Stage Americans

Just got back from seeing In Bruges at the Spectrum. Feeling good that there's still at least one theater left that rewards the industrious among us willing to wake up at the crack of noon and early-bird it over to the matinee.

It was a better-than-average dark comedy about two hitmen on the lam in Belgium, written/directed by Martin McDonagh, and starring Colin Farrell. There was murder and rage and sex and drugs and dwarves and prostitutes and racism and apocalyptic prophecies and Fat Americans all rolled into one tight (albeit rude) tableau. Wanna guess which part bothered me the most? Yep, those Fat Americans.

Now, I'm not about to argue against the truth behind the insult. The statistics are staggering:

Nor am I going to rail against McDonagh's decision to be a lazy screenwriter, seeking out easy targets for derision. A playwright who grew up straddling England & Ireland, steeped in the history of the so-called "stage Irish," is certain to understand the judicious use and abuse of stereotypes. More power to him.

My gripe is that the actors playing the Americans were not Americans. The father was Welsh. The daughter was English. And the mother, well, I can't find her nationality on IMDB, but I'd be very surprised if they'd bothered to lure a Yank across the pond for a non-speaking part.

The real problem is that they didn't sound American. Not even close. And it was annoying. Now I think I know how Brits must feel when they hear our actors butcher their accents. Apparently Michael Caine says Forest Whitaker's cockney is spot on, but I bet that most of us are closer to Britney Spears than Piccadilly Circus.

Can't we all just agree - finally - that enough is enough? There are sufficient hordes of unemployed actors in both countries to satisfy everyone's respective needs. It's O.K. The next time I'm in New York or Los Angeles, I'll just bus my own table. The United Nations should lend its weight to this issue, also. If the U.S. Congress can deliberate on the pros and cons of congratulating the Division III lacrosse champions, then we should be able to get something done on a global level about bad acting. Forget sanctions on Iran. You want a statute that will promote international goodwill? How about a binding resolution to remind Madonna that she's from the Midwest and Mark Addy (of Full Monty fame) that he's not? And, while we're at it, how about slipping in a moratorium on "midget humor" altogether? There wasn't a lot of butter in that tub to begin with, but it's REALLY starting to spread thin.

In the end, what I think really gets my goat about the British actors trying to pass themselves off is the fact that it was a sight gag. Look at the obese Americans! Ha ha ha. The line loses a little bit of its punch when you realize the "sight" is not what it appears to be. It would be about as silly as, I don't know, a Republican congressman criticizing Obama for not wearing an American-flag lapel pin while said congressman was not wearing an American-flag lapel pin. Oh, wait. That happened, too.

"Don't Talk Back to Darth Vader"

An argument about the reasons NOT to have kids can be read here or - more ridiculously - here.

An argument about the reasons TO have kids can be viewed here:



Out of the mouths of babes, indeed.

Hair of the Dog for a Hope Fiend

Well, if my seventeen-year-old-girl post was a cry for help, will.i.am has just answered the call:



Nothing sobers up the hope-addled mind like the realization that your romantic gushing is eerily reminiscent of Jessica Alba or Ryan Philippe. These are Hollywood "talents" so shallow they make Ryan Seacrest look like Edward R. Murrow.

Viewers dubious of the original Yes We Can video are entitled to a certain amount of cynical restraint. Personally, I think it works because (1) it's composed primarily of an actual Obama speech and (2) it underscores his bona fide genius in the dying art of oratory.

But this latest offering is just good ol'-fashioned bad. It has the pre-fabricated energy of a crowd prompted by an "applause" sign. And - it should go without saying - that if Obama's supporters want to tamp down the "cult of personality" charges they attract (and they should), it might behoove them to stop chanting his name in unison. It's creepy. Not to mention the fact that it makes for a refrain that could have been written by a lobotomized celebutante.

Good night and good luck. Seacrest out.

Idiocracy

I was not a Hillary-Hater prior to this campaign and I did not become one based (solely) upon her opposition to Barack.

