AaronMichaelGordon.com: Voice of Degeneration

On the dazzling, 1000-year stare of "Millennium."

2010-12-08T03:01:00Z

I love bad movies that are so bad, they cross over into pure awesomeness. Last night, I happened to luck into a classic "Gleefully Great Bad Movie," the unbelievable "Millennium ." By combining ideas about time travel, ecological protection, existentialism, and 1980s hairstyling, this piece of claptrap never fails to entertain.

Right from the opening credits (which look as if they were rendered on an original Macintosh,) you know this "science fiction epic" is going to be anything but. Kris Kristofferson plays the world's foremost airplane crash expert, whose been discovering a whole bunch of weirdness around his latest crash.

Wait...latest? The way in which this movie presents air travel, planes are falling out of the skies every other week! One of the characters actually says "he's been to several Midwest crashes." Sigh, you can't buy American, you can't fly American...

Daniel J. Travanti shows up, wondering about the weirdness (and lamenting the sad, quick decay of his post-Hill Street Blues career,) which Kris cares nothing about: he just wants to prevent further crashes (good luck with that; the Midwest is apparently riddled with carcasses,) and bone the hot, leggy blonde who keeps showing up.

Said blonde is Cheryl Ladd, who smokes nonstop in this movie. As in entire forests of cigarettes. While eating a salad in one scene (and now you know the secret Charlie's Angels diet.) She smokes so much that Kris Kristofferson, of all people living in Marlboro Country, advises her to lay off, or at least put out one before they screw again.

Let's stop and talk about this for a second. Cheryl, nobody's idea of a great actress, is pushing about 40 here but looks about 30. And hot. Kris, on the other hand, is pushing about 55 here and looks 70. And not. Anyway you slice it, the "romance" just feels off, especially when Cheryl gets all doe-eyed about Grandpa Kris.

Turns out, Cheryl is from 1000 years in the future, where the decay of the Earth has rendered humanity infertile. So, they use their advanced technology to rescue plane crash victims before the crashes, replace them with genetic doubles, send the doomed plane back, and hopefully keep the human race going in their present.

Now, when I explain this, the plot actually sounds cool and smart, which I suspect "Millennium" was, back as a pitch. But in practice? Not so much...and for the better! Let's start with the future. It looks a lot like a movie studio decorated with tubes and trash and "Tron" styled backlighting. There's a "robot," or a man in a Halloween costume and metallic makeup. There are council members, ruling from tubes, rotting away.

And then there's Cheryl's hair, practically its own character in the flick. In the future, it sports a nuclear-Elvis look and height. In the 1989s, it's practically its own raincloud. Frankly, I'm amazed that all that smoking didn't set poor Cheryl on fire. That's a whole lot of hairspray to ignite.

Anyway, I'm not going to give the entire film away, but it really is a laugh a minute. Check it out. "Timequake!"

On "My Thoughts Regarding the $700 Billion Wall Street Bailout."

2008-09-24T18:26:00Z

OK, I'm so far from an economist, it's not even funny. Yet, I think I'm a pretty smart cookie, so I've had some thoughts brewing on the proposed "bailout" plan of the financial sector of the economy. Anyhoo, unlike most of my other, more prose-oriented posts, I think this one can be numbered out in points.

1. Is it just me, or was the Paulson-Bernake proposal like ridiculously short? Something around 4 pages? C'mon guys! I know we're living in the era of tabloid-sized communication...but that's more like a book report on the actual report, no? For $700 billion, I want pages. Reams of paper.

2. Why does it have to happen right now, today, with no delay or deliberation? (And for that matter, why bring something that can't be deliberated to the branch of government required to fucking deliberate?) Yes, I know that action should be taken in some way, but should we not think before we act? After all, it's that lack of thought and that utter assurance of correct action that brought us into Iraq.

3. Why are the Wall Street people who got the financial markets into this mess in the first place going to be the ones in charge of the massive cash "required" to get us out of it? That makes little sense. It's kind of like putting Kurt Cobain in the office of the National Drug Czar.

4. This kind of seems like socialism for the rich, and cutthroat capitalism for the rest of us. The $700 billion doesn't erase the debts of we, the people, for example. You can't have it both ways, guys. We deregulated a great deal of the economy from Reagan onward, and just like prior to the New Deal, these are the results. Unbridled capitalism is a bitch to ride. She giveth and taketh away with violent speed, no? (For those of you not up on your history, it's why we regulated our economy in the first place: the 1880-1930 period was full of these violent waves in the market.)

5. Which leads me to my next point...it's a profound irony that during the apex/nadir of the most conservative presidency of the New Conservative Epoch, we're basically natiojnalizing the finance industry. Shit, we just nationalized the mortgage industry! So much for shrinking government interference....

6. ...or is this something more sinister? For example, with the new $790+ billion in debt (on our already large load,) it's a much easier argument against National Health Care and for privatizing Social Security. I can think of a lot of things that Obama would like to do in office that won't have funding.

7. I love the "we can't constrict CEO pay" bullshit. Really? Fine. Crash, then. This one line of thought nearly made me dismiss the entire plan. How much money do you want again?

8. I'm a centrist that leans left. This plan is so bizarre to me: it's like left-wing socialism paired with right-wing market supremacy. Does this convolution finally mean the end of the radical right? Has it finally lost it's meaning? I'd say "yes," but I was in Florida when they kept that vegetable alive, honey.

9. Is there not a better use for $700 billion? 70 cities could create $10 billion subway systems, for example. We could finance NASA's new plan to send people to the moon 35 times...creating new research and ships for each launch. We could write every citizen a check for $2500 or so. That's a lot of cash.

10. So, in the end, can we have a real new Deal? Please?

On "Why Just Shutting The Hell Up Would Be Best For Alec Baldwin's Daughter."

2008-09-23T16:40:00Z

OK, in case you haven't heard, Alec Baldwin has just written a book about "parental alienation," which is basically when one parent uses the courts and custody to "alienate" their child from the other one. In effect, this is (a) Baldwin's attempt to recast himself as the ostracized good guy who only called his daughter a "thoughtless, little pig" out of frustration, and to make the world aware of how female-centric the divorce court system is in this country.

Ummmm...duh. And it's not by accident. While there may be some exceptions to this rule (and perhaps Baldwin is one of them,) in general, it's the mom who wants the kid, it's the mom who takes responsibility as the primary care-giver, and it's the mom who picks up the pieces. Again, not always the case...but the phrase "deadbeat dad" isn't something fashioned out of thin air.

Anyhoo, Baldwin wrote a book, gave an interview, and seems to take every opportunity to trash his ex-wife, Kim Basinger, in the press. Meanwhile, Basinger has said nothing. She has no comment for we, the people.

That, my friends, is fucking awesome parenting. Period.

Why? Because it's none of our business. Isn't divorce hard enough on the damn kid, without reading about it in the papers and online? Isn't it better to minimize the harm by keeping Perez Hilton out of it? Or ABC News?

Look, I don't know Basinger OR Baldwin personally, so I can't testify as to whether or not either is a good or bad or indifferent parent. I don't know if either is batshit, if Kim bathes in the blood of innocents, or if Baldwin shaves his back. What I do know is that it's best for the kid if we, the people, aren't involved in the custody hearings. That little Ireland really doesn't need to see her family life on the cover of a glossy mag. And that whatever is going on between Kim, Alec and Ireland should stay between them.

And guess who's fulfilling that promise? Basinger.

So Alec? Shut UP.

On "The Return of Brenda Walsh & A Better Next Move For Shannen Doherty."

2008-08-26T21:47:00Z

Let's get this right out of the way from the start. I'm a ShanDo fan.

Seriously.

There are many reasons why, but I think it all boils down to the theme of survival. Shannen Doherty is a survivor in show business. Moreover, she's not a 'survivor' like people with the last name 'Spelling' or 'Sheen' are. She's a kid from nowhere who's been shot to the moon, shot by the press, shot down by the press, and keeps on tickin'.

That's worth an extraordinary amount of respect.

Along the way, she's been idolized, demonized, glamorized and villified. She's done some brilliant work, some very popular work, some so-bad-its-awesome work...and some utter crap.

She's been written off so many times, the inkwell has run dry on snarky sarcasm.

And yet, like the awesome Stephen Sondheim song, Shannen Doherty can gloat and smile and sing, "I'm Still Here."

Heck, look at her resume. She never went away. There's a continuous block of work from 1981-2008. That's damn astonishing, for any actor, let alone Shannen Doherty.

So why do I have mixed feelings about her five-episode 'iconic' return to her old zipcode?

On the one hand, you can't blame the CW here. The original 90210 basically became utter crap (instead of angsty, enjoyable crap,) when ShanDo left the building. The buzz on their remake launched into the stratosphere when she signed up.

...but this needs to be a limited engagement for Shannen. We need to see Brenda, love her, and move on. Let's leave the past in the past, shall we?

And give Shannen Doherty a damn series already! Seriously. Clearly, we're all waiting for the next series that ShanDo can rock out. Alas, it wasn't "North Shore."

Yet, whether or not she stays on 90210 or moves on to her next movie-of-the-week...or in fact, gets her deserved series (and career vindication,) Shannen's a survivor. And that's why we're all tuning in, really. To see this chick survive, against all odds, Garths and Milanos.

You go, girl.

On "Seeing A Modern Classic: Body Heat."

2008-06-03T19:22:00Z

You know, when I was in Vermont, one of my friends fessed up to not seeing the utterly brilliant film, Body Heat. From a theatre person, this is just simply unacceptable. And for the rest of the intelligent, literate movie-going audience (the three of us left, anyway,) Body Heat should be required viewing. Pure and simple.

In fact, before you read any more of this...go right out and rent or buy this puppy, because I'm going to spoil the whole thing below.

Watched it? Good. You probably noted that much of the film has been copied (poorly, mostly) in many other neo-noir sex thrillers that appeared in its wake, no? Here's why: Body Heat works. Hollywood sees a formula and relentlessly works it to death. And yet, the original print is very much alive, aware and amazing. That "aliveness" may be what keeps the film so fresh and vibrant, some twenty-eight years later.

If this was your first time experiencing Body Heat, you probably looked through the eyes of William Hurt's character, Ned Racine. That's intentional. After all, the movie opens with him, and sets up his sleazy, small-town Florida life for the audience to identify with. Mind you, you're not supposed to like Ned Racine; he's a womanizing cad, a reasonably smart person mired in laziness and hornyness. So, while we, the people, may perhaps see ourselves (or people we know) in Racine...he's not admirable. Hurt does wonderful work in the role, giving Ned enough intelligence to not be a rube, enough sexuality to not be a cad, and enough amorality to not be a hero. You get the sense that Ned would be happy to practice his dirty law in his little, sandy town whilst plugging the local populace forever.

Enter Matty Walker.

As played by Kathleen Turner, Matty is Racine's desires personified. She's witty, rich, beautiful and a monster in the sack, apparently. It's a testament to Turner's chops as an actress that she's entirely believable as the woman that men would do anything for. In order for Body Heat to work, you have to feel this chemistry, this lust that Ned feels. We, the people, have to accept that Racine would o anything to have Matty. And we do. (This doesn't end Turner's brilliance in the role...but more on that later.)

Now that you've seen the film, you know that Ned devises a plot to kill Matty's husband so they can get his money...but then things go horribly wrong. The noose tightens around Ned's neck as he realizes that Matty may have more in store for him then he bargained for. The script is brilliant here: everything that occurs is believable. There are no contrived plot twists. It all makes sense.

Of course, you now know that Matty Walker had been playing Ned Racine from the start, that she'd researched him prior to their meeting...that it was her childhood friend in the boathouse, that she ends up rich and alone on some island and the end of the movie. And that she's not Matty Walker at all.

Now go back and watch the movie from the point of view of Kathleen Turner's character. Keep in mind what you know: that she's researched Ned, that she knows his hangouts, his desires, his weaknesses. And watch the movie.

It's almost like viewing a different movie entirely.

Matty appears in Ned's life, almost on cue...but watch Turner's knowing performance: she's set the cue, she's setting the stage. Watch her when lust overcomes Ned, and he breaks the window and ravishes her. On the first viewing, we, the people, see Matty's desire, her passion waiting to be unbridled. But the second time? We see the manipulation, the energy of a plan coming to life.

