congregate.

On the other hand, whether the school is allowed to make and uphold its own policy or not, the fact that the issue has been raised is a problem. Schools need to be able to enforce discipline and private schools have the right to try to inculcate their chosen value system on their students, but does anyone have the right to try to control talk and thoughts, especially during free time in open spaces? It's all very disturbing.

Then there's the news today that the Spanish Olympic basketball team posed for a photo for a courier company that is one of the team's sponsors. The problem is multifaceted: the ad involves all the team members using their fingers to make slant-eyes and has been running daily for well over a month back in Spain; almost no one on the team or associated with the team sees a problem with this; nothing seems to be happening in response to the recent concerns raised by international journalists, the issue being viewed by the Spaniards as a tempest in a teapot.

So the change we seek for unity in a globally diverse world is still evidently a bit of a ways down the road, it seems.

Proof That Blonde Is a State of Mind

2008-08-12T15:28:00.000-07:00

Cokie Roberts, the ABC journalist who feels comfortable taking a cheerleading name into professional journalism, is reported in this morning's newspapers as characterizing Hawaii as "foreign" and "exotic", even though she admits to being aware that it is, in fact, the 50th state. She questions the wisdom of Barack Obama's decision to take a weeklong breather in the town of his birth and youth after a grueling year on the campaign trail, even though part of his stated purpose is to visit his aging grandmother and sister, who both still reside here. Ms. Roberts suggests that a man in serious pursuit of the presidency of the United States would be better off vacationing in an east coast resort such as Myrtle Beach. Is this professional journalist by any chance aware of the provincialism evident in such a perspective?

I never cease to be amazed that those who style themselves as cosmopolitan or at least sophisticated can be so oblivious of the narrowness of their own perceptions as to what constitutes "the world" and that which matters in it. Is the east coast the only relevant geographic arena in our country? Is anything to which one cannot drive beyond the bounds of acceptable?

I do remember the fuss and furor when Ronald Reagan set up a "West Coast White House" because he was desirous of occasionally returning to his California ranch and horses to get away from the hubbub of D.C. Lyndon Johnson and the Bushes have periodically returned to their Texas homes for rest, recreation, and even occasional political liaisons.

Still, since Hawaii is strategically positioned in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and claims the title of "Crossroads of the Pacific," is it not at least as well-placed, if not more so, than Washington, D.C. as things heat up in Georgia and the world turns its attention to Georgia?

The world's still a big place, albeit shrinking in perception daily. If one travels far enough, one circles back. The days of easy access only by cart or car are long past. Legislators travel from all fifty states to congregate and serve in the capital, and no one has serious problems with either travel or communications. If a sitting representative does not occasionally make it back home, the electorate wonders whether or not s/he remembers the roots from which such a representative came. Everyone else vying for leadership in this country discounts Hawaii as too distant and too insignificant to bother visiting during an election. It's nice to know that a native son has managed to take time, at least once, to come home and remember the family and friends who have contributed so much to the shaping of who and what he now is and hopes someday to be.

Going Bananas

2008-07-22T03:24:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've been here, so let's get right to it, shall we?

Went to a local multiplex this afternoon, figuring I'd see whatever wasn't sold out. I mention this little factoid as it clearly reflects the state of my expectations, or lack thereof...

As I was in a bit of a time crunch, Space Chimps promised to be a perfect combination of available, brief, and underadvertised; it fulfilled that promise. The audience was sparse, the laughter seemed primarily to come from me, (but I've been away from consistent film viewing for some time now,) but I found it a pleasant way to ease back into experiencing a theatrical airing of a movie.

Having just read the Yahoo reviews submitted by other viewers, I cannot help but notice how much the reviews remind me of the political rhetorc airing daily on CNN. There seems to be a very hard division between lovers and haters of this film, and I suspect I know where the lline lies.

I confess I understand why there are those who say all the characters were a bit annoying, even as I understand those who found the film to be cute. On the one hand, I love monkeys: I've never seen an entire group without at least one class clown and an appreciative audience within said gathering; on the other hand, I can see how those unable to ignore the anthropomorphizing simply want to slap the protagonist silly, get the girl drunk to loosen her up a bit and get the rod out of her rectum, and drop the stud muffin monkey into the nearest deepest pit. And yes, Jeff Daniels' villainous character is written with the depth of Dudley Doright's Dishonest John. But seriously, what can one expect going into a movie rated G? The ones I question are the ones who had problems with the language used.

Granted, the puns are groan-worthy corny, but some people like that sort of thing; my dad does, but I don't (exactly) judge him for it. He is, after all, from a different era/mentality/world than the one in which I live and move. Of course, that's a puritanical world in which sexual innuendo is picked up on highly sensitive radar that begs explanations by the innocent. While not everyone who appreciates corn will necessarily be offended by innuendo, those who will be offended won't like anything about this film.

Of course, those who dislike this film because they do not relate to or appreciate the criticism leveled at the protagonist's behavior are not those who will be offended by the innuendo. If anything, they will find the references too tame by far. In fact, there was one and only one comment that caused me to do a doubletake because it seemed so out of keeping with the general tone otherwise maintained throughout the film.

I think what irritated me more was that the protagonist's manifestations of the chip on his shoulder seemed all too real to me. Such characters are alive and well in our society, much too well. They strut and preen, show off and mouth off, and it's all considered normal, acceptable, conventional. The film dealt with this and all other problems much as has the Road Runner over the years. If one sympathizes with Wile E. Coyote or even merely abhors RR's violent solutions, one will find SC less than amusing.

Another way of looking at it, I think, is that this is reminiscent of Mel Gibson's Chicken Run, though I found the chimps more appealing than the hens for some reason.

When all is said and done, I just like monkey muzzles.

Mad for More

2008-06-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

Back to the Movies and it's been a delight. Got to see the fourth installment of Indiana Jones proved to be an attempted handoff to the next generation, something someone should suggest to Sylvester Stallone...

Handoff or not, formulaic or not, the film was satisfactory. It probably didn't hurt that I hadn't been in a theater since last year, but there you go. The pacing was swift, the dialogue punny, the situations ridiculous, the resolutions campy. What more can one ask of an Indy film?

Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, on the other hand, was so very highly touted and I had such great expectations of it. On the eve of my viewing, I was reliably informed that the new lead is tres cute, though way older... 26 or something like that... (tried to keep a straight face, really). True, there were two epic battles instead of just one: one for failure and one for success, as is proper for apprentices succeeding passing masters. Yes, young though William Moseley may be, this was, indeed, the passing of High King Peter the Magnificent, whose suffix should perhaps be omitted, as his sister so wisely suggests... I do think that the tension between Peter and Caspian is better illustrated in the film than I felt was fleshed out in the text, though again, it's been awhile since I've read the book. I particularly liked the mostly silent Edmund, who is growing up quite nicely, I think. Certainly he is far more intriguing silent than is the oh so virtuous and disgustingly righteous Lucy, whom I adore in the books and despise in this film - too much of a know-it-all this time around, for my taste. Can't say I was all that keen on Susan, either, though no doubt was left that she and Caspian had a non-thing going pretty hot and heavy... Too bad Tumnus is long gone - that MacAvoy had a nice, furry torso... Still, Reepicheep ... well, he's cuter in the book, too, though not by much. And who could help loving the DLF? Eh... Still, I did feel compelled to watch he first installment next day, just to refix my focus. Fun stuff.

What's next? Not sure, but definitely an air-conditioned theater is preferable in this heavy laden heat...

Another Month

2008-05-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

Another month has passed and much has happened.

Gas prices have gone through the roof, causing people finally to reconsider transportation alternatives, especially here in the good old U.S. of A. Let's face facts, though: if I was a poor cyclist before, impecuniousness is not going to improve my balance. So I guess it's back to the pedes God gave me, though they don't work quite as well as of yore, if perhaps as well as when I first received them over half a century ago...

Natural disasters have struck around the globe, from Myanmar and China to the American Midwest and most recently, California. If the cost of the California wildfire down Santa Cruz way has risen to some $10 million and there are over 34 million people residing in the state, isn't that less than 50 cents per person? Or is that not an appropriate way of thinking of the matter?

Daniel Radcliffe was evidently featured on the Rachael Ray talk show this morning, but I didn't get the memo until the last five minutes of the show, during which she was demonstrating the virtues of a warehouse-purchased pot roast dinner in these fiscally trying times...

Rambling does, indeed, seem to be what I am doing here today...

Checked out Facebook... found some addictive word games... sure wish I knew how to link all my blogs so that I don't have to keep thinking of different things to say for each... Something tells me this sort of rambling belongs on a different long-neglected blog...

Ah well...

Snape's Patronus

2008-04-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

So Snape's patronus is a Silver Doe, mate to James Potter's stag. One has to wonder how he feels when he realizes what Harry's patronus is and what is must mean about James. It makes his snide comment to Tonks even more ironic, though perhaps his sneer is as much for himself as for her.

Clearly Severus has never been able to get over his infatuation for Lily, the young neighborhood girl with whom he was able to share his delight in magic and impress with his superior knowledge. To be fair to Snape, it does seem that pretty much all the young lads were a little in love with Lily, so it wasn't just a selfish pleasure on his part. She was bright, vivacious, saucy, spunky, friendly, kind, young, and healthy. Like her son, she would probably have made a pleasant ingredient for a polyjuice potion. What more does youth want of youth?

Lily has what Severus does not: loving parents. She even has a sibling, though that does not necessarily seem to be something worthy of envy in this case... Still, young Severus is desperately alone and embattled in his emotionally and physically abusive household. Lily is the neighborhood ray of sunlight in his otherwise dark world. That he should cling to her even beyond her death is both sad and understandable. That he should be willing to sacrifice what is left of his life to protect her son, even one spawned of his most hated rival and enemy, says as much about the wretchedness of his life as it does about his valor and love for her.

The fact that Snape has a female patronus invites yet another line of thinking, though I do not wish to tread down any unworthy path here. Instead of going down the demeaning stereotypical interpretation of weakness at sight of his feminine patronus as Voldemort surely would have, I think, rather, that it is reflective of the ferocity of his protectiveness of Harry, deep down, despite all outward appearances to the contrary. There is, after all, no creature fiercer in nature than a mother protecting her young, as witnessed in Molly Weasley's duel with Bellatrix LeStrange. That same ferocity is evident in Snape's defense of Harry in spite of the youth's antagonism and the suspicions of the Dark Lord's minions.

One might leap to argue with the characterization of fierce here, but let me explain. Being an effective double agent requires a very special personality, one capable of duplicity at the deepest levels. This comes at a great price, however, for such a person can never fully, clearly, believably reveal self to others, any more than a chameleon can resist nature's demand to change in each new environment. Despite this, Snape remains true to his very death, only giving in to his desire to gaze into his love's eyes in the face of her son as he is breathing his last and giving up his oh so closely guarded secrets and memories.

Perhaps those malevolent looks Harry endures for six long years are as much Snape's desperate efforts to conceal his desire for Harry's lost mother as a reflection of his feelings for the father of whom the rest of Harry so irksomely reminds him...

Thus, the Silver Doe, and no apologies needed, except perhaps for the snip at Tonks, whose similarly evoked patronus is so much more macho... ;->

HP Immersion

2008-04-27T02:42:00.000-07:00

Has it only been 2 1/2 weeks since I dipped my head into the Harry Potter pensieve and found myself sucked into its universe once again? The total audio immersion has been a fantasy escape much needed and desired, though the periodic skips and skids of the cd recordings provided far too much unwanted intrusion from this mundane world to which I perforce now return, if ever so briefly.

I am, after all, only here to take another breath prior to resubmerging myself, this time into the video interpretation of the texts. I suspect this will only take 2-3 days, however, after which I will feel obliged to reread all the texts, having thoroughly confused myself as to which events belong to which medium.

This morning I reminisced delightedly on the reminder that the Ravenclaw dormitory requires not a password, but an astute response to a query that requires divergent thinking, or at least thinking. Hermione really would have found great pleasure in that house, though clearly she would have missed out on much fun and many physical adventures in exchange.

Okay, going back in. When I resurface, I shall probably ruminate further.

Media Muscle Flexing

2008-04-10T16:21:00.000-07:00

Is there any doubt as to which national presidential candidate is currently favored by the mainstream media? Not a day goes by without some sort of positive article being published, usually on the front page. This seems to be true on both paper and electronic pages, by the way.

I don't have a firm opinion regarding any particular candidate at present, though I have found myself leaning first one way, then another, as the campaign has wound its way up and down the length and breadth of this geographically vast nation of ours. What I do have a firm opinion about, however, is that I do not care to be railroaded by blatant shouting. I confess my hackles are going up as a sense of claustrophobia from perceived herding continues to assail me. Perhaps I should stop reading so much, though if I do that, how will I ever make up my already too malleable mind?

I suppose if I start scouring a greater variety of news sources, I'll start getting more varied perspectives. Perhaps greater confusion will ultimately lead me to some sense of clarity. At present, viewing the candidates puts me in mind of selecting produce: with so many similarities, how does one determine what is truly under the skin without peeling something open?

Fleeing Flights

2008-04-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

First Aloha Airlines goes belly up, then ATA swiftly follows, both citing rising fuel costs as part of the problem. Now the FAA's crackdown on safety inspections is causing American Airlines to cancel flights en masse. What's a commuter to do?

On the mainland, there are still trains, buses, and automobiles as alternative means of transportation, but here in the islands there is an increasing concern (at least in this locale) about the distinct possibility of being stranded on an undeserted island in the middle of the Pacific. What does that mean?

Like Gilligan's famous enclave, there are positives and negatives galore to this scenario. The weather is warm, the people are friendly... sort of... and the food is some of the best in the world, at least for this palate. On the other hand, my cats are "over there."

As this airline war of attrition continues and fuel prices mock would-be travelers, highlighting the failure of the outgoing administration to adequately address an issue that has been identified for most of my life, alternatives seem to be fast fading. Time has become a critical factor.

Where is Mighty Mouse when you need him to save the day? Or Underdog, for that matter? Auwe!

New Bond Film Raises Old Issue

2008-04-03T01:46:00.000-07:00

Yes, Daniel Craig has breathed fresh life into one of my favorite franchises that had gone seriously stale. For this I am grateful. The casting of Craig, however, may have been one of the few things the producers have done right in far too long.

The link above leads to an article about a mayor of a small rural town in Chile who drove onto one of the sets for the upcoming Bond film. The very first thing that struck me was the number and quality of the qualifications laid on this man before the article even got underway:

Yes, he is a mayor. That should suffice. Why is it necessary to indicate that the town is small? Why should it matter that it is rural? Does this reflect on the film? No, it belittles the man. To what end?

The title of the article titillates, the adjectives add fuel to the intended fire, and what should be the heart of the matter is buried so far down the article that many readers will, in all likelihood, never get there.

So what is the point? Yes, I seem to have buried it as well... The point is that this public official was making a political protest over the all too common practice of using one country's scenic locales to depict those of another country. The problem here is that this particular piece of land has been the bone of contention between two neighboring countries for over a century. How is it that the filmmakers failed to know this? Did they knowingly proceed? Somehow that seems worse, the willful fanning of controversial political flames.

A second point, more than merely secondary, is that the increased police presence in the town because of filming is reminiscent of one of the bloodiest and most brutal dictatorships in recent Chilean history. Again, the filmmakers seem callously, arrogantly oblivious of the society in which they are working as guests.

How is it that foreign filmmakers carry such clout that a man of such stature as a local mayor should be treated as a common criminal by police officers acting merely as hired security? In the United States, they would be off duty, moonlighting, without the authority necessary to arrest intruders. They would simply be present to deter or detain, as need be. True, Chile is not the U.S., and even in this country no one is above the law, but since when is protecting a film set license to oppress others, as this mayor has described? Of course, since when does a public official feel the need to make a spectacle of himself in order to make a point? Oh wait... I can answer that one...

Fictionalized Bios

2008-03-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

I confess: Kate Winslet does absolutely nothing for me in James Cameron's Titanic. Perhaps it's all that distracting water everywhere, or perhaps it's that I just don't buy the young di Caprio as a romantic lead. Whatever the reason, I've never really understood all the acclaim the actress has received over the years. Thus, I went into the viewing of Finding Neverland with expectations only of Johnny Depp, who has yet to disappoint me. It's always good, at least for me, to go in with muted expectations - Finding Neverland blew me away.

Depp, of course, does not disappoint, though Dustin Hoffman, as he so often does, offers such a marvelously quiet, matter-of-fact performance that I had to think about it to appreciate it properly. And I love to watch young boys at play, regardless of their ages, so that was fun. Freddie Highmore in particular was a pleasure to watch. It's not at all difficult to wonder why the Screen Actors Guild nominated his performance. It's a pity that his role conflates some of the brothers and is not, in fact, factual. Ah well...

Winslet was a surprise for me. I think I've always seen her as more matronly than anything else, so this role works well. Not being distracted by physical incongruities, I was finally able to appreciate what she brings to the performance itself. My bad; she's really good. Newsflash to self...

Julie Christie has come a long way from Lara to characters such as Rosmerta and the du Maurier here. She, too, is now able to provide nuanced performances without so much external physical distraction, though in her case, she remains a striking presence.

Perfect Stranger, on the other hand, the Halle Berry/Bruce Willis vehicle that also features Giovanni Ribisi, is narrative fictionalization, and it is mind-blowing in its own way, reminiscent of Hitchcock's favored narratives. I feel an idiot for not having seen the denouement coming sooner, but it was a fun ride, nevertheless.

Must exercise more with Brain games...

I do find it interesting that Halle Berry, a stunningly beautiful woman, has chosen to do so many psychological thrillers that present her as a vulnerable woman who is actually so very deadly. Interesting...

