More than a little scary

Not that paranoids like myself weren't aware that something was going on, but to come across proof that our own military is paying companies to make propaganda aimed at Americans is chilling.

From: "The Real U.S. Government" By Glenn Greenwald:

This superb article by Mark Prendergast, the Ombudsman for Stars & Stripes, details the billions of dollars secretly (and probably illegally) spent by the Pentagon -- much of it on private contractors -- to subject not only foreign nationals but also American citizens to pure propaganda campaigns. The Pentagon propaganda program exposed by David Barstow is but a representative sliver of the weapons used by the National Security State and its private partners to control media behavior and shape public opinion. Billions upon billions of dollars are spent for this propagandistic purpose at exactly the time that real journalistic outlets are failing.

Follow the links for a delineation of the problem.

What a take-down

If you're not a follower of kottke.org and haven't already read the vicious scathing that Pat Metheny visited on Kenny G, go read it now.

Man, what a take-down! Kind of the verbal equivalent of that scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life where a phalanx of topless, but inexplicably helmeted, women chase a man off the edge of a cliff into his literal grave.

For me, though, after the very enjoyable main-line dose of Schadenfreude, I had free-floating feelings of hypocrisy on my part.

Here's why:
For years I've tried to articulate a particular thought and have thus far failed, in my opinion, to state it well. So, here's try # 457 ½. Essentially, when someone like Kurt Cobian would rail about integrity (or someone like Neil Young who still does) it would just piss me off. "Integrity" for a lot of the punk generation was not "selling out" - meaning that if you became too successful, you'd done something wrong that was worthy of shame. That strikes me as patently ludicrous. Your level of success is not the determinant of whether or not you have integrity. How you react to or use that success may have something to do with it, but then that just goes back to the basic questions of integrity that all of us face, whether we're rocks stars or just humble members of a family somewhere.

Others, like Neil, feel that if you sell a song to a company who uses it for a commercial, that's selling out. I almost agree with Neil's viewpoint. Personally, I've hated some of my favorite songs becoming the soundtrack to a product, particularly one I hate. In the end, though, it's really up to me whether I allow that to supplant my better memories and associations with a favorite tune. But back to Neil, he's had a long successful career through which he's made a lot of money from a very young age. Many other successful and talented musicians only have a hit or two in their lives, and maybe even then can't really live off of the money they did make. How can I begrudge them selling their one hit to a company for a million bucks? How is that much different than famous paintings or other works of are appearing in the background of a movie? Or featured, like many were in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Now, most of Metheny's rant is about Kenny G's level of talent and abilities.

On one hand, yeah, a really good technician in any field can tell when another isn't as good a technician. And that matters in some cases.

On the other hand, technical proficiency is only part of the game. After a certain point of proficiency, the differences are apparent only to those in that stratosphere, and I'd argue there are often diminishing returns. So one guy can run scales just a bit faster and cleaner than another. How often is that going to matter? Just as important is feel for the audience or customer, expression, and intuition. In my experience, it's a rare Bird who has both the gift of top proficiency and beautiful expression.

For example, Joni Mitchell had polio as a child, so she uses a lot of custom tunings on her guitar to be able to hit the proper tones and notes. She makes up for lack of proficiency in dexterity with proficiency in bending the instrument to make the sound she wants. But can she play like Prince or Steve Miller? Hell to the no. They would blow circles around her on the guitar as a pure technician. But aren't her songs amazing? I know probably everyone reading this likes or loves at least one of her songs. (And, of course, Prince and Miller are amazing songsmiths, too.)

How many reading this would be able to claim the same about Metheny's songs? Can you name one? Do you even know the primary instrument he plays?

Here are the relevant quotes from the article:

"My impression was that he was someone who had spent a fair amount of time listening to the more pop oriented sax players of that time, like Grover Washington or David Sanborn, but was not really an advanced player, even in that style. He had major rhythmic problems and his harmonic and melodic vocabulary was extremely limited, mostly to pentatonic based and blues-lick derived patterns, and he basically exhibited only a rudimentary understanding of how to function as a professional soloist in an ensemble."

"But he did show a knack for connecting to the basest impulses of the large crowd by deploying his two or three most effective licks (holding long notes and playing fast runs - never mind that there were lots of harmonic clams in them) at the key moments to elicit a powerful crowd reaction (over and over again)."

In sum, here's what this smells like to me: an amazing technologist who has no real feel for what makes people respond. It's basically Spock complaining about Bones.

This also pushes some other buttons of mine. Buttons I've added in recent years.

When I was younger, I was a lot more willing to accept someone else's judgement of another's ability. I figured they really knew or they wouldn't be bringing it up. As I've aged, I increasingly feel that anyone snarking about someone else's competence or abilities (when there isn't clear-cut, non-disputable evidence that true incompetence is the case, such as Bush's jury-rigged FEMA's response to Hurricane Katrina), is almost always a blustery show of insecurity that manifests as an attempt to distract you from their possible incompetence by calling someone else's into question. In short, if someone claims someone else is incompetent, most of the time the accuser is the one with the problem.

Some of you more clued-in to motivations behind bad behavior might be thinking "well, duh." I, too, am a bit disappointed in myself for taking so long to put this together. But then only in the past few years have I been in a environment where a few bad eggs do this regularly. I hadn't had cause to really think about it before.

So, if I may indulge in a little dime-store psychology, I think Metheny feels inferior to Kenny G because Kenny can reach a huge audience, and he can't. And he feels it's unfair because he thinks he's a better musician than Kenny. He more or less articulates this in the article.

But even if that's true, apparently Kenny is the better artist.

Picky Eaters

Syaffolee has a post about picky eaters.

As a veteran picky eater, brother of one, husband of one, and father of two, I have some random thoughts to share on the issue. (Btw, I agree with Sya's basic assertions.)

As as kid, I was probably the worst kind of picky eater to be. I hated hated hated hot dogs and pizza. Guess what moms serve every single freakin time little boys ever congregate?

Even weirder, I loved things like spinach, chow mien, all forms of meat, and only one vegetable was and is on my "no fly" list.

My mom was (is) a hell of a cook, and I suspect the way she made things spoiled me to the way other moms made them. I recall being served white (potato) pancakes with boysenberry syrup at a friend's house, and having been told by my buddy we were getting pancakes, when they hit the table, I looked up at his mom and asked in all sincerity: "What are these?" She was one of the most accepting and kind moms of our group, but I still recall her being pissed off at me for about a week.