But I have watched her contortions of the truth now become the stuff of an Orwellian circus sideshow.

When strength is a weakness, when winning by merit is cheating, and when a grass-roots movement is the Establishment, then we have a problem with language that not even my hero can fix.



I am now officially hoping that Obama hands Hillary her hat. He'll be satisfied tending to his cattle.

This Is Not the Greatest Blog in the World...

...no, this is a Tribute.

Apparently, I feel like lavishing praise upon and generally celebrating the people in my life today. Here's a cartoon for my Dad.

Serving overseas during Vietnam, nothing conveyed "America" to him and his homesick comrades better than filmstrips of the Road Runner's plucky escapades.

There's lots of finger-pointing and blame-throwing going on in the Hillary camp right now. Personally, I fault her for hiring on media attachés from Acme Consulting, Ltd. Their ham-handed attacks have been, shall we say, "less than subliminal"? What do you expect? They're not the swiftest boats on the river.

Caballeros for Obama

Hillary has cornered the much-coveted "voto pequeño":

On the other hand, I like to believe that Obama appeals to los amigos más viejos. In that spirit, here's a video for Greg (!) - who commented on this post - and for Willis in China. Hope to see both of you somewhere out there on the dusty trail.



¡Viva Obama!

Let There Be Blocks!

Even though I'm a lapsed Catholic with poor spatial perception, these Lego Scriptures are awe-inspiring.

And their sheer prolificity strikes me as oddly appropriate given the creative subject matter.

Monks hunched over in a dimly-lit scriptorium could not make, in my opinion, a more devout claim on the illumination of the sacred.

This post is for my old roommate, Sean O'Brien. He's a man possessed of both a profound moral fiber AND a devilish wit. Just as God intended.

Plus he's a giant Lego nerd.

Yes We Can...

...but that doesn't always mean we should.

I admit it. I'm a hOpehead. Despite the many substantive reasons to back Obama, the more ethereal merits of his campaign have - from time to time - penetrated my skeptic defenses. Maybe I've overestimated my own world-weariness. It's possible. Probable even. God knows it's easier to tear something down than to build something up. So perhaps I've indulged occasionally in the favorite hipster pastime of too-cool-for-schoolery. And though I'd rather not invoke a Clintonian defense, if I'm found guilty of acting fashionably jaded, I will remind the court that I did so because I could. Ironic detachment is the elastic waistband of intellectual perspectives: one size fits all.

But if sincerity and earnest depth of feeling were so passé, how is that I am now an ardent supporter of a politician so unabashedly dorky?

First, I'm a dork, too. Exhibit A - For all my careful attempts to stockpile - via CDs - some semblance of indie credibility, I genuinely like some VERY cheesy music. Word to the wise: if we're in the car together and Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" comes on the radio, the dial stays where it lays. Sure, I'll feign displeasure and even sing over her in a faux-Scottish brogue, but the smile I'll wear on my soul will be all too real.

Second, despite contrarian claims to the...uh...contrary, Obama's popularity does not necessarily belie his inherent goodness. There are precedents. Though I happen to enjoy the Rolling Stones - on a visceral level - more than The Beatles, I nonetheless consider those cuddly Liverpudlians to be unimpeachably great. And they have sold in excess of ONE BILLION ALBUMS. Socrates decried the wisdom of crowds and he was right. But he also lived almost two and a half millennia before Eleanor Rigby.

In the end, I can have my cake and mock it, too. And, what's more, it'll be easy. These days, despite dire economic signposts, hope is available in relatively large quantities. Whenever I need a hit of Sweet Lady H, I'll just play my anthem and swoon. There's no shame in relishing the "goosebump effect," especially not when I thought its prospects for transforming the political landscape had died on 4.4.68. And even the "objective," informed observer of rhetorical style, while maintaining her steely-eyed critical distance, must ultimately confess that Obama controls his lyrical cadences with a technique that is, by any honest measure, masterful.