Turner is so good at playing both sides of the story, when she admits love for Ned...you're not sure if she's lying or telling the truth (I personally think the coda at the end gives it away: she does love him, but she loves money most of all.) Like Matty herself, this movie launched both sides of Turner's career: the sex bomb (unmatched until Sharon Stone came along,) and the brilliant actress who'd do anything for a role.

I'm going to keep this blog entry short, but when you watch Body Heat for a third time (you will: it's that damn good,) note the amazing direction. I'm just going to point out one, brilliant set up. The detective has arrived at the Walker manse to arrest Ned. He's up on the hill, looking down at Ned and Matty by the gazebo. In the distance is the boat house. Matty goes off into complete darkness, towards the boat house.

She vanishes from the frame.

The camera turns back, and we have a perfect line shot: Ned in the front, the gazebo behind him, and the detective behind them all...and we can almost see on the other side of the camera, not filmed but implied, the perfect line to the boat house.

And then...boom.

Just go see it.

On "How Even The Perfect Day Can Be Ruined By Michina Saeta."

2008-06-02T17:04:00Z

It was a wonderful Sunday afternoon in the District. I had tumbled out of bed around 12:00, still groggy from the effects of the previous night's debauchery. After a quick shower and shave, I slipped into a pair of loose-fitting athletic shorts, paired to my favorite "Homeskooled" T-Shirt, and ventured out into a breezy, sun-drenched urban paradise. When the weather is right, Georgetown's magic is at its most potent, a salve to heal the work week ahead.

I strolled down to Barnes & Noble, and picked up a book and some magazines, before heading to my favorite spot for lazing in the sun. There's a ledge right behind Dean & Deluca, natural stone piled two stories high, that overlooks the canal. Look north, and the pulse of the populace intermingles with the breeze, providing vitality and verve. Look south, and witness the history peeps, in full period garb, mule-pulling a barge full of tourists down the canal, while joggers trot by, oblivious or incredulous.

Anyhoo, I had curled up into my nook in this tableau, where the trees filtered just enough light in and away to polish off a few chapters of my new book. Having spent the last few years devouring the 'Deep' and 'Serious,' I decided that a little levity would be ideal for this idyllic day. So I picked up How I Paid For College, by Marc Acito, a veritable soufflé of a read if there ever was one.

In any case, I had polished off about 70 pages in a couple of hours, broken up by the occasional drowsy gaze towards the casually pretentious crowd gathered at Dean & Deluca's café. And, of course, broken up by deep, lusty drags off my cigarette. During one of these stare-n-smoke breaks, a middle-aged gentleman sidles over my way, his affable nature completed with a knowing, if somewhat shit-eating, grin.

My very own Jiminy Cricket chimes in a muted warning, noting how my role in this afternoon's show appears to be changing from "Bookwormed Slob" to "Blatant Slut." This day just became much, much gayer. I put that damn cricket back in his box, and returned the smile, with perhaps too much warmth, too much heat, too much room for possibility.

I mean, it's the perfect day. Wouldn't sex just be the pun-intended cherry on an already-tasty dessert?

My suitor gets the hint, and approaches directly, seeking to transform our potential into something more kinetic. Or maybe he just wants a blow job. Either way, my mouth is assuredly open with anticipation of what's to come.

Or whom.

The left corner of his mouth slightly twitches; his pale cheeks flush with bashful hue. Dear Jesus, he's actually shy and embarrassed to be doing this, I think. To date, I find it baffling when people are turned on by me. Now, when I was young and thin and porcelain, I could see the attraction. The shellac of personality was, indeed, hot stuff baby (this evenin'.) But since I turned 32, I've been fighting a losing battle of the bulge. My white flag went up a long time ago, a full, unconditional surrender to the ravages of time.

So, when someone views me as an erotic creature at present, my first impulse is to wonder why, exactly. I'm an average-to-stocky Jewish man with an attitude. And yet, he approaches.

I'm pretty certain it's not attitude he's looking for.

His eyes grasp mine, relentless in their gaze, their longing. Pair these to his blushing cheeks, and you have the ingredients for what may be the most perfect face. To be embarrassed by lust and yet entirely unable to contain or control it? Yeah, that's pretty damn hot.

He stammers out a hello, that he's read my book. I basically hear none of this, instead focusing on the throbbing, rhythmic beat of my heart. Well, something's throbbing, anyway.

"Where are you," he asks.

Like a total fucking idiot, I vomit out "Georgetown." He smiles and laughs, clearly relieved that I'm not nearly as smooth and composed as I affect to great effect. And that's when I see it. Or, more precisely...see it waft in the breeze of this perfect day down by the canal in Georgetown.

A long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair. "Michina saeta" in Latin. Gross in every language.

A polar wind entirely stifles any warmth, any heat. I desperately run magnets over the memory tape of my mind, hoping to cleanse, to remove, to replay the scene with edits. Jiminy hops out of his box with some Viagra and Boone's Farm. He whispers, "Just close your eyes, focus...and move on."

I close my eyes. I see the long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair.

I open my eyes. The long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair is right in front of me, practically reaching out like a leper for food, trying to infect my body with its nose hair cooties.

He senses the change in me, how the boil is rapidly descending down to tepid, lukewarm flat soda. I scan his face and body in a desperate bid to turn over my engine again. The slight worry lines on his forehead. The aquamarine veins roping from fore to aft on his arms. How his long eyelashes fleck with sunlit blonde.

And no matter where I look, that mother fucking long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair follows. At this point, I've personified "Hairy," and he's lounge-singing "Don't You...Forget About Me."

As if.

It's over. I tell him that it's a pretty good book and I'm enjoying it. He looks at me...wondering what his next move can be. Clearly, he doesn't know that it's the long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair swatting his face that's keeping me out of his pants. I see the inner scan: he replays the last few moments in his head. Did I approach too fast? Was my laugh too loud? Too fake?

He gives me one more look, much like a puppy hoping to convince his owners to take him...before the sad resolution. The damn dog knows he's being left behind. This man has the same reaction. He basically shrugs me off, and hopes that I enjoy the book.

He also decides that it's me and not him that's the problem here. He's too frigid. Uptight. Maybe he's an asshole.

I think he settles on Aaron-as-asshole (join the club, dude,) and swiftly turns his head in departure, the long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair ricocheting off his cheek, leaving a welt in the tender flesh.

He's gone. I immediately check myself for any remnants of the long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair. Was there breakage? Did the mucus flow off and splat on the book cover? Did I get some in my eye?

Suddenly, it's not so ideal out. The breeze scrapes Styrofoam shards out of the overflowing trash bins. The canal smells like mule shit. The humidity has made my armpits into swamps, slick with deodorant, a chemical gruel running down my sides.

I feel bad. There's now a man wandering the streets of DC, on this formerly perfect day, annoyed and blue-balled...all because of me.

And that long, dark, mucus-encrusted nose hair.

To think, if he had only trimmed, if he had had only gone to the Sharper Image and got his very own nose mower, this story, this day, our day, it would have ended quite differently. And while I don't like nose hair of any kind, I've mellowed a bit in my middle age. An occasional tuft...a trim faux pas...that's fine. We're only human, after all.

But this was long.

Dark.

Mucus-encrusted.

It swung pendulously in the breeze.

Which makes you wonder...if his nose hair is so unkempt, imagine the thicket below the belt. It was enough for me to get up, walk home, and perform a thorough maintenance on my nether regions.

And, of course, my nose.

On "Apples & Oranges: How Time Magazine Attempted To Clump Carter and Bush Together."

2008-06-02T14:47:00Z

You know, normally I love Time Magazine. It's a nice, unbiased slice of life I can digest as I move my bowels each and every Saturday afternoon. It shows up around 4; and I shit around 4:30. Seriously: it's the only thing regular about my poop.

Now, sometimes Time Magazine goes a little looney, like when they spent 2006 deep in religious thought, running a "Was Jesus [INSERT THEORY HERE]" cover nearly every other week. Sometimes Time Magazine releases too much filler (such as this week's "How To Survive A Disaster" nonsense: did we not land something on Mars, for fuck's sake?) And you can always count on Time to end a moment in the cultural zeitgeist. For example, their Ally McBeal cover basically ended that show's cache.

But, in general, Time Magazine is a good source of moderately intelligent, reasonably balanced reporting. So...how can they explain this idiotic article? To break it down for you, author Ramesh Ponnuru envisions a campaign season where Bush, McCain, and Obama are trying to avoid the ghost of Jimmy Carter's failed Presidency as the former leaves office and the latters try and take up the space.

Uh...yeah.

There's so much wrong with this comparison that I barely know where to begin. Let's start with the obvious: Carter was an ineffective President. He wanted to lead the country and the free world from a place of reason and (entirely unacceptable in America,) sacrifice. He encouraged the United States to wean itself of foreign oil (I know! What a pinko-commie!) He worked with Congress to raise fuel economy standards (which, for the record, were never raised again until this past year.) And he installed solar panels on the roof of the White House.

His flaws? Well, there's the whole Iran hostage thing. He also told we, the people that we, the people were in a malaise, basically calling us fat, lazy, entitled sheep...and our fat, lazy, entitled sheep asses really didn't agree with that. He also has bad teeth and is from Georgia, which basically makes him suck anyway. Oh...and peanut farming.

Basically, Carter wasn't a great President...or even a good one. He was mediocre. The author is correct with the assesment that "the public came to regard Carter as a failed President, and his failure colored attitudes toward his party for more than a decade." But nobody thought Carter was a bad person. To this day, most Americans think of Jimmy Carter as a good guy who shouldn't have been President. (Let's ignore the insanity of his successor, Ronald Reagan, being remember as a great President; this history entirely omits the Iran-Contra scandal, the utter denial of AIDS...and the amplification of both our debt and our military-industrial complex. Let's just say that we, the people are not exactly the best judges of character.)

Now, let's look at Bush. He's nothing like Carter. If Carter is to be remembered as a "Failed President," then Bush is going to be remembered as "The Worst President In The History Of The United States." That's a huuuuuuuge difference in degree. There are many failed executives (Taft, Harrison, Coolidge, Bush the First and Sane...) But there's only one "Worst."

And that's Bush.

Bush and his cronies have been so bad at governing the country, that the Democrats have been making a comeback in spite of themselves and their own, internal stupidities and divisions. The 'Crats didn't take back the Congress because they sold America a good story; they had no narrative, no plan and no clue...but Bush and his Neocons had fucked up so much (and for so long,) that we, the people didn't have another choice but to vote Democratic.

That's how bad Bush is.

Carter may have stereotyped the left as 'weak on defense and economics,' but Bush has taken nearly every talking point off of the table for the Republican Party. We're throwing billions into our duo of wars in the Middle East with little to show for it. And our economy is in the toilet (does it feel like 1929, or what?) So now the Republicans are weak on defense and economics as well. We can also throw in the environment, civil liberties, civil rights, education, the seapration of church and state, international relations...

...yeah, it's pretty bad. You rack up quite a list when you're the worst.

Mind you, this may have not affected the Republican Party as badly if they didn't all fall in place behind Bush and his insane plans. But, they did...and now it's the GOP that's on fire, rather than one retard dirt farmer from Texas. Think about it: the Republican Party didn't implode over Nixon, for fuck's sake! Nope. They stood up for what was right and were thus protected from Nixon's wrongs.

And Nixon was like Winston Churchill compared to Bush. He was nowhere near as bad.

There's only one 'worst.'

So, once you assert that Bush is, in fact, "The Worst President In The History Of The United States," the article's claims entirely fall apart. For example, Ponnuru claims that "...the only sure way for [Bush] to escape [being considered a failure] is for a Republican to win the presidency this year."

Ummmm....no.

McCain can win the White House. He could govern for the next eight years. His VP could win the seat and Republicans could run the executive branch for the next 16 years. It makes no difference, though. Bush's reign will always be a failure.

Because he's the worst.

The article also notes that "ever since Obama said he was willing to negotiate with those enemies directly and 'without precondition,' Republicans have been trying to tag him as the son of the Georgia governor. " So what? Let them try. Thus far, Obama has proven to be nothing like Carter. He's like fucking Teflon for fuck's sake. Nothing sticks. Plus...what are the Republicans trying to say...that we, the people don't want another Carter?

We, the people, don't want another Bush. Because he's the worst. Carter...we could stomach. Because he's not Bush.