Around late adolescence I suddenly got over most of my pickyness, which I think is common for most of us. I think it was the reality of the school cafeteria that made me have to adapt or starve, plus the voracious appetite of that age. My teenage daughter has gone from eating tiny portions at dinner to going back for a big helping of seconds.

I still can't stand brussels sprouts. To me, they are like little bitter little cabbages whose center has rotted to a mushy yellow. How in the world can anyone think they're good?

My wife still won't eat most vegetables and fruit. You wouldn't have to involve your toes if you were to use your available digits to count the few veggies and fruits she'll eat. She claims to have never been a big veggie fan, but apparently a disastrous attempt to lose weight once using a fruit diet ruined her already tenuous acceptance of that food group.

To make life additionally difficult for my parents, my brother was a picky eater whose list of things he liked were nearly a completely separate yin to my yang. He hated meat and veggies, mostly liking pasta, potatoes, and bread - things I tolerated, but wasn't a fan of.

My father once forced my brother to eat something he'd refused to, and my brother promptly barfed at the table. That was the last time either of us were forced to eat anything. We were still cajoled, but never forced again.

At one of my brother's birthday parties when he was about 10 years old, mom had used a marshmallow frosting on the cake. My brother's best friend couldn't stand marshmallow, but was raised to never refuse food given to him at someone else's house. He forced it down, tried to play, but finally had to step around the corner of the house and puke, where mom found him in a miserable little pile. He was so nauseous from the frosting that he couldn't stop puking, and his mom had to come get him.

My own kids both started out eating about everything we gave them. The only early exceptions were some forms of baby food. Eventually both my wife and I tried the concoction that made the baby gag, and agreed it was pretty heinous. There must be a group of jarred baby food cooks who don't think babies have tastebuds. Nearly every concoction that's a combination of meat and veggie tastes like a little spoonful of distilled hell. Gerber even proudly announces the very reason this is true on a little blinking banner as you try to surf their horrifically designed website: "Did you know? GERBER purees contain no added refined sugar, salt, or starch." We started to add sugar and salt to the ones that could be rescued with the addition thereof, and never bought again those that couldn't, like the meat and veggie abominations.

We even noted that after the baby (we only did it to the first one) had suffered through a meat/veg jar, she wouldn't eat well for a couple days, as though it had triggered the taste aversion that occurs after you've puked up a particular food. Only once we clued in and gave her things that tasted good to us did that weirdness go away.

...Until about the age of four. Both kids at that age started forming preferences that were/are seemingly random. The eldest hates potato soup, though the youngest gorges on it. The youngest has decided that sub sandwhiches are little slices of pure evil, while the eldest constantly asks to go to Subway.

Neither really likes breakfast cereal, which was my staple as a kid. I probably consumed enough Cap'n Crunch to create a barge out of the boxes. I even have JFK-assassination-like sense memory of the first time I ate the stuff. I was so excited to taste it, my mom let me have a bowl after dinner. I still remember where I sat in the kitchen when I ate it, what it looked like (70s brownish tile), and so on. I even remember that odd thing it does to your mouth, leaving the roof of your mouth feeling slightly shredded.

I've noted that as my eldest stays over at friends houses, and goes on daytrips with them and their families, that her palate is expanding. As a parent, it's a bit annoying that they won't try new things when you suggest it, but when forced to try something to be a polite guest, they suddenly announce (though as casually as possible hoping it won't cause parental feather-ruffling) that, oh, yeah, they like peas now. But you takes your gains where you can gets them.

On the flip-side, some of my eldest's friends do the same thing, and - even more gratifying - will only eat my version of a dish that they won't touch at home. That makes up for my own kid's culinary betrayals.

As the article Sya references points out, the one apparently universal food that everyone likes is fried chicken. Go fig.

Recent Viewings, July 2010

Ok, let's see... Gad, been awhile again... Where does the time...? Ah, screw it. Been busy and lazy; I have no real excuse.

Saw some flicks; here's what I thought.

In The Theatre (a more common occurrence since MPC 2 is 5 and MPC 1 can babysit):

Predators
An OK popcorn movie, but to me it was just another retread of the Aliens/Predator franchises: get a group of badasses in an inescapable situation, mix in alien that's somehow a superior killing machine, hilarity ensues.

The one unintentionally entertaining aspect of the movie for we was the main badass was played by Adrien Brody. He's that very skinny guy from The Pianist and the latest King Kong. Not the first guy you'd think of as the alpha monkey.

Here he adopts the gravelly Clint Eastwood-esque measured monotone, which made me grin every time he did it. And I just waited for the scene where his shirt is torn off (ala the cliche articulated in Galaxy Quest) where we would see how much gym time he'd put in for the role. I'm guessing a solid year. But you can get only so much muscle on a toothpick of a guy, and he just looks extremely toned, not buff and mean like the action hero needs to have.

Oh, and while technically the first death doesn't continue the very real tradition of BADF (Brothers Always Die First), the brother does die second (if you think this is a spoiler, then you've never seen one of these movies, and apologies); and the way the first guy dies does make it feel like it was yet another instance of BADF. And they really really could've nuked one of the others first. Shame shame.

If you like the franchises, catch this on DVD; if not, read about She's Out of My League, below for something you might like.

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Toy Story 3
While MPC 1 and the Spousal Unit hit the latest Mormon vampire installment, MPC 2 and I visited Woody, Buzz, and the gang.

As you've probably read en masse elsewhere, this is one of the few worthy second sequels ever floated; a beautiful end-cap to the trilogy.

This ain't a spoiler, but the final shot is a pan up to the same field of clouds that you see in the first shot of the first flick, creating a perfect circle. Nice touch.

The plot extends from the most poignant moment of the 2nd flick when the cowgirl from Woody's original toy set joins the gang thanks to a toy collector, and her backstory includes the heartbreaking "When She Loved Me" sequence where she tells of her original owner outgrowing her. Andy is now college age, and the few toys left (we hear of garage sales and Goodwill donations) know their fate is at hand.

I'll leave the rest of the surprises intact for ya, but I will say that at one moment near the ending, the situation is pretty harrowing and I bet it gives some of the little ones nightmares. If you've got lil' kids that are sensitive to such things, take them yourself rather than let them go as a group with a friend's parents or a babysitter. They will need you to hold their hand. You'll need theirs through some parts, too.

---

On DVD:

It's All About Steve
Yes, all the reviews said this was pretty bad, but I like Sandra Bullock, and so wanted to see how she played a psycho-betty, to see if she could pull it off.

