Monthly Archive for December, 2005

Dude Haiku’s For Today

Her indifference
Shattering to my being
Oh well, never mind.
_________

Impeach his ass now
Happiness is his demise
Feel good Scahudenfreud
_________

Psychosis takes forms
Most often seen in church
Moorings lost at sea
__________

The eye that throbs once
Better then the eye throbbing
over and over
____________

The year of the end
Cyclical spiral of time
What time is it now
___________

Lonely is the wind
It makes its case without form
Try blowing yourself

Love actually
Is not a movie but death
Her indifference

Love Actually.

Just got to see what I thought was a little romantic flick and turned out to be a film of epic proportions with a staggering cast and lots of really nice moments.

There’s a lot of stories to keep track of this movie that seem to be loosely connected, but they’re all worthwhile and offered me a point of entrance that invited me in to become part of these people’s lives. The basic theme is that there is alot of love in the world rather than the surplus of hate that gets all the attention and press. There’s a nice montage of shots in an airport of people not in the cast hugging and smiling as they express true joy to be reunited with husbands, wives, kids, relatives and more. The cool thing is that they are real people that were shot with a hidden camera left at Heathrow Airport for a week. The movie then gets into the cast of players expressing love in various ways both geat and small. Not everyone here has the ideal story or ending, but all have some warmth and affection in their lives whether from a son or brother, manager, best friends unobtainable newlywed wife, or actual future wife and husband.

It may sound kind of trite and I guess it sort of is, but the writing and acting is so good, the themes so universal, and the music stirring enough that I was really drawn in enough to forgive the fact that everyone was too good looking, a new bride is already thinking about future options and a best friend contemplating betrayal, or that much of the love the characters fall into seem to stem mostly from looks since few of them seem to actually know anything about each other before falling into it. But I felt bad when the movie ended. I wanted it to go on and continue to hang with a great cast that included Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Laura Linney, Kiera Knightley, and a bunch of other mostly English actors brought together from the same folks that made Notting Hill and Bridgett Jones.

It’s the kind of movie that made me walk and talk with the characters as I expressed similar emotions they expressed and rooted for them to work it out. My face was reflective of the screen as I cringed with the characters, laughed with them, gasped with them, cried with them, and all together went though a myriad of facial expressions as if living in the film as part of their lives. This is wonderful experience to have until the movie ends and you’re left alone without these people and the feeling they, along with the score, instilled in me. These include a belief in love, a hope of experiencing wonderful moments of coming together, the promise of finding acceptance and comfort with someone special, and the reality of people using profanity like bugger and arse.

There are those problems i alluded to above, but they are problems for a less novel mood. Sure these type of moments are subject to so many more practical things in the real world, which doesn’t let everything culminate on Xmas eve so majestically as they do here. This is especially true for people not so beautiful as the cast of the movie. In that vain I must pause here to say this, Keira Knightley…well…just wow! That’s all I’m going to say about that just now.

There’s a great moment when Hugh Grant’s Prime Minister gives a speech to the visiting U.S. President that is so what Tony Blair should have said to Bush 3-4 years ago and if he had he’d be a hero to millions. Of course it too could never really happen, and certainly not without party approval and consultation but it’s nice to live the dream for a moment. Between the more approachable lifestyle of a P.M., the humor, the language, the attitudes, and the dispositions of these people it made me seriously want to live in England again. I’ve wanted this before and i’ll probably want it again. Sometimes it just makes you wonder why we can’t be more like them since we are the descendents of England’s lunatic fringe population. Didn’t those Puritan’s have anything in common with the rest of England? Droll humor? Enlightened attitudes about life and sex? (Well yeah I know how far that one was off), I just want us to be cooler. Not exactly like them because I’m sure they have their issues. And I know this is just a movie and unlike one of the characters in it who leaves to come to America beacuse he thinks he’ll get more hot women due to American girls being turned on by Brits, and who actually has enormous success in this, I wont go to England and have movie moments declaring my love in an airport or crowded restaurant in another language i just learned, but I do want to go there and know the practical intelligence of Alan Rickman’s character, the laid back mourning and parenting of Liam Neeson’s, the cool politicking and classless lust of Hugh Grant’s Prime Minister, the aging rock star who gets away with over the top honesty in the media and is rewarded for it, and all the rest of these lovable Brits with their perfect features and lovable wit.