But, when I'm feeling snarky, I'll remember one thing. will.i.am, the man most responsible for the virulency of the "Yes We Can" video, is also the "artist" behind the musical crime of the century. A classic primer, courtesy of Alanis Morissette:

Grammarian Uprising

Score Update:

Agents of Degenerative Mediocrity -

Champions of Grammar - 1

Not sure how long it's been there, but the sign in the express lane at our local Hannaford supermarket today read:

"14 Items or Fewer"

Fewer? FEWER? Yeah, "fewer." Because "items" is a countable noun. "Less" would only apply at the grocery store if your cart was stacked with things like "nitrogen" or "time." Heads up, savvy shoppers, Hannaford is currently offering a special on "solitude."

Well, I was delighted. This constitutes a revolution against the heretofore seemingly inexorable decline of the English language. I don't know who stormed the grammatical Bastille, but I nominate them for induction into the pantheon of my heroes below.

The Mysterious Warrior-Poet of Hannaford

Let's celebrate. Anyone up for a drive on the New York State Throughway?

Cheating Off Conor's Paper

At this point, it should be obvious where my support lies in '08. Maybe it's not obvious why.

First off, he's awesome. Just kidding, Conor.

My electoral priorities are as follows:

(1) rejection of Bush's prerogatives re: torture, habeas corpus, signing statements & other unconstitutional distortions of the executive branch. One of these days I'll haul off and exorcise my thoughts on the absurdity of the national torture debate, but not today.

(2) the restoration of positive international opinions of the U.S. vis-à-vis our image & the policies that engender it

(3) bipartisan pragmatism

(4) volunteer-/work-oriented national service, public works, and environmental programs redolent of JFK & FDR that espouse personal responsibility and defuse Republican critiques of "liberal handouts"

(5) a new bicycle

To close, I'll crib a few lines from Conor's post. Why rewrite something when someone else nailed it the first time?

Yes:

Obama opposed the Iraq invasion when doing so was politically suicidal. He chose conviction over ambition, and he made a leap that is still not adequately recognized. He did not just oppose the tactical modalities of the invasion or the occupation; he rejected the premise of the entire enterprise.

Hell yes:

[Hillary] has tried on many excuses for this shift, most of them centering on how this ultra-competent, ready-to-lead, vastly over-qualified Senator was duped by an idiot into believing provably ridiculous fantasies about Iraq. It obviously takes a delicate balance (or is it a delicate shamelessness and pathological inability to take responsibility for her actions?) to argue that Hillary Clinton was fooled by George W. Bush. The point is, Obama was not.

"If God dropped acid, would he see people?" - Steven Wright

Recently purchased and watched Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe's semi-autobiographical film about a teenager writing for Rolling Stone in 1973. Delightfully surprised to spot a pre-Office Rainn Wilson in a fun bit part. It took me a loooong time to see the movie initially. I was embittered by an experience senior year involving a cadre of inconsiderate roommates, a stereo system, and an early-morning decision to play Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" several dozen times at a volume that the Sex Pistols would've found offensive.

But I did finally watch it and I did finally like it.

In one funny scene, guitar hero Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup) drops acid and - while holding court over some doting Topeka youths - proclaims "I am a golden god!" And it got me thinking about drugs.

Is there anyone still under the delusion that our federal policies make any practical, legal, or ethical sense? I don't know if I've ever heard a good argument FOR them, just good arguments (of varying complexity) AGAINST them.

Anyway, my friend Conor wrote a solid, sober piece on the topic here. Read it for yourself, of course, but the crux of his essay hinges on the point that the legalization of drugs would not comprise an entitlement BESTOWED by the government, but rather a realization of constitutional principles currently (and selectively) IGNORED by the government. Legalization is, as Conor convincingly argues, not so much a matter of adopting progressive politics (though progressives - and libertarians - are the only ones who seem to understand the issue), but rather of reclaiming traditional conservative values. Pity that neither Obama nor McCain have room in their "bipartisan" agendas to attempt anything so radical as following the Constitution, at least not when it would amount to electoral poison.