In my opinion, she almost does, but the character requires such a large suspension of disbelief, only a more homely actress who wasn't afraid to really bring the tragic side of this character out could come close to selling it properly. Sandra's comic chops are well-used, but she's just too pretty and charismatic for us to believe she's this mess of clueless neurosis.

SPOILER: And the child-down-the-well subplot is waaaaaaay too heavy for the material.

I didn't listen, but maybe you will: skip this one.

---

The Man from Earth
The hyperbole in various places on the web and the obscurity of the movie (I don't know if it even played in theatres, and don't care enough to research it) made me dubious about the flick, but I made sure I didn't have the plot bombshell spoiled for me because I figured that would be the only thing that made it worth watching. I was right, so I won't give it away here, either.

The premise is these college prof buddies get together for a going-away party for one of them who's moving on, and during the festivities he reveals to them (after they bring it up in a joking manner noting the age of some of his knick-knacks) that he's lived forever.

The dialogue is often too precious and the acting is just a hair away from regional theatre, which makes it kind of a slough.

Then the bombshell is released and, in my opinion, it gets sillier.

Still, if you're looking for a biggish plot twist, and don't waste any money to see it, it's just entertaining enough that it's worth the time it takes to watch it. I'm sure the author thought it would provoke debate and conversation afterward, but the treatment of the topics are simplistic and probably only young teens would be intrigued by any points anyone in the flick makes.

Oh, and as usual, the supposed Christian of the group is portrayed as a cipher - a hand-puppet that betrays the author's lack of understanding of Christianity rather than a fully-realized character with a legitimate understanding of the same. The author would have been well-served by having a Christian fan vet that character's lines.

---

Thrill Seekers
This was a made-for-TV flick that had an interesting premise: in the future when time-travel machines exist, a company sells trips back in time to visit the biggest tragedies. A reporter detects one of the tourists in enough historical photos that he is able to track the guy down and verify that's what's going on.

It's been a few weeks since I've seen this, and I remember coming out the end of the movie with the same thought I had going in: interesting premise. It didn't deliver on the promise of it, according to my dim memory of it, so it'd be cool to see a good writer make something of the idea and try again. Save your time for that, if it ever happens.

---

She's Out of My League
Of all the flicks called out in this post, this was my favorite. I greatly enjoyed myself throughout. The title pretty much gives you the plot.

"She" is played by the truly hot Alice Eve, who's British according to the info in the interwebs, which was a surprise to me as her American accent is perfect. Take a look, though:


Wow, huh? (Note she has one blue eye and one green eye.)

What I liked about her character is that she's aware she's pretty, and aware that some of the reactions she gets are about that, but she still seems like a real person. It would have been too easy to have her be arrogant, or clueless, or untouchably goddess-like; but props to the writers, she has enough of a distinctive personality that you come to know and appreciate the person wrapped in this amazing visage.

And that pretty much makes the movie.

But, even better, the geeky guy she supposedly falls for is fugly enough, but charming and funny enough, that you believe she'd actually give him a chance. It's as realistic as a comedy like this can get. It even sneaks in a good message about how we can sabotage things through our own unrealistic fears.

The group of buddies are recognizable and real enough, too, even if they do come close to a now-cliche collection of guy buds:
1) The fat guy who's childlike and clueless. 2) The "regular" guy who's the primary goofball of the bunch, but the one with heart who does something big to move the plot forward. 3) The hot guy/ladies man who gets all chicks and sometimes instructs the other guys on how be less hopeless in that regard (when he either takes pity on them or is annoyed enough that his wingmen can't maintain altitude at least until he scores). 4) The victim of the plot, and for our purposes here the aforementioned "geeky guy".

This was the same group of character types found in the recent hit The Hangover, you'll note. However, it doesn't knee-cap this movie. And, to be honest, a lot guy bud groups in real life are comprised of these guys, which is probably why they're used with some frequency.

The only fault I found was a set-piece that should've been left on the cutting-room floor, which I'll try to reference in a non-spoiler way: it involves a hair-clipper.

Outside of that, the two leads do such an excellent job, you enjoy every moment they're on the screen. And that Alice Eve is the nicest piece of eye-candy I've seen in a while.

Put the kids to bed, grab the spouse, and fire it up. Or if you're single, have the boys and girls over for a movie party night.

Dead Peasants

Saw Micheal Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story.

Even though I find the obligatory maudlin portions of his movies hard to endure - where he speaks in defeated, sorrowful tones as he's outlining an injustice - I do like the information he brings to light. And he's usually got his facts right. Most debunkers of his movies argue on ideological terms, not factual.

I started this movie with dread, fearing he'd actually conclude that socialism is the way to go. He doesn't; he says democracy is the way (thank God). Essentially, according to what he presents, American is a plutocracy right now. I tend to believe that. (Clearly most of the folks who've posted negative reviews on Amazon did not watch the whole movie, as they claim Moore is championing socialism.)

For me, the gobsmacking moment comes when he reports that coroporations since the 80s have been taking out what they call "Dead Peasant" insurance (aka Dead Janitor insurance), which is a life insurance policy on a "rank and file" worker formed without their knowledge. If that worker dies while under their employ, they get the death benefit. It was originally meant to cover high-level and highly-paid executives whose demise would constitute a hardship for the organization, but then someone realized that they could now take out a policy on anyone in the company, and it became this morbid investment practice.

Moore mentions the law that prevents you from taking out a fire insurance policy on your neighbor's house because you then have a vested interest in their house burning down. Why should employers pay for expensive health care when they actually gain from your death?

How is this not the same thing?

Here's a clip put together by Moore to advertise the movie, which covers this Dead Peasant stuff:


Here's the full sequence from the movie:


Here's news report on the same:



Yeah, you wanna see Capitalism: A Love Story.

Btw, I think parts of a society are best done is a socialistic manner: police (and by extension the armed forces), schools, medical care, retirement benefits, and highway/transportation/infrastructure; but it is pretty much a bad thing when it's placed as the primary construct of the economy.

Astro Boy Astro Sucks

Again the currents of life have kept me away from the playtime keyboard, thus the dearth of posts. I'll try harder.

Even though I still really should be applying any time I have to more pressing issues, I just gotta put this one out there, even if it keeps just one parent from letting their young child watch Astro Boy. FWIW, it's a re-make of a '60s Japanese Anime (sorta redundant, I know) TV series of the same name, and roughly the same story, according to wiki.

+++ SPOILER SPOILER CHA-CHA-CHA +++

I've not seen (nor will I see) the original TV show, but I would hope that it handled the plot point of a child being rejected by his parent a bit more abstractly, or with more finesse, or just somehow better.