Love Actually is sort of a Robert Altman movie in love or Magnolia off the drugs. It’s long and with more stories than you can sometimes keep track of, but it made me feel good and want to do big things (as well as regret not taking the opportunities to be brave and bold a long time ago in a galazy far far away), and my main regret is that it ended. i hope the inspiration doesn’t end with it.

Me, Me, Me!

Well another work week is done. as I add up the holiday pay for working Xmas ( I do really prefer calling it that than invoking the C word which conjures up very silly comic book notions), and as I total the overtime hours worked, sum the social value of time spent with my coworkers as opposed to sitting alone in front of a computer typing posts, reading about the world, reading free stuff at barnes & noble, or working on fictional stuff, I wonder how far out of whack the balance sheet is. And more importantly I’m not sweating it because it’s time to do like Mr Plant said and Ramble On!

It’s 4:30 a.m. and I just spent an hour or two on a political post as I sit here listening to Green Day’s American Idiot thinking about how I’m not even trying to sleep despite not having had a decent nights sleep since wednesday night/Thursday morning (it’s monday/tuesday now), and yet I make no effort to stop reading, writing, or listening. I’d rather download the Beastie Boys than end the cycle of bad sleep habits. And I wonder if bad sleep habits and lack of nocturnal discipline could be a key symptom of a bigger problem. Am I too self indulgent despite all that I deny myself?

No need to ponder long kiddies. The answer is who cares!

I’m evolving and you cant stop me! Tossers!

This is a new thing with me now. Cursing in English. But Mark, or Dude you might even say, are not fuck and shit English words? Well sure, but I’m talking about England’s English. I’m getting back to our roots and will from now on be hurling alot of bloodies, and bollukses at the world. not that I’m a big curser. Generally I don’t use alot of profanity, almost never around kids or women, but I do like to let it out at times, feeling more comfortable doing it around no more than a handful of people. THere is still the time and place for a strategic f bomb, but even those few accustomed to hearing me let one fly now and again can start dealing with this harsh new reality that will probably cause many to call me pretentious more than they already do. And to them all I can say is bugger off you wankers!