For more reading on the subject, Eric Schlosser - of Fast Food Nation fame - wrote two pieces for The Atlantic that I find instructive and devastating. Pay special attention to the connection he draws between race and the chronology of drug policy. Hint: draconian laws tend to follow closely upon the heels of localized racist paranoia. Where did opium become illegal first? Why, California, of course. Someone had to stand up to those impudent Chinamen and their dens of iniquity. How about marijuana? Texas, 1914. Just after the Revolution of 1910 sent many Mexicans northward. Coincidence? Temperance movements seemed to flourish in northern cities throughout the 1800s, but in fact enthusiasm for the cause waxed and waned along with successive waves of immigrants. Roll out the paddywagon! It's the only thing that'll stop those drunken Irish louts.

In closing, as Conor makes clear in his post, support for the legalization of drugs has too often been conflated with support for the drugs themselves. This is a rationally flawed and intellectually lazy talking point utilized by those who believe that sex ed & the distribution of birth control is tantamount to encouraging promiscuity. According to that rationale, my having seen Silence of the Lambs three times and my possession of cooking implements should preclude you from visiting me for dinner. Though I've been able to keep my latent cannibalistic tendencies in check until now, I could snap at any moment.

To sum up: legalization good, drugs often bad.

But don't take my word for it. Listen to the Man in Black:

The Cone Zone

Rounding out this day o' laughs, I'll leave you with this golden oldie. A friend sent it to me way back In The Year 2000, when the internet was in its late adolescence. Just page after page of recycled clip art and midi files. Were we ever so young?

Like the internet Conan has sprouted into a powerhouse, waiting in the wings and poised to ascend the late night throne. I don't watch him with anything like the frequency I did a few years back, but I have fond memories going back to early high school. Catching Conesy with sister Liz & brother Bill was a regular date.

It'll be interesting to see what happens to his material when he adjusts to the earlier time slot. It won't make or break my opinion of his comedic integrity, but something tells me the Masturbating Bear may not be welcome among the bluehair set on the West Coast.

Anyway, the speech is fairly long, but it's worthwhile. A veritable humorgy (humor + orgy = humorgy) awaits you. Best line:

You see, in those days I was six feet four inches tall and I weighed 150 pounds. Recently, I had some structural engineers run those numbers into a computer model and, according to the computer, I collapsed in 1987, killing hundreds in Taiwan.

Good night and be cool, my babies.

Black Irish To Endorse

For those of you who missed my birthday. Just kidding. Unless you're gonna do it. In which case I'm an XL.

This Blog Will Also Kill Killer Robots, If Necessary

At the risk of pulling the hat trick of morbidity with today's posts, I thought people might like to see this. It would probably disturb me if I hadn't exposed myself to so much bad sci-fi over the years. Plus, if mass extinction happens, well, then it happens. And I'm not resigned to grisly, catastrophic death for fatalistic reasons. It would just be cooler than, I don't know, going out battling bed sores and dementia. In the meantime, I'm not going to worry about our mechanical underlings going rogue. Real though the threat may be, I will continue to laugh off that and all of the following possible

THREATS

FROM

THE

FUTURE!!!

• Meteors
• Meteorites
• Asteroids
  
• Asteroid-Dwelling Space Worms
• UFOs
• Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence of Either the Belligerent Reptilian or Condescending Humanoid Varieties
• Solar Flares
• Gamma Radiation
• Black Holes
• Worm Holes
• Black-Hole-Dwelling Worms
• Worm-Hole-Dwelling Blacks
• Magnetic Field Shift
  
• Event Horizon...actually, no, that movie legitimately scares the shit out of me
• Polar Ice Melt
• Drowned Polar Bear Zombies-of-the-Sea
• Supervolcanoes
• Supertsunamis
• Supersizing
• The Complete Obsolescence and Subsequent Contraction of the Prefix "Super-" to the More Manageable "S'-"
  