Basically, the government's lead scientist's son is killed when he's shut in a containment room with a rogue robot (also the scientist's creation). Said scientist then loses it, and in a three-day sleepless binge, creates a robot that looks like his dead son and loads all his son's memories into it (how he has those ready for download is left a mystery), so when it wakes up, it thinks it's really his son, and thinks it's human.

After a very short time, the scientist realizes this robot is not a replacement for his son, and amazingly cruelly rejects him/it.

As the rejected robot child flies away crying, I glance over at my 5-year-old daughter and to my horror see the wheels turning and the frown on her face. Like this guy mentions in his review, I immediately stopped the show and explained that this was just a movie, like all those Disney cartoons where the parents are snuffed or already dead by the time the show starts (though I express this concept in a much simpler and benign way as it's one of our family in-jokes*), and that real parents would never, ever, ever reject their child like that. I could tell it headed off the worry for the most part, but regretted I hadn't previewed the movie or at least read some Amazon reviews first.

She went off to play, and I wanted to see if the movie continued down it's bizarre little path. I'm sorry to report it's about the most emotionally depraved entertainment I've seen intended for children.

I think the guy in this review nails it when he applies the concept of the uncanny valley to the character's emotional landscape. No one outside of sociopaths act like this. I could imagine Ted Bundy seeing this as a child and going, "wow, cool movie." But about everyone else, and about every child, will react with muddled dismay to the way this child - even though it's a robot - is treated by nearly everyone in the flick.

One of the reviews I've linked to mentions how this is also very much like Kubrick's/Speilberg's AI, which it is. But AI is intended for adults. (Btw, Kubrick clearly borrowed this idea from Astro Boy's creator, Osamu Tezuka. See the 4th paragraph down in "Works" here.) And the boy in AI has a rather sweet redemption, where Astro Boy only is re-accepted by his father in kind of a throwaway scene.

Interestingly, this "child as robot" concept is best done in the now-defunct Nickelodeon series "My Life as a Teenage Robot". If you're gonna let your kid watch something, please let it be that.

*I think I may have already related this story, but once, when my daughter was watching some cartoon, the music started to swell and the characters all got concerned looks on their faces, and my eldest child who was about 5 at the time said, "Don't worry, Daddy. This isn't a Disney cartoon, so no parents are going to die." This was completely hers; neither my wife or I had pointed out that most Disney features lack parents or kill them off. We reference that and chuckle about it to this day.

Independents? Really?
Or, continued adventures in Tea Bagging


Salon reprinted a blog post called "Rethinking the origins of the Tea Party" which does a fine, fun job of "debunking" (as if it were needed) the BS supposition - that the three network news organizations pretend to believe - that the Tea (Bagging) Party is composed of "independents" who are simply tired of taxation and big government. You'll be shocked to find that it's mostly wingnuts who are currently too embarrassed to be called Republicans, and who think the 'Publicans aren't right-wing enough.

It links to this hilarious little snit fit, entitled "ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH" which links to the calmer, more reasoned examination of what independents really are and aren't: Three Myths about Political Independents.

The punchline: About 10% of Americans are true independents.

Not one of those is a Tea (Bagging) Party member.

So, Brian, Katie, and Diane, quit pretending. You look silly.

So it ends in Unitarian heaven?

I totally didn't see THAT coming.


__________
Update: This refers to the series finale of "Lost".

but of course...

Marry Him by Lori Gottlieb

I don't recall the article that spurred me to put Marry Him on reserve at the library, and thus was a bit puzzled when it arrived. Took it home anyway, trusting my former self's selection of reading material.

I'm glad I did because Marry Him is a joyous waltz with Schadenfreude (for a guy, at least).

The primary topic is how a certain amount of women end up alone and/or dateless because they're just too freakin' picky and/or have too many criteria that allow for easy disqualification of a potential mate (much like any given Seinfeld conversation on relationships or dating; "man hands" comes to mind). A corollary is how many of these women have such an elevated view of themselves - how hot they are, how wonderful, such a catch, etc. - that no one is really worthy of them.

The author offers herself as the poster child of these issues and delusions, bless her heart. It's a very brave book in that sense. I don't know if I could hoist myself on my own javelin like that, then grasp the shaft and keep pulling earthward.

Ms. Gottlieb made matters even worse for herself; when she approached 40 still single, she decided to go ahead and have a baby to get past the biological clock thing, fully expecting she would be "away for a year" and then could resume the hunt for Mr. Right right afterward. Again, she does a good job of scoffing at her own stupidity, but how can someone get to a place where it doesn't immediately occur to them how stupid something like that is? Is it too much fiction? Is it too many things going right in their lives, giving a false sense of imperviousness? Believing too much in "you can have it all"?

Ok, so once we get past the author's real-life voyage through the needle machine that scralls your sins on your flesh ala Kafka's "In the Penal Colony", and embrace sniggling Schadenfreude, the book is fun. A lot of fun.

Reading about all these fussy lonely-hearts who've ended up hugging their couch pillows rather than Prince Charming is akin to watching stuff blow up real good in an action movie. Especially that trope where we are shown the same explosion three times in a row for emphasis. And a bit of vindication, if you will.

Most guys I know have been dismissed or dumped for reasons we suspect were pretty trivial or overly harsh. Sometimes we merely suspect that, sometimes we get pretty good evidence that that was the case. (I was dumped once because I had chapped lips when I kissed her goodnight after a long, mid-winder outdoor group date (how many guys do you know that carry chapstick?); she told me this herself about a year later.)

When various mentors, gurus, and yentas figuratively slap Ms. Gottlieb upside the head and tell her she's not getting the point, you shake your head in wonder as you see someone live out that definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. (It's also a testament to her honesty, and her ability to convey a story. As stated, I don't recall reading anything non-fiction where the author was so able to viciously critique themselves and yet still evoke empathy and sympathy.)

Btw, guys do this too. Heck, I did it apparently. One of the things my grandma told my brother and myself on her deathbed was that we should be less picky about the women we dated. We both were a bit picky at the time because we both hadn't been picky enough and had wasted too much time on someone we shouldn't have. Still, we both took her advice, and, in spite of it, I landed someone awesome - though not without dating a few frogs along the way.

Let me state that in a fair world there would be a book like this directed at men but that women enjoy for all the same ugly reasons. Alas, the women tend to get things like He's Just Not That Into You. The few that exist are more "get over yourself and take a shower and get a haircut" rather than "get over yourself, princess, you ain't all that", which aren't nearly as fun a read for women as Marry Him is for men.