Back to the original point of this incoherent rambling. I’ve been dead tired all weekend and now I can finally have 2 or 3 days to sleep peacefully and I’m getting stupid to the B Boys Open Letter To NYC (sweet ny tune full of great new yorker gets like 1010 Wins and Live At Five), and alternately wondering if I’m killing valuable braincells and hours of my life at work, if I should resume my After The Ennui story and where I might go with it now, how are the Mets going to get some pitching to make a real run, was the ending of American Psycho implying Patrick Bateman imagined much or all of what he did, If not how’d it all get cleared up, should I try this other idea as a screenplay or short story, why my vocabulary has diminished the past few years and what I can do to get it back, will this new info about the woman I’ve been crushing on make a difference, why are the Ramones so damn catchy, is Eli making any real progress and who the Giants are likely to lose to in the playoffs 2 weeks from now, how could I have eaten so many damn sweets the past few days, what should I do if the crazy one shows up again someday, I must smell not having showered since Sunday morning (this is not a common practice ladies), life on the road, houses in the area, this strange new growing calm and security regarding women, whether to go to school next semester or not, how I wish I could have a dog, can I grow spirit, how much evolving has been done and wiring changed in my brain and how much can realistically still be done with a 38 year old brains hard wiring, how I have patterns too, how Pedro isn’t going to hold up for another season, do i want to go see Saryana at mall or Rosendale if I go one of the next 2 nights, how something good is due and I have the power and sanctioning from something higher, how full of shit (excuse me, shite), that might be, how I can’t wait for 24 on the 15th, how guilty I should feel over that concerning how right wing the show often is if you really think about, how at least I’ve changed some patterns and understand them so have precedent, how I may just not sleep anymore and suffer the consequences and benefits, how I’m probably going to sleep so damn late tomorrow and have to jump right out of here and head for Kingston to errand and enjoy some civilization at B&N, the Rangers bubble seems to be bursting as inevitably it would in the face of tougher competition, will Dem’s go hard at Scalito, isn’t this White Phosphorous thing also impeachable, Giants defense just isn’t good enough and too battered now anyway and they may not even beat Oakland new years eve to get division crown, and should I stay and work until 9 saturday and volunteer to screw myself as I got screwed Xmas eve which is probably good, and what I need is a good football party/new years eve thing but know no Giants fans, how I miss Manhattan so bloody much, will Al Franken make a good Senator if he runs, Missouri, Rhode Island, Tennessee, Minnesota, Montana, and Ohio can all go Democrat in November if they start making some smart calls and then in the name of god impeach the fucker (f bomb warranted and entirely appropriate there and in most matters dealing with Bush administration, i need more exercise beyond the half hour on treadmill at work tonight (and I still didnt shower for the love of god), and how do i get this Br’er Rabbit thing off here, and do I get evolving spiritual points for my living arrangements, and how if i could teach the world to sing in perfect harmony I’d get a really awesome metal ballad thing going because metal ballads taught us how to cry and we could use a good cry right about now even though the musical era that best defines me and that I am most kindred with is early 90′s grunge era Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden and such and how I dont think there’s been a solid musical movement since and will I live to see or hear another one especially considering I could be deaf oneday, and how she talks to rainbows, she talks to trees, she talks to angels, she don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, what in the name of sweet dancing moses ever happened to Phoebe Cates, will I stay with arc in some capacity when Will heads to Mexico in June and I’ll miss the kid, I hope Jeff’s surgery goes well and he starts getting some satisfaction physically, is my dad sad alot, look out!-dodge that regret! serenity now! so many memorable lines and phrases from Seinfeld, tv show list needs to written, should watch or read High Fidelity again, did Mary Ellen ever see Say Anything and everyone should though I’m not sure everyone likes it as much and did anyone get me referencing it with my title post recently, and does anyone get me, I’m so advanced and operating on higher levels, and oh shite what an arse I am so just stop cause nobody knows better than me what a simpleminded jack off i can be even if ido have rare moments of brilliance not related to post titles, Phoebe Cates was so damn irresistably cute and sexy, bet the Mets are glad they listened to me and kept Wright, why dont they listen more, I think the H on my channel 120 stands for Hitler channel rather than History since most stuff on there goes back to him so much of the time, damn that Davinci Code trailer looked good Opie, I friggin forgot to tape Arrested Development tonight and hope it wasn’t on and I’m part of the problem not the solution with saving this show, will Radiohead make a good album ever again, Phoebe where are you! Barry was more than a man he was a Man-Illow and he was doing ok but not really well life going along as it should, its all very nice, but not very good.

Beer, Cars, Women, Presidents, And The Experiment.

It's coming soon people. I don't know what to call it or what it will do. i do hold affirmitively to the faith that it will be good. But I feel it stirring. It's been gestating within me for decades. It's birth is near. You have all been warned. You have been summoned. This is gonna' be good. Except for my back-disc-neck-shoulder which may need operating on. BUt first some randomness…

  …What's with car commercials calling new models futuristic? I think it's Toyota that's calling one of their new models by such an adjective. I don't see it. Does it fly? Do its doors tilt upward instead of opening out and to the side?Is it fueled by the screams of children? No? THen it's not the future I was promised as a child and I don't wasnt to hear anymore future talk until the above criteria are fulfilled.

  Speaking of commercials those beer commercials with the singing bottle of something, I think its Heineken singing, "Don't you wish your girlfreind were just like me…Don't you wish your girlfriend was fun like me…" are really taking the whole beer as transference for sex to an alltime low level. Do I wish my girlfriend were shaped like a bottle, cold and hard to the touch, perspering beads of moisture, and likely to make me feel stupid and dizzy?

  Been there, done that. Stop drinking and talk to your girlfriend if you have one.

  On a more serious note I'm going to say this once, and I might say it again with greater elaboration later, but I don't care how you mock me. If you can't see the beauty in the statement I'm about to make and don't appreciate the greatness and superior qualities of the subject of the person I'm going to make it about, you suck and are a product of our narrowly focused media. Here it is: I want Al Gore for President in 2008!