For Shannon

2008-03-11T14:20:00.000-07:00

To those of us who have children in our lives,
whether they are our own,
grandchildren,
nieces,
nephews,
or students...
here is something to make you chuckle.

Whenever your children are out of control,
you can take comfort from the thought that
even God's omnipotence did not extend
to His own children.

After creating heaven and earth,
God created Adam and Eve.

And the first thing he said was
" DON'T !"

"Don 't what ? "
Adam replied.

"Don't eat the forbidden fruit."
God said.

"Forbidden fruit ?
We have forbidden fruit ?
Hey Eve..we have forbidden fruit ! "

" No Way ! "
"Yes way ! "

"Do NOT eat the fruit ! "
said God.

"Why ? "

"Because I am your Father and I said so ! "
God replied,
wondering why He hadn't stopped
creation after making the elephants

A few minutes later,
God saw His children having an apple break
and He was ticked !
"Didn't I tell you not to eat the fruit ? "
God asked.

"Uh huh,"
Adam replied.

"Then why did you ? "
said the Father.

"I don't know,"
said Eve.
"She started it ! "
Adam said.

"Did not ! "
"Did too ! "
"DID NOT ! "

Having had it with the two of them,
God's punishment was that Adam and Eve
should have children of their own.
Thus the pattern was set and it has never changed.

If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give children wisdom and they haven't taken it,
don't be hard on yourself.

If God had trouble raising children,
what makes you think it would be
a piece of cake for you ?

THINGS TO THINK ABOUT !

1. You spend the first two years of their life
teaching them to walk and talk. Then you spend
the next sixteen telling them to sit down and shut up.

2. Grandchildren are God's reward
for not killing your own children.

3. Mothers of teens now know why
some animals eat their young.

4. Children seldom misquote you.
In fact,
they usually repeat word for word
what you shouldn't have said

5. The main purpose of holding children's parties
is to remind yourself that there are children
more awful than your own

6. We childproofed our homes,
but they are still getting in.

ADVICE FOR THE DAY:

Be nice to your kids.
They will choose your
nursing home one day

AND FINALLY:

IF YOU HAVE A LOT OF TENSION
AND YOU GET A HEADACHE,
DO WHAT IT SAYS
ON THE ASPIRIN BOTTLE:

"TAKE TWO ASPIRIN"
AND "KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN"!!!!!

Apocalyptic Aversions

2008-03-05T17:27:00.000-08:00

Finally got back to Netflix vidding, this time The Last Mimsy, which seems to combine a number of sources.

The opening sequence put me forcibly in mind of Jumanji. I couldn't help remembering the end and wondering about children and things who come together via the waves of an ocean. As the story unfolded, however, I was relieved to find that there were no stampeding animals emerging from a cool gadget that tended to emit intriguing geometric shapes. I like lines and designs, so that was all fine by me, if less than riveting.

There was one scene where I really appreciated Timothy Hutton as the dad, though this role really was no challenge for the potential he once promised under Robert Redford's direction. There seemed, in fact, to be a fair few talented adults wandering through this film as backdrop to the featured children. I guess that's standard fare these days...

As the tale's ending neared, I was put forcibly in mind of John Varley's Millenium, primarily because of the heavy-handed anti-pollution push being made. I did like the disrobing of the futuristic folk, which was kind of ironic in light of the male protagonist's heavy reliance on arachnid-related characteristics...

I did like the connections to Lewis Carroll's classic works. I have to wonder how familiar today's youth (or even their parents) are with those tales...

While I enjoyed the film, I am not surprised that it didn't smash box offices.

For Trent

2008-03-04T01:00:00.000-08:00

A cleric was completing a temperance sermon. With great emphasis he said, 'If I had all the beer in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river.'

With even greater emphasis he said, 'And if I had
All the wine in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river.'

And then finally, shaking his fist in the air, he said, 'And if I had all the whiskey in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river.'

Sermon complete, he sat down.

The song leader stood very cautiously and announced with a smile, nearly laughing, 'For our closing song, let us sing Hymn #365, 'Shall We Gather at the River.'

Smile, life is too short not to !!

See you at the river.

Communication

2008-03-03T15:04:00.000-08:00

This morning I found myself in the midst of a raging knockdown dragout fight not of my making nor, I thought, with my willful participation. I did, however, note that my voice had, indeed, somehow increased in volume, evidently of its own volition. As I heard myself shouting the accusation that the other participant was not even listening to what I was trying to say, a voice inside my head asked what seemed a telling question: Who's fault is that? On whom does the responsibility fall for the comprehension of an intended message? That pulled me up short.

As a child of pugilistic inclination, I spent much of my early life in argumentation, serenely secure in the certainty that any and all misunderstandings and failures of comprehension lay at the feet of my ignorant antagonists. Clearly it was their shortcomings, not my inarticulacy that lay at the heart of their patent inability to grasp obvious points.

As a teacher of composition, on the other hand, I equally clearly remember adjuring my students to identify and clearly analyze their intended audience. Failure to grasp the intended message, I assured them, is the fault of the sender, not the receiver. The onus of understanding lies with the author, not with the reader.

It's only taken me a few decades to work out the fundamental problem with these two assertions. Epiphany, however, never comes too late in life, if perhaps too late for so very many missed opportunities in life...

You, dear reader, are having no difficulty following all this, are you?

Farewell February

2008-03-01T19:24:00.000-08:00

Ah, February, I shall miss thee!

February is my favorite month, possibly because I take the whole thing for my own. It is a time for celebration, a time when the birthdays of two presidents bracket what used to be the most segmented time of the school year.

Ah, how I used to hate third quarter! It was (still is) such a dark, bleak time of year. In the midst of this depression, however, two of the United States' most well-known and influential past presidents were born, and their birthdays made for consecutive four-day weeks, hard on the heels of Christmas vacation and presaging Easter Break. Of course, we no longer celebrate either birthday, except with crass commercial sales, nor do we take a break for Easter, that time period having been demoted to mere Spring Break. (Where's the fun in counting off to see whether or not Good Friday and Easter Monday will make an extra four-day weekend? Gone, alas. Ah well...)

Now, in the name of symmetry and balance and predictability and equality (so many sophistries,) we rightly honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in January, but we have condensed and combined the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln and George Washington into one blanket day dedicated to the honor of all presidents (or is that just those who have served the U.S. on a national level?) In any event, the net result is just another monthly three-day weekend that far too many neither recognize nor understand. It's just another excuse for sales, overtime, and socializing. (Who's being cynical?)

So I persevere in my remembrances throughout February. . . Okay, so I also take time off for my own birth celebrations - is that so wrong? Evidently.

Cosmic justice has decreed that the specific date of my birth has become the optimum date within the month of February for holding memorial services celebrating the lives of those who have recently moved on to another plane of existence (or non-existence, as the case may be...) The rest of the month is quite reasonably useful for recovering from the various strains of innoculation-resistant flu circulating in the deepest, darkest days of winter, even in balmy tropical and subtropical regions. Lest the other days feel neglected, they, too, are useful for interments and other similarly related activities. Ah, joy!

But I did get a Nintendo DS Lite, which I promptly made heavy again with excessive accessorizing. The Brain Age 2 research of Dr. Ryuta Kawashima of Japan assures me that the rust and rubble passing for gray matter that I claim to possess are of great antiquity, though recent endeavors have halved the initial assessment. Personally, I think it's a crock that favors the mathematically inclined... Wait, that's supposed to include moi... Oh well...

But time marches on, and now we are in March. Beware the Ides, some say, but is that not time for East Coast celebrations? Here's hoping that the March babies among us have happier times than those so recently passed.

Don't even worry about national caucuses and primaries that don't even include all eligible voters anyway.

Goong Hee Fat Choy

2008-02-07T11:08:00.000-08:00

Greetings and Felicitations! Welcome to the Year of the Rat, according to the Chinese accounting of the lunar calendar.

Things are in such need of qualification these days. Sometimes I long for the days of absolute thinking, but then I think, what fun was that? Eh...

The Rat is a noble creature, bright, witty, wily - not to be confused with rodents on whom I make seasonal war about my abode... My mother was a Rat, again, not to be confused with the lackluster creatures who now torment my existence of occasion. Remember the Rats of N.I.M.H.? Remember Richard Adams' Watership Down? Now those were noble rats, admirable creatures worthy of emulation. Yes, there's nothing quite like romanticization to elevate the mundane.

Be that as it may, this should be a more optimistic, forward-thinking kind of year. Barack Obama has breathed new life into American politics. Whether or not he wins, he has already galvanized a new generation, much as did John F. Kennedy half a century ago. That's pretty cool, and it is exciting to believe that his impact will continue, even as Kennedy's influence has persisted beyond the short life of the man himself. It's also useful as we head into what promises to be an increasingly bleak economic season, more along the lines of Recession and Depression than the euphoria that has led to so much squandering of resources over the past century.

Cheers.

Another Name

2008-01-29T21:20:00.000-08:00

A rose by any other name . . . is still the same flower; so is a narrative set in a different locale and time period still the same story or a fresh tale with its own special twists and turns?

Finally returned to my Netflix queue today as wind, rain, and other assorted obstacles prevented a return to the increasingly enjoyable workouts. (In lieu of physical exertion, I opted for a nice hot chili sauce to induce the daily perspiration release...)

The Secret of Roan Inish looks for all the world like Frances Burnett's The Secret Garden, set in Ireland on an island instead of the Yorkshire countryside. The mystical touch is a little more pronounced, which is actually pleasant in a video experience, though I suspect I would have been less appreciative, had I first encountered it in written form. The Princess Bride-style flashbacks are perhaps the most attractive aspect of the film, or perhaps I'm just a sucker for epimethean snapshots.

All in all, the film was a pleasant diversion on a rainy day, much as the book would have been, I suspect. Let's hear it for hard work and the triumph of the agrarian way of life over that of urban squalor and rapacity.

Exercise Attention

2008-01-25T19:42:00.001-08:00

Should one concentrate on the task at hand when exercising, or is allowing one's mind to wander to videos and music more beneficial? While experts suggest that concentration is more beneficial and coaches universally agree, the casual athlete might think otherwise. After all, if one is not (or has not been) particularly serious about working out, then something is definitely needed to ease the transition into what can only be described as the monotonous repetition necessary, especially in weight training or with the use of equipment designed to enhance one's cardiovascular fitness.

True, a good coach or trainer will provide variety, and a truly dedicated athlete can generally find various aspects of the activities and personal development on which to concentrate. For the casual individual, however, for those working out for the ends, not the activity itself, distraction can actually prolong what is already initially a haphazard effort. In such a case, any effort has to be better than no effort.

This, clearly, is the premise on which so many accessories are sold. There are an ever-increasing number of flavors of iPods from which to choose, in addition to the proliferation of other mp3 players. There are the banks of television monitors mounted in health clubs. There is the ever present background music that alternately thumps and soothes its way into every crevice and cranny at the clubs. Then there are the garments, the towels, the gloves and belts, the carrying cases, even the water bottles just across from the beverage dispensing machines.

Yes, indeed, as with all things, there are plenty of ways to throw money at exercise without ever actually exerting oneself. Why concentrate?

A Moment of Triumph, and then...

2008-01-21T01:01:00.000-08:00

So to the ongoing saga of the mailbox and pole...

You've heard the ethnic joke about the telephone company workers, haven't you?

Three teams of telephone company workers head out on the day's assignment: to erect new poles prior to the stringing of new lines in a subdivision under development. At the end of the day, each team reports back in with the number of poles completed. Bear in mind that the term for erecting such a pole is "burying the pole".

Team #1 returns and reports to the foreperson:

"How many poles did you guys bury?"

"An even dozen."

"Excellent."

Half an hour later Team #2 returns and reports in:

"How many poles did you guys bury?"

"15."

"Even better. Okay, see you guys tomorrow."

An hour later Team #3 finally drags in. The foreperson is pretty upset by now and starts right in yelling:

"What took you guys so long? Everyone else has been back for over an hour? You better have a great report. So how many poles did you guys get buried?"

The leader of Team #3 (fill in any ethnic or socioeconomic group you prefer) replies, "2."

The foreperson is about to blow a gasket. The cursing and swearing flow freely. Somewhere amidst the barrage of sound are the words, "You're fired."

At this the leader of Team #3 interrupts the tirade to defend himself and his team:

"But you should see how much the other guys left above ground!"

So: For myself, my pole only took four days and four hours to dig down 21", figure out how to attach everything, and pour my bag of Quikcrete without cementing myself in the process. Unlike my unfortunate friends described above, I left a little over 3' above ground, the requirement being 41" - 45" from the ground to the base of the box. Curiously, I think everyone else has been measuring from the top of the box, yet I have heard of no complaints. We'll see what tomorrow brings...

Meanwhile, I've lost a bit of water weight - dehydration, I'm thinking. The temper finally flared today, so I took myself off the to the gym to work it out, which seemed to help, at least until I returned... Ah well...

Too much information. :-0

Plantings

2008-01-19T11:51:00.000-08:00

January is a great time to till soil and plant seeds, or so I've thought for the better part of two decades. This year, however, is already starting off just a wee bit different...

When one goes to the trouble of acquiring a newspaper tube, one generally expects it to be used for the delivery of one's newspaper. That seems reasonable, doesn't it? If, however, one neglects or forgets to gift one's carrier with a seasonal remembrance, does that then mean that one's paper is more likely to land on the driveway than in the tube? Evidently.

Successive days of calling to comment, (not complain, exactly...) resulted not in the paper finding its way into the tube, but the entire mailbox apparatus ending up on the ground. I make no accusations here; merely note the proximity of events: paper on driveway, call to management, pole on ground. Granted, there has been much rain of late, and the pole seems to have rusted through at ground level, not something easily achieved with galvanized piping.

Be that as it may, the end result has been that the past two days have been spent scouring the island for materials to replicate a 1950s-style setup. Yesterday I enthusiastically dug out my trusty pick axe and began to uproot the remnants of the old pole, only to find, (as I should have expected, had I had any experience in the matter,) a lovely concrete base. Ah, another excuse to head for the store instead of continuing the project at hand...

A haircut, gas station stop, soil and amendments purchase, and tasty forbidden lunch stop later, all supplies were assembled, though the setting sun suggested that the actual burying of the pole and erection of the new mailbox must await yet another sunrise.

So Dad's sleeping in this morning...

And the paper was in the middle of the driveway again...

And the old pole remains on the ground while the new pole rides around in the car...

Yes, planting season is here, but I think the wrong one is rooted...

Five Things

2008-01-15T02:53:00.000-08:00

Five Things

I was tagged by Shannon (last year, Dec. 9, to be exact, but I only just saw it,) and now I have to do this:

If you have been tagged, please follow these rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Four rules for 5 facts: I should be able to handle this... does that count as one yet?

1. I've been neglecting my blogs and all forms of writing, for that matter, since I returned to Hawaii to check on Dad, which is odd, since

2. Being in Hawaii, especially living under the parental roof, generally leads to an almost overwhelming desire to vent verbally, preferably in writing.

3. I used to get a natural high from eating at Andrew's (before it went out of business).

4. I often think of Shane when I'm working in my yard.

5. I miss playing basketball almost as much as I miss my Kidz.

Now, do I actually know 5 people who blog? Let me see...

There are Trent at http://iamthepurpleone.livejournal.com/
Melissa at http://melzme.livejournal.com/
Michael over on MySpace
Deb at http://eatingforthree.blogspot.com/
and last but by no means least
Jazz at http://searchforgnomes.blogspot.com/

Y'all are tagged, for what it's worth.

Big Night

2008-01-04T23:08:00.000-08:00

Continuing on with the food flicks fetish I've been trying to satisfy, I come to the one I generally watch last: Stanley Tucci's Big Night. It's not one that I've rushed to rewatch in the past, perhaps because I have tended to phase out near the end. That has been a mistake.

Since the making of this film, Tony Shalhoub has gone on to create the unforgettable Mr. Monk, the defective detective, and that character peeks out from behind the apron of Shalhoub's Primo (first son) in this earlier work. He plays the older brother, as obsessed with the perfection of the dishes he prepares nightly as his younger brother (played by Stanley Tucci) is obsessed with attaining the American Dream. the result is an insightful study of culture clashes and values clarification against the backdrop of a marvelously prepared Italian feast.

Balancing these tightly wound brothers are three of Hollywood's more interesting female performers: Minnie Driver, Allison Janney, and the ever luminous Isabella Rossallini. Each brings her own depth to the film, enriching it as surely as the pinch of spice we occasionally see Shalhoub toss into a dish.

Equally interestingly subtle is the understated performance of an almost silent Marc Anthony, whose nonverbals do his talking for him. Meanwhile Liev Schrieber and Ian Holm chew scenery with as much gusto as they do the timpano that highlights the Big Meal.

For some reason, whenever I see Ian Holm these days, I flash on his role in The Fifth Element, but there is nothing quiet about this character. I do like the way the game Shalhoub sets his guests to playing provides all the explication necessary for the game Holm has been playing on the chef brothers.

I am glad I watched this one again.

On the State of Education

2008-01-04T19:52:00.000-08:00

Browsing yesterday's editorial page this morning, I noticed a series of entries from high school students contemplating just what they believe to be essential to the adequate preparation of themselves and their peers for future success. I found myself nodding in sage agreement with the initial entries, clearly properly trained, delightfully thoughtful and insightful youth promising good things for the next generation in charge. Then I came across an entry that sounded much more like an echo of contemporary political brainwashing, which made me realize that all that sagacity that had preceded it had to be reflections of older voices as well.