So, gentlemen, pick this baby up. You're in for a blast.

Ladies, I'd avoid it unless you discover this book is about you. However, if it is, a dose of the tonic my grandma gave me might be your love potion number 9.


For your enjoyment, here's the original "Atlantic" article: Marry Him!: and some related articles: un, dos, tres.

Naked Lunch Does Suck

Most of my friends are avid readers, and to my puzzlement, many of them have loved the odious Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. Especially back in the mid-80s when we were immersed in the Minneapolis music scene, where quite a few artists and musicians were adherents to the turgid tome.

I was never able to get beyond a few chapters (or pages, don't recall which), and at the time just wrote it off as one of those books that were beyond ME - meaning I was the problem, not the book. I have since reversed that opinion, particularly after seeing the movie with my wife (her review: "I never want to see anything like that again. Ever.").

So, I read this article in Salon with relish. (My but some of the comments are nasty. You'd think this was a discussion on religion - which I guess for some it is.)

Here's my favorite quote:

Still, "Naked Lunch" serves a very valuable and reliable purpose. Get to it early enough, somewhere between the Hardy Boys and Holden Caulfield, and the fatigue and tedium will inoculate you against all sorts of intellectual malfeasance. You'll never swallow the line that obscenity is a hallmark of genius, or that the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom (usually it leads to the palace of excess, except when it leads to the hovel of incomprehensibility). Dismiss Burroughs as a pull-my-finger bore and you're ready to dismiss Matthew Barney, Damien Hirst, the Chapman Brothers, Jonathan Littell and a host of others too dull to mention.

Oh snap!

Taking Notes

I usually avoid writing about work because I think it can be dangerous (Dooced anyone), and it can just be deadly dull (not that we've shied away from that around here). Ask the wife about having to listen rants about work.

Anyway, I was in the bizarre, nay surreal, position lately where it was suggested to me that I take notes in a different fashion. (For the second time - read on.)

Yes, there I was, and something that I think we all unconsciously view as somewhat of a personal thing was brought up as a "I've noticed this, and here's how I think you can improve" topic - unbidden, btw. Among all the things that are wrong with that, the reality that someone was actually watching how I take notes and was mentally criticizing gives me the creeps.

If I were eight, or maybe even thirteen, and a teacher was giving me tips on note-taking, that'd be OK. Or, if I was taking notes for someone else's consumption, I'd produce what they wanted. But when it's notes for myself, who gives a flying fuck whether they're in Swahili or just a bunch of doodles of animals?

TLD: Way back in high school, one teacher warned us that we better take good notes during the guest lecture about to be given, because he was going to compare his notes to ours. He sat next to me in the back (my favorite place as I am genetically incapable of sitting still), and he drew some pretty decent renderings of pheasants - which were not the topic of the lecture - and nothing else. Back then I was a little more willing take a chance and jab at an absurdity, even if it could have consequences for me, so I drew a pheasant on my notes too (which did have actual content about the lecture), and handed that in. I got a "B", I believe.

For a class in college, we were supposed to keep a journal with the end goal of using it for the fiction we were eventually supposed to produce. The prof. informed us from the start he would also be reviewing these journals, so we were to keep that in mind when recording them and don't include things like "Jill in Econ 201 has a nice butt." The comment he made upon giving mine back was something like: you don't take notes so much as to record reminders of what the original thought was. Which is true - save for some phrases I want to preserve whole.

So maybe my mystery note-taking spy has also gone so far as to read over my shoulder and see that my notes are very concise and not exact reproductions of the information. But again, who should give a damn other than me?

My current form of note-taking when I don't have a laptop (or it's one of those meetings where computers are verboten) is employing notebook-like post-it notes. I came across this idea using Microsoft's wonderful OneNote application and fell in love with the paradigm of being able to rearrange notes taken on the fly into a more cogent form later. With a pad of notebook-like post-its, you can do the almost the same thing. And if a page is meaningless, you can discard it.

Well, that was apparently the offense I gave with my note-taking style: I was observed (again, creepy creepy creepy) throwing away some of the pages from amongst my notes right after a meeting. This (as reported) gave the impression that my notes were "too ephemeral", "too disposable".

The suggestion then made was that I get a sturdy notebook or bound volume and take "better notes" (actual words used) in sequential order, and then just store them when I'm done, in case I ever need to refer to them. I do eventually throw my paper notes away after I capture them on computer, so yes, I do not have the original hardcopy sitting around. But, I implore you yet again, why should anyone but me care?

Oh, and one of the reasons I use paper notes at all is I used to use my blackberry, because I'm a decent miniature keyboard typist (though most teens type circles around me), and I'd use the note feature to take my notes. However, this prompted the first unsolicited commentary on my note-taking, which was: it gave the impression (and that phrase was used both times: "gave the impression") that I was texting and not listening, so bring a pencil and paper next time. Which means I have to spend cycles transcribing paper notes into electronic form.

I could tell as this (second note-taking suggestions for a better future) encounter went on that I wasn't doing a very good job of disguising my incredulous facial expressions. I don't really know, but I had the strong impression that the person telling me these things was not the person who conceived them. So, while I was miffed at actually having to have a conversation like this, and not having the option to burst out laughing and suggest this indivdual find better things to do with their time (in the most obscene way I could think to phrase it), I did have pity for them as they were probably instructed to pass on this information, and thus had to face the absurdity of delivering the same.

Can you believe this shite?

More Trivia from the Special Features

As noted below, I'm going through the special features on DVDs from the library, since they're all later or deluxe editions.

Here's a great one from Lilo and Stitch. In the actual film, they use a spaceship that the aliens used to come to earth to rescue Lilo. This is the original sequence, which as you can see was finished for the most part, but then 9/11 happened, and they felt using a jet this way would just be wrong. It would be interesting to have a list and a cost of all the films and other media that were changed due to that evil event.

Shock the Monkey

Yes, I'm still here. Have several posts I'm pecking on.

In the meantime I wanted to alert you to some trivia I picked up recently, and it's about something I wondered about for a long time.

One of my favorite movies from childhood - I still love it and watch it about every 2 years - is the original version of The Andromeda Strain. It's such a wonderful geeky sci-fi flick that's held up over time. Douglas Trumbull did the special effects, and his SFX almost universally have proven to be timeless.

Recently it dawned on me that the library is getting the latest versions of a lot of older movies that I have and have new "Special Features", including "the making of" documentaries. The one for The Andromeda Strain was full of great stuff.