   Again I will elaborate later as we get closer to run up and prep for campaign 08. Don't have time to go into it all now. I'll just say he's the smartest, most decent, one of the funniest (yeah he has a hard time showing it on campaign trail and in formal speeches), most progressive, forward thinking and ahead of his time politicians we've seen in our time. Plus after the last 6 years, going on 8, that more and more people realize were a colossal mistake, as well as a theft of office and coup de tat, it would send a signal to all who hate us now that we realize it all went wrong starting around there and now we want to make amends and get it right, doing what should have been done.

  Change of topic:  It's maddening how our perceptions about ourselves color our perceptions of how others see us. I've let that happen in the past though I am often on the money. BUt I was thinking about my recent experience with the woman I liked who snubbed me in produce aisle  like I was a rotten head of cabbage. One of our own here has managerial meetings with her occasionally and sees her around the administration offices of their agency and he too has noticed a certain…let's say reluctance, to engage herself. He has made comments about me to her, as I have to her about him sho she knows there is a friendship there. I assumed her attitude was due to her knowing I had an interest, thinking I was using a friend to get a good report in, and her wanting to send the signal to back off. I figured she found me beneath her. Not worthy and someone to keep at a distance when not work related.

  But it seems just as possible she doesn't think she's worthy of me. She's reportedly on shy side and may be intimidated by my charms and wit.

  Fuck you, I do to have charm and wit.

  Sometimes. What's important is that she's seen some of it. she's also been in management meeting where my friend has been extolled and heralded as he has clearly stood out as being on a higher level of capability and intelligence than what they are used to. If she is shy, she is most likely prone to self consciousness and esteem issues. Though she seems a very capable and preofessional program head, she more than likely doubts herself and feels like a fraud at times. THat is natural for many in her position. So its possible her attitude towards the friend is due to her not feeling she measures up to him. She could in fact be intimidated by him, thus increasing her awe of me by extension.

  Ok perhaps awe is a strong word here.

  But it's possible this theory could be reality. I'm not sure. I'd say its 50-50.

  I'm not dwelling on the subject or the girl, but it strikes me as interesting how our own moods can transfer themselves into what we think is going on in other people's heads.

  Does this mean I'm going to ask her out?

  Probably not. Not without some kind of in. But it does make me more likely to take a random moment and opportunity and an instance of her letting the guard down to throw it out there. That may not present itself again. Maybe fresh fruit was all we'll ever have together. That might be best since I'm shy and insecure enough for 2, and dont need to manage that in someone else. And maybe its nice to go off into the sunset thinking this latter-she is intimidated by me and feels inferior rather than superior and out of my league-theory is true rather than having to find out the former-i suck and will grow desperate enough to date a born again Christian again-theory, is the reality.

  Another note on Lost: What if neither hatch is running a test on the other. What if the whole thing is a test on us the viewers? THis could be some sociological study to see just how far people will go to escape reality, even to the point of suspending disbelief enough to allow a show that poses the hint of visitations, mind reading nano-black smoke monsters, extremely far fetched coincidences, and inexplicable behavior, that it never really explains, to engulf our lives, take our money (figurines are coming soon in addition to more DVD's), chase after fake commercials, and perhaps alter our behavior in ways we have yet to see manifest.

  Or what if the Hanso Foundation is real and hiding behind the illusion of fiction and is recruiting through the facade of a tv show?

    6 days until happy Dude emerges carefree and full of joy and verve (except for the possible exoskeletal issues). I'm talking about vacation. 163 hours to go as of 2 a.m. Friday-Saturday night-morning the 26th-27th of May.

  Countdown with me wont you?

King Kong. (A Review).

OK we all know the story, have seen one or both previous movies, and have seen numerous satires or takes on it’s basic beauty and the beast storyline. So with that in mind was it worth it for Peter Jackson to do it all over again with different actors?