• Locusts
• Killer Bees
  
• Army Ants
• Coast Guard Ants
  
• Cicadas that Return Every Sixteen Years, Instead of the Usual Seventeen
  
• Avian Bird Flu
• West Nile Virus
  
• S'plague
• Mutant, Flesh-Eating Sniffles
  
• The Antichrist
• Antichrist Superstar: the Musical
  
• Nanorobots
• Nannyrobots with Fran Drescher voice chips
  
• Artificial Intelligence of Either the Evil Supercomputer or Condescending Cyborg Varieties
  
• Nuclear Winter
  
• Another Spice Girls Reunion (possibly underwritten by Old Spice?)
  
• Marty McFly's Hypersensitivity to Questions Re: His Courage and the Potential Lack Thereof

If you made it all the way to the end of this post, you deserve a reward. Or at least some insurance. Go ahead, click on the video. It's worth watching the ad.

Lightening Up. Sort of.

That last post felt fairly whiny, even as I was typing it. And I admire Whitman much, much more than I let on.

Let me offer another short commentary on art & humor with some links to, you know, actual humor.

At some point during college I realized that, for me, there's no more pleasing juxtaposition in modern music than sunny (even saccharine, bubbly) melodies with dark, dark lyrics. Listen to example blurbs here and here.

Maybe it's not the most sophisticated formula in the world, but I enjoy it like a well-cooked meal. When they talk on Top Chef about properly balancing flavor contrasts, I am quite sure I have no idea how they go about achieving that. In the context of music, however, it makes perfect sense. Sadness can be sweet. Malice can be mocked. Two sides to every coin and blah blah blah.

In that vein, I offer links to three of my favorite discoveries on the internet:

The Nietzsche Family Circus, which pairs a random illustration from the cartoon strip with a quote from the philosopher. In my opinion, Bill Keane couldn't be this funny in a month of Sundays.

The Death of Garfield?, in which a short video explores a disturbing series of Halloween cartoons published in 1989. Spoiler Alert: in a subsequent interview with Jim Davis, Garfield's creator, he put the theories to rest. Garfield is alive. He just wanted to pen a few genuinely frightening panels. Mission accomplished. After asking family and friends what they feared, the most common reply was "dying alone." The result is fascinating. Kind of makes you wish these tortured souls would release their demons on a more regular basis. Indeed, in the harsh light of Charles Schulz's biography, the Peanuts gang is a much more complicated (and interesting) group of kids.

Garfield Minus Garfield. This one speaks for itself. Asia, do yourself a favor and ignore these links. They're probably not to your taste. And we all know that neither Garfield nor Snoopy can hold a candle to your real-life "furry Einstein." He is The Cute.

The Virtue of Limits

I don't mind when jokes occasionally sink to the scatological, but this video from SNL manages to stay well-clear of the gutter while being simultaneously hilarious.

It is an admirable skill, I think, to create within confines. Metered poetry, 3-minute pop songs, clean humor: when they work, they tend to be even more impressive than their incontinent counterparts. I don't mind the occasional epic, but the economics of a quip by Mark Twain can be far more satisfying and, ultimately, more fruitful.

So, keep your free verse (sorry, Walt, but I just like you as a friend) and your jam bands and your envelope-pushing humor that has no goal but the nihilistic denial of any and all boundaries.

In my opinion, artists should harness the power of the Muses, not be led around by divining rods. Otherwise, we're just muttering oracular nonsense. Wit, whatever mystical origins it might have, is nonetheless a precision tool.

This is probably just the hope talkin', but...

...is it wrong to want this to be a harbinger of the campaign to come?

As far as I'm concerned, McCain abdicated the better part of his moral authority two weeks ago, but that doesn't mean his character is down for the count.

To paraphrase the younger Skywalker to the elder in the last of the three Star Wars films that mattered, "I know there is good in you. The [imperial instinct] hasn't driven it from you fully."