What particularly disturbed me, however, was the emphasis on "hands-on learning" over standards-based learning," at least as it was discussed in the editorial. The writer was particularly enthusiastic about exclusive project-oriented, outcome-based learning. Now what, you may well ask, could I possibly find objectionable in that? Is not the purpose of public education, after all, the preparation of functional adult workers?

Here's the thing: there has always been hands-on learning, whether it was called vocational training, apprenticeship, internship, or shop and home ec. There will always be a place in society for hands-on learning because there will always be a need for those who can and do eagerly seek employment with their hands. We don't actually need formal, government-funded schools for that sort of training. There will always be a place in society for those who wish to pursue entrepreneurship, who seek satisfaction and fulfillment in commerce.

Traditionally, school was not meant for everyone, not offered to everyone. Truth to tell, not everyone appreciates the unique opportunities available in a school setting, nor should they have to experience them. The kinds of work and opportunities best served by school training tend to deal with intangibles, at least in part. Those who seek to serve in government, in law, in medicine - in short, in the professions - are well-served by the rigors of classroom education. The give-and-take of open discussion based on extensive readings, and the thoughtful writing that follows such activities, helps to broaden horizons and open future leaders to new avenues of thought that are also connected to deep wells of tradition. At least, that's the potential and the theory. Going off half-cocked in a public venue for hands-on experience without having first considered what has gone before is not a useful learning activity for such students.

Those who wish to build better bridges, design better transportation, manipulate finances, or otherwise work with tangible constructions are happier in the doing and benefit from extensive hands-on experience early in their educational careers. One would hope that enforced contemplation might help to mold such workers' sense of shared community values, but anything enforced is a crap shoot at best.

And what of our artists, musicians, athletes, and other performers? How do we best serve them as they seek to hone their respective crafts?

Yet we throw all our students into one barrel and then wonder why one system does not answer for all. What idiot composed the initial query that set the question as a dichotomy anyway?

Back to Flix

2008-01-03T13:22:00.000-08:00

First up this year is Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.

This is a film that I have been avoiding, as well as a series I have been avoiding reading, though I cannot really say why. In any event, watching it as a Netflix rental seemed a harmless enough way to find out what all the fuss has been about. In fact, I found myself very quickly engaged and settled in for a very enjoyable couple of hours. (I love flipping through the outtakes and extra stuff.)

While it's pretty hard not to know that Jim Carrey is a part of this project, I was pleasantly surprised as talent after talent kept popping up on-screen, very much as they do in the Harry Potter series. Timothy Spalding, Meryl Streep, Cedric the Entertainer, and an unbilled Dustin Hoffman all startled and delighted with their appearances. These are classy professionals who rarely misstep, and their work here is well-edited.

Emily Browning and Liam Aiken, who play the older Baudelaire children are well-edited as well, but it is the Hoffman twins playing young Sunny who steals the best bubbled quips. Like the book series, this film is creative, playful, surprisingly delightful, and has just the right mix of naivete and cynicism to please.

As is indicated on the dvd extras, Jim Carrey's genius is funneled rather than controlled, which is perhaps the best way to capture and utilize the strengths that he brings to the table as a comedic performer.
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What I really enjoyed is the whimsy that is carried over into the design of the dvd itself. Clearly someone has done a good job of conveying the delightful wordplay for which the written series is famous. It will be interesting to see how the rest of the series is handled, if at all.

Kicking Off the New Year w/Adrenalin

2008-01-02T14:15:00.000-08:00

Greetings, and welcome to 2008!

California is starting off this Leap Year with a bang, taking the Environmental Protection Agency to court. I'd love to hear as many sides to this argument as possible because, on the surface of things, it certainly seems as though the EPA is way off base. They have ruled that California cannot enact more stringent environmental requirements of automakers than the federal government currently allows. Clearly, that sounds lame. I just have to know what the rest of the story could possibly be, especially since California legislatures oversee the EPA, if I understand this article correctly.

You know what really worries me? California is merely aiming to roll back emission levels to 1990, which were already pretty horrendous. It seems to me that California is aiming low. If the federal government is aiming even lower, one really needs to be concerned for the next generation coming up after us. Shades of John Varley's Millenium!

You remember: that's the short story that was turned into a novel that was turned into a B-movie starring Kris Kristoferson and Cheryl Ladd -- the one where people from the future come back into the present in order to change history to preserve their own timeline. The human race has mutated to the point where they have to wear special tanks of polluted air because they can no longer handle the relatively clean air of the twentieth century. Anyway, sure seems like that mutation won't be long coming for those who survive the increasing number of asthmatics appearing in contemporary society. Now that's sad.

And the federal government is willing to protect the interests of a few fat cats today at the expense of those who must live the consequences tomorrow. I gotta hear the rest of the story...

Too Long

2007-12-27T09:13:00.000-08:00

It's been far too long since I've taken the opportunity to write, and once again I must dash off before taking adequate opportunity to write. Suffice it to say that life abruptly picked up speed, and now I daily chase my tail. I'll be back, hopefully before the end of this year, or even this day. :->

Parenting and Stress

2007-10-31T10:40:00.000-07:00

Just watched an ABC "Medical Minute" report that makes use of dubious statistics to suggest that parents are less prone to stress than their offspring-free counterparts.

1 - The test involved 33,000 adults, yet claims to be nationally representative. On what planet?

2 - While the report does note that parenting is not necessarily a bulletproof shield against mental depression, it does suggest that being a parent with a strong support system may help. Please note the qualification: "with a strong support system".

3 - There is no consideration of which is the cart and which the horse: Is being a parent a way to strengthen one's mental immune system, or are people with sound mental faculties more likely to undertake the great adventure and challenge that is parenting? I'm of the opinion that people who are prone to depression are less inclined to take on more baggage (in the form of a baby) than their healthier peers.

Of course, this is all about tendencies. There are plenty of unstable parents and well-adjusted, child-free adults.

This is such a non-story.

Targeted Audience

2007-10-30T15:20:00.000-07:00

Today's film offered for consideration is The Sweetest Thing (2002), clearly intended as a fluff piece from conception through execution. It is fair to say that this film is even more of a vacation from deep thought than Blades of Glory, another recently reviewed comedy.

The movie that does spring to mind for me by way of comparison is Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion (1997), a film characterized by one commentator as a bimbo movie. Though the two films have radically different philosophical points of view, (i.e., "messages",) they share the fundamental premise of heterosexual girlfriends at play, complete with outrageous road trip sequences. The male characters ultimately valorized share the characteristics of sweetness and of impressive financial success. Beyond that, the tales diverge significantly.

The Sweetest Thing (TST) features Cameron Diaz, Christina Applegate, and Selma Blair (Legally Blonde) as San Francisco roommates who are successful career women by day and active nightclub scene players by night. They are presented as sexually active thirty-somethings who evidently lack any behavioral boundaries whatsoever, even as it becomes increasingly evident that they are quite rigidly confined by the relational boundaries they have established in order to survive "the Game" of easy sex and casual relationships.

According to comments posted on imdb.com and supported by the two supplementary shorts included on the dvd, this film is not intended as a serious work with any deep message. That certainly seems to be the case, for the conversion of the party girl played by Cameron Diaz to a vibrant young woman looking for love (in all the wrong places) requires some serious suspension of disbelief. Evidently all that is required is a comedy of errors supplemented by a seriously lame self-help book's pronouncements. There are no consequences for her prior behavior, no wake-up call to clean up her act. What one does see is Christina Applegate's character coming to see the light through observation of her friends' follies. Of course, as she is a lawyer, one might arguably ascribe to her a greater ability to learn by observation than is evident in her friends.

Overall, the film has an Animal House entertainment quality to it without the invitation to root for any underdog. Yes, the raunchiness has its own form of appeal, but rooting for older mean girls still isn't quite as satisfactory for me as rooting for underdogs. Not even The Punisher (Thomas Jane) requires satisfaction from these women of privilege. Beyond the entertainment and the invitations to snicker, that little detail keeps nagging at the back of this viewer's consciousness.

One Week Later

2007-10-27T01:45:00.000-07:00

Don't rush me; I'm slow. It's taken me a whole week to come to what should have been an obvious observation about the whole Albus Dumbledore uproar, but I think I've finally got it:

A dear, sweet young man of my acquaintance and I were discussing the final book when I asked him if he'd heard the latest buzz out of NYC. Upon being told that the author had declared unequivocally that Albus Dumbledore had been gay, he said, "I don't know what to do with that information."

Now, if this bombshell was intended as a test, then there can be only one obvious answer, elusive though it seems to have proven to the many commentators eager to declaim throughout this past week. We readers, if we have learned anything from this series as we have traveled along the road to maturity with Harry Potter, should do as Harry did upon learning of his mentor's clay feet: ignore it. It's a matter of fact vs. truth, and the truth of the matter is that Albus Dumbledore was an excellent headmaster and educator who instilled in Harry the knowledge, values, and mindset necessary to accomplish the task at hand when the time came to do so. All the rest is interesting but ultimately irrelevant.

So when one discusses Dumbledore's sexuality, it is a matter of tangential interest only, not pertinent to the narrative that has so gripped the attention of the world and fired the imaginations of an entire generation (and a half) of readers. DD's private life, like that of the other faculty members, is no one's business but his own. The only adult whose personal life is relevant to the narrative is that of Severus Snape because it underlies his every choice and action. Even Tom Riddle's personal life does not merit scrutiny, (if only because he never really had one).

That said, I'm not sure that even Rowling has the right to declare Albus Dumbledore absolutely gay. While he clearly had a youthful infatuation with a fellow wizard, there is no evidence that he continued to pursue such interests in later life. I prefer the idea that AD had a habit of loving individuals, regardless of station or gender identification. Again, it's all of tangential interest but ultimately irrelevant.

Next Flick

2007-10-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

I was really looking forward to watching The Holiday (2006), a quiet film billed as adult and sophisticated, starring Jack Black, Cameron Diaz, Jude Law, and Kate Winslet. The premise is that two young women experience disappointment and disillusionment in love, go on the Internet to seek escape, and end up agreeing to exchange abodes for two weeks during the Christmas season. Diaz is a high-powered type-A personality who makes successful film previews, while one must assume that Winslet is a highly effective editor at a publishing company, as her character has so little else to offer in the way of either personality or skills. She is, in fact, rather reminiscent of her character in Titanic, that oppressed rebel awaiting the right man to crack her out of her semi-self-imposed societal prison. Diaz remains rhythm-free, which continues to be amusing, sort of.

Jude Law plays the dashing and very sexy brother to Winslet's character. It is he who sweeps Diaz off her feet, breaking her out of her ice princess prison. Jack Black, on the other hand, was much more effective as a romantic interest opposite Gwyneth Paltrow in Shallow Hal (2001). One suspects he was misdirected here. Such an assumption, of course, does detract from the actor's credit as well. Too bad.

I wanted to like this film. I certainly like the cast, which is why I selected the film in the first place. Unfortunately, Black's character in particular left me worse than cold. I ended up wishing that the filmmaker had simply let Eli Wallach stand as more than man enough to fulfill this foolish girl's emotional needs. He certainly held his own, even stealing a couple of scenes, in my humble opinion. Unfortunately, the commercial need to pair off all the young 'uns left me wishing I'd saved myself the trouble of watching.

Narratively, I suppose one might laud the film for having everyone settle for the modest country abode instead of the lavish L.A. mansion, if only the choice weren't so unpatriotic. Ah well...

Further HP Reflections

2007-10-22T18:55:00.000-07:00

(also posted elsewhere)

As previously mentioned, this past Friday J.K. Rowling announced to her predominantly high school audience at Carnegie Hall in New York City that she had always perceived Albus Dumbledore as gay. The initial reaction was stunned silence, followed by tumultuous applause. That response has had a chance to echo across the Internet and around the globe throughout the weekend. Like many, I have been mulling over the ramifications of this most recent pronouncement, and this is what I have concluded:

After my initial glee that Rowling had punctuated what she'd asserted has been a fifteen-year-long plea for tolerance by identifying Albus Dumbledore, beloved headmaster of Hogwarts, as gay, I began to think about the repercussions in light of the revelations in the final volume, specifically with reference to the memories of Severus Snape, salvaged through the ever-quick wits and resourcefulness of Hermione Granger, in conjunction with that always Johnny-on-the-Spot, Harry Potter.

- According to Snape, Dumbledore has really been more of a Machiavelli than a proper mentor to Harry. His intent had always been to use the boy as a sacrificial tool, a weapon against Voldemort when the latter returned.

- According to what we learn of Albus Dumbledore from his brother Aberforth, the former was always a very secretive fellow, a trait learned at their mother's knee. He never said what he really meant. Albus tells Harry in PS/SS that he most desired a warm pair of socks. In DH he tells Harry that he declined the job of Minister of Magic for fear of his tendency to abuse power. What he chose instead was to stay and work at Hogwarts, a school full of pretty young boys... (Rita Skeeter and the Roman Catholic Church, anyone? Or even the latest round of smut now being thrown at the educational community because of perhaps 4% of educators who have proven predator track records.ctual

- Like that poor fellow in Mel Gibson's Braveheart, Albus Dumbledore gets thrown/blown off a tower, thus plummeting to his death. Now, not all cinematic gays die this way, but many do die, and violently.

Ultimately, Dumbledore is bright, witty, and gay. He is admirably talented, far beyond normal, average folk, in fact, but he is also doomed to die unfulfilled. He is unworthy to serve as Messiah; he is only good enough to be a forerunner, and a flawed one at that.

Finally, and this is actually tangential to the whole Dumbledore thing, Rowling has named Harry's younger son Albus Severus Potter and left him with a fear of being sorted into Slytherin. Am I the only one who has noticed that the poor little fellow's initials are A.S.P.? What kind of chance has Rowling left him? Auwe!

Contrasts in Romance

2007-10-20T10:03:00.000-07:00

Today's odd pairing compares and contrasts a quiet little independent production titled, American Pastime, brought to my attention in the preview section on the dvd, Letters from Iwo Jima, with the commercial hit, Blades of Glory. Each features physical conflict but ultimately examines brotherhood, family, honor, and love.

American Pastime is an independent film by Japanese American Desmond Nakano featuring familiar adults juxtaposed with relatively unknown younger performers. The fathers in particular turn in performances worth noting, as played by veteran Japanese performer Nakamura Masatoshi and Gary Cole, the former star of the television series, Midnight Caller. What disturbs me is that Nakamura-san is the only performer of Japanese ancestry in the featured nuclear family. As with Memoirs of a Geisha, the use of other ethnicities seems preferable to the casting of authentic Japanese for roles written specifically for Japanese. Now why is that? Even, perhaps especially growing up in the western portion of the U.S., the filmmaker should be sufficiently familiar with the visual differences among Pacific ethnicities to be disturbed by this, (though I have also heard that a number of Japanese Americans disassociated themselves from their race upon release from internment, sadly.) In any event, the result is that the protagonist is very much an older version of the hip younger son in Flower Drum Song, who also loves baseball and jazz and all things American. That said, the depiction of life in the Topaz internment camp is specific and evocative. The general tone is more in line with that of the nissei who enlisted with the 442nd and won fame and respect for all Japanese Americans in some of the bloodiest and fiercest fighting in Europe during WWII than other films dealing with the internment of the JA's might seem in more strident independent films I have seen. What comes through is a whole lot of love: love of baseball, love of jazz, love of family, love of community, romantic love, and affirmative movement from selfish love to love of self that is self-respect sufficient to radiate to others.

Then there's Blades of Glory, a Will Farrell/Jon Heder headliner put together by Ben Stiller. With credits like that, there is only one kind of film to expect, and that is what one gets. This film also moves from selfish love to love of self that is self-respect that can radiate outwards to include others. Unlike the protagonist of American Pastime, whose lone wolfish ways are arguably attributable to political and societal forces alone, however, the protagonists of this film, both the lone wolf and the pretty boy, can claim the lack of adequate home support. The former is an orphan who grew up on the streets, while the latter is an orphan plucked from obscurity by an entrepreneur who clearly sees him as product, not progeny. Where AP has two blood brothers, the younger of whom learns from his elder, BoG brings together two antithetical orphans who learn from each other, one to be more outgoing, the other to be kinder and gentler, or at least moderately more considerate. Ultimately this film is an affirmation of the American sensibility: independence and spontaneity tempered by consideration and cooperation, just a little bit.

And everybody gets the brunette. Now how can one argue with that sort of ending?

P&P Revisited

2007-10-17T15:10:00.001-07:00

It's been not quite two years since I first watched the Keira Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice on the big screen. Now I've had a chance to review it on my little laptop monitor, and evidently the passage of time and shrinking of screen size have done wonders for my appreciation of the film. Of course, I could quite possibly simply be suffering from fatigue and ennui...

Life in this new location that was once old and familiar has revived my awareness of nonverbals, which has, in turn, altered my perception of the latest film version of P & P. What I noticed this time around was a whole lot of speaking glances and telling looks, particularly on the part of MacFayden as Mr. Darcy. His character is clearly stalking Elizabeth around the halls and dance floors, long before he ever gets around to saying anything. She, in turn, seems to be all too aware of his animal magnetism, right from the get go.

A viewing of supplementary materials on the dvd revealed Brenda Blethyn discussing her character, which in turn explains why I find her so much less irritating this time around. Blethyn understands the mother not as a mere comic device but, in fact, as a fully fleshed, ambitious, hard-working mother who schemes without remorse in order to fulfill her social responsibility of providing for the five daughters she has borne, a formidable task in rural eighteenth century England. As such, she does not hesitate to use every asset available to her, from prodding her sedentary husband into fulfilling his social duties to plotting her own daughter's ill health with an eye on the weather. While we may view her as silly, even dangerous from the comfort of our 21st century vantage, cultural translation indicates that this is a woman who could give any contemporary multi-national CEO a run for his/her money in terms of scheming and utilizing limited resources to the best advantage, vapours included. And yes, she is dangerous.