Well as long as he got something from i I guess it was. I personally enjoyed aspects of the movie, but have no intention, nor need to ever see this or any other take on the King Kong story ever again. I enjoyed the first act set in 30′s N.Y. City. The sets and graphics looked great, the actors (Naomi Watts, Adrien Brody, and Jack Black), were on point, and there was buildup to something. I enjoyed it so much I was disapointed to see things shift to the boat headed for Skull Island. But I knew it had to happen. What I wasn’t quite ready for was how endlessly the time on that island would go on and on and on. It’s not so much for the suspension of belief required to posit an island full of prehistoric dinosaurs, people sucking pods, giant crawlies, and a mammoth gorilla, though this is not the kind of unscientifically correct mies en scene I would normally elect to donate funds to or watch without the thespian endowments of Ringo Starr and alot of hot cave babes. Rather it is for the time to think about things other than some of the superficial stuff on screen that this island hell should have been avoided.

The bulk of this 3 hour film is spent on the island with Naomi Watts somehow not being affected by being shaken and pounded while in the grip of a giant gorilla battling 3 T Rex’s simultaneously and running and climbing at breakneck speed with her in his hand. Ostensibly this is about establishing the Kong-Watts-Brody triangle. Mostly it seems an excuse to fulfill alot of Peter Jackson’s fantasies. The problem with having all this time doing nothing but falling and dodging stuff that makes you go ewww, is that it gave me too much chance to reflect on the nature of the Kong/Watts relationship. And it’s kind of messed up.

Now one angle that makes me ok with the movie in both past and when I can manage in the present, is that of King (as his friends call him), representing the ugly, unlovable guy in myself that the sweet pretty actress sees something beautiful in and falls in love with. One problem with this is that he’s a gorilla. He’s not David Merrick, a deformed but functioning and introspective human being. He’s a big hairy gorilla who pounds his chest to connote superiority and eats trees. He also presumably shits in the woods though we don’t get to see the humongus steaming pile I had hoped would put things in perspective at some point in jackson’s epic. But jesus you got to figure there’s alot of it around and that he and his environment have some odor issues despite the occasional lovely view of the setting Sun.

Now one of the dark and jaundiced places I was allowed by Jackson to go due to the ridiculously unedited nature of his movie (besides wondering if Jackson indeed employs editors for his films), was in finding the similarities between Kong’s macho posturing, intimidating nature, possessiveness, mood swings, and tendency to kill most women, and that of many abusive men and the women who love them in my own past experience as well as those of many friends and coworkers.

Kong abuses her, frightens her, and pushes her around, but he’s also kind of tough and dangerous and protects her from dinosaurs. This is apparently enough for Watts, Fay Wray, and Jessica Lange for that matter, to overlook all the abuse and think about settling down with their monkey-men. And she wants to stay with him. You can see it in her face as she’s reluctantly pulled back to civilization and the now boring writer guy who had seemed very appealing until getting a ride on the wild side. This is a real option to her. Staying in the jungle as the bride of a gorilla who puts her in danger and then shows his sensitive side just enough to make it all worthwhile.

But he’s a gorilla. Think about that. Let the implications roll around your noggin a little bit. And a part of her wants to stay with him.

Immediately those patterns very possibly forged into the DNA over millenia come to the forefront and like many women who date and marry smaller monkey’s, the allure of taming these brutes is very appealing. It’s a turn on. And it’s Peter Jackson’s fault. I blame him for every failed relationship I’ve had. You go to hell Peter Jackson. You go to hell and die!

No not really. I like Jackson and know it’s not his fault but undoubtedly some will accuse me of letting personal experiences and feelings taint my review of his crafty movie.

Well duh.

Personal or not, it’s hard to make a case for this being any more than a gorilla movie with very little to say. It’s a popcorn flick with long boring stretches and a sad ending. I was sad when I saw Kong die as a kid and it was Jeff Lebowski’s girlfriends fault. A 9 year old I saw this one with was similarly saddened and horrified, presumably at mans inhumanity and carelessness. And it it’s still sad watching him slip off the top of the Empire State Building with hurt and betrayed final breaths. This poor misunderstood creature shot at and hunted because of his size and inability to communicate, plummeting hundreds of stories to a city he didn’t ask to come to, does hit a soft spot.

But he’s still a girl eating gorilla.