One of the things they cover is how they make the animals look like they're dying.

Here's the scene I refer to. Go to the 1:27 mark for the rat, and 2:35 for the monkey (the monkey is especially dramatic):

Direct Link

What they did was burn candles in the room, which was airtight, until the candles went out, assuring that all the oxygen was gone. Then they'd bring them into the room as you observe on the video and lift the hatch, releasing the little bit of air from their container.

What you are watching is animals suffocate. When they'd succumb, they'd stop the cameras and a vet would run out and give the animal oxygen. All the animals were fine - other than now knowing what it's like to suffocate, of course.

The ASPCA approved this, on the basis the animals weren't hurt. Of course, they wouldn't today.

So there you have it: they made the animals look like they were dying of an airborne bug by allowing them to suffocate.

Powerful

Read Howie Mandel's bio this week. Great fun. Great read.

Wouldn't want to know the guy in person though - his pranks are waaaaaay too extreme.

This part about Richard Pryor and a bit he did is pretty cool, wanted to share it with ya:





- From Here's the Deal: Don't Touch Me ~ Howie Mandel and Josh Young, pp. 87-88

Big Dude in the Sky jokes

I got one of those chain emails with a bunch of jokes in them (though mercifully lacking those Godd... those accursed cutesy wiggling GIFs), and I thought they were funny enough to post. Yeah, some bloggers have strict rules about what they'll post, and would consider this a lazy post. Well, screw'em. My only quasi-rules are I will not delete posts unless I deem it so egregious (meaning I was so wrong that it's offensive) that it just doesn't represent what I meant to say, and I will nuke any and all spam in the comments. I also deleted a post that said "that's it, I quit" because I changed my mind the next day. I was wondering if it was worth going on, thinking maybe it's just egotistical to keep posting stuff if you have no idea that anyone's reading it. But then realized that blogging really is for yourself anyway. I use it to keep my writing skills honed as well. So, even if I have 5 readers, I value you all, and thanks for coming.

This first joke wasn't in the email, but I included it. The lead-in is true:
One of my life-long buddies' dad is a Pastor. I told my buddy the joke you're about to read. He insisted I tell his dad. Directly after a service. While most of the rest of the congregation was still standing around. I'll never forget the look he gave me.



An airline pilot goes in for his annual checkup. Most everything is fine, but the doctor says to the pilot, "Sir, you're nearly blind. I can't pass you on that account."
The pilot says, "But I've only got one more year to go until I retire! Can't you just let me go this one last year?"
The doctor asks, "How in the world do you land the plane?"
The pilot says, "It's simple. I use the Jesus Christ method."
"What's that?" asks the doctor.
"Well, when it comes time to land, I just point the nose of the aircraft down until the co-pilot screams 'Jesus Christ!' and then I drop the wheels and level off."


These, too, made me larf:

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A father was approached by his small son who told him proudly, "I know what the Bible means!"
His father smiled and replied, "What do you mean, you 'know' what the Bible means?
The son replied, "I do know!"
"Okay," said his father. "What does the Bible mean?"
"That's easy, Daddy..." the young boy replied excitedly," It stands for 'Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.'

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There was a very gracious lady who was mailing an old family Bible to her brother in another part of the country.
"Is there anything breakable in here?" asked the postal clerk.
"Only the Ten Commandments." answered the lady.

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"Somebody has said there are only two kinds of people in the world. There are those who wake up in the morning and say, "Good morning, Lord," and there are those who wake up in the morning and say, "Good Lord, it's morning."

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A minister parked his car in a no-parking zone in a large city because he was short of time and couldn't find a space with a meter.
Then he put a note under the windshield wiper that read: "I have circled the block 10 times. If I don't park here, I'll miss my appointment. Forgive us our trespasses."
When he returned, he found a citation from a police officer along with this note "I've circled this block for 10 years. If I don't give you a ticket I'll lose my job. Lead us not into temptation."

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There is the story of a pastor who got up one Sunday and announced to his congregation: "I have good news and bad news. The good news is, we have enough money to pay for our new building program. The bad news is, it's still out there in your pockets."

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While driving in Pennsylvania, a family caught up to an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humor, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand printed sign... "Energy efficient vehicle: Runs on oats and grass. Caution: Do not step in exhaust."

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A Sunday School teacher began her lesson with a question, "Boys and girls, what do we know about God?"
A hand shot up in the air. "He is an artist!" said the kindergarten boy.
"Really? How do you know?" the teacher asked.
"You know - Our Father, who does art in Heaven... "

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A minister waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a long holiday weekend. The attendant worked quickly, but there were many cars ahead of him. Finally, the attendant motioned him toward a vacant pump.
"Reverend," said the young man, "I'm so sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip."
The minister chuckled, "I know what you mean. It's the same in my business."

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Sunday after church, a Mom asked her very young daughter what the lesson was about.
The daughter answered, "Don't be scared, you'll get your quilt."
Needless to say, the Mom was perplexed. Later in the day, the pastor stopped by for tea and the Mom asked him what that morning's Sunday school lesson was about.
He said "Be not afraid, thy comforter is coming."

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The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to ask the congregation to come up with more money than they were expecting for repairs to the church building. Therefore, he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick and a substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute wanted to know what to play.
"Here's a copy of the service," he said impatiently. "But, you'll have to think of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances."
During the service, the minister paused and said, "Brothers and Sisters, we are in great difficulty; the roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected and we need $4,000 more. Any of you who can pledge $100 or more, please stand up."
At that moment, the substitute organist played "The Star Spangled Banner."
And that is how the substitute became the regular organist!

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Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn't find a parking place. Looking up to heaven he said, "Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey!"
Miraculously, a parking place appeared.
Paddy looked up again and said, "Never mind, I found one."

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An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut . The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.
He says, "Sir, have you been drinking?"
"Just water," says the priest.
The trooper says, "Then why do I smell wine?"
The priest looks at the bottle and says, "Good Lord! He's done it again!"

The Opposite of Complaining

Constant readers might recall how I wailed and gnashed my teeth during the Bush II monarchy. Or maybe they don't; they were the most skippable posts. I am not an articulate political commentator.

Recusal out of the way, I gotta say these two things:

I am thrilled the Health Care Bill passed. I was one who hoped for a public option, but I hold out hope that it will be added in the future.