Again attending to nonverbals, I cannot help but feel for Miss Mary Bennett. She would have made an admirable spouse for the erstwhile Mr. Collins, and this portrayal clearly indicates (at least to me,) that she pines for him silently. That said, Charlotte Lucas is clearly better able to manage the fellow, and it is probably better for all concerned, from his parishioners to his patron, that it is Charlotte and not Mary that Mr. Collins brings home to Rosings Park. Clearly this is a man that needs a firm hand managing him. Equally clearly, the actress playing Charlotte matches the actor playing Mr. Collins better than Mary might have.

One thing about Charlotte that has always bothered me and did so again upon this viewing is that she is clearly the source of the gossip that brings Lady Catherine down upon Elizabeth near the end of the tale. While this proves to be the machination by which the author brings the two erstwhile lovers together, nevertheless it does seem some kind of betrayal of friendship that Charlotte should convey such information to her husband, knowing full well that he will immediately run to Lady Catherine with it. One might argue that Charlotte is attempting to protect a beloved friend from a man believed to be loathed, but it is also Charlotte who must be the source of information about Lydia's "infamous elopement"; how can that have been the act of a friend? Of course, we do know from Charlotte's own lips that she is not sentimental and never has been. Still, it seems a poor kind of friendship that she offers in sharing such ill gossip about her best friend's family matters.

Having viewed, pondered, and written about this tale, I feel an overwhelming compulsion to read the original again. Of such stuff is really great literature made. :-)

(Right after Blades of Glory and HP again... ;->)

Flags and Letters

2007-10-17T13:51:00.000-07:00

Still loving Netflix and all that it is providing, I have been festing, which has proven to be an unexpected feasting, perhaps because of all the hype that has surrounded the films I have most recently viewed.

Clint Eastwood has spent his professional career in Hollywood creating an iconic image that embodies the definition of tough, cool, and macho. He is all that seems to be Californian: rugged, independent, indifferent to the laws of man, more willing to shoot than to talk. Somehow I tend to link these characteristics with John Wayne and Ronald Reagan, neither of whom could actually act, except perhaps off-screen. Of course, they both have airports named after them now, and Reagan went on to become president of everything for which he ran, including the country.

Eastwood in his maturity has chosen to turn his lifetime of experiences and talents to filmmaking. I don't know why I can't remember that I like his work as a director, but there it is: every time I am faced with the prospect of watching one of his films, I find myself reluctant to begin, then completely seduced when I finally get around to doing so. The first time this happened to me was with Unforgiven, which I must have rewatched for a month while trying to wrap my thoughts around all the ideas packed into it. Such has been the case with my latest encounter with Eastwood-directed films, two this time: Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima.

These two films really should be seen together, or at least consecutively, and they should be viewed in the order listed above. One should not be seen without the other, though each stands well enough on its own. If Americans were willing to sit still long enough and, more importantly, theater managers willing to allocate such a lengthy time block for anything not sf- or fantasy-related, these films would have been one amazing epic. That said, there is great wisdom in having made them two separate films, if only because of the fact that doing so produces such an effective reflection of the sentiments of that era as well as the mood of present times, thus highlighting an essential part of the tangle of problems at the core of intercultural conflicts.

Flags features the American grunts who were singled out by a chance photo to serve as the unifying focus of fundraising in the U.S. during some of the darkest days of World War II. Eastwood's presentation of the events is such that one is invited to note not so much the conflict between nations as the conflicts of class and race, both within this country and within the military attempting to present a monolithic image to the world. The societal chasms depicted are not so much generational as experiential, falling between those who have seen action and those who have been in the heat of the action; between those who have been in a war zone and those who have only heard and/or read about it back home; between those running the war and those running in it or from it.

Ryan Phillippe, who caught my attention in Breach and Crash, is again featured, this time as the med tech who should be a noncombatant but must kill in order to attempt to heal, then must play the hero taking credit for the achievement of others.

Adam Beach, whom I first saw in the beloved Mystery, Alaska, turns in a great performance as the continually underappreciated and misunderstood Native American. His narrative stream may be dismissed by some as maudlin or overly dramatic, but that just goes along with the whole idea of the plight he represents as being too easily overlooked and dismissed.

There are a number of other familiar faces. T2's Robert Patrick flits by, as do other action film fellows seen a hundred times before. They are Eastwood film types, filling out military roles with aplomb.

This movie, however, spends as much time on the civilian side as on Iwo Jima, to its benefit. This is a war movie that takes us home, where so many of the fellows will never go again.
What I particularly like is the way it puts me in mind of the works of Kurt Vonnegut, whose wartime tales tended to leave his protagonist loose in time, flashing forwards and backwards between memories and distortions of reality in present time with less attention to chronological sequencing than to thematic connections. The resulting film blew me away.

Likewise, Letters moves between memories and present realities, more for the purposes of characterization than narration. The framework of the film is an archeological discovery, and Eastwood very kindly remembers to complete the connection at film's end, (unlike some other, less adept tale tellers who shall remain nameless here).

Letters is filmed almost entirely in Japanese, featuring English only in three brief encounters near the end when American soldiers are encountered, and in one brief early flashback. Again, the focus is more on the differences between leaders and followers, between traditionalists and modernists, between those who have had experiences in battle and those for whom battle, let alone war, is a relatively foreign experience. What one has had and values vs. what one has to lose is key to differences in attitudes.

Ultimately, the most sympathetic character proves to be a simple grunt who, like "Doc" in Flags is more of a noncombatant than an actual "soldier", and whose attitudes and actions serve as the most pervasive (if not the only) cultural bridge for viewers. As "Doc" waged war primarily with his med kit, so Saigo waged war primarily with his shovel. This baker turned ditch digger is the vehicle through which Western eyes are invited to appreciate and understand that the "enemy" were not so different from us. His enemies are not the foreign invaders but rather the abusive and vindictive superior who is always using him as a scapegoat and all-purpose whipping boy. All Saigo wants is to stay alive and return home to his loving wife and the daughter he has never seen. Though Western viewers may tune in to see the unarguably gorgeous Watanabe Ken-san, one cannot help but come away agreeing that "I like Saigo."

A friend noted that there is greater pathos with the losing side; whatever the reason, Letters is the superior film. Though both films depict the perversion of patriotism as an ideal, each also shows very personal pictures of the men in the trenches. There is great nobility and tragic loss depicted here, both high and low. These are companion films that each new generation really needs to see.

California Inferno

2007-10-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

California, land of outrageous special effects spectacles, does not require great imagination, though it certainly seems to abound in the stuff. No, reality supplies plenty enough for starters.

Friday evening a couple of the big rigs that are such an irritatingly common sight on the highways and byways of this great nation collided. Not content with colliding, they did so in a tunnel traversing a mountain pass. In the brief eighth of a mile during which they were out of the gently falling rain, they managed to instigate a domino effect. By the time they were done, the visuals were pretty spectacular, along the order of the original Terminator movie, complete with flames shooting out of both ends of the tunnel and a lovely smog cloud blanketing the adjoining valleys to this day.

When I watch Hollywood spectacles, I often forget what it is to live in Southern California. Life during the brief two years I spent there was much like living inside a movie, with the daily news pretty much like that. The question was never whether or not anyone had been shot but rather how many had been shot. The question was whether the shooting was a drive-by or stationary. The question was how many millions of dollars in damage had been done. The question was how long the flames would burn and how many hundreds of firefighters and rescue workers were involved. The answers were more along the order of research for future reference rather than asked with any sense of awe or wonder in the more traditional senses.

Now that I'm back in the land of eternal liquid sunshine, my sense of normalcy is readjusting. Here the normal freeway speed is 35 m.p.h., with mainland drivers sticking out like sore thumbs as they tear out their hair and wait for fingernail polish or paint to dry. Here the Thunderbirds perform one week, the Blue Angels vie for attention the next. The military presence here is a palpable reality with fireworks and infernos something from which they seek rest, not reminders. The question is not military or civilian, but rather, which branch of the military? Here the concern is whether or not a proposed interisland ferry service will jeopardize the whale population, as opposed to Southern Cal's concern over potential traffic snarls because the I-5 has been lit up by the "lifeblood of the nation", i.e. trucks.

So - fire or water? rain or snow? heat or cold? heating or air-conditioning? trucks or boats (or airplanes)? fruit or vegetables? potatoes or rice?

But it's not a world of dualities, so I'll take noodles, thank you very much, and you can keep your flames and your quakes and your politics and and and ...

I think I need some lunch.

Caregiving

2007-10-12T13:29:00.000-07:00

Recently I've been watching Clint Eastwood's recently released trilogy of WWII films, specifically the first two: Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima. I'll go into detail about the films in another post, but for now I merely mention the fact because reflections on a character in the latter film, Saigo, made me realize something about how I'm spending my life right now.

A caregiver is like a baseball outfielder or a soccer (football) goalie in an essential way: when things are going well, life is easy and the workload is light. Life is, in fact, more of a spectator sport than a heated fray. When the action gets serious, however, the caregiver, like the outfielder and the goalie, is the last line of defense and, therefore, the most vital in the moment. There are gathered the greatest forces, there is required the greatest effort, there is the most to win or lose. Everyone else on the playing field has had their shot. If the ball gets past the last defender, it becomes the province of the world at large, moving on to a higher plane (the upper decks of the bleachers, as it were), and is no longer in the hands of the players.

When all is said and done, a caregiver can win a few, lose a few, but ultimately the ball will leave the field. That's just the way the game goes. In a game of inches, it's just a matter of paying attention at the right moments - or not; and sometimes it's just out of your hands, and there's nothing you can or could have done to make a difference. It is what it is.

(Does anyone know who said that last line recently to popularize its use?)

Fact-Based

2007-10-06T03:04:00.000-07:00

My mother passed away in February 2001. We buried her on the 16th. Two days later a story broke in the news about the arrest of a man who had been a mole in the Intelligence community for over two decades. I vaguely remember something about the incident, but evidently my attention was elsewhere at the time.

Recently I was abruptly reminded of that period in my life in the oddest way: the date struck me as I was watching the dvd of the recently released film, Breach, starring Chris Cooper, Ryan Phillippe. Laura Linney, Gary Cole, and Dennis Haysbert, among others. The casting alone would have caught my attention. In fact, I do believe that the cast was the reason I initially borrowed the dvd, and I was not misled, as has been the case on other occasions.

I love pretty much anything and everything Chris Cooper does. He has the same kind of quiet presence that David Strathairn has, or perhaps it is simply that both gentlemen never cease to surprise, impress, delight, and challenge my thinking with the roles they play. In this film, Cooper plays a man we, the audience, know to be a consummate liar and national traitor, yet he manages to convey an innate dignity and worthiness that incites admiration while simultaneously managing to emanate a sense of creepiness. As we come to understand the depths of his depravity and treachery, the camera progressively reveals his clay feet. You can see Cooper's character getting increasingly wound up and distrustful, even as he wants desperately to believe that the relatively naive young man in his outer office is simple and trustworthy. I found watching his descent riveting.

Ryan Phillippe, on the other hand, has often left me cold in the past, Crash notwithstanding. This time I found him very effective as the ambitious younger employee bucking for agent status. Ironically, whereas I have generally found him to be too arrogant to be able to contain himself, this time he was almost too capable of subsuming his ambitions in service of the Greater Good. Overall, however, I found his moral dilemma sufficiently engaging for my viewing satisfaction.

Laura Linney can do no wrong, at least on screen. I don't know that it is so much perfect casting as just another superlative performance from an extremely talented and intelligent artist. Whichever is the case, Linney delivers as Phillippe's dedicated superior and supervisor in the sting operation for which the latter is recruited. I particularly like the editorial choice to leave her softer scenes on the cutting room floor, (or at least relegated to the "Alternate" and "Deleted" dvd offerings). Her character makes the most sense as a stern, no-nonsense agent whose dedication to her work is not overwhelmed by overzealousness or undue earnestness, yet who manages to convey all of that in a way that is palatable, or at least free from the more customary gag-inducing reflex.

And who doesn't have the protagonist's reaction when Dennis Haysbert appears on-screen? He doesn't have to be there long to project that ineffable presence. 'Nuff said.

Now, one of the things I really enjoy about today's dvds is the supplementary materials. I was fascinated to see the real Eric O'Neill and to learn that, contrary to the claim at the end of the film that he has been working in the D.C. area as a lawyer, he has, in fact, been shopping the narrative of his adventure around Hollywood for some time now. Phillippe's characterization was surely much more troubled by excessive earnestness than the original on which it is based, yet one might also pass off the bounciness of said original (O'Neill) to the euphoria that must surely accompany the completion at long last of bringing to life on-screen such a life-changing experience.

As I feel my language control to be fairly nonexistent today, I shall stop here... for now...

Odd Juxtaposition

2007-10-02T09:24:00.001-07:00

Continuing my vidding kick, I've just been taking films in the order they arrive at the house. Recently this created a very curious sequence, much like catching a double- or tripleheader at the local plex might do.

Wild Hogs

This is a movie featuring four established actors supported by equally identifiable supporting performers. The result is better than the unexpected casting initially suggested when I first watched the previews for this film in theaters.

Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, and John Travolta play four mid-life suburbanites facing standard mid-life crises.

Allen is a dentist who has somehow lost the spontaneous edge that once made him "the Golden Knight" in his now long gone college days. Being married to Jill Hennessy, who looks like an only slightly older, more relaxed version of her Law-n-Order Claire character, doesn't help him. His son clearly thinks his father is a stodgy old man; consequently, the lad prefers to play hoops with his friend's father, who can dunk. His wife practically has to kick him out of the house to take the time off to go on the proposed road trip. The payoff, of course, is that he regains his self-esteem and wins his son's regard in the process. Unfortunately, all that esteem comes from getting into a fight with biker toughs. Entertaining as it is, I'm not sure that's a message that children in search of role models really need to receive.

Lawrence is an aspiring writer who has taken a year off from plumbing. Now that his year is up, his wife wants him back on the job. Clearly she rules the roost while he commands no respect from either his children or his live-in mother-in-law. His first client, a convenience store clerk, also deems Lawrence's character below himself in the scheme of life. The proposed road trip is a perfect escape for him. Unfortunately, he needs to lie to his wife in order to take it. It does buy him the time to reclaim himself, so that by the time she discovers the truth and comes storming after him, he is able to stand up to her and retake control of his marriage, or so we are led to believe. Unfortunately, this is probably the weakest of the narrative threads, even as Lawrence's character has some of the best sight gags. The intended message is that a man who can stand up to bikers should be able to stand up to one shrill shrew of a wife. That's not a great message.

William H. Macy's character walks a fine line between the kind of person mass media has taught us to fear and the kind we love to mock: he is a computer geek afraid of human intercourse, except with his suburban biker buddies. Macy plays his geek ingenuously, keeping the innocence and naivety clearly front and center and avoiding all but one suggestion of the online predator, which is intentionally played for laughs. His reward in the end is that he gets Marisa Tomei and masters his bike sufficiently to appreciate the bikini-clad beauties of Southern California while his friends finally fall down.

John Travolta has been cast in far more heroic roles than his fellow castmates. It is therefore no surprise that he is cast as the nominal leader of the group at the beginning of the film, or at least as the instigator of the road trip, though the audience is also presented with a clear view of his character's clay feet as well. This man who seems to have everything - a successful business and a supermodel wife - is actually bankrupt in the wake of his wife's departure and divorce. There is a lovely symmetry in watching this character's descent and dissolution as Macy's character grows into belated manhood. Reasonably, these are the two actors better known for their dramatic turns than their comedic roles, though they clearly do both with equal facility.

This film is an unqualified success at entertaining. The pace is excellent, the music fits like a comfortable old glove, and the faces are of old friends. Stephen Tobolowsky and John C. McGinley as the sheriff and highway patrolman respectively are familiar faces, if not names. For fans of Mystery, Alaska, Kevin Durand is a pleasant sighting, (though his resume reflects more television series work than film work).

As villains go, Ray Liotta plays this one a bit too flatly and heavy-handedly for my taste. He has shown much finer layers in some of his other work, but that may simply be a consequence of this script. There really isn't much room for him to demonstrate layers; he is simply asked to be a stock villain against whom the others may flail. Unfortunately, when he does finally get a chance to do some texturing, he doesn't. Ah well...

At least he gets to call one of the original Wild Ones, Peter Fonda, dad.

There is an ongoing homophobic riff throughout the film, overtly with McGinley's highway patrolman, less noticeably yet more consistently between Travolta and Macy, with the geek giving evidence of uncomfortable comfort in his own skin that way while the seeming stud is the one who is always squirming away. Again, there's a mixed message that is pervasive throughout the film, widely accepted as the norm in society, and just a little bit disturbing upon reflection.

Apocalypto

Mel Gibson's most recent offering, in contrast, is a very deliberate attempt to convey serious drama amidst the grand epic sweep of the great Mayan civilization in its death throes. It being a Mel movie, however, there are inevitable bits of locker room humor and the occasional nod to homophobia, Mel being an ardent and active espouser of the heterosexual lifestyle as the only sane, noncomedic choice among heroic warriors.

Like Wild Hogs, Gibson's Apocalypto quickly turns into a road trip, though the latter film involves more enforced travel than intentional meandering. Along the way would-be warriors are tested, with only one emerging a mature man by film's end which, coincidentally, also arrives at ocean's edge. Since Apocalypto is intended as a serious film, the failure of companions to meet each test encountered successfully results in death, in contrast to Wild Hogs, where failure merely results in decreased stature until all are equals instead of hierarchically situated.