Which brings me to another point the lifetime on the island gave me too much time to think about: Kong, and the Hollywood complex that made the original, just might be a tad racist. It is suggested that Kong consumed all the past sacrifices offered to him by the islands indigenous folk. But not Fay, Jessica, or Naomi. The islands inhabitants are all dark skinned black people. The 3 Americans are white blondes. Suddenly after years, decades probably, of Kong seeing women as mere floss to clear bark with, he’s smitten by the first white girl he’s ever seen. Jackson offers an element that redeems both himself and the latest incarnation of Kong slightly by having her do Vaudeville schtick for him, and thus showing some moxy and personality that were presumably absent from native girls who have grown up with dessicated parental figures who believe in virgin sacrifices and seem to have a serious vitamin C deficiency.

So that’s cool, and thanks Bob for pointing that out, but it doesn’t clear the original concept, or the still lingering subtext, which manages to have just a bit of the white mans burden mentality behind it.

But this is what unedited escapades on islands full of alot of silly creatures and guys posing with guns gets me in the search for thematic material and meaning. This shouldn’t take away from the probable intent of the movie which is to entertain and pay homage. In that Jackson succeeds except for the interminable periods where nothing is really happening. The movie looks good and everyone is good. Watts especially is terrific. Her early scenes where she plays a down and out actress with varying senses of wonder, confusion, and suppressed fear and naivete work really well in that early Hollywood way we’ve come to expect people (or is it actresses) in that era to talk and emote. I’ve liked her in everything I’ve seen her in and I’m not even attracted to her. Brody rocks if no other reason than he’s from Queens and a Mets fan. Black was born amusing and gets Dio, and that’s all I have to say about that.

As indicated the movie takes place during the era of the original. The De Laurentis version took place in the then present as Kong scaled the WTC instead of the Empire St Building. Perhaps this is one of the reasons Jackson chose to set the piece safely in the past. More than likely it was because that eras lack of satelite equipment and global transport, made it more likely an island with Dinosaurs could exist unkown to society or that said society would take such flimsy precautions in restraining such a beast in a crowded theater in the middle of Manhattan. Ultimately that choice works for those trying to retain some sense of plausability in the implausible.

Though i didn’t think all the CGI in the city worked as well as a guy in a monkey suit and miniatures, most of it looked good and the city had a nice combanation of period realism and of super surrealism. There were some great shots full of emotional storytelling like the one in the city when Watts is seen in the reflection of the doors leading into a seedy club she was about to descend into by Jack Black, who doesn’t turn to look at her just yet. This was an example of storytelling through images that mark great filmaking. It is weighty and profound in its own right and context. Problem is this and other isolated moments of heft and grandeur still take place in a gorilla movie that really has minimal depth and nothing important to say.

Bush Lies When He Spies (And The Times Cries).

The not so startling revelations of the Bush administrations illegalities and the depths of incompetence and shilling the NY Times has sunk to were both on display today as news of Bush sanctioned spying on citizens hit the streets. MSNBC.

Three dozen times. That’s how many times Bush authorized the NSA to engage in spying that did not go through the proper channels involving court orders. Even Republican Senator Arlen Specter says, “There is no doubt that this is inappropriate…clearly and categorically wrong” Specter is chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee and has promised hearings early next year. Bush of course is saying this was all to defend Americans. I don’t care. He broke the law.Under FCA rules he has broken the law and is subject to impeachment for it. This is not his first impeachable offense. But he pretty much admitted this one. But we continue to hear whispers of how the media and Beltway politicos don’t feel they or America has the stomach for a second straight impeachment proceeding.

This is of course not a surprise since so much of the media is wedded to the status quo. The NY Times had this spying story over a year ago and held it because the White House asked them too. National security they cried. Coincidentally these cries for more time came around election time last year. And the morons at this glorified rag brought it? Or did they comply because Bush’s agenda is their corporate masters agenda? either way it is another example of the utter depths of blackness our media sources have sunk to. As well as another example of how easily and nonchalantly Bush violates our rights, freedoms, and integrity.

I for one can handle impeachment and I’m pretty sure the majority of this country who despise this administration can as well. Besides Bush’s dwindling approval ratings, we now get this Reuters poll which overwhelmingly ranks Bush as the worst of the last 10 Presidents. Tenth of Ten. Most warlike, worst for economy, and least effective.