I don't think we can expect a clean bout, but McCain vs. Clinton would look more like a fight sponsored by Michael Vick than one sanctioned by the IBF.

Also, for those keeping track: it took me a total of three days and ten posts to mention Star Wars.

Mr. Obama, Tear Down This Firewall!

More encouraging news from the Lone Star State.

Of course, the spin doctors are already putting in more hours than a first-year resident.

Too bad they probably won't hold to these earlier statements. Or these.

Pennsylvania, here we come.

Note: I will try my best NOT to turn this blog into an echo of the horse race coverage. The media don't need my help ignoring the issues.

Mr. President, Tear Down This Mall! / What History Looks Like

Over the years, logging thousands of hours on the Weird Wide Web, one of my favorite little corners of the internet is this site dedicated to "dead malls." It's one part sweet requiem, one part socio-economic commentary, one part nostalgic microhistory, one part mockumentary kitsch.

In a recent online conversation with my friend Conor, we talked about Obama (what else?) and the odd feeling of watching a "movement" take place. He & I both come from history backgrounds and we remarked that one of the greatest obstacles to studying the past is the distortion-by-compaction that occurs to moments and patterns.

We talk in generalities about zeitgeists because historians, like anyone else, need a form of shorthand. Hence, the narrative of a decade like The Sixties becomes a fixed amalgamation of conventional analysis, oscillating ever after between orthodoxy and occasionally persuasive revisions. The standard tropes - rock n' roll, hippies, civil rights, social upheaval - receive the lion's share of attention. But what did the observer on the ground witness?

My mom was twenty-five years old in 1968. The lazy reductionist (having never met my mom) might surmise that she let her hair down, railed against the Vietnam War, tried pot, or maybe absorbed the message of books like The Feminine Mystique. The truth, however, is that my mom was tending to an infant while pregnant with twins. She liked Joan Baez well enough, but her domestic responsibilities had her burning the midnight oil, not her bra. Not exactly a microcosm of the counterculture.

The point is: history in situ is far more expansive, far less susceptible to facile categorization. That my mom doesn't fit easily into the pre-packaged consensus on that decade does not in itself discredit the standardized version. But it reminds me that history as it is lived is stranger, more complicated, more boring AND more interesting than we usually allow. The watershed moments will continue to exert an inordinate degree of influence on our memories, but we would do well to remember that the focus of our lives is more often than not fixed upon the mundane. I have no doubt that we will all remember where we were on 9/11/01 and what that date symbolizes. However, it might be more instructive for us to research what we were doing on 11/9/01. That information is liable to tell us a lot more about who we are.

So is the Obamomenon the genuine article? Is this what history looks like while it's being lived? My instincts say 'yes.' I have never seen anything like this.

Right, well, my meandering thoughts lead me back to our poor, departed shopping centers. Perhaps the best counterpoint for the ascent of Obama is the decay of these crumbling monuments to consumerism. What could be more banal than the slow disintegration of a Montgomery Wards? So, raise your Orange Julius and drink to your favorite dead mall. They, too, are part of our history.

For those of you who care, yes, Mohawk Mall is on the website.

Democracy Now

Impressive display of voter motivation in the video below. The students are from Prairie View A&M University. They are marching seven miles to their early voting site.

If you're wondering what all the hubbub is, a lot of it has to do with the regrettable gerrymandering efforts of the former Texas Rep. Tom DeLay. Redistricting and subtle voter suppression has largely disenfranchised the young and the black resulting in a state that may not be as "Red" as it once seemed.

In my opinion, it's always gratifying to see something like this in Bush Country.

You know, there's a reason why the League of Women Voters pesters us every October with their pamphlets. Civil liberties tend to be dearest to those for whom they have not been a foregone conclusion. Yes, the students below are mostly Probamas, but regardless of your feelings, it is a powerful sight. I'd LOVE to teach students half as fired up as this crowd.

Inflation Can Be Fun!

But not as fun as the Great Depression. Wheeee!