As Gibson's film is more ambitious, the costumes and sets are much more lavish. The attention to detail alone makes this a film worth watching, despite the fact that sometimes the camera lingers a little too long on sets and scenery for the good of the narrative. Every stratum of society that has been discovered through painstaking research is meticulously depicted through costumes, accessories, body decorations, and assigned societal roles, making acting moot for many of the cast. Unfortunately, the few whose roles actually do require acting in addition to makeup, wardrobe, and placement are not always quite up to the task, a fact detectable despite the exclusive use once again of a language not much in use these days (Mayan). There is, of course, the possibility that I am not quite up to snuff on the topic of the eyes wide open school of acting...

Character-wise, Apocalypto shares with Wild Hogs the presentation of immature men who, through life or death confrontation, progress to a clearer sense of self. One senses, however, that the protagonist of the former film experiences significantly more growth than do the four riders in the latter. Sadly, the protagonist of Apocalypto retreats into the still free forest on the brink of invasion, exploitation, and destruction, whereas the Wild Hogs, who also return to their native habitat, i.e. the suburbs, arguably sustain a new lease on life (though a true cynic might see suburbia as just another beachhead for invasion, exploitation, and destruction of civilization as only an urban dweller can understand it).

One positive that both films share is the depiction of strong women, marginalized though they be in these male-centric narratives. Seven, the very pregnant wife whom Jaguar's Paws, the protagonist of Apocalypto, conceals in a well during the initial attack on the village, proves to be an able and fit mate and mother. Though clearly frightened, she presents a brave front for her young son, Turtle's Run. As the days pass, she finds creative ways to deal with exigencies that arise, from stitching up her son's gash with insects to gathering water for drinking to making a valiant if ultimately futile attempt to climb out of the well. She even manages to stay afloat and give birth amidst a torrential rainstorm while her erstwhile husband is pussyfooting around with deadly killers who have tracked him across two days, a Fugitive-esque waterfall leap, and limb-sucking bogs. What I don't get is why she is still required to wait for her husband to finally rescue her. Of course, this is a Mel movie.

If you're into cool weaponry, this is a great film to watch. In addition to extensive research of existing records, the weapons master who got his start in films working on Gibson's first hit, Braveheart, is back. He incorporates not only what exists in records, but what is plausible based on the materials available. Stone slingshots, obsidian-edged swords, and darts created on the spur of the moment from handy frog venom that are then shot through a giant rolled up leaf are among the weapons at hand. Of course, cool weapons mean creative blood spurting, another trademark of a Mel Gibson epic action film.

Ultimately, these are two films aimed at those interested in getting the testosterone flowing. There are some pretty cool stunts in each between long waits of scenery and narrative. Ostensibly, growth and maturity are achieved. One can always hope.

Finally Got through This Flick

2007-09-27T19:55:00.000-07:00

Previews have a way of setting up expectations of what is to come, both in the theater and on tapes and dvds. Such has been the case with this next film. The horrific nature of the majority of previews caused me to postpone the actual viewing of the main feature for much of this week. Violence I can handle; horror not so much. So those previews gave me a funny feeling...

Premonition

Sandra Bullock made a decision not to be the next Julia Roberts, an accusation leveled against her in her early days when Roberts took a brief leave of absence from the limelight, (as she is once again doing now). Bullock's perkiness and willingness to please are, of course, the primary reasons she was so dubbed, along with the vacuum created when Roberts went into seclusion after her abortive engagement to Kiefer Sutherland. (Yes, I know way too much trash trivia for my sanity.) Once Bullock had achieved sufficient acclaim on her own merits, she began to work primarily on less upbeat projects that allowed her to give that million watt smile of hers a well-earned rest. Unfortunately, when she's not smiling, she does glum really really well, even when she's just going for serious. Ah well... She is getting more balanced as she matures...

Bullock is four years older than her co-star, Julian McMahon, son of a former Australian prime minister, and there are shots where she looks it. (As I said earlier, she does glum really well.) That said, the narrative itself is an interesting, if not particularly thought-provoking, piece. It takes its time leisurely unwinding, allowing the viewer to share in Bullock's character's confusion and increasingly conflicted feelings. When the story is finally laid out in its entirety, there is more a sense of relief that the film is over than rejoicing that the mysteries are solved. Hm... that doesn't seem like a good thing, does it? Oh well...

Bullock marries McMahon who buys her a house. Years later we learn that they are a suburban couple with a house, a mortgage, and two kids - what'd we expect? Hm... The setup for his infidelity is not great, while its revelation is fairly standard issue: mistress behind a tree at the outskirts of the burial. Do we still have expectations? The makeup sex is so tastefully suggested that the endshot pregnancy is almost a surprise. almost.

The surprise is a one-stringed affair, an explanation of premonition as presented by a Roman Catholic priest. What else did I expect? ah well...

Yet Another Review

2007-09-25T01:01:00.000-07:00

It's been a very peaceful, mellow, blogging and vidding day with nothing but intermittent thunder showers to penetrate my reveries. This next dvd is one that I had eagerly awaited but failed to catch in theaters. Well, that is now rectified.

Fracture

Sir Anthony Hopkins, that knighted British talent whose American roles have been so very gruesome, seems to have hooked up with some of the brightest young talents America has to offer. He first came to my notice in the horror genre when he worked with Jodie Foster in her early adulthood. Since then he has worked with Julianne Moore, Edward Norton, and now Ryan Gosling in a similar role.

Fracture is a film that features Ryan Gosling in a role reminiscent of Keanu Reeves' turn in Devil's Advocate in that Gosling is a rising star in the prosecutor's office with a high conviction rate who is plucked from relative obscurity by the head of a highly successful private firm that specializes in the defense of wealthy clients of dubious morality. This film, however, focuses on the relationship between the ADA and the accused, rather than between the young lawyer and a high-powered head of any firm. As with Edward Norton, Hopkin's character takes pleasure in playing mind games, always seeming to be several steps ahead of his youthful adversary until said youngster bottoms out, has an epiphany, and is finally able to turn the tables on the old master. It's very much in keeping with the standard narrative skeleton on which so many martial arts films have been hung over the years. As with martial arts films, the pleasure comes not from the narrative, but from the characterizations, the stratagems employed, and a few really great unexpected moves. As morality tales go, it's pretty conventional. For viewing pleasure, Hopkins is his usual chilling self, and Gosling is great.

The dvd is also a pleasant surprise. It is enhanced for viewing on a computer, complete with website connections and supplementary materials. The alternate and deleted scenes make this viewer grateful for the eventual editorial choices made, as is usually the case. It's frightening to watch how easily the film could have taken some very bad turns.

More Vidding

2007-09-24T15:22:00.000-07:00

From longtime favorite to more contemporary fare, Netflix continues to satisfy.

300

One of my favorite all-time tales is that of the 300 Spartans and their amazing achievement against seemingly impossible odds. I particularly like the fact that as much of their success can be credited to brains as to brawn and heart. Of course, it didn't hurt that the narrative served as the basis for one of my favorite sword-and-sandal films, originally released in 1962.

Recently Frank Miller produced a graphic novel recreating the drama and glory of that epic struggle at Thermopylae for another generation. As it did during the Vietnam era, the tale that inspired the comic and now the film extols a defiant gloss in the idea of sacrifice for glory, even as it illustrates the seemingly senseless waste of valiant souls while corrupt politicians attempt to reap profit from war.

This film version of that pivotal conflict struck me more as a preview of a potentially exciting video game, with wave after wave of opposing forces culminating in a gargantuan monstrosity each time, than as a smoothly flowing narrative. Still, it does promise to be an exciting game, with some Brad Pitt as Achilles-type moves in the bargain.

What I particularly dislike is that King Leonidas's wife is presented as lacking her husband's evident moral fiber, at least by conservative American standards. Though we are told that the men of Sparta have been taught to lie, cheat, and steal in pursuit of ultimate victory, somehow the queen's willingness to surrender herself to the politician who so openly opposes her husband strikes a false chord for me. The fact that she takes his life and reveals his treachery on the Council floor does not diminish the fact that she seems to have been willing to surrender without protest, had he kept his word. Though Leonidas is later seen to kneel before Xerxes before attempting to assassinate the invading king, the fact that Leonidas had always planned to attempt an assassination makes his kneeling more acceptable than Queen Gorgo's initial surrender, since her murder of her attacker seems reactionary rather than premeditated.

Similarly disturbing to me is the depiction of the invading forces as all ethnic minorities and deformed or mutant beings, though perhaps that former casting is more rather than less accurate. Still, it smacks of the sort of racism so evident in Tolkien's work, as so much of epic and empire too frequently do.

The fact that the accompanying 700 slaves and servants are minimized adds to the heroism of those who sacrificed themselves, even though it takes the film further away from historical accuracy.

Less disturbing to me is the sometimes evident use of computer graphics in the film. Personally, I like seeing all those rippling abdominal muscles.

Random Video Reviews

2007-09-24T14:48:00.000-07:00

Trying this again, having lost it all late last night...

Babette's Feast (This has got to be one of my favorite foreign films. )

On a lonely windswept coast of Jutland live two spinster sisters, daughters of a deceased minister who have dedicated their lives to tending to their father's dwindling congregation, many of whom have already joined their spiritual shepherd in the hereafter. The young men who were attracted to the parish by the beauty of the daughters have grown up and moved on for the most part, taking the young women with whom they eventually paired off with them. Those left behind are aging, quarrelsome, and cantankerous.

When the daughters were younger, each had attracted the attention of a stranger who had passed through the small rural town while briefly retreating from the more hectic pace of urban life. One of these strangers sends to this quiet coastal town a friend in flight from the violence of civil disorder in Paris. This woman is taken in by the sisters and provided room and board in exchange for shelter. She proves to be modest, thrifty, shrewd, hardworking, and an excellent cook.

Years later, the second stranger returns himself, intending to verify that he made the right choice in his youth. Though he has risen to the rank of general and married a handmaiden of his country's queen, he still questions his youthful decision to forego pursuit of one of the sisters in exchange for pursuit of worldly ambition.

The young man who was once a silent suitor has become a pompous and loquacious general, but it is precisely because of this that the congregation members, the sisters, and the audience are able to learn of and appreciate the first suitor's gift of the modest woman who appeared so humbly as a refugee many long years ago and is now an integral part of the household and community.

The woman who now so quietly and efficiently runs the household was once one of the premiere chefs in all of Paris, an artist capable of turning any meal into a spiritual lovefest. When she wins the lottery in Paris, she takes the opportunity to practice her craft one last time by preparing a true French feast in celebration of the late minister's 100th birthday. The sheltered villagers fear the upcoming feast as they watch the arrival of the mysterious ingredients, which allows the audience to appreciate more fully the challenge before Babette, the chef. The contrast between expectations and actuality is wonderfully portrayed. From the fearful warnings and pleadings of the sisters to the quarreling the villagers cannot resist even as they approach the special meal, we see the allegorical human condition. As Babette toils and sweats in the stifling and primitive kitchen, we see the change come over those dining on unknown delights. There is a possible parallel with Jesus in the grave on Saturday, toiling to prepare spiritual delights for ungrateful mortals. This is the last feast Babette will prepare in this lifetime, reminiscent of Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples before his descent into death with no hope of respite until after his resurrection.

The general's narrative proclaims the greatness of Babette's achievements to an unresponsive audience that nevertheless is quietly yet surely altered for the better because of the fine meal laid before them. In the end, there is peace, reconciliation, unity, and singing under a starry sky.

Personally, I liked watching all the food preparations. :-)

New Toy! er... Tool...

2007-09-22T18:17:00.000-07:00

Behold!

If you click on the title of this post, you will be taken to a picture of the latest member of my little family. if you hold your mouse over the far right selection, "Desert Sand Mica with Taupe Interior," you will see Sandy Sienna in all her glory. Yes, I do like to name my vehicles, though this is the first one to receive a female name.

Yesterday was delivery day when I was finally able to pick up my new baby. She has running boards on each side to assist my aged father as he attempts to step into the vehicle. After all, if it were not for him, I do not think that I would have chosen such a car. Certainly no one who knows me would have guessed that I would select such a vehicle, including me. Ah well... It holds both wheelchair and walker easily while still leaving ample room for other things, which is the primary point, after all. Better yet, there is a functional radio that I can set low enough so that Dad cannot hear it, though I can. Best of all, there is an mp3 player plug for my ipod. :-)

When I popped open my cell phone to share my delight in my new acquisition, I was laughingly reminded that I delight in big ticket items, parsimonious though I may sometimes seem in smaller things. Well, with my fading eyesight, if I can't see it, what's the point? Of course, I suppose I could settle for less digits and decimal places... Hm...

Of course, now that that is settled and the old cars are moving on to other homes and incarnations, I have nowhere to drive my beautiful new toy until Dad's next doctors' appointments. See, that's why I was able to demonstrate restraint and not sign up for the optional moon roof or dvd player. After all, as a driver on Honolulu roads, when am I going to be on the road long enough to watch anything? And if I'm the sole driver, what would I be doing watching anyway? It's not like an audio input after all...

And the moonroof: okay, here in Hawaii no one except a tourist would actually want all that sunshine pouring into the vehicle in the middle of an 80s or 90s degree day. What do you think all that heavy tinting is for anyway? The moon, now, that's a different story. It might be nice to have moonlight flowing into the car at night... or not... eh -

So here I sit, dwelling lovingly on the wonderful attributes of my brand-new automobile, peacefully sitting in my overcrowded garage gathering invisible dust on its beautifully camouflaged coat of desert sandiness...

So why did I want a new vehicle again? Who, me? excited about big-ticket items? No way --

Still Mulling Over HP

2007-09-17T02:23:00.000-07:00

The term "vol" is French for flight + de (down or away from) + mort = death, so the former French teacher named her arch villain flight from death, which makes perfect sense.

The question arose again today, how many horcruxes were there altogether? Reflex suggests seven or eight, depending on how one thinks. Logic dictates the following breakdown:

1 - diary
2 - ring
3 - locket
4 - cup
5 - tiara
6 - Nagini

These six were intentionally made by Tom Riddle, whose query asked about splitting one's soul into seven parts. Reasonably, he'd need to keep the seventh part within himself in order to hold it all together; otherwise, he'd be no better than those kissed by dementors (not that he was anyway).

Accidentally, Lord Voldemort, (who actually became LV by beginning his flight from death when he committed his first murder of Moaning Myrtle in the Girls' Bathroom over half a century earlier,) split his soul into an eighth part when he sadistically killed James and especially Lily Potter. Before he could kill the littlest Potter, he'd already turned the child into a seventh horcrux.

To sum up: seven horcruxes, eight pieces of soul. Unfortunately for ambitious Tom Riddle, he overshot his intended goal. One wonders if missing that lucky seven is what really caused him to crap out...

Who has Vegas on the brain?

A Random Thought

2007-09-15T00:51:00.000-07:00

RE: Harry Potter

One might wonder at Harry's willingness to give Tom Riddle so many opportunities to repent his evil ways when the latter is so clearly without remorse and, therefore, beyond redemption. If, however, one looks back to the beginning of the final volume as Harry is preparing to depart Privet Drive for the final time, one sees Harry come to the realization that his cousin Dudley, whom he has long believed to be beyond hope of humanity, has had a change of heart since that fateful night two summers ago in that dark alley bracketed by the dementors of Delores Umbridge. If Dudley, despite being the spawn of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, can experience such a change of heart and turnaround in personality, surely anyone has like potential. All that is required is a dementor-like experience to shake one out of one's complacency.

So what do you suppose would have served a like function for Tom Riddle, and how late in life might it have occurred and still been effective? When was it just too late for the love potion child, or is prenatal chemical interference just damage done too early?

Liquid Sunshine

2007-09-12T15:09:00.000-07:00

Liquid sunshine is a term used in Hawaii to describe the phenomenon of rain falling from a sunny sky. It's a refreshing if puzzling occurrence, leaving one to wonder where the requisite cloud is or was. Yesterday I experienced a different kind of rainfall.

It was a hot, sunny day, which is the norm here. It was, therefore, perfectly logical that I had taken refuge in a properly air-conditioned environment with windows for walls. As I looked out of Jack-in-the-Box, munching away on my daily dose of highly salted high caloric grinds, I noticed that there was a large pool of liquid forming under my car, and that the pool was being fed by a fast-flowing stream from what appeared to be the underside of my car. Now, the logical conclusion for most is that the condensation from my air-conditioner was relieving itself in natural fashion. The only problem with that theory is that the air-conditioner in my car gave out over a decade ago, (did I mention that my vehicle is of 1991 vintage?) and that it had not held any freon in years.

Fortunately, I have access to all sorts of roadside assistance. Soon enough, Dad and I were headed for an auto repair shop. Hours later I was explaining the absence of freon to yet another male in doubt as to my gender's auto I.Q. At least I and my auto were released gratis as we were sent on our way to yet another repair shop.

At the next shop I had the great good fortune to encounter a knowledgeable representative who kindly recommended I not throw good money after bad by submitting my antique to further diagnosis, which would requirement an automatic charge of exorbitant proportions, labor being what it is. He told me what I'd heard before: time for a newer model.

So it was that Dad and I limped home in our once proud but now humbled vehicle. It's been a great car, and I love driving around the island in it. In fact, that's exactly what I've done, which is probably why time and salt have taken their toll. Ah well...

Money, like water and other auto fluids, flows on, rain or shine.

This Day

2007-09-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

Today is Labor Day here in the United States, and in truly American fashion, we honor those who daily labor by the sweat of their brows, the aches in their backs (and other body parts), and deftness of their hands by desisting from such pursuits in favor of more recreational pursuits, or so the theory goes.