This whole article is chock-full of stupid nonsense like this (I'm not even going to dignify the batshit Carter-McCain tie.) It concludes it's non-narrative with "Obama and McCain will spend the fall fighting to be the 44th President. Both they and Bush will also fight to avoid any comparisons with the 39th."

Wrong. Obama and McCain should be so lucky to be compared to Carter. McCain should be trying to avoid comparisons to the 43rd.

Because he's the worst.

On "Becoming A Vermonter."

2008-05-28T21:21:00Z

OK, so I journeyed back to Vermont for my second time as an adult (went skiing as a child in Killington.) And now I can officially say that I simply must move there someday. When I came up in the winter, I felt the love...but I was worried that 'snowfall lust' was marring my judgement. After all, it snowed an absurdly small amount in the District this year, and thus I was robbed of the only damn positive that goes with freezing weather.

Hey, I'm a recovering Floridian. If it's gonna be cold, it better fucking snow.

Alas, aside from the chronic icing of the streets (and my chronic slippage on the aforementioned ice,) it only snowed three pitiful times this winter. Imagine my childlike delight, then, upon encountering the wonderland of white in the mountains of Vermont! Actually, you don't have to imagine, as I already waxed poetic about the beauty. But...spring in DC has been beautiful. The cherry blossoms intermingled with the smog to make the city fragrant and inviting again. Sinewy, sweaty teams of rowers churn up the Potomac as I walk to work. Shit, they just opened a Metro-accesible Target, so I no longer have to traverse into cracktown Maryland for underwear, socks and hair gel. What's not to love? How could Vermont compete with my Spring Fling in DC?

Quite well, actually. On this trip, I got to see more of the region and the people that call Vermont home. I stared in awe at a multi-story waterfall, carving sculpture into the mountainside. I was surrounded by trees that scraped each other as they scraped the sky...a carpet of fifty-foot tall foilage, laying grace to the mountain. Damnit, I fell in love again!

As you can imagine, this was not in the plan. I'm pretty much a pavement-pusher. I was raised in the mass of sprawl that is South Florida. I've chosen to live in cities, from Atlanta to Washington. I'm no stranger to the pleasures of the mall, although I prefer the densely packed street of shops and cafes to the sterile center of shops. My life is basically like "Sex and the City." Without the sex.

Moreover, it's not that I haven't been thrust into nature before, either. My family took an ill-advised, but quite humorous trek into Florida's Everglades. I've been to Colorado and Lake Tahoe, Nevada. I went to sleepaway camp...but there's something about Vermont that sets it apart. It's like I feel this inevitable pull from the state itself...as if the ground is gently wrapping around my legs, encouraging me to become a part of it all...whatever this "it" is.

Mind you, I'm not leaving DC for awhile, partially because nobody really needs a copywriter and brand specialist in Vermont, partially because I just can't imagine my life as the 'Kitchen Witch Handcrafter.' (and yeah, that's totally my 'sell to tourists' idea for Vermonting it,) and partially because I really adore the District. There's a special energy here as well, as millions of people scurry around architectual gemstones on their way to monument or martini. DC is ideal for my urban self, my comsopolitan creation, my player in the game of modern life.

But Vermont is where my actual self lives and thrives...where the inner hippie I chloroformed and threw into the closet all those many years ago (10 years, to be precise,) comes out to see the beauty in anything and everything. It's where I feel Vermont-envy towards the natives who populate it's shires, towns and streams. I just get to visit...they get to live it.

Vermont has retained its natural beauty specifically because Vermonters decided that modern development was ugly, wasteful and worthless. The roads are right-sized. The buildings are intimate and liveable. And there's not a billboard to be seen. Best of all, right next door is an example of what not to do with your environment: New Hampshire.

I'm sure that residents of the Granite State will disagree, but from about the middle of New Hampshire down into the glut of Greater Boston, the stunning landscape has been turned into 'America.' Wide streets. Strip malls. Plastic signs announcing yet another Burger King. Even in the mountains, it kind of looked like Florida. Or Atlanta. Or anywhere that's been turned into nowhere by our collective refusal to maintain separation of city and country.

Vermont does, and that's why it's so damn gorgeous. The town doesn't stretch into the 'burbs...because there aren't any. It's just town and country, city and country, country and country. You'd think the paving of Florida would have awakened this environmentalist in me...but 'natural-state-Florida' is pretty damn ugly. Flat, piss-warm-water beaches fold into flat-piss-ugly swampland. Florida needs architecture, imported palm trees, and landscaped medians to add the beauty. If you don't beleive this, go visit Tampa. No style, no landscaping...just suburban sprawl done on the cheap. Ugly...and much less developed than Miami. Then go see The Magic City. Yeah, it sprawls out from the core...but it's damn sexy whilst doing it!

That's what so sad about New Hampshire: it could look like Vermont! Instead, it kind of looks like Tampa...and that's so not a compliment. And it's why I could never see New Hampshire again and be fine. I already live in a city...why would I choose to go and play in your poor approximation of one? Worse, why would I play in suburbia-Northeast, when South Florida has already perfected the form? Grow a damn median, y'all!

Thank goodness we only spent a scant, few moments on that side of the fence. But that got me to thinking about my future life in Vermont. Would I be willing to leave all the urban/suburban comforts behind, trading off the convenience of insta-commerce for the infusion of beauty and community? It's kind of a tough question to answer, especially from one who has been raised in the sprawl. New Hampshire clearly answered 'no,' and that's why they have many Wal-Marts, Burger Kings, and six-lane "local roads." They took "somewhere" and made it "everywhere." And "nowhere." (Thanks, James Howard Kunstler.)

So...I thought about it, because I can't live in "nowhere" ever again. And yet, I still want to go shopping, to the museums, the bars and the streets. So no. As of today, I am officially not ready to give up the joys of the city for the splendor of Vermont. And I'm not willing to desecrate Vermont with malls full of crap that I can buy, just so I can live a sub-urban existence. Less than a city...and much less than the countryside it once was.

More than that, I'd step up to the plate and protect Vermont from people who desire those very same malls and shops and 'Power Strip Centers,' and will drag them to Vermont, should they move...blissfully unaware that the denuded landscape is a direct result of their refusal to compromise: space and noise in the city...or isolation in the country. You try and have it both ways...and it ends up no ways.

So, I'd protect Vermont from that. Which makes me a Vermonter. And in a few years, when I'm ready...I'll leave it all behind and protect it from within, so that I'll never be without...
...the endless sky.
...the soaring mountains.
...the soulful people.
...the true self beneath the mask.

Damn...when am I going up there again?

I have this great idea to sell Kitchen Witches to Massholes...and all I need is...

...clearly, therapy. Or a moving truck.

See you soon, pretty lady.

On "Peak Oil, Peaks Melting, And Putting Our Heads In The Sand."

2008-05-08T16:14:00Z

You know, I have to give it up to America.

We, the people, held out on curbing gas use until it hit around $3.61 a gallon. Now that's commitment! And I have to say, a pretty piss-poor compromise, as we're dieting to the tune of less than one percent of our 'normal' gas intake. That's like the fat girl who swears off icing but still eats the whole damn cake.

Still, you can see that we're trying to adjust, albeit only a little, to the new, high-gas-price reality. Small cars are selling briskly, while SUVs are rusting on the lot. If I were still driving a car, I'd wish that it were the early 1990s...when gas was cheap, and most importantly, when we, the people had more small car choices in the 30-40 mpg range. Remember the Geo Metro?

That was when our memories were longer, and the pain of peak oil and OPEC was fresher in our minds. Because it really annoys me, to listen to folks talking about the gas price issue, the global warming issue and ignoring the peak oil issue...like we all haven't heard this before.

Well, actually, I hadn't heard it all before, as I was just a baby. But our parents and grandparents? Our policy-makers and car manufacturers? Our scientists and energy geniuses? It's deja vu to them.

Let's start with peak oil. In plain English, peak oil is the point where 1/2 of all of the oil in a given field is reached, and then the field falls into decline. Declining production in an oil field means that slurping out the rest of the oil is a harder task...and there's less of it to get, despite the fact that the peak production has driven up demand waaaaay past supply.

Peak oil, as applied to an entire country's oil resources, is the point when all of the oil fields have hit their maximum daily output. They've ramped up from 0 to 50%, and will now fall in production from 50% to 0 again. This is exactly what happened in the United States, when oil production peaked in the 1970s. Combined with hostility from OPEC, gas prices shot through the roof, people bought Hondas, and Nixon announced "Project Independence," among other things.

This was all to cure the US of our 'addiction to oil.' Whew, I guess that's solved!

Oh. Wait.

As it turns out, the 1980s brought a massive amount of oil production online, dropped the price dramatically, and ended our love affair with 'energy independence.' It took a little longer for the car industry to catch up, but sprint they did, trading out smaller cars for station wagons disguised as tough trucks. And now, oil demand is climbing, production is declining, the earth is warming...

...and we're doing nothing.

Yup. We, the people, en masse, are basically doing zip, zero, ziltch to combat this massive problem. Oh sure, we might be trading in our SUVs for hybrids...but we're not trading in cars altogether...or even considering that as an option. At present, we have hybrids and one hydrogen powered car on the market. We're talking up ethanol powered cars, plug-in electric cars and other innovative ways to keep us driving...

...but shouldn't some of us stop driving in the first place?

Now, to be fair, for most places around the country, that's flat-out impossible without a loss of dignity or cleanliness. Plus, in most of the country, mass transit runs infrequently and nowhere of interest...so I can't blame y'all for choosing $4 gas over the ass-end of transport.

But...isn't this our country? Don't we, the people, have the right to demand better? Sadly, most folks just don't want better mass transit...that's for poor people (or if you're in the South: minorities 'gasp!') They just want oil to drop in price (good luck: see China, India and the rest of the world rising.) Or they want that impossible trifecta of power, size and endless fuel economy (good luck: see the laws of physics.)

What's astonishing is that most people don't see the other side of the coin; a drop in the quality of life the car sometimes brings. For example, the DC-Baltimore Metropolitan Statistical Area has about 8.5 million people. About 1 million of them use mass transit...so like 10 percent or so (which, insanely, makes us the second most used subway system in the entire country. At 10 percent!) Now, the mass transit peeps are kind of locked into locales off the transit system, as WMATA has holes in its coverage. But we're not trapped in DC's horrid traffic. And I'm from South Florida, where mass transit is non-existent...and the traffic there utterly sucks. A ten-minute trip can take nearly an hour (and you have no choice BUT to drive.)

Don't even get me started on Atlanta.

But, we're really doing nothing about it. DC might be (because people actually use the Metro,) but not enough and not fast enough. So I have a Marshall Plan for our power and transit needs.

1. Build nuclear power plants. I know the argument against them, and frankly...it's absurd. We, the people, do tons of things that are 'bad' for us, or could perhaps harm us. How many fucking Chicken McNuggets have fallen into the gullets of most Americans? But...nuclear power can power us up, with minimal pollution, maximum power and drastically reduce our dependence on coal. Besides, we may need the coal to turn into oil at some point.

2. Cars must get no less than 45 miles per gallon, and produce zero emissions. Non-negotiable. Drive slower and smaller.

3. Critical mass urban areas must be infused with massive funding to shore up their mass transit systems. Did you know that DC's Metrorail is the second most used subway in the United States? And that the overall transit mix is #3? Sounds impressive, until you realize that the Capital Region has about 8.5 million people and only 10 percent use mass transit. 10 percent. Mind you, 10 percent basically creams nearly every other city in the country. An electrical grid powered by nuclear energy, paired to mass transit...produces no emissions. Plus, (and this is where DC is just nucking futs,) human traffic is far more bearable than auto traffic.

4. There is to be no further build-out into the countryside. "Atlanta" is 15 counties and growing, for fuck's sake! You either live in the city, or you live in the country. And in the city, we have density. You don't get a new county to develop until you hit a certain 'per square mile' marker.

5. All paved parking lots must be converted to garages with parks, trees, crops, etc next to the damn parking garage.

6. Plug in the damn cars already!

On "Being Four Minutes to 50."

2008-04-23T18:11:00Z

I have to get this right out of the way. I abhore the new Madonna song, "Four Minutes." Having said that, I adore her new video for the song...but not from a place of respect and admiration. To me, this clip is so damn bad it's great. I, for one, am thrilled that Madonna has decided to react to being a half-century old with this insane clomp through the hip-hop genre.