Watched the NBC news that night with Brian Williams, who has proven beyond a doubt he should really be working for Fox. The whole report was about those who opposed the bill, with the largest segment devoted to some ftard "small business owner" whose reaction can be summed up as: "I don't know what's in the bill, but I don't like it." Pretty much every survey taken that has asked the question "do you like the bill" but then asks "do you like the ______ option" (where they explain how the actual option works), the vast majority said, "Oh, I do like that!"

I thought "it's about time" when it was reported that various wingnuts that the Repubs have wound up so tight they cracked and phoned in death threats and destroyed property and the CONSEQUENCES were FBI involvement and apologies from the Repubs who in essence caused these problems with their horseshit.

Finally, initially I was kinda bugged about the tea bagger party that has sprung up, but upon further consideration am pleased with the development, because it'll just dilute the Republican party more - and I think they're in trouble anyway. Granted, they'll still mostly vote Republican, which is why the 'Pubs condone the whole thing, but at least they're acknowledged by everyone as a nutty fringe group, so the more moderate 'Pubs can actually attempt to help govern - rather than their current "if I'm not making the rules, I'm taking my ball and going home" stance.

Just Wondering

Do atheists get annoyed when their lovers scream, "Oh God!"?

Vicki

I was in a class the other day and one of the women there caught my attention for a reason I couldn't quite put my finger on for at least half the day. Then it dawned on me: she looked and sounded just like this girl who was a senior when the boys and I were sophomores. All of us had a grinding crush on her.

It didn't help that we were all cast in a play where she played a cat. Her costume was just a criminally tight leotard with tail, cat ears, painted whiskers, and long nails painted black. Oh, and she crawled around on all fours the whole time. I recall us all literally vibrating with erotic tension as we stood in glare of stage lights, trying to fight obvious boners as she slunk around our legs. Thank God this was the late 70s and tight, tiny briefs were the fashion of the day; they usually held the bad boy at bay wonderfully.

TLD:My clique did all the plays in high school. We thought it was too good to be true that we got to hang with the girls and even got to kiss some of them on stage - particularly the ones who'd never kiss us on purpose in real life. I tried to continue giving my spare time to the theatre in college, but I got really really tired of being one of the only two or three straight guys in a sea of gay guys. Besides, there were pseudo-intellectual discussions to be had in dark smoky bars, mostly about girls. I've always thought my dismay at the difference between high school productions and those thereafter must be something akin to high school wrestlers realizing the only path into adulthood with that activity will lead you to dramatically jumping off the turnbuckle and hitting follow steroid abusers with metal folding chairs.

When I put together that this woman in the class was the doppelganger for the primary object of our collective lust back in the day, I was slapped by cognitive dissonance of realizing I actually found her somewhat unattractive, and certainly someone I would never date were I single now.

It brought to mind a rolling conversation my wife and I have been having lately, about how beautiful young people are - even the ugly ones - and they just have no idea. This is not meant in the prurient sense, but in the sense of admiring true beauty. The glow that surrounds the kids from about 15 to 25 is perhaps something only people my age truly see, but it is amazing. The infamous and glorious article by Mary Schmich (attributed to Kurt Vonnegut on the web originally) "Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young" is largely about this phenomenon, particularly the line "Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth."

And, it probably had a lot to do with why we found that girl way back then so damn sexy.

And why I probably wouldn't now (regardless of what age she was when I encountered her).

Movies - Reviewed, Dissed, Petted and Called 'George'

The Invention of Lying

Saw this trifle of a movie. The premise is fun, and it starts off promisingly, but dammit it lapses into a riff on religion (and Judeo-Christian religion as usual) that's yer basic atheist 101 stuff. If you enjoy that sort of thing, you will dig this movie. If you don't, you may or may not dislike it.

I did get a chuckle or two out of the "ten commandments" scenes - the commandments themselves written on the tops of two pizza boxes - because the crowd starts asking questions about what exactly do some of the commandments mean - like is the thing about killing only about people, or does it include animals, too? That part alone is worth a watch, so when this is broadcast on TV, sit through at least that section.

Here are some of the commandments (borrowed from this site, which is a Mormon blog, btw, so if you want the fun of bullshit religion compared to horseshit religion, there's your page):

* Number 1: There is a man in the sky who controls everything
* Number 2: When you die, you don’t disappear into an eternity of nothingness. Instead, you go to a really great place.
* Number 3: In that place, everyone will get a mansion.
* Number 4: When you die, all the people you love will be there.
* Number 5: When you die, there will be free ice cream for everyone, all day and all night, whatever flavors you can think of.
* Number 6: If you do bad things, you won’t get to go to this great place when you die.
* Number 9: The man in the sky who controls everything decides if you go to the good place or the bad place. He also decides who lives and who dies.
* Number 10: Even if the man in the sky does bad things to you, he makes up for it was an eternity of good things after you die


So, if you are a person of faith and don't mind wading through a half hour or so of newbie atheism (and I say this because I think there are more sophisticated expressions of atheism than the mocking stance "you and your pretend god" assumed by many of the fresh converts), you might find this movie entertaining.


This is it

I'm sorry, but the pedophile I don't really miss looked like a tired 50-something-year-old trying to do the things a young man could do. The only rocker I know who can pull that off thus far is Mick Jagger.

Yes, like everyone else, I played the hell out of Off the Wall and Thriller. And just like Gary Glitter's pedophilism stained the one hit wonder "Rock 'n Roll Part 2" for me (and Arthur C. Clarke's writing - he moved to a country that allows the diddling of young girls so he could continue without getting arrested), I will never hear "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" without thinking of the spotted one rubbing one off with a minor next to him in bed. Sorry if that was vivid, but as a parent, it really cramps my nougat.

The guitarist, Orianthi, is hot, tho; both babewise and axewise. We got the CD from the library and all the ladies of the house deemed it silly on the basis there's this screaming articulate guitar matched with pedestrian female vocals and less than mediocre songs. I concur, but I think she has promise; she just needs the right producer.


Sorcerer

This chestnut of a movie kept popping up on lists, so I finally had the library yank it from the ether for me. It's the movie William Friedkin made after getting directorial clout in the wake of The Exorcist, so he hired Roy Scheider from his The French Connection days to remake the French flick about a bunch of guys who were hiding out from the law hired to drive old dynamite that had degraded into very unstable nitroglycerin over the mountains in very old trucks.

Yes, things go boom, but when they go boom is the fun.

Today's movies have reset my patience for exposition, because the whole first hour of the film is seeing where all the guys started out - all pretty high - and how far they fall to end up in the situation they're in. I could barely keep my finger off of fast forward, but was afraid I'd miss something important. I didn't. You could skip to the part where the oil well fire starts and not really see a different film.