In recent years retailers have chosen to use this day as yet another opportunity to pursue filthy lucre. It's time for one of the biggest car sales of the year, a golden opportunity for buyers to purchase this year's models at the lowest prices they are likely to see before said vehicles are declared "used". It's also an opportunity for dealers to showcase next year's models, (though if they're available now, how can they be new next year?) Of course, the dealers are trying to clear inventory before the bulk of next year's models arrive, before they truly have reached their year-end sales and it becomes a buyer's market rather than a seller's.

The same holds true for other commercial markets. Clothing stores attempt to clear their racks of summer attire as they begin to stock up on autumn and winter wear. (No sense delaying the latter, as fall will have fallen if one will but blink, I think.) Even supermarkets are eager to unload fast-ripening fruits and vegetables (read that "rotting") under the guise of offering Labor Day picnic supplies.

Curiously, software and hardware dealers have jumped on this unloading bandwagon preparatory to restocking for the winter season. Perhaps everyone is sharing truck space as the giant trucks wheel across America safely and efficiently ahead of potential road closures or at least slowdowns in the coming months.

As a consumer, I welcome sales, though I hate bottom of the barrel merchandise. Perhaps I need to reconsider my perspective, as the bottom of the barrel still has more substance than the barrel-less...

So on this day in which we honor those who labor by desisting from lucrative labor in favor of avocational labor (yardwork, gardening, housecleaning, cooking, mending, pre-winter preparations,) and look with anticipation to enjoying family and friends over cookouts with relish, I rejoice in the simplest of pleasures: sleeping in and having this opportunity to blather as I ramble through my disjointed thoughts.

Bright Light Bright Light

2007-09-01T20:08:00.000-07:00

It's been blazing bright and smoking hot here for what seems like forever. In fact, it's so bright that I can't make anything out through the haziness hanging like a veil over everything. That's its own kind of fogginess, I guess... It's actually cooler with the west-facing front door shut in the afternoons, despite the significant decrease in oxygen flow. Ah well...

My "N" has decided to go on walkabout. I didn't even know I had an Australian keyboard. Ah well...

Finally finished the Deathly Hallows "quiz" I'd so eagerly volunteered to write back in July. I'd desperately wanted to finish before August did, but some things are just not meant to be. So the thirty questions somehow became 210 - brevity is not my long suit. Ah well...

My mind is turning to mush; can you tell? This really is just blather. I'd rather be talking about Harry Potter...

I'd been perusing the book, looking for grist for my million question quiz, when I noticed Dumbledore's comment that he'd actually been counting on Hermione to slow Harry down. I confess that thought bothered me, as it seems to me that Hermione is the one who kept Harry moving every time he bogged down. Am I off-base with that thought?

Then there's Ginny. I have been waiting for her to present herself as an awesome witch capable of taking on the world, a true kindred spirit to Lily Evans and thus a fit mate for Harry. Instead, I find that she is a lovestruck girl willing to wait for her boy to become a man, as is the ever so talented Hermione. Everything these young women do seems intended to further their men's ambitions. What's up with that?

I really don't understand Hermione, aside from so many of us expecting her to wind up with Ron in the end. He's a worthless sod if ever there was one: callow, shallow, slow on the uptake, manipulative and exploitative when it comes to his relationships with females. It must be in the nonverbals. After all, I adore Rupert Grint, who evidently "gets" Ronald Weasley, but the way the character is written, I'd shoot him as soon as look at him. Hm... too American? Ah well...

Speaking of American, am I alone in thinking that Rowling wrote a classic Western showdown at sunrise (instead of sunup, cuz the symbolism just works so much better that way...)? There's Harry, mysteriously reappearing after having been taken for dead, jawing away while the sun rises. There's a flurry of motion, a loud bang, and the villain is dead. The crowd goes wild! Yep, every Saturday matinee, every Western, every Star Wars episode - all right there on the same page. Is it my imagination? I think not.

(Hm... does that mean that I disagree or that I truly am not thinking? Hm... mushbrain, indeed...)

Y'know, I'd missed the part where LV got KO'd by the first A-K he tossed at Harry back in the Forbidden Forest en route to Harry's version of King's Cross Station. I'd wondered what Bellatrix was doing cooing over him... yeah, that was strange without the understanding that the dude had hit the dirt, if ever so briefly... Talk about slow learners!

Yep, definitely rambling today.

Say hey, why don'tcha?

Beware What You Wish

2007-08-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, who said, "Up the Aricept"? Suddenly coherence and initiative are back, if not the legs and muscle tone to back it all up. At least this is making my meanderings easier, since we are conjoined these days...

Ah well...

So, when I said coherence is back, I wasn't referring to mine; surely you noticed that...

Another Day

2007-08-24T18:11:00.001-07:00

Another day, another adventure.

When one is newly hatched, one sleeps, eats, poops, and repeats the process. Teeth come and go, for such are the vicissitudes of life. When one is at the other end of the journey, en route back to the Eternal Womb from which all life and matter originally sprang, one sleeps, eats, poops, and repeats the process to the best of one's waning abilities. Teeth go, alas, for good. Such is life.

This morning's crunchy cereal will have to have been the last such experience. Returning teeth to their Maker means an end to crunchy goodness, according to the learned dental doctor. Hm... what does that mean for the erstwhile cook? True, oatmeal is good for the cardiovascular system, but what about other meals, other needs for dental sensations?

For the doctor who hands out pens inscribed, "Eat candy; keep dentists employed," one can only proffer a bag of chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

So much for spending the morning cooking. So, too, the afternoon, in the aftermath of the realization that there is no chicken broth anywhere to be found in this house. How is that possible? Did not a case come in from Costco just last month? Oh wait, that was across the water in another state, another world, another life...

This ramble should be on the Foggy page, for that is what this day has been. Ah well...

Up the Aricept please.

One Week

2007-08-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that one week has passed since Dad returned home. Things are falling into a routine that becomes more comfortable with each passing day. As he did when in the hospital and in rehab, he gets stronger and more alert each day. The other morning I awoke to find that he was returning from a solo trip to the bathroom. Needless to say, I freaked. He said he hadn't wanted to disturb me...

The first couple of days I'd been feeling a little trapped, but it then it dawned on me that I'd been told only that I should never leave Dad alone, not that I had to keep him locked up. Since then we've been trying to get out of the house at least once a day. I say trying advisedly. The first day we tried just didn't happen; he wasn't moving fast enough yet. That was okay. The next day was a success. We have now been out three consecutive days, mostly to the local drugstore and/or marketing.

At first we were limited to what Dad could hold in his admittedly tiny lap. I started watching others hobbling about with various and sundry devices until I realized that young mothers pushing strollers were whizzing about the markets. Those modern strollers come fully equipped, much like the minivans those ladies drive. What I need to do is equip Dad's wheelchair with some handy dandy bags, pouches, carrying containers. Enlightenment is a wonderful thing... (I try not to rush through life...)

At first I was missing television dreadfully. The rehab center had just installed a brand-new hd flatscreen during Dad's last week there, and I'd gotten spoiled again. Now, however, we are once again getting the daily paper delivered. Dad spends much of his waking hours reading through it, getting just a little bit further faster each day. It's great to see the progress he's making, from recounting cartoons to discussing issue-oriented articles.

I miss my cats, especially Max, but I sense that this is the right place for me to be at this time. I just have to work on juggling and taking others into consideration a little bit more than I've done in recent years. Hm... I may have to grow up a bit after all. Ah well... If Harry did, I guess I can, too. ;->

Day 3

2007-08-18T12:43:00.000-07:00

No, you didn't miss the first two days.

It's been a long week, and this has just been the beginning. Dad was scheduled to come home on Wednesday, but that got pushed back till Thursday. Friends appeared out of the blue and offered much needed help, without which nothing would have gotten done. It's amazing how enervating and paralyzing emotional attachments and half-forgotten memories can be.

Finally, mid-Wednesday, the hospital bed arrived. The place was as prepared as it was going to get. A brief, unwarranted celebration that nevertheless went on too long left this poor fool groggier than intended Thursday morning - the morning of Dad's release. A quick couple of hours slid by as last minute touches and realization of things yet to be done flitted through this porous brain. Then it was time and past time for the pickup.

Dad was so ready to be released. He'd been ready all week, truth to tell. Still, there was paperwork to be signed and last minute checks to be executed. A promise to return for the flowers was met by panic from the staff. There were demands that "Papa" not be left alone in the car -at all. There was a demand that they be called, a promise that the flowers would be brought out. When the call came, there was only one flower brought out. The other had been discarded as dead. The leftover shaving cream had been ignored. There were no extra support materials to be had. (Have I mentioned how much I dislike the day shift's attitude?)

Then we were homeward bound. Everything was like new. Disorientation was nearly complete. A month can be a long time, especially when one has not been conscious for all of it...

Home proved less ready than anticipated. The changes were shocking, yet still inadequate. The floor was too clear yet not clear enough. There's just no pleasing some folks. Food was overly abundant, though this morning's breakfast was too small. Sarcasm evidently not appreciated...

Never leave him alone, they said. That can be a trifle wearing. Try staying with someone, anyone, for twenty-four hours. Try remaining attentive and anticipatory. Go ahead; try it. Healthy people drive me to drink with that much attentiveness. Try someone in need.

And yet, this is my choice. This is something I know I have to do. We'll see how the succeeding days go...

In the Name of Security

2007-08-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

No, this doesn't upset or anger me at all! (Click on the title for the link to the article to which I am reacting.)

I guess I should pay more attention to the news. I had no idea that these sorts of ideas were even being bounced around. If this is an improvement, I don't even want to know what was being considered initially.

When I was a child, I thought nothing of providing my name, age, I.Q., and shoe size upon request to whomever asked. How else were adults to know who I was as I made my way through the wide, mysterious world?

Those days, however, are long gone. No longer a child living with implicit trust in the wisdom and infallibility of those ostensibly in charge of my safety and wellbeing, I live instead in fear of identity theft. The very information that once assured my safety now seems a broad gateway for malicious thieves to steal what little there is of my sense of self. There's something twisted about such a perversion. Why should one's name, date of birth, and gender be such dangerous tools in the wrong hands?

In great strength inherently lies great weakness. If this information links me to all that I have amassed, (which I admit ain't much,) then it also serves as the key for those who would relieve me of my worldly burdens. I use "the" with great intent, as there are no other options, as I see it. Burdens, I say, because my worldly goods have become burdens in need of care and concern. Of course, stripping me of these burdens will not free me in any way that I desire at present either... Therein lies the dilemma. This is not a matter of to have or not to have.

Fortunately, I do not place my whole sense of identity in my possessions. Unfortunately, evidently my government does. Ah well...

Hello from HI

2007-08-02T11:21:00.000-07:00

So here I sit in sunny Hawaii, hunched over my recalcitrant keyboard trying to get back into blogging, all because Siri, a most respected poster from the now sadly defunct HPForums, was kind enough to remind me of life online here. Thanks, Siri! :->

My cable modem here sucks big time, but I intend to resolve that later this morning, just as soon as the local company opens and I can effect an exchange, hopefully to a superior piece of equipment... Still, I've been bubbling over with thoughts, so here we go -

The evening of July 20th I was sitting in my father's hospital room, mulling over my intended strategies for obtaining a copy of HP: DH, when an innocent, unsuspecting family friend walked in to visit Dad and let drop that there was a copy on reserve at the local bookstore. With no reservations whatsoever, I foisted myself upon my unsuspecting victim and caught a midnight ride down to the store. Foolishly, we arrived at 12:20 instead of 12:30, so I had to wait in line while the store staff worked feverishly to service the long lines of eager customers. Those of us unwilling to await midnight had the dubious pleasure of watching others more beforehand walking away with their noses in books. More disturbing, perhaps, was the sight of those driving away reading... Oh wait, that kid was riding shotgun...

Finally I had the book in my hands. Back at the hospital the Security Desk fellows gave me grief over my obsession, but I didn't care: I had the book.

Upstairs, however, Dad had his revenge. Every time I started to read, he'd call me, his auditory "call button", for help. Every time I found my place again, he'd call again. It was a long short night that left me ever so slightly exhausted and frustrated.

Fortunately, Dad proved to be exhausted, too, and slept through Sunday almost without a stir. It was a bit of a turning point for him, and once I'd had a bit of a nap, I was able to read unimpeded, finishing around 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon. I make no apologies for the delay, and I have to say, it was a great read!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final installment in J. K. Rowling's seven-volume epic bulding-romans, (sp?) is a satisfying fulfillment of the fifteen years of teasing and tormenting the author and we readers have enjoyed. I am, however, glad that I came in halfway through, as I don't know that I would have stayed so long, had I been there at the beginning. (Something to do with age and time of life, I think.)

Like the Israelites wandering for forty years in the wilderness, like Jesus in the desert for forty days, like Odysseus en route home for ten-and-a-half years longer than anyone else, Harry and his friends are sent on the road to finish their growth and education. It is for them what the formerly traditional world tour was intended to be for Elphias Doge and Albus Dumbledore in the previous generation: a journey physical, mental, psychological, and spiritual dimensions wherein that crossing from childhood to adulthood is effected, wherein physical demons and personal demons are encountered and, hopefully, conquered. This is, in fact, precisely what happens. Harry faces off against Nagini in the form of Bathilda Bagshot, Ron faces his greatest insecurities against the Hufflepuff Cup horcrux, and Hermione faces off against intellectual challenges, conflicting emotional loyalties and desires, and (offstage,) her own locket horcrux, appropriately enough with Ron by her side and Gryffindor's Sword in her hands. Most important, perhaps, Harry faces off against the mental link between himself and Voldemort, learning to use it and yet to block it at need. Does this latter mean that Rowling advocates the use of evil in the battle for good? Hm...

I like that Ron gets his own personal struggle, albeit offstage. He chooses recklessly, experiences immediate regret, then gets to spend a fair portion of (again appropriately) the winter months struggling to return, to regain the privileged footing he once held so lightly.

Dumbledore is tumbled from his pedestal but, like Ron, allowed a return to grace. I like the balance of perspective, the blending of humanity and fallibility and ulterior agenda with the idealism that fuels everything. The whole dead/not quite dead sequence reaffirms my earlier thought that Rowling is a 21st century Inkler, in the tradition of Tolkien and Lewis, who sought more contemporary ways to retell the tales of sacrifice and salvation rooted in Christianity and in Greco-Roman mythologies preceding it.

Dobby may not be a screen favorite, but his is a poignant storyline. Harry's manual labor on Dobby's behalf echoes of other scenes dancing just on the periphery of my memory at the moment... More later, if I remember...

I like Kreacher this time around.

Percy the Prat returns. His explanation is succinct, which is good. Such a jerk doesn't deserve a lot of page time, though I can't help but be pleased that he returns, if only to affirm Molly's and Arthur's parenting skills.

It was as sad to see Fred dead as it was funny to see George after the loss of his ear. Fred, Lupin, and Tonks all got short shrift, but that's pretty true to life, as death goes...

It was great to see the teachers finally getting to strut their magical stuff, and I do hope they get decent film time as the sequence is really more visual than verbal, but what I loved best about the Final Battle of Hogwarts was Molly, followed closely by the cameo of Neville's Grams climbing through the hole.

Gotta love Molly Weasley's battle scene with Bellatrix. We've been seeing her potential all along, and this is proof positive that there is no greater wrath than that of a mother whose offspring are being threatened, never mind scorned women. I particularly liked that Bellatrix, like Sirius before her, died as much from overconfidence and underetimating as from anything else. It seemed fitting.

Neville ascending is awesome. I particularly like the irony that Voldemort gets taken out by the one-two punch of both boys that might have fulfilled the prophecy, suggesting that he was doomed from the get-go, no matter which lad he had targeted. Neville takes out Nagini, and Harry is Voldemort's final blow. I particularly like that Harry is relatively passive, that evil is its own destroyer.

That reminds me, I like that every single horcrux is destroyed by someone different, so that no one person really deserves all the credit:

Diary = Harry
Ring = Dumbledore
Cup = Ron
Locket = Hermione
Tiara = Crabbe (the idiot)
Nagini = Neville
Harry = Tom Riddle

Note that it's all a combined effort of Gryffindors and Slytherins, the two most active Houses of Hogwarts. As Phineas Nigellus says, Slytherin does, indeed, play its part as a positive contribution to the ultimate triumph of Good over Evil.

Speaking of Slytherin, I love that I was right about Snape but hadn't figured it all out completely. I had suspected that when Petunia said, "That awful boy!" she might have been referring to Snape rather than James, though I couldn't figure out how that might have been possible. I also suspected that Snape had had a thing for Lily, as indeed, all the boys evidently did back in the day. I just wish Snape could have had more page time, but as usual, this just wasn't meant to be his story. Poor guy, always getting upstaged by Potters...

Last, but certainly not least, I want to know more about Albus Severus, who has already won me over. Curiously, the next-gen James is no more interesting to me than the original was. I wonder how she did that...

So what do you think? ;->

Back Again: HP5

2007-07-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

I'm briefly back from Hawaii, whence I must soon return. Meanwhile, my tail and I are chasing each other, but I have carved out a little time for really important things, like HP. :->

So today I finally fought through jet lag and my normal summer malaise to get up in a timely manner, get in my once customary workout, get cleaned up, then get myself over to a local plex. Pumping with adrenaline from my morning workout, (sporadic though it was,) I slid into line at the box office at precisely 11:30 a.m., the listed starting time for the showing I had targeted. I still managed to catch most of the previews, all of which I loved, (unlike those preceding Ratatouille, most of which I loathed.) I think Steve Carell (sp?) will make a perfect 21st century Maxwell Smart, and I'm very psyched about the upcoming Bourne Ultimatum. I'm even excited about the upcoming Disney offering, Enchanted, now that Patrick Dempsey is finally old enough to play a romantic lead in a frothy comedy, and what's not to like about mocking animation in real life?