You know, I could easily rip apart the "plot" of the video (where Madge and Justin Timberlake dance through environments seemingly being devoured by a moving, undulating wall of plastic shards?) I could attempt to figure out just what the hell this shit song is exactly about (4 minutes to save the world...from what? Destruction? Bad music? And if it is the end of the world, is the message to "grab a bay, grab a girl" and get your rocks off? In a meager 4 minutes?)

But that's just the 'bad.' Here's the 'so damn bad it's great.'

Madonna at 49 is batshit in this clip.

Bat. Shit. Insane.

And awesome for it.

Here's why: the Material Girl really thinks that she can pull off hip-hop hootchie. She really thinks that the kids will dig her rockin' a beige whore-suit. She really thinks that all the Botox and Restalyn in Southern California will erase the past 25 years of age from her face, as an insane physical regiment has maintained her body. She's got Britney's old extentions on, for eff's sake! In movie-star parlance, Madge is not following the Bette Davis route...but she's mos def pulling a page from the Joan Crawford handbook on age denial.

Oh, Madonna.

In their review of her upcoming album, Entertainment Weekly wondered "Just how massive is this midlife crisis of hers?" (They also gave the album a positive review; no surprise there, as they regularly give Madge props...and Warner owns both Madonna's last contracted album AND the very same magazine loving her.)

I'm not wondering about the size of the aformentioned crisis...I'm curious about the length. Can we look forward to another decade of Madonna pretending she's not 50? 55? 60? And what wonderfully bad incarnations will fall out of this refusal to accept the age to which one has grown into? Will the naked, look-at-my-vagina Madonna make a roaring comeback...just as that cat runs out of milk? Or how about one of her more 'serious' personas...maybe Margaret Thatcher-meets-red-leather?

I can't fucking wait.

Because some of it will, against all odds, actually be 'good' or 'great,' in addition to the 'so damn bad it's great.' That's just Madonna's way...no matter what period she's in (or soon to be without.)

Think about it: her midlife crisis clearly began with "American Life," when the most famous woman in the world decided that her music needed to be 'important.' Enter military garb, Patty Heart and Joan Baez wigs and guitar strums...and the most loopy album of her career.

Ever.

From an 'I love a good train wreck' standpoint, techno-folk-singer Madonna was just awesome fun. And I'll even give her props for taking a huge risk, and for not being afraid to fall on her face.

In the aftermath of that dismal failure, Madge decided to relive and revive the time before she became famous, and invite listeners into the sonic world that inspired her: disco. This collection of her "Confessions on a Dance Floor" could have been another so damn bad it's great moment from the big M. After all, has anyone really been clamoring for a Disco Inferno since the lights went out at Studio 54?

Turns out, it's one of her best albums, ever...ranking alongside her other two gems, 'Ray of Light' and 'Like a Prayer.' So the midlife crisis does portent for some good moments, along with the 'What?!?'

Alas, I think Hip-Hop-a-donna is one of the latter. It's just such a stupid, desperate disguise. While we, the people, may believe that Maddie really kicked it at the disco in the late 70s...you'll have to buy me a clue if anyone actually finds Madonna at 'da club, yo. Seriously...come the fuck on! Roll me up a Philly at least if I'm supposed to suspend that belief!

So Madge (M-Dolla if ya nas-t,) I just don't buy it. That doesn't make it any less entertaining, however. Because the one thing that ties all of Madonna's 'roles' together is the level of commitment. She can be in a sex club, or covered in Sanskit tats, or bouncing her tah-tahs in Timberlake's face...and good or bad, she gives 150%.

That's why she's a legend. And that's one of the reasons why we all love her.

And why she always adds a touch of greatness to her badness.

On The Trippy Badness of 'Event Horizon.'

2008-03-29T22:34:00Z

Ever since Ridley Scott's "Alien," movie studios have been trying to capture the intensity and brilliance of that particular haunted house in space. Most of them miss the mark by a mile, completely disregarding that film's genius of structure, design and editing. "Alien" is still a relevant, thrilling movie because of its architecture...and I'm not referring to the sets, nor the H.R. Giger flourishes of sadomasochistic fantasy. The pace of "Alien" lures the audience into a false sense of complacency, and then misdirects us to think that we are watching a sci-fi 'discovery' film...before it pops its cork and ramps up the speed (and the scares.)

In my view, the last fifteen minutes of "Alien," an uncomfortable roller-coaster rush through tunnels and jarring cuts in the print of the film, is made much more effective by the gentle pans and 'truckers in space' scenes from the first fifteen minutes. None of the imitators get this; they go for the jugular right from the start. You never become emotionally invested in the characters and you never settle into the reality of the film. It's just Kill, Alien, Kill all the way through...and that's pretty dull. "Alien" tells us a complete story...it's clones replicate a mere chapter. (A non-science fiction yarn that learned the plot lesson well is the horror flick "Hostel," which takes a sharp left turn from the 'frat boys fucking through Europe' yarn that drops you on your ass.)

So most of these "Alien" wannabes just suck...boring the audience with gore and the easy kill. The "Species" movies are notably bad: an endless series of set-up and bloody resolutions that the audience can see from miles away ("Species" even has a Giger monster and takes the sexual connotation from impled to literal.) However, one such haunted house in space is so deeply bad, it's freakin' great...the late-1990s claptrap, "Event Horizon."

Right from the start, "Event Horizon" makes a wrong move, with the opening title credits set to instrumental techno while we swirl towards the center of the universe's most kickin' black hole. You don't want to scream...you want to dance, baby, dance! Seriously...welcome to the rave kiddies. Get out your twirling lollipops and glow sticks. I'll take your brain to another dimension. Pay close attention.

After our adventure in the black hole, we get the standard sci-fi super-imposed screen script, which outlines the future history of humans in space. We get Hiltons on the moon in 2015, and begin mining Mars in the 2030's, which...for the record, means nothing to the plot, what little of that there is. Finally, we discover in 2040 that "Deep Space Research Vessel 'Event Horizon'...disappears without a trace beyond the eight planet, Neptune [in case you are retarded,]. It is the worst space disaster on record." And 'now,' in 2047...the ship is baaaaaack.

(SIDEBAR: don't you wish that the people who wrote these damn movies would push all of this shit a little farther in the future? In the late 1990's, it didn't seem like we'd be going to the moon anytime soon...and now it's 2008! Still no moon progression, to say nothing of those Martian mines.)

Cue freaky dream moment from Sam Neill (a long way from 'The Piano' and 'Jurassic Park') who sees a horror-movie dead dude floating in the ship before jostling awake to think of...his dead wife Claire? 'Dr. Weir' and his wife must have had some pretty freaky sex is all I'm saying.

Anyhoo, Dr. Weir gets onboard the rescue ship 'Lewis & Clark' to go with them to pick up the 'Event Horizon.' It's here we meet Laurence Fishburne and his crew. Good ol' Larry gets the ball rolling into Bad Movie heaven with this gem of a line: "Someone drops the ball, we get the call." They all go into this film's version of 'hypersleep,' complete with chambers and all (see basically every fucking science-fiction movie...ever,) and high-tail it to Neptune.

Along the way, Dr. Weir dreams his wife is on the ship...and she's "so alone." But it's pretty hard to take any of this seriously as the costume department has dropped Sam Neill into these tight, gray "under-boxers" that are (a) wet and (b) pulled up to right under his belly button, creating a little muffin top of flab along the rim. He wanders to the bridge, nipples ready to cut glass, where he sees his dead wife, who's "waiting" and has no eyes. Neill does this hysterical "Argh-ohhh" style terror-fear scream, which kind of sounds like a baritone warming up for the opera...and then wakes for real in his hyperspace tube.

We get to see the rest of the crew in these weird, half-naked undergarments, where Richard T. Jones decides to set back the evolution of men by asking Julia from 'Nip/Tuck' (known as 'Stark' here) if "she'd like something hot and black inside her." Had she said "yes," this would have been a much better movie, I assure you.

Now, in case you couldn't read the text at the start of the flick, altogether possible in modern America, have no fear! The story of the doomed ship 'Horizon' is retold by Weir & Friends, a near-verbatim monologue of what we, the people, read just ten minutes prior. This scene perfectly illustrates just how crappy "Event Horizon" is going to be, as Fishburne introduces the crew to the Doctor in a laundry list of names and ranks. 'Cause you know, people actually talk like that. And 'cause you know, they wouldn't have been introduced already...upon boarding the ship. Not that it matters one whit what their names and ranks are...unlike "Alien," where you met the characters organically and realistiically...and perhaps cared what happened to them, "Horizon" doesn't care! Let's get to the haunted house, already! Kill, baby, kill...so we can dance to the techno that has mysteriously vanished from the soundtrack!

It seems the Event Horizon is back, and Fishburne and his peeps are to secure it and tow it back from Neptune. Dr. Weir also informs the crew that the 'official report' leaves out that the ship housed a drive intended to create an artificial singularity, and thus travel at faster-than-light speed. Weir uses the very scientific technique of poking a hole through a folded piece of magazine paper and flying a pencil through to make his point, because these very experienced space jockeys can't grasp words like "folding space and time" and "gravity drive."

Anyway, the crew listens to a sole transmission made by the ship, which is a bunch of screams and a guy speaking in the dead language of Latin (because I'm sure that in the next fifty years it's making a comeback.) The dude seems to be saying "Liberate meh" which means "save me," according to the trauma specialist (and substitute linguist...it seems nobody at ground control, which combed over the transmission speaks Latin...or cares.)

This doesn't deter the 'Lewis & Clark,' who demonstrate their skills through a near-collision with the 'Event Horizon' in Neptune's upper atmosphere, because...you know...if we have the technology to travel in space in the future, we apparently haven't figured out a way to not fly toward shit at zillions of miles an hour. Or maybe the writers just wanted another little 'goose.'

Here's where "Event Horizon" begins its beautiful launch into the Bad Movie stratosphere. For starters, the ships are wonderfully rendered...but Neptune, once inside the atmosphere, resembles a fog machine on 'high.' This high-tech/low-tech nonsense continues when they enter 'Event Horizon' itself: a vast, amazingly detailed space...with near-cartoon-like CGI crap floating in the zero-gravity. Hysterically, even though the ship is in "deep freeze" a CGI-cartoon bottle of water still makes the 'slooshy' sound. OK, maybe it's 'near-deep-freeze.' They also come across a series of explosive devices that will blow the central corridor of the ship, separating the front part from the rear 'gravity drive' part. The crew can then use the front as a "lifeboat." What's especially funny is that the bombs are labeled as 'explosives' and have a little graphic demonstrating just what 'explosives' do...but Fishburne still asks "What are these?"

Now, while 'Event Horizon' is very detailed and wonderfully designed, it most certainly comes from the 'Star Trek' school of sci-fi 'reality' versus the 'Lewis & Clark,' which, despite being in this great-bad movie, really resembles what you'd expect a spaceship to look like. The latter is all wires and buttons, all duct-tape paired to wear and tear. 'Event Horizon' looks like a Gothic Club. Or an S&M club for Klingons.

Some of the crew wanders around the ship for what seems like forever...until Justin, or 'Baby Bear,' comes across the tunnel to the gravity drive chamber...or maybe a really awesome Vegas hangout. Seriously. Talk about taking the 'Star Trek' method of utterly impossible reality and bringing it to life. It's a long tube with holes in it that rotates, while multi-colored lights coalesce inside the holes, creating an effect much like taking mushrooms, I'd imagine. Why doesn't the space shuttle have this, exactly? Imagine the crazy-sexy-fun in space aboard the U.S.S. Danceteria!

At the other end is the gravity drive itself...a big mass of rotating circles and balls covered with creepy rivets and such. The circles all align and shine 'Diva' light on Justin as the center circle becomes a mass of black. You almost expect Whitney Houston to emerge and sing us a ditty. Justin, clearly retarded, reaches out to touch the black mass and is pulled in. The circle barfs some special effects which somehow rupture the other ship, which forces all the crew onto the good ship 'Event Horizon.'

They run the ship's log through some 'filters' to see the captain holding his eyes out to the camera (while speaking mother-fucking LATIN,) while the rest of the crew appears to have an...orgy? Seriously...they are rubbing up against each other naked, covered in Ketchup or something. Hardly hell...and hardly scary.