Glass Half-Full

Like any anxious parent, I wondered about the wisdom of bringing my baby into this world. How could it possibly survive in such a toxic, hostile environment? Well, my blog was born with its eyes open, not to mention the cynical sensibility of a disillusioned 29-year old. So the vitriol currently exploding throughout the internet over the picture above (Sen. Obama in traditional Somali/Kenyan garb, 2006) will do little to dampen my maiden voyage.

It does, however, make for an interesting conversation piece. Anyone with even a tenuous grasp of campaign logic knows full well what the Clinton team was aiming for when they circulated it.

But what do you see? Glass half-full or half-empty? Will this picture convert anybody in either direction? The anti-Obama forces (Nobamas?) will see it, at best, as desperate pandering by a naive one-worlder. The Probamas, on the other hand, will see it as another validation of his tremendous potential to restore the image of the U.S. abroad.

How about those wily undecideds? My guess is that any reaction - positive or negative - will remain in the subconscious realm. If one is the type to lock one's car doors while driving through a black neighborhood, then one might also detect a kernel of uneasiness when seeing Obama in this light. It's hard to imagine a scenario in which Clinton gains from going this route. She's been banished from the kitchen and she's gonna spit in a few milkshakes on her way out.

In the end, the saturation of this story speaks more to the starved-for-content 24-hour news cycle than to anything about Obama or us. If you believe he's authentic, then he was probably feeling that exhilarating mixture of humility and pride in visiting the motherland. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled into quiet reflection in Ireland. If you believe he's disingenuous, then he was posing for a standard photo opportunity. Snore. Anyone who would bother to get upset about something like that should stop paying attention to politics altogether. By that measure, George W. "Missioned Accomplished" Bush on the aircraft carrier should have given you a coronary.

Breaking the glass ceiling...

...one quarter at a time.

Not surprisingly, the Smurfs were similarly controversial. If those little blue Bolsheviks had been broadcast in the 1950s, Hanna-Barbera would've been blacklisted.

Apparently, the revolution will be televised. And it will be animated.

Cate Blanchett Got Robbed

Given its leftist political sympathies, I'm sure the Academy likes to "share the wealth" when it comes to their golden statuettes, but Cate Blanchett's portrayal of Bob Dylan was not just eerily accurate; it was revelatory. Coming from someone well-familiar not only with Dylan's mannerisms & various artistic incarnations, I actually LEARNED something about him from her performance. By sheer skill she illuminated a mercurial and mysterious figure of vast cultural importance. It was like shining a spotlight on the dark side of the moon. Then again, I'm a hopeless Dylan fan and that movie was made of nerds by nerds for nerds. We're a niche market. I'm sure Tilda Swinton was great.

True Colors

Cool political art with flags.

Raison d'être

Welcome.

Why a blog?

After a few strident emails regarding the current presidential race, I realized two things.

First, I am opinionated. Of course I knew that before, but the emails (and, more specifically, the responses I received) drove that point home.

Second, I don't want to badger people. I find evangelism to be tedious and distasteful. So rather than open myself any further to (accurate) charges of hypocrisy, I decided I shall refrain from sending out my ideas unsolicited. You see, you're only an evangelist if you pursue your audience. If they come to you, you're in the clear.

Consider this a repository for the things on my mind. I'll post about topics that interest me, share cool links, and generally keep a running archive of that which holds my attention long enough for me to write about it.

This will NOT be a diary of my personal life. I consider blogs of that sort to be a form of self-serving exhibitionism; they communicate a desire for minor celebrity. I scratch that itch with karaoke.

On the other hand, I do have a desire for conversation. If you see something you like or dislike, with which you agree or disagree, let me know. Leave a comment. Let's talk about it. That's the whole point of blogs. It is, as the title of this post suggests, their "raison d'être," which is French for "pretentious self-justification."

Enjoy.

First Post / Black is the New Green

Why, oh, why would I publish this blog on a black template? Because, according to some, predominantly dark web pages save energy.

Also, it's slimming.