But about the actual HP movie...

I loved the music-free opening, though I was a little startled by how butchered the Privet Drive segment proved to be. I can understand the need to tighten the story, and in many ways I think the writer made some judicious choices. I even think he does some very plausible foreshadowing of how Book 7 will (or can) conclude, and he does so in several places.

As I sit here reflecting on my first viewing experience, I can't help but feel that it was more like watching a slideshow book report than the actual narrative. I think I filled in quite a bit from memory, though I'll have to consult those of my acquaintances who only watch the movies to determine whether or not they feel that the narrative actually hangs together the way that it is presented. I'm going to make time to watch it again in IMAX, after which I'll blog how, if at all, my impressions change.

For now, here are some brief first impressions:

- Ginny got more camera time than Cho, which I thought was a bit much as foreshadowing goes...

- The Tonks/Lupin storyline was nowhere in evidence, despite Tonks' facial freak show at supper.

- Snape was pretty clearly more good than evil.

- Imelda Staunton is clearly a more powerful old meany than Dolores Umbridge.

- Where the book dragged, the movie felt rushed - just can't please some folks, I guess. ;->

So what did you think?

Is It Still Vidding?

2007-06-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

Is it still vidding if one is actually watching a dvd? Eh, who cares?

Recently watched two movies: Because I Said So and Music and Lyrics.

Because I Said So was a serious disappointment. While I wasn't necessarily expecting to be bowled over, I didn't expect to be so actively and aggressively turned off by the characters. Diane Keaton is far too effective as the interfering mother, and Mandy Moore is too much of a useless pillow for the comedy to be appreciated. The situation just isn't funny, admittedly perhaps because the shoes fit too well. Tom Everet Scott, so likable in That Thing You Do, is neither sufficiently evil nor sufficiently desirable for his role. Seriously, what's wrong with being wealthy and urbane? Sure. Gabriel Macht's character is the stereotypical perfect knight errant, but his turnaround is hardly credible, more wish fulfillment. About the only thing I enjoyed was the history that Stephen Collins and Diane Keaton bring, and that's not the responsibility of the script writers, who absolutely suck. I hate when a good cast is discovered in a really bad or badly butchered final cut of a movie.

, on the other hand, was actually better than I expected, probably because I watched it with such low expectations. While I love Hugh Grant movies in general, Drew Barrymore's work often leaves me cold. I tend to find her performances puerile and too old school, as in overacted. This time around, however, she was fairly well restrained, almost to the point of being comatose. She needs to strike that happy medium silly, as soon as she catches up with him...) Hugh Grant was a lovely parody of an 80s has-been. He does seem to have been taking pleasure in shaking his hips on-screen since they first got loose in Bridget Jones' Diary. The biggest problem with this film, I think, was the insipidity of the song on which the protagonists work throughout the film. Ah well... Kinda like Studio 60, the product under examination (show and song) is not up to the caliber of the vehicle in which it is discussed. Ah well...

Gotta find me something good to watch.

Did see Jim Carrey's The Majestic on television yesterday, which is a movie I dearly love. The mistaken identity is handled beautifully, with assumptions nicely balanced against inherent honesty on both personal and public scales. Now that's a script worth writing, reading, and producing. I'm just grateful someone did all three.

Tail

2007-06-22T15:09:00.000-07:00

Some dumb blonde, too old to qualify as a bimbette, too flat to be categorized as a bimbo, felt an evidently irresistible urge to tailgate me this morning as we passed through a school zone. She didn't even have the excuse of being preoccupied by a cell phone conversation to explain (not justify) her attitude. Perhaps she had a hard morning getting out of her house. Perhaps someone else had been pushing her around recently. We still each of us have the ability to choose consciously whether or not we allow inertia to pass through us and on to others.

Harumph!

The incident did have the positive effect of reminding me that I actually prefer to drive alone and in silence. There's a meditative aspect to driving that way that actually causes me to be a trifle resentful when I have a chatty cathy in my vehicle, much as I also take pleasure in the insanity of a road trip with convivial companions.

Breathing Lessons

2007-06-14T16:49:00.000-07:00

One of the many homepages I have set up has daily lessons on esoteric topics. Today it wants to teach me how to breathe. More precisely, it provides instructions in the execution of exercises designed to expand lung capacity. That's all well and good, I'm sure, but as I have spent much of my life attempting to breathe less deeply in order to avoid certain inevitable odors that shared living spaces make inevitable, the suggestions seem counterintuitive. The final flurry of suggestions includes joining and participating in a marching band as the player of a wind or brass instrument. Unfortunately, the opportunity for such an activity seems to be past for such a one as I. Ah well... Playing trumpet always did leave me feeling light-headed and winded anyway...

Gotta Go

2007-06-13T15:50:00.000-07:00

One more summer, and then I must go. I think I'll close down these blogs when I do, for I do not anticipate having either time or easy access. It has been fun, but now, I fear, I must be done.

Rough Out There

2007-06-07T15:59:00.000-07:00

Traffic's rough out there today. Another semi has flipped over, though this time no bridge or overpass has been destroyed, even though another truck was taken down in the flipping. Should we feel grateful that there was merely a traffic snarl for half the working day? Should we wonder that there have been major traffic jams on three separate primary arteries this morning? Can there be any correlation or is it all just coincidence?

A couple of years ago I would have hypothesized that the drivers here just aren't used to so much sunlight, and that may still be true for some, but surely there are other, better explanations for such widespread poor driving.

- A local story broke yesterday regarding the bribing of student workers to change grades at a respected community college. Have workers at the Department of Motor Vehicles been similarly tempted?

- Now that the days are lengthening, are people being tempted to stay up later, get up earlier, and thus suffer from increased sleep deprivation as they continue to drive longer and longer commutes to jobs that pay well enough for them to participate in the lifestyle to which they wish their children to become accustomed? (Good luck navigating that sentence.)

- Now that colleges and high schools are in full swing in the graduation season, are those celebrations spilling over into the roadways with late night party-goers mixing with early morning commuters?

- Or is this all a consequence of a well-coordinated conspiracy, to be milked for maximum political gain?

Whatever the reason(s), traffic is rough out there.

Drive safely. Ride safely. Arrive safely.

Adjectival Differentiation

2007-06-05T12:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's news kept featuring this teaser about an article out of Chicago addressing the advancement of pornography into mainstream American society over the past thirty years. Both television and several Internet news sources featured the lead prominently amongst their leads. Ultimately, it became a story I could not avoid reading.

One question that struck me as I read was the difference between sexiness and blatant sex. That's a line that seems to have become blurred in the minds of many young women in particular, (not that it was ever really clear to everyone). When I was growing up in sex-repressed America, sexiness was easy to identify. It everything to do with titillation and the tease. Today sex seems to be served up on a platter as an appetizer-free entree. Where, pray tell, is the appeal? I know very few people who enjoy a meal without either an appetizer or a dessert. Even tv dinners included both, paltry though they were.

Without the tease, there can be no sexiness, only a kind of sordidness that may or may not satisfy one party, but surely not two, and is not the act of sex intended as a duet that is at its best when all participants are satisfied?

Danger Will Robinson

2007-06-01T14:57:00.000-07:00

Danger, danger, everywhere I turn. Today the FDA in its infinite wisdom has posted a warning against any and all toothpaste manufactured in China. Earlier this year Peter Pan peanut butter and its generic Wal-Mart counterpart, products of the fine U.S. state of Georgia, were recalled. Prior to that and since then there have been ongoing recalls of domestic pet foods containing tainted ingredients, all ostensibly originating in China, though many brands were processed in Canada. I guess it wasn't enough that our food supplies have been undergoing genetic engineering; now good old fashioned foods are being tainted as well. It's enough to put a person off food and to restart the whole anorexia nervosa and anorexia bulimia trends, which should make those warring against obesity happy enough. Is it any wonder that some people can get so very obsessed with the subject of consumption?

Of course, ignoring the topic doesn't seem very intelligent either. After all, willful consumption of materials with the potential to rot the brain or simply kill seems foolish in the extreme. Remember ignorance? Now there was a blissful time. People grew food, cooked, ate, lived, and died. It was all a cosmic cycle, all part of a Great Design. Now there are so many masters of their own destinies that there's a veritable traffic jam of life as people try to navigate uncharted waters following neon billboards filled with pop wisdom in lieu of trusted road maps, the latter of which have fallen into disrepute and therefore by the wayside).

Ah, come on, give me a chance - I know I can fit another cliche in there somewhere.

The National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) is now addressing the language of teens: text messaging. In the same newsletter is noted the fact that Shakespeare and other classics of literature are getting less class time as teachers shift curriculum emphases in a desperate attempt to stay relevant. So not only is the next generation receiving validation for the new forms of communication they are creating, they are also being denied exposure to older ideas, thus guaranteeing a newer, wider generation gap, in addition to the cultural, economic, and educational gaps duly noted within contemporary American society.

I'm just saying...

S3 Revisited

2007-05-29T17:41:00.000-07:00

Been thinking about Shrek as a trilogy since Sunday evening, which is interesting in itself, since I would have thought that Pirates offered more food for thought - or not. Ogres, after all, are like onions...

Just had to watch the original Shrek when I came home, partly because of the movie critic who stayed up late, then didn't much like what he saw. As I rewatched the first installment, I was forcibly reminded of just how awesome and inventive it was and still is. The original is a throwback to the early days of animation when all sorts of social and political commentary was slipped in for attentive adults, much like the original fairytales and folktales. Those were razor-edged tales, meant to give offense in return for offenses that had been taken by the writers. Such tales were later watered down and sanitized in order to please the masses and offend as few folk as possible, defanging them, if you will. (The same has been done to virtually all creative manifestations of rebellion, the most recent example of which is the co-opting of rap music.) But I digress, as usual...

The first Shrek was a classic love story coupled with commentary on self-esteem and self-confidence, even as it mocked the classic conventions. The second installment continued the development of the protagonist's self-image and extended the lesson to include trusting in the power of love. There were lovely riffs on in-law relations as the characters moved from the single life to wedded bliss. This third episode continues the original ideas of self-esteem and self-confidence, though this time the focus moves away from a fairytale character, albeit to one who has achieved animation stardom. It's a bit of a rehash, even as it reflects the passing of the baton from one generation to the next, arguably a new idea for this vehicle.

I've always liked all the allusions slipping in and out of the Shrek movies, but I have to agree that this third turn is only almost as delightful as its predecessors. Maybe I just don't like the whole high school scene, or maybe Charming just doesn't hold his own as a villain for me. I do like the idea of laughing him off as a good way to deal with him, but somehow that left him a little more than short of oomph.

Still, I like the idea that Lord Farquaard was short, Fiona's father was a frog prince, and Cousin Arthur was once a boy nicknamed "Wart", at least according to T.H. White. There's a certain symmetry to it all...

Still thinking...

Movie Madness

2007-05-27T22:01:00.000-07:00

Ah, I do enjoy turning a doubleheader! This morning started out bright and early, or foggy but early, as the case may be. Be that as it may, though it started slowly, this has been a good weekend for watching movies.

First up was Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World's End. Now, I'll be the first to confess that I lack the visual acuity of virtually everyone I know, including the blind dog down the street, but I do have an eye and ear for inside jokes and casual allusions, as well as an appreciation of character development and narrative geometry. My overall impression of PotC3, then, is that a relatively slow start eventually picked up speed and actually did a beautiful job of bringing many seemingly casual bits full circle through the trilogy. I particularly love the use of language and vocabulary as part of characterization and sly digs. Visually, there were some awe-inspiring moments and an amazing attention to detail. Some might suggest that the narrative detail provided was more than the pacing could handle, but I don't see the need for everything to be a headlong rush, except that that is what we as audience have been conditioned to expect from any Bruckheimer production.

Next on the docket was Shrek the Third. Offhand I'd guess that the target audience for ST3 is actually perhaps five years older than that of PotC3. The latter is, after all, still courtship, whereas the latter is post-marriage mentoring in preparation parenthood. In each film the older though still youthful mentor gives way for the next generation, sacrificing glory and the limelight for the greater good. In each case the honor is dubious: becoming the immortal captain of the Flying Dutchman vs. becoming the high profile ruler of the fairytale land of Far Far Away. The difference, of course, is that Jack Sparrow yields reluctantly whereas Shrek actively seeks to sidestep the honor. It's actually kind of fun to think of the parallels as Mike Myers vs. Johnny Depp and Justin Timberlake vs. Orlando Bloom. For the females, of course, Keira Knightley is the clear winner over Cameron Diaz in terms of significance to the plot and in screen time. As far as characters go, Fiona is delivered of three babies, a numerical triumph over Elizabeth's one child. Mathematically, Fiona produces in one round the most Elizabeth will be able to produce, ever, given that she only gets one swiving per decade. Kinda daunting, that thought... Still, both films were fun romps, each in their own way.

A third film that has recently come my way is another Chow Yen Fat vehicle: The Curse of the Golden Flower, a historical drama set in the Tang dynasty that inspects and dissects the black corruption concealed beneath the opulent facades of the royal court. Gong Li is as gorgeous as the rest of the scenery. Chow Yen Fat, in contrast, is such a dark and villainous looking fellow beneath his makeup that it took me awhile to recognize him. Together they epitomize the point of the narrative. The narrative skein is as intricate and complex as the chrysanthemums woven by the royal ladies, and as multi-layered. You want corruption, this film has it: infidelity, incest, bribery, betrayals, polygamy, poisonings, plots within plots within plots. I only wish I could understand more of the Chinese being spoken, as that always adds yet another layer to the subtitled films I watch.

More, I want to see more.

Toast the Roast

2007-05-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

What's the good of a fun title about which one has nothing to say? Hm...

This is, in fact, the converse of the old adage, "Out of the frying pan into the fire," for this is out of the fire and into the frying pan, as it were:

The pleasure of slow roasting a shoulder of pork butt in an outdoor smoker can be enhanced by adding the shredded pork to a pan of sake-simmered cabbage and grated ginger, thus making kalua and cabbage, an island favorite. The toasting part involves including the shredded pork in the frying pan for a quick round or two of stirring and simmering. When corn tortillas are toasted in the emptied pan, the flavor is stretched even further, leading to a gastronomic pleasure that must be experienced to be properly understood.

Of course, it was under the influence of this dish that I took my recent trip, but there is no cause and effect connection here, merely coincidence.

Because everything is connected, I cannot help but notice that the trips I have been taking home are very much along the order of toasting the roast. There is the long, slow heat that has been applied over the past several years; the smoke that is frequently thrown in various eyes, obscuring facts and perpetuating fictions,; and the fact that unless things get straightened out before it is too late, someone's going to be toast, possibly a couple of us. Auwe!

Ketchup

2007-05-24T10:30:00.000-07:00

Trying to catch up, but I guess I'll just have to start over with the whole consecutive entries thing.

Yesterday was too smoking hot to think, so instead, I made a big stink, firing up the grill in order to do some smoking. Hm... so gas grills are now being advocated instead of charcoal because the latter are suspected of being carcinogenic, even though they are a more natural form of preparing food, yes? So subjecting oneself to charcoal-fueled smoke and charred food is perhaps not the wisest thing one might do.

Seriously, what in life doesn't eventually lead to death of one kind or another? I suppose I could lead as safe and clean and conscientious a life as possible, given the guidelines now available through various health agencies, but then I think I might die of boredom or anxiety over not being able to follow all the contradictory advice out there. There is, of course, the ongoing argument that anyone can get hit by a car on any given day, which makes all that precautionary living rather a waste of a good time and an otherwise good life. On the other hand, if one successfully avoids that dastardly car, as so many do, ignoring health and safety warnings can lead to a slow and painful demise, also a waste of an otherwise good time and good life.

I've got it: avoid thinking about consequences altogether and simply life as well as one can as life and opportunity unfold. No need to chase a grill, nor to duck it. No need to seek trouble, nor to go to inordinate lengths to dodge it. No reason to waste time worrying, nor any reason to take unnecessary risks when common knowledge provides prudent guidelines.

Have to muster the courage to live, not waste time trying to catch up. It's life, not dodge ball.

Confusion

2007-05-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

So when Ryan Seacrest said that Simon Cowell had described one of the former contestants as a bush baby, I wondered if there was some resemblance to the current president's family. Shows you what I know. Of course, when the fellow appeared and then the image of an actual bush baby was shown, I was hard pressed not to understand Cowell's comment. Except for the eyes, there's actually a bit of a resemblance to the prex as well, especially around the cheeks...

Not a great observation, but there it is...

Big Brother Says Buckle Up

2007-05-22T22:46:00.000-07:00

I'm torn.

On one hand, I'm all for safe travel and government officials being held to a higher standard of accountability and example. What's more, I love learning of GW's follies.

From another perspective, however, I resent anything that smacks of governmental attempts to control private actions and choices. There is, moreover, my nearly lifelong resentment against seat belt usage being legislated and mandated. I am, after all, just old enough to remember the pleasures of unfettered riding and the speed with which the novelty of wearing airplane-like seat belts wore off.

There is something sacred about the right to do what one will on one's own property, or there should be. The greatest violators of that right are not government officials but officious media representatives. If one cannot do wheelies and other foolhardy activities on one's own property, where can one risk life and limb for private pleasure? It can be argued that the very question answers itself in the negative. That may well be so, but the human existence is a bit poorer for the loss of such idiocy, I think. If all daring is denied, if all errors are prevented, how is one to learn? Is it not from our mistakes, even more than from our successes, that we learn and grow, both personally and as a society, even as a species?