It's onboard where the crew begins to have visions and such...well, some of the crew who made it past the budget police begin to have visions and such, while others are just...fine! Fishburne sees an old crew member on fire, "Mama Bear" sees her son, and Dr. Weir sees his dead wife, who pokes his eyes out! Dr. Weir also blows up the other ship (because he's crazy,) slices and dices another crew member (because the ship made him crazy) and can fire pretty damn accurately for a dude with no eyes (because this movie is crazy.)

Dr. Weir eventually gets sucked out into space (and is unbelievably replaced by another guy who survived the bombing of the 'Lewis & Clark,' used his oxygen tanks as propulsion back to the 'Event Horizon,' all the while mantaining his 'cool.') But have no fear: Weir appears again as an apparation of the ship: naked, sliced and bald...just the way you've always wanted to see middle-aged white guys, eh? Weir also traps Fishburne on the gravity end of the ship (where he's planning to blow the first part way and save two random crew members...random because they didn't get visions.) It's here where the movie decides to hold nothing back. Weir repeats "do you see" over and over and over and over again, while holding Fishburne's face...who sees quick-cut images of his crew, himself, and random people we've never seen prior, being tortured, sliced and diced.

Best of all, there are survivors, and Fishburne goes to the other dimension...which means sequel, people! I honestly can't wait to see that one.

Inexplicably, this utter piece of shit has become a cult classic. Mind you, not a Bad Movie cult classic...but a loved sci-fi flick. Clearly the eye removal fetish has passed beyond fiction and into our reality. "Do you see?"

On "Bringing Your Child To Work."

2008-03-22T00:01:00Z

OK...at some point in the recent past, we, the people, decided that it would be great if parents could bring their children to work. Shit, most companies have even created a mother-fucking event around the idea, with 'Bring Your Child To Work Day.' One of my former employers went so far as to have 'activities' and 'learning annexes' for the kids (which is funny, as this is the same damned shit hole that fired said 'parents' on 'major holidays.')

This is just so stupid. In the first place, how can this be good for the children? "Wow, so this is the place that makes Mommy and Daddy so miserable when he gets home." Moreover, the kiddies are going to have plenty of time to explore the mind-numbing, soul-sucking spirit of 'work' as they enter their teens and for the rest of their natural lives. Hell, they may not get to retire, as we, the people have done such a remarkable job of squandering our national wealth. So...they have their entire lives to be adults at work...why are we intruding on their time to be young and free?

One of my Human Resource peeps believes that bringing your children to work is more for the parents than it is for the children, that it makes the day go quicker and it's altogether more pleasant for the breeders to have their brood there. Ummmm....no. In the first place, work is an escape from the world of burnt Barbie fights and Pokemons. It's a world for adults to be adults. In the second place, why in the fuck do I have to mitigate my personality to accommodate your children? I have to trade out 'shit' for 'sugar' because you couldn't keep the seed from reaching the egg. I don't think so!

Which brings up another problem: why are we, the people, celebrating humanity's ability to reproduce? I mean, seriously. 'Babies falling out of vaginas' is not exactly a novel condition for homo sapiens. You already get a tax break, a baby shower, and gifts from relatives...Jesus, ain't that enough? Besides, with billions of people and not enough rice, shouldn't we be celebrating not having children? Why don't the childless get a no-baby shower? Shit, I would send a gift or money to every ugly person I know (and in the District, that's a lot of mouth breathers, people) if they would just agree to not create more ugly babies I have to pretend are cute and adorable! And with less kids, housing costs would drop, aquifers would recharge, fish would come back to the oceans...less people means more, people!

What annoys me are those parents who abuse the 'Bring Your Child To Work Day' and decide to make that a regular occurrence. This guy, who sits a few doors down from me, brings his family of four runny-nosed freaks into the office at least once a week. I'm not kidding. How anyone decided to sit on this dude's cock in the first place is beyond me, as he makes Freddy Krueger look like a male model. And now there are four mini-troglodytes. And I hate them all.

Furthermore, where the hell is my day, as a single person with looks, a brain and a strong professional ethic? When do we have 'Bring your random fuck to work day?' Or 'drinking buddies day?' Hell, we could hold them at the same time, so the kids could actually have something to look forward to. "See, children? While your Mommy and Daddy go home with you and watch their marriage disintegrate over 'American Idol' and TV Dinners, here's who I'm going to screw later!" Then those kids could at least have an informed decision about their future.

Or you could just leave them at home and make everybody happy.

On "The Missing Storyline of Project Runway."

2008-02-19T21:09:00Z

For me, "Project Runway" is the gold standard of reality television. To celebrate the creative impulse through people who must possess basic skills to begin with makes for fascinating viewing. (Compare this to the first few weeks of "American Idol," for example, where they celebrate an utter lack of talent for public consumption.)

"Project Runway" requires that contestants be able to sew as well as design: to have the hardware and the software. Since this is reality television, there's a degree of contrivedness (make a dress out of food! Or candy wrappers,) but what sets PR apart is the exploration of the act of creation. Each challenge requires each designer to dig within their own intellectual toolbox and come up with something of their own.

And yet, this season has been somewhat demure, in my opinion. Don't get me wrong: I have no wish to see "Project Runway" devolve into something like the Real World/Road Rules Challenges (a subject for one of my "So Damn Bad It's Great" blogs, no doubt.) But there's no overarching story this year, no subtle message about the nature of fashion or creation to take away. All of the past seasons had this, and whether real or edited, the narrative truly added to the experience. Here's what I mean.

In the first season, "Project Runway" presented the viewer with a Salieri/Mozart story involving Jay and Wendy Pepper, as well as deliniating between "point of view" and "good design" via Jay and Kara Saun. Wendy Pepper, who deserved all of the bile and the hate directed her way, nonetheless played the "Project Runway" game extraordinarily well, skating by most of the time, throwing other, more talented designers under the bus...and getting all the way to Fashion Week via triangulation in lieu of talent. If nothing else, Pepper is one of the most memorable and interesting villians in television...and her intense jealously of the other two leading designers was a twisted, macabre spectacle to watch every week.

Kara Saun, on the other hand, presented very nice, well-made outfits that always landed her at the top of the heap...but did she have a point of view? Did what she create come from a place deep within her, or did it come from the fashion culture itself, as well as a desire to win? Her futile struggle to find her own voice among the fabric dovetails right into Jay's discovery of his voice in the fashion world.

Jay McCarroll set the stage for excellence in "Project Runway." His story, of the "funny guy" who actualizes his potential through the course of a television series for fuck's sake, speaks to the higher level that "Project Runway" aspires to. To witness Jay discover his talent, his gift for orignal design, his voice...was inspiring and astonishing. As an advertising writer, frequently creating in a client's voice instead of my own, I'm certain that Jay is going to have massive problems and issues in the 'real world' of fashion...but as an artist, I have nothing but respect for Jay...and his story.

The second season evolved into a philosophical match-up with the following query: what is fashion? Is it the avant-garde bombast exhibited by Santino Rice, or the meticulous construction of Chloe Dao? Santino himself challenged Dao at one point, equating her to a glorified 'patternmaker.' What's remarkable here is that "Project Runway" doesn't answer this question (and indeed, how could it,) but rather, exposes Santino as a poor representative of his side of the argument. Throughout the season, Santino would glue his outfits together, and cover them with feathers, glitter and garnish...claiming the primacy of his voice over the flawless execution of Dao's refined designs.

"Project Runway" agreed, and sent him to Fashion Week to prove his point. His challenge was direct: show us that your vision can be executed with the precision of the "pattern-maker" and the prize is yours. Instead, Santino got even ballsier: choosing to attack Dao in the house where she lived. Santino the rebel attempted a collection of classic, refined clothes. That first mistake revealed the second: that Santino can't really sew. To be different is an admirable trait, but to critique others on skills that you don't possess yourself...that's hubris (and fucking fascinating TV.)

Dao won by creating her "dream collection," but I would argue that she won because her genius is the fusion of design and patternmaking. Her collection showcased classic silhouettes put together via innovative seamwork...placing the lines in novel places, along unique body contours and in unexpected folds, that nonetheless created the 'look.' It didn't answer the question; indeed, I would have loved to have seen Dao take the avant-garde aesthetic of Santino and execute it in her patented, mannered precision. And had Santino succeeded with his collection, he may have won the argument (and the season.) But the fact that I can even blog about a damn reality show that inspires philosophical discussions about the nature of art and design is pretty damn awesome in and of itself. (Sidebar: for those who think that Daniel V. should have won, I have one word for you: TALBOT'S. Go buy his collection yesterday! Zzzzzzz.)

Had Dao competed against the third season's winner, we might have a more definitive answer here. Jeffrey Sembello, a true enfant terrible, consistently grated upon his fellow designers and the audience's nerves. To be blunt: Jeff was a prick. The question posed to the viewing public by "Project Runway" was this: can you accept that this prick is the most interesting, innovative designer of the season? After all, they stacked three "fan favorites" against him: Uli of the tropical prints, Michael of the safari hip-hop scene, and Laura of the old New York style and pizazz. The answer was yes. We wanted to smack him...and then we wanted to see his brilliantly created clothes on people.

The third season also acted as a commentary on the previous two. We missed the transformative story of Jay, as none of them evolved from where they began into what they will become. Dao's off-the-chain seams and architectural construction was proven to be genius post-haste, with Laura creating the same silhouettes using standard stitching (beautiful stuff, great lady, but standard nonetheless.) Jeffrey, of course, became a commentary on both Wendy Pepper and Santino...what would the villian be like with talent on a show centered around it? And what would Santino design if he could sew...or had a definitive point of view?

It's this subtle storytelling that makes "Project Runway" such an intellectual delight. The way in which the show poses questions...many times with no answers, while it dissects the creative process just makes it so much more than something like "America's Next Top Model" (or most of the other nonsense on Bravo, in fact.)

So where is the story this season? Christian is not a true villian, kind of a 'Diet Jeffrey,' and his designs are nowhere near as out-there. They've been playing the Rami-does-draping-and-the-same-shit story for the past few weeks, but he doesn't seem to get it, and the judges don't want to vote him off...so is there really a message there? Sweet P. has been coasting by until this past week...but we all knew that she wasn't one of the final three. Chris Marsh came back (and clearly found the buffet,) and might be going to Fashion Week, but he's copied a design on the runway, and slept during a challenge! Is the lesson that laziness wins? And then there's Jillian, who always bites off more than she can chew, and just barely turns out (albeit, most of them have been awesome, winning designs.) Is the lesson here that stress sells?

The producers and the judges seem to be shoving a forced moral down our throat involving Rami and Christian: "similar" versus "point of view," which seems odd, as this particular fable is kind of the underlying theme of "Runway." Think about it: Kara Saun versus Jay. Chloe/Daniel versus Santino. Laura/Uli versus Jeffrey. To put it another way: this can't be the ONLY thing we're taking away from PR!

I can't wait for the finale and next season, as I'm clearly a junkie for the "Runway." But this season has mos def been a solid B versus the A's of the prior three. Here's hoping for more questions that can't be answered from the reality show that can't be topped.

On "The Pros & Cons Of Amtrak, And Falling In Love With Vermont."

2007-12-28T17:19:00Z

This past holiday season, I went up to White River Junction in Vermont to visit one of my oldest friends and his gal Friday. Like many in the Mid-Atlantic and the Northeast, I took the train, mostly to save money (as a flight to Lebanon in New Hampshire was $600,) but also because it was the most convenient way to get there.

Unlike the rest of the country, trains are a useful, dynamic and vibrant transportation option in BosWash. There is a veritable superhighway of trains running from DC to Washington along the Northeast Corridor, from commuter rail to Acela's 'high-speed' service (marginally faster than the regular trains, and an embarassment when compared to Europe, Japan, China and indeed, much of the world.) Nonetheless, the Northeast Corridor is a great example of how trains can and do work to get people from A to B. Nearly half of the travelers going from DC to NYC take the train instead of the plane (and this with three major airports in each metropolitan area, no less.)

I highly advise the trip from DC to NYC on Amtrak. For about $100-$140 round-trip, you'll go from the center of Washington to the literal center of Manhattan in about 3.5 hours. There's even a promotion for $100 round trips! For around $100 more, you can drop an hour off this on Acela. If you drive it, it will take 4-5 hours, and you have to find a place to park (good luck with that in the Big Apple.) Flying there only takes an hour and a half, but it costs $200-ish...and you're leaving out the security time and wait in the airport...which kind of negates the time savings. And if you get on the train early in the morning (or in the middle of the night,) you can snooze your way to New York.