I had fun watching it, though, so if you're looking for one more thing to put on your Netflix queue, it's worth the 2 hours. (Or 1, if you skip.)


The Amateurs aka The Moguls

Wherein Jeff Bridges as a Ralph Cramden kind of guy, who always has a scheme for getting-rich-quick, comes up with the idea of making a porno. He recruits folks of his tiny hometown (where not only does everyone know everyone else, but they know their family history back a few generations) to aid in the effort - even the "having sex while others film it" part - and hilarity ensues.

Apparently Kevin Smith (Zack and Miri Make a Porno) and Michael Traeger (writer/director) were dipping into the same synchronicity story well - which I believe exists, more on that at the bottom of this post - though Traeger beat Smith by 3 years.

Had you asked me how plausible a plot like this was when I was a younger, much more naive man, I would've said it's preposterous that people who know each other that well and know they will have to continue knowing them for the rest of their lives would make a fuck film together. However, experience has taught me that you never really know the depths of the freak next door - until you know. And, my wife once befriended a young woman at work whose peer group/circle of friends screwed around with anyone and each other as casually the rest of us would purchase a drink from a coke machine. Since those folks exist, this movie is plausible. (Think about it, though; would YOU do a porno? Assume someone you know would see it at some point.)

I still think that the emotional fallout would eventually make some people move out of town, if it were a small town like I grew up in.


Law Abiding Citizen

This movie was the water-cooler buzz movie around work last week, to my amazement. It wasn't on my radar at all until one of the guys brought it up in a meeting at the thing to see. Serendipity place it on the new releases shelf of my library that very day, so there I was, watching one of the unplausable flicks I've seen in a while.

I have a gift for suspension of disbelief that could raise the Titanic. My wife is the one who mere seconds after something unrealistic happens in a movie (that's trying to be 'realistic') mutters "oh come on" (or, if no progeny is around, "bullshit"). But unless you really float a plot hole so large a star could waft through it and not melt the celluloid, I tend to not notice until the movie's over, when my mental review starts. A few times during Law Abiding Citizen I rolled my eyes. How can they spend so much money and not have any left for a decent wordsmith to go: hey, there's no way someone could build a prairie dog village under a prison.


Up in the Air

Maybe it's only me, but I keep wondering what it is about George Clooney movies. They often have a great premise, great production value, and seem to always be going somewhere interesting, but when the credits roll, I've not yet been overwhelmed by "wow, what a flick."

I should say that I think he's a great actor. I mean that: great. He does all the things a star should do: rivet your attention; when they're in a scene, they're the one you look at the most; and I never catch him acting. I believe he's who he's playing - which is not necessarily typical for a pretty boy.

The only flick of his that I walked away from without that feeling of having bought an entire CD at full price only to discover the one hit was good and the rest was filler was Three Kings.

Full disclosure, this movie has the kind of ending I don't typically like. So, most fellow movie aficionados might actually like it. (Keep in mind I was apparently the one person who liked Daredevil.)

Therefore, I leave it up to you to be the judge. I recuse myself.

Oh, I loved the trailer, btw. It's now officially my favorite thing about the movie.


The Fourth Kind

I didn't read one good review of this flick, but the trailers (hmmm, a theme here) were so wonderfully creepy, I hoped against hope.

Sorry to say this movie fits that sad category where it's so bad, it's just bad.

They use a device where Milla Jovovich tells you she's an actress playing a real person, and that we'll be seeing and hearing the "real" woman she's playing throughout. Well, it's obvious that the "real" parts are acted too (similar to the primary flaw of Will Smith's Ali), and the fake/real device careens from annoying to laughable and back again.

Oh, and all the scariest stuff in the trailer.

This is one of those where if you are home ill and it comes on the TV, and you'd have to get up to get the remote to change the channel, it's worth getting up. You can refresh your beverage while you're at it, if you need further reason to save yourself.


Where the Wild Things Are

I enjoyed this mildly while watching it; though my teenage daughter hated, hated, hated it. Never before as a movie was playing did she continually say, "I hate this movie," and "Are you as bored as I am?"

The five-year-old LOVED it. And I can see why. It's one of those films that just nails its storytelling for the intended audience. It tells the story on their level in a way I would've have believed had I not witnessed her watching it. Every single leap of logic and what follows next fits their little view of the world.

I was concerned that the monsters would creep her out, as they creeped me out just a bit. Having seen the whole thing, though, the movie walks the line perfectly between their being just menacing enough to be monsters, but muppet-like enough to keep it "safe." Even during a scene where Max hides from one of the monsters who's mad by being swallowed by another.

The reason my teenager didn't like it is valid: it's largely a sad tale about a lonely boy who is neglected by his mother and more or less ignored by his teenage sister.

However, the way he copes - imaging himself the owner of the world and the king of monsters - totally speaks to my youngest. She would leap and cheer in the right parts, rapt the whole time with a smile on her face.

So that's my recommendation. If you've got a four- to eight-year-old, give this a spin, and decide which parent (if you have that luxury) gets to ride shotgun. However, if you are above that age, you might wanna devote your time to something else.

Thus far Spike Jones has proven himself a pitch-perfect movie (and video) maker. I can't wait for what he does next.


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TLD: The Synchronicity Story Well.

I came up with this concept as a kid, even before I knew what synchronicity was. Several times I'd had a great idea for a story, only to see it show up as a movie or comic book within a couple years. Throughout my life I've seen time and time again where either I, or someone I know who tries to concoct fiction, comes up with an idea, only to see it come to be somewhere in the fiction universe - and, again, usually close enough to the time I'd first heard or thought of it, that it seems too coincidental.

Now, you might be thinking that somehow myself or these other idea people somehow placed their story idea somewhere, or talked about it somewhere, where someone else got ahold of it and ran with it. I immediately discount anything that's "gotten out in the wild."

No, I specifically mean ideas I didn't tell anyone, or it only exists on my scratchy notepads hidden in a drawer of my house. Or ideas I heard in the privacy of someone's house or car, that I never uttered a word about again - hoping the person who told me would one day happily announce publication or a script sale.

I believe there's this "well" of story ideas out there that if you're listening for it, casting about for a story to bring to life, you will "hear" it and tap into it. But everyone else who's trying can hear it, too. The moral of the story is that the first one who gets it down in paper - or the one who first gets it sold - wins. So, if you've got that great American (or British, or Armenian, or Japanese) Novel rolling around inside of you, get it out!