Okay, so our feckless president doesn't wear a seat belt when he drives; he only drives on private property. After all, that's what all his chauffeurs are for, isn't it? And seriously, what can he possibly damage? Surely we don't fear brain damage, do we?

Daytimers

2007-05-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

This column about people who seem to have unfettered time during the day caught my attention because, well, they seem to share something of my situation. Why are there so many people out of offices in the middle of the day? Who are they and what are they doing? How are they surviving?

I have been wanting to go to a theater, any theater, for several weeks now. Checking theater schedules online, I learned that quite a few theaters have their first showings starting in the 11 o'clock hour, though no one beats the Metreon's 10 o'clock starting times. Only Emeryville, home of Pixar, waits till afternoon to begin airing movies. Why is that? Granted, summer vacation has begun for a number of students, but clearly other segments of the population are being targeted as well.

So who else is available for leisure time activities during workdays? As this is a part of the Silicon Valley, I guess there are a fair number of remarkably youthful retirees. There are, of course, the trust fund babies, but how many of those can there be? As a region rich in literary traditions, there are a fair few writers here as well. The density of restaurants, both fine dining and fast food, suggest that a goodly portion of the workforce functions at night, leaving them free to meander about during daylight hours. I would guess that there are stay-at-home mothers, but this area is not conducive to single-income families, though it does contain a number of telecommuters and self-employed workers who might appear to have an inordinate amount of flexibility during daylight hours.

All in all, there are quite a few people with flexible schedules and quite a few reasons for all that flexibility. It's good to know that ours is not so rigid a society as mainstream doctrine would have us believe.

Cool Pic

2007-05-20T16:48:00.000-07:00

A surprising viewing pleasure played out again on commercial cable television last night: Behind Enemy Lines. This is a film based on an actual incident that made it into the news some years back, changing American foreign policy when the story finally managed to surface. I do like when these kinds of films come my way, and this seems to be that part of the cycle in my life right now.

Owen Wilson and Gene Hackman head up a predominantly male cast in what was sold as a typical action yarn. Now, whenever I see a Wilson brother in the cast, I expect humorous moments, and Owen does not disappoint, though he is surprisingly straight in this film, and effective in being so. Gene Hackman has done such diverse work that it's harder to know what to expect, though when he's playing a cigar-chomping military officer, humor is not expected. When it appears, the lack of expectation makes it all the more effective.

I don't mean to suggest that this film is a comedy - far from it. This is, like Blood Diamond, intended as an expose' of unspeakable atrocities. There is rape, there is slaughter, there is callous betrayal and attempted coverup by deadly force, and there is failure on the parts of multiple governments to step up and take necessary action. As is generally the case in such tales, it is the heroism of individual mavericks willing to buck the system to do what is right that paves the way for others in higher profile positions to make grand gestures after all the dirty work is done. As is also too often the case, those who take the risks and make the sacrifices pay the price for their altruism and heroism, whether with their lives or with the careers that have defined them and been their life.

I would write in more specific terms if I had not fallen asleep during the viewing late last night. When I have reviewed my copy of the dvd, I will write at greater length - I hope.

Another Intriguing Movie

2007-05-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

Had the privilege of finally seeing Blood Diamond last evening. I couldn't stop thinking about it this morning, so I ran a few searches on it to see what others think of it and was pleased to see that there were only a few thoughts running along the same lines mine are, so here goes:

There's a scene near the end of the movie that put me forcibly in mind of Frodo and Sam attempting to scale Mount Doom. (Granted, the force came from my viewing companion.) This morning I got to thinking that Blood Diamond fits very much into the pattern of Beowulf and The Lord of the Rings, which actually makes sense, since Tolkien based The Hobbit on Beowulf. But I digress.

What I mean to say is that Danny Archer, the protagonist of BD, is an orphan who has been mentored by a powerful warlord, grows up to be a pretty impressive warrior himself, but turns from his mentor's goals to adventuring. He ends up dying as a result of a wound acquired in conflict with an antagonist who is not even the worst villain in the piece. Granted, the villain was once his mentor, which is not the case for either Beowulf or Frodo, but it's not a perfect parallel, nor do I think it is intended as such. His mentor is, after all, a former father figure, as Grendel's mother was . . . a mother figure - in loco parentis, as it were. Like Beowulf and Frodo, he dies childless, his sacrifice intended to leave the world he has loved a better place for his having passed this way. At least, that is the hope, though not a guarantee.

Within the tale there are all sorts of intriguing parallels and connections. The protagonist's name is Danny Archer. Daniel of the Old Testament is renowned for having survived the lions' den, seen by some as proof of a charmed life. Danny is likewise seen as one who ventures regularly into deadly enemy territory, consistently returning unscathed.

The protagonist's surname is Archer. This may be seen as a reference to one who fights from a safe distance or as indicating that the character himself is an arrow. This latter connection works particularly well in light of the female lead's name: Maddy Bowen. She is, after all, the bow that cocks this bent arrow and redirects him back into a straighter path than he has been following since the traumatic appropriation of his life when he witnessed his parents' humiliation and destruction. He can also be seen as the arrow shot from Paris' bow that found Achilles' heel in the Trojan War. He doesn't personally take down the colossus, but his choices and actions do set in motion the ultimate downfall of the seemingly all-powerful and untouchable.

Maddy Bowen is another interesting name. Whether she is mad, as one fellow journalist suggests, pursuing stories at great personal risk yet surviving and triumphing unscathed, or whether she is like a madeleine, an irresistible cookie with a come hither aftertaste that simply does not allow just one nibble, she is the bow, the leader, the catalyst that redirects the protagonist into avenues he has no intention of pursuing when he first begins his quest. She serves as his unattainable desire, very much in the chivalric romantic tradition. She serves as the lens by which the protagonist, the viewers, and the world are invited to see truth among disparate facts, rumors, and lies.

The object of interest is a character named Solomon Vandy. Solomon is a name that easily conjures so many things. While the Biblical Solomon was not by any means a great father figure, he was arguably the greatest king in the history of Israel. It was under his leadership that the Israelites expanded their boundaries the most, under his leadership that Israel reached its greatest height of cultural development, economic wealth, and political power. The fabled diamond mines of literature are known as King Solomon's mines.

More important, Solomon was known for his wisdom, and that is Solomon Vandy's greatest strength. He makes shrewd choices under duress, knows to protect his family when the village is suddenly attacked, manages to conceal (nearly) a find of epic proportions, knows what steps to take in his search long before bored officials tell him what to do, has contingency plans for those he knows will try to cheat him, knows who to trust, how to trust, and how to regain trust, knows ultimately how to regain his family and protect his own, knows that their safety and companionship are the most important things in his life but that material considerations are necessary to protect and collect them.

The character is a faithful father who works tirelessly to recover every member of his family, never losing faith, never losing hope. His is the boldness of necessity, though we see in more than one instance his very human fear of pain and death. His is the true kind of courage that acts despite fear rather than because of any lack of it. He has a generosity of heart and spirit that enables him not only to reclaim his own son from the ruthless rebels, but to reclaim and redeem the heart and spirit of the little lost and abandoned white boy lurking within the body of the threatening white man he believes intends only to rob him, possibly to murder him. It is this greatness of heart and spirit that helps him to rescue his family from the refugee camp in Guinea where they have fled and are being held. When he is offered blood money for the blood diamond, he says that $2 million is not enough, that he must and will have his family back. If the dealer had not been so small of spirit himself, he could have saved himself the money and simply offered the family. Such insight into Solomon's character would also have saved the diamond dealer from the journalistic expose' that followed.

Solomon's son, Dia, deserves some mention as well. An online reviewer noted that the boy's name is the first three letters of the word, diamond. In the native tongue, it refers to the value of the boy, though in the English tongue, it prefaces a more material, less worthwhile consideration. Solomon is not deceived. He knows that his son is, at heart, a good boy, not just a material consideration.

Solomon ultimately serves as Danny's lost father as well. When Solomon refuses to tell the rebel leader where the hidden blood diamond is located, he is told that his wife will be found and raped before his very eyes, and his daughters will be taken to serve as objects by the rebel leader. This serves as a disturbing parallel for, as we learn in a different scene, Archer watched his own mother raped and murdered and his father decapitated and hung on a hook in the barn when Archer himself was but a boy of nine. Danny comes to see himself in Dia, and in Solomon he sees the father and the second chance he himself never had. That becomes a sacrifice worth making, much as Denzel Washington chooses in De ja Vu, much as Frodo tries to give Smeagol in LotR.

There are a number of critics who found this film less than satisfactory because it attempts to address an actual injustice. There are those who argue that this film that is so critical of the exploitation of Africans is itself exploiting the situation for the sake of commercial considerations. There are some, notably women, who object to the perceived attack on the diamond industry per se. I suppose those who believe film should only be escapist can reasonably object to the suggestion that there is a real life connection to the narrative. Clearly, a film is made to make money, so there is something to be said there. For those who fear they might be cut off from their shiny treasures, much as fur has taken a hit, there is no defense or explanation. For those who argue that this is a tale that has been told in broad strokes many times, there is the thought that it is not whether or not the tale has been told, (they all have,) but how well the telling has been executed. There are, moreover, the details. Africa still has much beauty amidst the ugliness brought by warfare. There is a real need to disseminate information about atrocities that are being committed outside of history books and fairy tales. Finally, this film is showcase for one of the finest, most underused actors of our time, Djimon Honshu, who is one of the most beautiful and amazing of his or any generation.

Under the Cat's Paw

2007-05-17T14:02:00.000-07:00

I used to think this was such a strange turn of phrase, but I've come to understand it in a very literal way. There is no place I'd rather be than under my cat's paw. That makes me wonder why anyone would want to use the phrase as a derogatory description. That's like impugning the power of a female dog, especially a mother defending her young. When my cat puts me under his paw(s), it's all about sharing the love, and he puts himself under my chin, which seems fair. I guess some folks just don't appreciate proper lovings.

I grew up without pets, evidently because my parents didn't particularly appreciate the animals with which they shared time and attention in their own respective childhoods. My parents are, in fact, proof that the benefits of growing up with pets do, in fact, elude some people. Still, my folks did grow up responsible and quite capable of attending to basic survival needs. They never flinched from cleaning up messes not of their own making, though it would be unfair to say that doing so gave them any great pleasure. Unfortunately, they also failed to garner any pleasure from the wet slobberings that so often accompany those proper lovings to which I referred above. Life is full of tradeoffs, so I've been told.

One might argue that I have always lived under one cat's paw or another, whether two-legged or four-footed. (Now who's using the term in a less than glowing light?) Perhaps that is what makes me so amenable to my Max's firm paws. At least I can believe that he seeks the give and take of shared affection, not just domination. On the other hand, who among those who know me would actually believe my claim that I have ever lived under any cat's paw?

Good thing almost no one reads these posts...

A King Is Dead

2007-05-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

Yolanda King, firstborn of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his wife, Coretta, passed away yesterday at the age of 51, just fifteen months after her mother's death. According to the article linked above, neither she nor any of her three siblings ever married or had offspring. Yolanda herself looked to the many who have joined in the sharing of her father's dream as partners in the perpetuation of that legacy. She was not as concerned about the lack of blood heirs as are some who are so obsessed with the sort of thinking that too often has led to the kinds of problems against which the good doctor fought for much of his adult life. Think about it.

The obsession with lineage is a manifestation of the notion that blood counts, and by extension that blood purity somehow conveys some mystical superiority or, conversely, inferiority. Is this not the fundamental basis for caste and race as measuring sticks by which people are included and excluded, without consideration of utilitarian or aesthetic merit?

One of Britain's generals has decided that young Prince Harry will not be going to the war zone in Iraq after all. If one only glances at the headlines, this tidbit of information suggests the sort of privileged preservation that stems from just such nonsensical elevation as notions of blood might warrant. Upon closer inspection, however, the suggestion is that specific death and kidnapping threats against the young royal actually put his entire team risk. Publishing the news that Harry will not, in fact, be accompanying his peers is clearly an attempt to defuse a potentially hazardous situation for (relatively) innocent bystanders who are only going to war, not to serve as specific bullseyes or collateral damage for a known attack. Blame Harry's vulnerability and potential danger on the tabloids, who simply cannot get enough of the tortured young man's images. Perhaps he can find some more nondescript incognito by which to slip into the danger zone and make himself useful instead of a danger to those he would lead and aid.

One King or another, dire danger surrounds those with the potential for leadership, but so does the potential for great achievement, in death as much as in life.

Another Turn

2007-05-15T16:20:00.000-07:00

Life's a neverending cycle, and we seem to be turning another revolution. Common wisdom tells us to wage war on childhood obesity, but have we forgotten that only yesterday we waged war on eating disorders in young girls? Now we can face another such epidemic, this time without gender discrimination.

Sure, the party line preaches increased activity, but every young person will tell you that the shortest route to weight control is eating abstinence and purging, not sweat-inducing activity, and who doesn't like short cuts? Experience will teach otherwise, to those who survive. They'll be the ones sending around the next round of e-jokes about how they survived despite all the hullabaloo. How is it that the survival of the fittest so often coincides with the survival of the most obtuse? Thick skin, thick . . . other parts?

Saw a skanky, scrawny blonde thing at the supermarket today. She was wearing those rollerskating shoes that allow little ones who are squirmy enough on two feet to go zipping about, dodging carts and ducking under arms and things. This one was climbing the freezer section railing to reach a pint box (her size) of liquid. Between her skates and her climbing, she somehow managed to cut in front of me. Only superior home training (mine) kept her from being swept off her precarious perch by an oh so casual backhand (or forehand). The fact that she zipped in front of me (not ahead, mind you,) several more times before her mother and I reached the checkout stands at the same time merely exacerbated my fraught nerves. Social coward that I am, I merely thought evil thoughts at her.

She was, of course, the stimulous for this train of thought, though she certainly seems active enough for now. That's probably why I saw her as a viable candidate for anorexia nervosa in a few short years. There is clearly a familial emphasis on slimness for approval. One can only hope that competitiveness puts some meat and muscles on those bony limbs soon.

Moderation, ah the elusiveness of it all.

Aw Shucks

2007-05-14T16:34:00.000-07:00

There is war and there are rumors of war, but like the Romans of old, I am distracted by the gladiatorial bouts in the Colisseum, ostensibly staged for the entertainment of the populace, but effectively directing our admittedly deficient attentions away from the machinations of our less than upright and altruistic government officials.

The Golden State Warriors lost last night, looking tired and frustrated against a much more balanced and steady Utah Jazz team. Carlos Boozer was scoring, Derek Fisher was directing traffic and cutting the heart out of his former team with deadly accuracy, and the Warriors just looked tuckered out. It wasn't pretty at the end, though it was pretty close all along the way. Well, they just need to regroup and steal one back in Utah, is all... Kinda how like American activists just need to regroup and get more creative in their thinking and approaches in attempting to effect positive change.

We must not settle for the knowledge that there is always next season; the time is now - always now.

Street Fair Fare

2007-05-12T18:50:00.000-07:00

In days of yore before flea markets and craft fairs became such specialized shark pools, local vendors would bring their goods and wares to town and line one or more of a town's main street(s) with booths. The air was filled with tantalizing odors, the eyes with bright colors, the ears with the sounds of live music (and animals). This weekend my town is holding such a street fair.

As in days gone by, vendors get up long before the sun, travel sometimes long distances, and set up their wares for perusal and, hopefully, for purchase. I am generally cynical about modern day vendors, having encountered the same people and products at sundry local fairs about the Bay Area, but perhaps I have been hasty. Just because they travel in gas-powered vehicles to many markets does not make them so very different from sellers of old, does it? Well, maybe...

I asked one lady about her wares, only to learn that they had been manufactured overseas. That was a bit of a bubble pricker for me. I would have been better pleased to have learned that the exorbitant prices being asked were the result of U.S. labor and living expenses.

There was, however, a leather worker, originally from New York, who proudly claimed his own designs and workmanship. There was a definite air of protective possessiveness as he continually straightened his goods in the wake of passing paws. Make no mistake: those were paws and claws rifling his goods.

Then there is the food. How can one pass up freshly made food and drink, especially when there are tables set up invitingly in front of stages on which live musicians are demonstrating their latest recordings, for sale just over there? Is not one of the primary goals of attending a street fair the fare available for consumption? Is not the nose the most demanding organ to control initial choices at a fair, especially for those who take their children in tow?

One delightful sight was that of children dancing uninhibitedly in the street before the musicians. I have clear memories of dire threats made in my childhood, were I to have been so foolish as to whirl and twirl in public that way. It is wonderful to see that children of many races are being provided with such opportunities today.

Equally pleasing was the sight of a petting zoo, limited though it was. One of the classic images of a street fair had to have been the animals brought to market. At this fair, however, the animals were approximately at the same stage of development as those invited to pet them. They were not there as potential food. Still, their presence was particularly pleasing in light of the decreasing opportunities for urban and even suburban children to experience mammalian life forms other than human.

Somewhat more disturbing was the sight of a portable spa van pulled up next to the petting zoo. The line to sign up for service was equally disturbing, especially seeing as how there are a number of local businesses just around the corner that offer precisely such services. How did that van get permission to participate in a street fair in a town straight out of the Stepford playbook? I wonder...

All in all, the fair made for a fun day. Such folk as the leather worker are the kind I once expected to dominate street and craft fairs. They are the ones I still patronize, when their goods and my tastes and wallet can come to terms. They are the ones who seem to me to embody the original spirit of such venues, not the mass marketing leeches trying to squeeze out individual entrepreneurs.

Of course, when I need household supplies, I do head for places such as Wal-Mart, Costco, Walgreen's, and Long's. After all, idealism can be expensive without necessarily paying the bills.