The Northeast Corridor was really something to travel on. Many lines of electrified trains whisked down the tracks, and all of the stops were at stations that were clearly used and maintained. Clearly, people in the Northeast care about their trains, and it shows. That having been said, Amtrak's 'AmCans' were kind of a sad commentary on the state of passenger rail. My particular car dated back to the early 1980's, and while the seats were certainly roomier than those on planes, it's kind of pathetic that the very same trains I took to sleepaway camp are in use more than twenty years later.

My one complaint is that the Northeast Corridor is pretty ugly, in general. Between graffiti and the urban blahs (the outer ring of NYC looks like a set for a dystopic vision of the future,) this ain't scenic train travel. Still, it gets you there, comfortably and on time. And you're deposited right in the center of the center of it all. Pretty damn awesome.

The train left the Northeast Corridor in Vermont...and here's where I begin to have a mixed-bag experience. On the one hand, Vermont is insanely stunning to travel in. Instead of 'Blade Runner' you have 'Cold Mountain.' On the other, that fast train becomes a slow train, making frequent stops at decrepid stations. It's almost the inverse of the Northeast Corridor, where the environment was crap but the stations were used, well-maintained and lit. Decouple from that, and you're sharing track with freight, slowing down due to aging iron, and visiting the ruins of American rail.

A grand example of that would be this 'main transfer' station. This is...for lack of a better word...pathetic. The slats in the roof leak, the whole place is dirty, and it just reeks of neglect. Very few of the stations off of the Northeast Corridor matched the scenery of the region. Almost all were ugly and rotting.

Which is a shame, because Vermont is beautiful. Once you get off the train and leave the 'shack from the 50s station' behind, the state is just a wonder of nature. I saw three deer and a moose while training through Vermont (most likely my first moose and fourth deer, ever.) My architectural eye was tickled by colonial and turn-of-the-century buildings, some sadly crumbling but others vibrant and used. Since agriculture left New England, the former farms are now wooded forests, yet they still retain their centuries-old rock fences, a bizarre mixture of the man-made and the pastoral idyll. Massive icicles framed rock-faced cliffs while frozen lakes present a mirror of the sky.

I fell in love.

Now, mind you...I'm pretty certain that I can't live in Vermont, at least not the areas of Vermont that I traveled through. Both my profession and my need to interact with culture, nightlife and Lucky Brand Jeans demand setting up shop in a metropolitan area (which, in Vermont, would be Burlington, so keep your boots crossed.) And, I really love DC for all of the aforementioned reasons. But I totally 'get' why people live and love Vermont. I certainly heart it. The state has done a tremendous job of keeping the city and suburban sprawl out, and in effect, has separated the urban world from the rural and rustic.

Why is this important? In Vermont, it creates specific urban areas, like Burlington, where the city mice can live, breed and shop. It keeps the malls and their disposable facades, their acres of parking and their utter blight out (in New Hampshire: a distinct border crossing from Lebanon into White River Junction.)

Imagine what the region along the Northeast Corridor would look like...had we, the people done this. At present, the city becomes the suburb becomes the suburb to the next city...from south of Washington to well past Boston. In effect, you won't see the natural landscape until you leave Virginia or New Hampshire! Look, I'm a city mouse, but there has to be a limit to the 'urban area.' We can't keep churning over 'empty land' and dropping houses, malls and other sundry developments on the nature.

My home state of Florida is a great example of what not to do, as they basically heard the song and paved paradise to put up a parking lot (to be fair, flat and swampy Florida could never be a beautiful as Vermont.) My home region of South Florida is made up of 110 miles (north/south) of unending, uninterrupted suburban carpet. My home city of Miami basically stretches from the Everglades to the sea, an unbroken sea of cement adjoining 7-11 to suburb. Worse, this process is repeating itself from Orlando to Tampa...in effect creating New Jersey in the tropics.

I don't know about you, but if I'm going to live in a crowded metropolis, I want to actually live there, and not is some quasi-city, dressed up in new home development drag. If I'm to live in the country (don't hold your breath,) I'd want to live in the woods, the forest, the small town and not just another suburb, fitted up in 'country' drag.

I'd want to live in Vermont.

On "Our Degenerating Culture & A Resolution I Plan To Keep."

2007-12-14T19:59:00Z

So, last night I was watching a special on VH1 called "What Perez Sez About 2007." This is Perez Hilton's version of the Academy Awards, featuring such illustrious categories as "Biggest Douche" and "Hit With The Fug Stick." Now, truth be told, I am no stranger to PerezHilton.com or TMZ.com and the rest. We, the people can't resist a good trainwreck, and Perez clearly knows and profits from this.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not blaming Perez Hilton for his coverage of the media, and his lewd, cruel way of shredding celebrity culture. We're at fault for finding the trainwrecks interesting. Without an audience, Perez Hilton would merely be another fat queen waiting tables, no?

And I have to give Perez tons of credit. He, like the superbly funny Kathy Griffin, has totally tapped into our bizarre fascination and abhorence of the current crop of stars making the scene. It's a weird paradox: I can't find anyone who likes or admires the Nicole Ritchies, the Paris Hiltons and the up-and-losing Rumer Willises of the world, and yet...we can't turn away from the useless carnage. There's tarty fun in dem dere hills. And for Perez and his ilk, there's black gold in the form of an audience to witness the lurid spectacle.

At the same time, has this phase of pop culture not run its course already? Or are we, the people, so easily duped by these disasterous photo ops, which result in money, fame and power for the players involved? Perez Hilton is now a celebrity, just as covered and coveted as the useless people he draws upon. There's something ironic in that: a blogger, basically taking public domain shots from all over the web and posting them with doodles, is now what Slate.com calls "the Barbara Walters of his generation."

This mere fact should make working people, from the aforementioned Kathy Griffin to the cashiers at Wal-Mart wretch and vomit on their hard-earned paychecks (to say nothing of Walters: a Sarah Lawrence graduate with actual, earned credibility in the journalism business.) And yet, we, the people empower him by paying attention to his site, and the celebrities he covers. Again, I'm not critiquing Perez Hilton: he saw a market and went after it with gusto. I'm critiquing we, the people, who are so easily distracted by Britney's vagina and Sharon Stone's cellulite. Without us, there would be no Perez.

Or Paris. Rumer. Kim K. And the rest. They'd be gone...or at the very least, they'd have to do something to earn our attention.

I told this to my best friend, Jenn, and she was reminded of the Simpsons' Halloween episode where the advertising icons in the town of Springfield come to life. The key to stopping their rampage is to not look at them: attention gives them power. Perhaps the same is true of celebrities: if we glue our eyes to something else, maybe they'll go away. I'll even step it up a notch: we'll pay attention to you, if you do something, like sing, dance, act or paint...that merits attention.

Dressing like shit doesn't count.

We, the people, are failing to complete the circle here as well. Because I think that it's not merely Perez Hilton and company that are profiting from our tabloid zeal. It's the celebrities themselves. Instead of starting with product and moving into the party and the photo op...they're starting with the photo op which opens them up to the parties and eventually...product!

Take Paris Hilton as an example:
She's 'caught' on film having intercourse with some guy under a black light.
She gets a contract to open up nightclubs...just to show up.

She gets out of a limo without panties, showing the world her vagina again.
She gets cast in the horror movie "House of Wax."

She goes to jail and has a media circus follow her through that ordeal.
She releases a best-selling, pricey perfume selling at Macys, Nordstroms, and other upscale stores.

She says 'that's hot' ad nauseum, while wearing ugly, skanky clothing.
She records an album of pop music.

I'm pretty sure this isn't a strict chronology of 'what happened when.' The result is that we, the people, pay attention to the goddawful nonsense that Paris does, and she gets a promotional, film, retail and recording-artist CAREER out of the deal. It's a case of one thing feeding another. Without us looking at her, she's just another slut dressed badly. With our hungry eyes, however...she's 'legit' now. She can make the claim of being an 'actor/singer/mogul.'

That's fucking absurd.

As is the continued success of Britney Spears, long past her shelf life.

Spears began her career as a 'singer' with limited talent. "Baby...One More Time" was an earned, bizarre pop moment for the star, but she deserved that hit, as she played the virgin-whore role to the hilt. But can somebody explain to me how this clearly inebriated, quite untalented hack is selling records?

I'd argue it's because we, the people, are still paying attention to the 'wreck' Britney, and that's translating into sales for 'singer' Britney. Even after the shaven head, the loss of custody, and (most importantly,) the poorly lip-synced performance on MTV, "Gimmie More" is a huge hit.

HUGE.

I don't think it's dumb luck, either. Spears' handlers and producers know the score: trainwrecks sell albums. Thus, while I don't think that the Britney meltdown is as manufactured as her music, I think that some smart people are keeping the meltdown in the tabs to make money.

I'm not going to make the argument that we, the people are paying attention to nonsense instead of paying credence to real issues, problems and situations out there...because I know that we, the people, en masse, just don't care. We've proven that, over and over and over again. The real issues just don't matter...or aren't as entertaining as the bullshit.

But I would like to see us paying attention to celebrities and stars for their music and acting, rather than their extra-curricular activities. I'm so sick of people like Nicole Ritchie, Paris Hilton, and even Perez Hilton...empowered and enriched because we pay attention to them.

Look away from them: attention gives them power.

So...my resolution this year is to cease paying attention to people who contribute nothing to our culture. I am no longer going to empower them, which leads to money and influence. If Lindsay Lohan falls off the wagon, I don't care to know. If she makes an awesome movie, please inform me. If Britney wears yet another ugly outfit, weave or wig...don't tell me. If she learns how to sing and records a kick-ass album, let me know (I'll not hold my breath on that one.)

In fact, when somebody sends me a useless story about one of these folks, I'm going to send them a link to something really important, like the current temperature of the earth, or the AIDS death toll in Africa, even the state of the tranportation grid in this country.

Maybe if we, the people, all do this, we'll drop these celebutards before Rumer Willis gets her very own perfume line.

Maybe, if we, the people, all do this...Rumer Willis will have to act, sing, dance or write before she gets the right to get her very own perfume line.

Maybe if we, the people, all do this, falling out of a rich and famous snatch won't immediately guarantee you fame and fortune.

Maybe talent will matter more.

And just maybe...we, the people will pay attention to the news, to the politics, to the real shit going down.

Just look away.

On "Taking The Lead On Climate Change."

2007-12-13T17:05:00Z

So, I've been following the talks in Bali regarding the environment, and I'm disturbed, to say the least, at the results.

The general consensus seems to be that the United States is the chief obstacle to creating real change there. To the rest of the world this is shocking, but here in America...this is merely 'status quo' and 'par for the course' whenever we, the people, tackle a green issue. Or anything that will take us out of our SUVs, the malls and the rest of our spoiled lives. I would argue that this isn't even a major story in the news: I had to dig deep beneath Britney Spears' sad Christmas and maligned actors who missed out on a fucking Golden Globe nod just to find the goods. Liza Minnelli falling down at a concert isn't news, people! It's an everyday reality.

Let me detail just how much of a non-issue the climate is here. The only way 'efficiency' is making an impact is on hybrid sales, which are through the roof (just like gasoline prices.) I had a conversation with a co-worker, who lives in DC and drives from his home to work...also in DC...because he doesn't like waiting for the Metro (that he'd rather sit in the District's notorious traffic is a testament to his high intelligence and powers of deductive reasoning.) We're not funding Amtrak or building a high-speed rail network, which would clearly and easily drop our emissions while raising our sanity levels (see road traffic and airports, respectively.) This is despite Amtrak posting record numbers and mass transit nationwide posting record numbers. (You also can't fly a train into a building, just FYI.)

However, nobody else is really taking us to task. Al Gore, fresh from his Nobel Prize win, spoke tough, claiming that "My own country, the United States, is principally responsible for obstructing progress here in Bali. We all know that." What Gore fails to recognize is that he's taking the wusses way out. It's easy to grunt and groan, easy to critique the United States (the largest, or second-largest greenouse gasbag on the planet.) But if Gore really wants to make change, really wants the United States to adopt a leadership role in climate, run for President of the Free World, ya pussy!

Or is that too 'hard?' And yes, I called Al Gore a pussy. It's an inconvenient truth. To put it another way, if Bush was ideologically aligned with climate change, we'd have already attacked ourselves, and sent an ill-equipped army to China with no armor and no plan, with the hopes that they blow up enough factories to drop the levels of greenhouse gasses. That would be his legacy: the War on Warming. Bush may be a religious nut, he may be slow to put down this month's issue of "Highlights" during attacks, but he ain't a pussy. He wanted a hard-line, right-wing, religious nation with little-to-no separation of governmental powers (or separation of church and state, thought and faith, torture and justice...) and damn if he hasn't made every effort to get what he wants.

Can one make the same claim about Gore?

Plus...I like Gore! I voted for Gore in 2000. I saw his film and sold my car, moving closer to where I work and play. I've been a huge bitch to friends and family members who drive sloth-UVs or don't recycle. Me liking Gore doesn't make him any less of a mother-fucking pussy! Seriously. Put up or shut up, already. Get in the race or get out of the kitchen.

And what about the other First-World powers, like the EU? Well, they threatened to boycott...the US-sponsored climate summit next month! Wow. Way to take a stand there, guys. I'm certain that will be quite effective in getting America on board. You know, if you really want to make us change, to threaten us, don't buy from Ford of Europe, the only profitable division left for Dearborn. Or refuse to buy or fly Boeing jets. Give up the Starbucks and 'Royales with Cheese' at McDonalds. The dollar is already crashing, give it a punch and you'll get our attention.

You could also get our attention by doing something altruistic and beneficial. For example, buy Amtrak and upgrade it to Eurostar standards (as Amtrak doesn't own its tracks outside of the Northeast, this may be a pipe dream.) One of the quickest and easiest ways for us to drop some 20% of our greenhouse gas farting is by getting we, the people, out of our cars. The problem for most of the country is that we, the people, can't...because there is no mass transit in cities and suburbs, and no short-line rail transit between cities and cities. Give people an alternative, and they'll take it. Almost nobody takes a plane from DC to NYC...'cause we have Acela. If you can't buy Amtrak, help them...help us see that trains aren't a travel method of the past, and get people off planes.

Mind you, America's not off the hook here. We, the people, are so easily distracted and entertained by utter nonsense. This ranges from genuine issues like abortion and equal rights (which have been so polarized that a true conversation is impossible,) to bullshit like Paris Hilton and Dancing With The Stars, (which have no redeemable value whatsoever.) Here's a clue, folks: we can't pay attention to nonsense if we're all dead, starving, or without energy. Just sayin'.

Which leads me to China, who feels that the United States should take the lead on global climate change. Now, I get what China is saying. The US is the hyperpower. The US has been responsible for most of the greenhouse gas in the atmosphere. The US has an overall high standard of living, while China is ramping and amping up to move its populace out of poverty and into the modern age. Their claim that it's not fair to cap developing countries rings true...

...but you know what, guys? Life ain't fair. If it was, your culture wouldn't have been carved up and divided by the Europeans, the Americans and the Japanese for 150 years. If it was, the Great Leap Forward wouldn't have killed millions.

Life ain't fair.

Knowing that, realizing that, use your strength. China has a long, vast and proud history of triangulating their position to come out on top. Why not do this for climate change? Instead of producing tons of Barbies, produce tons of solar panels for pennies. Come into the automobil market with a hybrid that everybody can afford. Clean up your factories and sell the West your technology in doing that. If you wait for the US to act, the world in which you'll emerge as a major power will be much diminished.

But if you take the lead...

...you'll be a world power much, MUCH quicker. You'll make tons of money doing it WHILE being the 'hero' nation. You'll get to cast the United States as the 'villian' nation. Worse, we'll be yesterday's news while you'll ascend.

Do I really want this? Nope. I'd much rather we, the people, take action and take the lead. I've argued for a 'change of box' to place the free-market economy inside over many, many posts now. We SHOULD do this.

But life ain't fair.

On "Why Decreasing Our Energy Use Is The Most Patriotic Thing We Can Do."

2007-10-29T19:57:00Z

Just last week, I reported that oil was heading up towards $100 a gallon(while Dumbledore got most of the attention by being gay. Sometimes we, the people, pay attention to the dumbledorest shit.)

Now, with a King Learesque mania, the drumbeat of war is playing. The US is imposing harsher sanctions on Iran. The small, revolutionary faction of nutjobs (running the most cosmopolitan, educated and modern culture in the Middle East outside of Israel) are pumping up their bluster. The Holy Land is stopping fuel shipments to the Gaza Strip (because we've apparently had too much peace in the Middle East for what? A week? Three hours?)

What in tarnation is going on? Did everyone eat their Crazy Flakes for breakfast?

Here's the thing: a US or Israeli strike/invasion/expansion of the mess south of the border will almost certainly raise oil prices through the roof. Like to $150 a gallon or some other, insane number. Simultaneously, the only way to truly 'take out' Iran is by removing the oil wealth from the current regime (kinda sounds like the second verse in the Iraq adventure, eh?) We've now seen just how pesky the whole proposition is...and this is from a less prideful and nationalistic country.

You know, I wrote about this earlier in the year. At that time, I was looking for a long-term solution to the situation. To remove Iran's support of terrorist regimes, you remove the cash that keeps funding them (oil, in case you haven't been paying attention.) But I was thinking along the lines of a five-year plan...or a ten-year plan where the dependent countries cut their usage of black crude back via renewables, sacrifice and alternative energy sources. If less people want the oil, the price drops and the regimes built on the back of oil have less leverage and funds with which to spread their influence. Don't get me wrong: not all countries with an oil base will be hurt by the price drop. Saudi Arabia has invested heavily in secondary industry "opening up" their economy if not their culture. Dubai and the other Emirates have done the same. Iran hasn't. Oil prices being high breeds wealth...but Iran has chosen to fund shadow armies against the West (to be fair...Iran's unelected leadership has chosen this. I'm pretty sure the peeps on the ground would like something different.) What happens when the funds get cut-off?

That was the whole point of the other piece. Wean us down off oil and cut off their supplies. That way, if Iran threatens somebody, we, the people have actual power in the situation. We can effectively 'North Korea' that country until they bend to our will.

But this way is just batshit insane! Oil is headed past $100. That's a given at this point. If we're at 'peak oil,' if we're approaching 'peak oil,' or if it's just a case of too much instability in the world...or too many people wanting the oil now...it doesn't matter. Attacking Iran will only increase this problem...even if we 'take them out.'

Why is this bad? Well, the countries that are now competing for the oil, countries just beginning to realize their modern potential (for better or worse,) will be pushed off. Let me put it another way: peaceful, growing India can't afford $150 a barrel oil. Neither can China. And while America, Europe and Japan kinda-sorta can, imagine what a hit that will be.

And not just to us. We, the people may consume less lead-filled Barbies...and if we buy less of them, the economy of China utterly collapses. That's a real fact: most of the rest of the world is dependent on our consumerism. We buy less Kias, and South Koreans eat less rice.

Maybe that's the plan (I may be giving Bush & Co. too much credit. A plan? Huh?) To knock down the developing world back into the Third. But really...isn't that worse in the long term? Look, I'm not a fan of China proving that totalitarianism and capitalism can and do work hand-in-hand, but I'd rather deal with an educated, intelligent China in the future than the zealots that emerged hungry and stupid after The Great Leap Forward. I'd much prefer a world diluted in culture by McDonalds and Wal-Marts if the benefit is a world of much more equal parity. This all starts with the big dog (that would be us,) taking the lead and dramatically decreasing our fossil fuel use. And showing our allies in the world how to do the same.

Moreover, decreasing our fossil fuel useage sends a clear message to the current administration and his followers bastardizing the Republican Party. Get. A. Grip. If we're such great country, such an example...then we, the people need to lead us down a path of reason and sense, not power and bluster. Imagine if we cut our energy use by 5% a year for the next 10 years (or in half in 10.) Imagine the power we'd actually have in the Middle East...to not be scared by oil spikes and other such nonsense.

This isn't a remote possibility, either. We have in our power right now...today, cars that average 35-45 miles to the gallon (and not just hybrids.) What if all of us drove one of those, instead of the Buffet-monster-truckUV? I'm not even talking about the dreaded, liberal environment here. You want to cut off funding to terrorist groups supported by Iran's oil money? Buy less damn oil! Buy a damn Toyota Yaris or Honda Fit or Ford Focus! Wear a sweater in the winter or sweat a little in the summer, but turn down the damn A/C!

There's a myth that's keeping we, the people from doing this...and that would be the vaunted American Way of Life. But really...that two-car garaged tract house version is merely a recent invention. Prior to WWII, the American Way of Life was to be free! It may have been framed in 'Industrial Revolution' drag, or 'Pioneers killing the Indians' drag, or 'No Taxes from the English' drag...but the dream was freedom!

So let's get free from our dependence of countries that have no appreciation for freedom...and let's put the cheap motoring society in its place. Remember that it's merely clothing on the body politic composed of we, the people. We, the people, have outgrown the fabric. It's time to sew anew.

On "That Fudge-packing Dumbledore, And Why That's Not Really News."

2007-10-23T14:30:00Z

So the big 'news' story of the week is that some elf or gnome in the Harry Potter series of books is gay. Of course, the conservatives are up in arms, the liberals are thrilled and the literatti is jaded, removed and apathetic (sign me up with them!) What's astonishing is the level of reaction here...Dumbledore, as far as I know, wasn't the main character of the never-ending borefest of books: it's not like Harry Potter is gay, for example. What I do know for certain is that Dumbledore isn't real. So if he's gay or if he's just a platonic friend of fat girls everywhere is a moot point. He's not real.

I write this knowing full well that a certain segment of the population will hunt me down and water-torture me into religious bliss. "Harry Potter IS real!" These are the same folks that look for "Vulcan" in the night sky, wondering when Kirk, Buffy and Yoda will rescue this sorry world from itself. "Where is our Chosen One?" But Harry aint' real, and Dumbledore ain't real...and any literary impact he may have made as a gay character didn't happen, because he stayed in the closet with his wand until the very end...

...and that's why this news kind of sucks. Had Dumbledore been outed earlier, I would have given this at least 1-star in the 'news' category. Generations of children and immature adults would have realized that a beloved friend of Potter was purple with passion. Perhaps there would have been a benefit to that...perhaps people who used the books as an escape from their conservative realities could have begun to question their beliefs, and the humanity of people who just happen to be gay...just like the 'Doro-sexual. This seems too little, too late...like Rowling is trying to impress GLAAD after the fact.

So it's not really news at all. Somebody not real came out of the closet not in the books themselves. I just can't think of any news less relevant...well, maybe perhaps the state of Britney's custody of her kids. But she's actually real, implants and lip-sync track aside. And frankly, does this 'news' not reek of 1990's era politics, where my generation of idiots fought for images rather than tangibles? We were all too happy to accept "Will & Grace" in lieu of actual legislation, no? As long as those United Colors appeared on television and in advertising, did anyone really care that the actual Benneton only catered to upscale white folk?

There are two things disturbing about the Dumbledore "story." In the first place, this is still, apparently "news" to some people. Much like a felt puppet-character known as the Tinkie-Winkie Teletubbie was anti-God for being apparently gay (here's a clue guys: a marionette with no genitals, carrying a purse, is neither gay nor straight but merely annoying,) Dumbledore not coming out in the book series is apparently anti-Christian as well! Why, with all of the shit hitting the fan these days, do we even still give a faggotty fuck about all this nonsense? Is it just me, or is all the attention focused on gay people who aren't even people or real a collosal waste of time and energy? Don't we have enough real gay people causing a commotion at the public restroom facility in Congress? (I hear the 'right time' is when Larry Craig is in 'da house!)

Is there not enough real news out there?

Actually, there is. And no amount of gay wizardry is going to make it go away. For example, right around the time that Dumbledore was sashaying out of the closet, the price of a barrel of oil hit $90 on Friday. For the record, that's higher in inflation-adjusted dollars than oil cost in the early 1980s. And yet, this benchmark wasn't screamed all of the media. Even the reports online have been focusing on the 'slide' back down to $85 a barrel ('cause that's so damn cheap.)

Now, it may not happen overnight due to the refinery cycle, but eventually, the cost of oil will be passed along to consumers in the form of even higher gas prices, which have been around $3 a gallon nationally. Uhhhhh...why isn't this the story on the news every night? Y'all can't go picket fictional characters for being homosexual if you can't get to the imaginary gay bar!

Let me be clear: $3 a gallon gas or more is huge, HUGE news in a country basically run on the car. Anybody else want to buy a Prius? Here's another piece of that story that got utterly buried in the news cycle...it's a great quote:

"The oil boom is over and will not return. All of us must get used to a different lifestyle."

This isn't Chomsky or Garafalo or even Al Gore throwing down the warning of doom. Nope...King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia uttered this prophecy, he who sits on the most oil know throughout the world. This is the same guy who stands to lose a loooooooooot of money as we, the people get used to a different lifestyle. This is like Cosby saying that we need to adjust to a world with less pudding or ugly yarn sweaters.

Yet, neither of these things are NEARLY as important as the fake gay guy not coming out at Hogwart's. What the fuck? Are we that backward and delusional as a society that we, the people are missing the bigger issues...the larger picture...to focus on trivial scandal?

Don't get me wrong: this isn't merely a 'right-wing' stupidity moment. I was watching Bill Maher this past weekend, and a few members of his audience revolted against Maher's refusal to accept or give credence to the "Bush and company are behind 9/11 conspiracy theory." (Guys...that's giving Shrub a loooooooot more credit than he deserves, no? Not to mention reducing Cheney's abilities down to 'thug,' and while he may be craven, he's pretty damn smart.) The amusement of watching security haul these folks out of the studio was quickly replaced by anger...they had taken time away from one of the few shows that actually focus on the real issues. One hour became 10 minutes less.

Another example of we, the people wasting time when we have precious little left to waste.

On "The Witchy Bitchy Badness Of Charmed."

2007-10-08T16:16:00Z

OK, I've been writing some 'deep thought' blogs recently, but I've also been on a "Charmed" repeat kick. TNT's morning repeat schedule reset back to Season One, and I couldn't resist the Power of Three. Why?

It's simple: "Charmed" is So Damn Bad It's Great. although that recommendation comes with the caveat that it is the first three seasons (the Shannen Doherty years) that really stick out, and the rest are just bad. Nearly every television show follows a curve: ramp-up to whatever it's going to be, the peak performance, followed by a rapid decline. If you don't believe me, tune into the last season of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," or better yet, don't. For the sake of truth in blog-land, I have to confess: I love Shannen Doherty. It's odd, as I don't really have a starfucker crush on anybody worthwhile, and yet...I totally give props to ShanDo anyday of the damn week.

The common wisdom is that Shannen's departure from "Charmed" effectively ended the 'good' seasons of that show (which insanely went on for another five unwatchable years.) What's funny about this assumption is that "Charmed" was never good...but it was so damn bad that it crossed the line into great. It's like the "Mommie Dearest" of supernatural television series, or the deep-as-a-kiddie-pool variant of female-bonding shows like "Gilmore Girls." And while Shannen certainly helped the show...there's plenty of bad to go around here...and why I highly recommend catching the first three seasons in repeats. Here's why:

In the first place, "Charmed" mixes genres like nobody business...and no, I'm not talking about "fantasy" with "family" here. While "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was folding horror, comedy and serialized mythology into a new, exciting mix..."Charmed" combined nine-year old Disney Channel-style plots with tits and ass. It's almost as if somebody wanted to see Kim Catrall's version of "Kim Possible." And for that reason, it's hysterical.

This is not a joke. I am not kidding. On any given week, the sisters will deal with genies (!) or gnomes (!!) or even the damn Ice Cream Man (!!!) while letting their breasts go entirely free. I now know pretty much how Holly Marie Combs, Shannen Doherty and Alyssa Milano look topless, because those frocks were pretty tight and see-through and that studio was cooooold. It's the Britney Spears sales pitch as applied to television: get the 'girl power' vote and get the 'boys-wanking-off-vote' and you're good to go!

Plus, "Charmed" takes the project of setting back feminism into new, brilliant territory. Frequently, one of the sisters will bark out a good idea, like "we don't need men to save us from the demons of the world," and yet all three of them fret over not being able to find a damn man for themselves! In hooker clothing. Mind you, this isn't an intriguing case like Madonna or Martha Stewart, using the stereotypes of whore and homemaker, respectively to escape the traditional ties that bind. This is "Charmed," where dressing like a slut, being a freak in bed and seeking out Prince Charming in a world of frogs is empowering. Welcome to the wonderful world of Aaron Spelling, devil twist his soul.

But...you're not going anywhere in TV today unless you get the gays. Kathy Griffin knows this (heck, all of Bravo TV knows this.) On other series, they'd introduced a homosexual character or plotline...remember Jack-as-gay-captain of the Dawson's Creek football team? Not "Charmed." All these characters are white, straight and drug-free. In San Francisco, no less. Not a gay man or woman to be found...and actually...precious few minorities as well. ("Charmed" looks at the vibrant Asian culture of San Francisco like its this special, removed enclave where the sisters go and buy magical ingredients and talk to people dressed in snazzy, ethnic pajamas.) Back to the point: how do you hook the gays into the Master Race version of the City by the Bay?

Well, for the lovely lesbians its obvious: the three leads are smoking hot and are basically wearing the Jenna Jamison line of modern streetwalker couture...and what a shit-tastic assembly of cloth, leather and feathers their clothing IS! A fashion disaster every week. That's how they got the gay men to watch (beyond the WB's stable of gorgeous, shirtless men, of course.) It's like a drag queen parade of 'style' every damn episode on Charmed! Special props to Milano here, who was asked repeatedly to wear the most ridiculous crap. From daisy dukes with high socks to tops strategically shredded for boobie effect, Milano really got the short end of the stick here. Not that the other women faired any better...but somebody in wardrobe clearly hated Alyssa, as she was nearly always dressed in some 'Xanadu-meets-farm girl' nonsense. The costumers also manage to make Holly Marie Combs look fat in utterly dowdy 'Lerner' wear (she probably weighs 100 pounds, if that.) And they dress Shannen in the most utterly insane 'professional' clothing since Amanda Woodward roared into "Melrose Place."

The series is also notable for utterly horrid acting, simultaneously paired to very good acting. Here's what I mean: Holly Marie Combs performs the living hell out of her role as 'Piper,' bringing realism, comedy and truth to a role that should have none of the above. So, of course they pair her off with Brian Krause, quite possibly the worst himbo to hit television since Joey from Blossom. Nearly every villian on this show shreds the scenery with their performance, acting for the last row in a dinner theatre production. (Let's just say there's over the top and then there are the guest baddies on "Charmed.")

Alyssa Milano employs a Looney Tunes 'acting ability' which works wonders on this show. When Milano has to convey 'surprise,' she pulls this Culkin-a-la-"Home Alone" face out, always good for unintended laughs. Milano is also a fan of hooting to convey danger, and using a baby voice to imply love and affection (there's nothing more empowering than a 30-year old woman talking in baby talk, eh?)

And Shannen? She's the best of the bad here! Why? For starters, Shannen can really act, but periodically Shannen just doesn't feel like acting (or at least, acting on "Charmed,") and so she phones in this quite witty, knowing meta-performance. Instead of playing 'Prue,' she's playing 'Shannen stuck with these idiots, on a Spelling set, saying this stupid-ass lines.' In lieu of being her character, she invites us, the audience, into Shannen's subtext. "Why am I here?" "I used to be in Heathers and now I'm in this." What makes this great is the contrast from one show to the next: when Shannen's on, her and Holly have a field day, elevating "Charmed" much more than it deserves. And when she's off, it's really awesome as well...the star of the show twirling her inner diva to conscious, brilliant effect.

One scene from a random episode perfectly illustrates this: a baddy breaks into the house.
Milano mugs like Bugs hearing 'Kill the Wabbit.'
Combs reacts and realistically 'gets ready' for the bad SFX to come.
Doherty...without even pretending to give a rat's ass, gets up...and this is so fucking awesome, picks at her hair and rolls her eyes.

OK...so I've given you the basics...let me call out some episode highlights to demonstrate the bad genius of "Charmed."

"SOMETHING WICCA THIS WAY COMES"
The three sisters get their powers 'activated' after the death of their beloved Grams. This is actually fun in the 'how in the hell did they get from here to there way.' The sisters are dressed normally, seem to all have intelligence, and the show appeared to be going forward to a more dramatic, more realistic interpretation of the fantasy show. Any yet...

"MORALITY BITES"
This episode features time-travel, which involves putting Shannen Doherty in a long, blonde reverse-Elvira wig and a hooker dress (because, duh! That's what all successful art dealers wear, silly) and a future witch-hunt that Alyssa sets off by zapping some guy. 'Morality Bites' demonstrates just how much the producers of this show hated their characters. Milano gets burnt at the stake, Doherty is fully embarassed via the costume department, and Combs wears polyester while struggling with some very weird 1950s hair. The entire morality play begins when The Charmed Ones decide to use their powers to fling pet feces at people walking by their manor. I'm not kidding: this entire 'fable' is built on the idea that the sisters can't use their magic to toss shit at people for their own fun. Yeah, "Buffy" wouldn't have never ventured here, for good reason. (Mind you, this is one of the 'best' episodes of the series.)

"BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WITCH FOR"
Shannen Doherty directed this episode, where her character decides to wait for the right guy "and not settle for...Dick." (She's dating a tool named 'Richard,' and the line, used repeatedly in this ep, perfectly demonstrates the nine-year-old-meets-slut mentality of the entire series.) For fans of 90210, Shannen also reverts back to bangs as a seventeen-year-old...and says 'pretty bitchin'' in the most perfect off-the-cuff way.  Alyssa flies and Holly Marie tosses her hair around a lot...while French Stewart plays the genie in an outfit perfect for a children's birthday party.

"PARDON MY PAST"
Alyssa was a bad, bad witch in the 1920s...where she encounters past life versions of Shannen and Holly in bad, bad wigs. Props to production here, because we can see the seam on Shannen's wig throughout. Since none of them attempt to speak in 20s accents, this entire episode is a hoot. Added credit to Milano for choosing to make the 'SPEAK LOUD' to old people 'acting' choice.

"ALL HALLIWELL'S EVE"
The sisters are transported into the past (again,) where they are to save their ancestor from the powers of an evil witch working with Phoebe's current boyfriend (also a demon...and yeah, it helps to 'not ask' where this show is concerned.) This show is notable for Shannen-as-Prue getting all hot and bother over some guy right after a near hanging, Phoebe not recognizing her boyfriend under a really bad wig and a mask ('cause she's just that dumb,) and Piper delivering her great-great-great...oh, never mind. Any show where afterbirth, apples thrown in a circle and a broomstick play major point in the plot can't be wrong. Just watch this one. Bonus points for the boys left in the present, who have much more chemistry with each other than they did with the Charmed Ones. Who says there are no gays in San Fran?

"SIN FRANCISCO"
Hey...what happens when you take the movie "Seven" and make it a comedy? This utter gem of bad, bad, bad television. Some demon dude tosses 'Sin Balls' into victims, including our sisters three. Shannen gets 'pride,' Alyssa gets 'lust' and Holly gets 'glutton.' Props go to the three actresses here, as they really shine in this wacky-tobacceey episode. In fact, if this series were billed as a comedy, this one would have won awards, it's so damn funny. 'Charmed,' which already plays as a parody of supernatural television, effectively satires itself, offering a critique from 'Charmed' to 'Charmed.'

"ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE."
Shannen directs her last episode, in what is probably the most 'Buffy' of the series. I recommend this one, just because it shows how 'Charmed' could have been, if they took it seriously, instead of the fun dreck it became. Brian Krause brings the laughs here, as he can't act for shit, and he has to CRY! It's pretty funny, but the rest of the show is pretty damn bleak, fast and well-done. Shannen and Holly really turn in great performances all around here. And wait until you get a load of the villian here: Shax. Bloated and blue, sporting Fabio hair and a bizarre neck-bend.

I'm sure there are others here, but I'm just giving you a sampling of the great badness that is 'Charmed.' Tune in for yourself and discover the rest. You have plenty of opportunity...this insanely large piece of crap was on the air for eight seasons! That's longer than the standard bearer, 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer!' In any case, enjoy 'Charmed,' but enter at your own risk. It's a weirdly compelling, yet weirdly bad show that draws you into its world. You'll find yourself wondering, "Why am I still watching this?" Repeatedly.