By letting the farsical proceedings against Clinton be a factor here we are letting the Republicans win at a very purposefull and twisted game of manipulation. When Clinton was targeted I said at the time that they knew they couldn’t impeach on the Lewinsky scandal. It was just a game of posturing and one upsmanship so that when they got a guy in who they knew fully well would break more laws and tell more lies, Democrats could not impeach because it would look like sour grapes coming on the heels of the prior attempt. This was apparent then. The techniques superficial and transparent in the 90′s. And now here it is being played out and our media and even Democrats are playing right into the teeth of the plan.

Suck it up Dem’s. Suck it up America. A message needs to be sent that we will not condone deception, cronyism, and secrecy, at the expense of national security and human lives. Thousands have dies because of these men and their willful deceipt that is now beyond question. Impeachment is the least we should do.

A post script: The Times still has some worthwhile reporters working for it like Nicholas Kristoff who has been reporting from the Darfur genocide as he has put himself in harms way to try and get the word out to make America and the world intervene to save hundreds of thousands of lives, and countless acts of brutality.

Perpetual Beginnings II

II. The Dude entry.
Sarah was unstrapping her shoes as she sat on the sofa’s edge. Her long red hair concealed most of her face as she bent forward and reached down. Always hiding behind something, Murdoc thought. It made him want to swipe it violently away from her face. It also made him want to kiss her after. He didn’t know which she’d prefer. He never knew. Neither, he thought, did she. She either knew nothing or everything. Some heaven sent street prophet that had been to the mountain top and come back to have it’s truths beaten out of her, or a sexual savant too stupid to realize how inscrutability made one seem wise. Even covered in bruises.

He couldn’t believe how nonchalant she was being. They were coming to kill her and she was making herself more comfortable. Wise or stupid? Right now he was leaning towards the latter with a bullet. Except the bullet was pointed at her.

“You need to get out of here.”

She looked up and smiled as if he had made a cute suggestion too childish to reply to verbally.

“I mean it. Things could get ugly.”

She stood and ran her hands over the length of her dress to smooth its newly formed folds and wrinkles. She did it slowly too. Purposefully. Was she moving in slow motion? Sometimes it can seem that way when the adrenaline is pumping. Athletes have said so. This was life and death. Much bigger than a game. Certainly he could be forgiven for such a rush. Except that everything else was moving normally. Him, the car lights passing her apartment down below, the flicker of the muted T.V. All of it real time. No she knew what she was doing. And he suddenly took a step back into the omniscience camp he had spent much of his life regarding her from.

She said, “Can we not pretend we don’t know what’s going to happen here?” She walks to the kitchen alcove. “We’ve done this enough already.”

“There’s still danger,” he says ineffectually as she starts making herself a mixed drink.

“Not with my big bad protector here.” Her voice was without inflection. There was no teasing. The voice of a woman who had just woken up.

“I don’t even know why I’m here anymore.”

“Sure you do. you just don’t have the guts to admit it.”

“What does that mean Sarah?” She added some ice cubes, ignoring him. “Really! What the fuck does that mean?”

“Shut up and kill somebody for me Decker.”

He knew what she meant. It hurt coming form her. But he did feel like a robot or android sometimes. One who was programmed to kill. But he felt lower than that. Not as noble as the summation of centuries of science. More like a dog bred to kill. But selectively. Charles didn’t like killing anyone. He had never killed before that first time in 86. He only killed after for her. He wasn’t an angry person. Hadn’t been one of those violent kids you get an idea about because they liked to torment small animals. He had seizures as a kid. He didn’t remember them, but he had been told about them. Pretty nasty apparently. They had made him hurt himself a few times. But he’d never hurt anyone else. He was frail then. They always told him that. A frail kid that couldn’t hurt a fly.

Now he even thought of himself as being a kind man. And he wasn’t the only one. But when Sarah was in trouble it was like someone flipped a switch in his head and made him a killer. When he got a scent of her he became like a hounddog anticipating the hunt. He was bred for it. Genetically wired to destroy anything that threatened him. It had become one of the great enigmas of his life how this usually constituted anything that threatened Sarah. He had to defend her like he had to hate her. This was alot like the way he had to love her too. He wasn’t proud of it. In fact he hated himself for it. He’d tried to cut it out of himself. Tried to drink it out. To smother it like a bastard that should not have been. There was almost something god about the habit though. More than a hound on the hunt, though still a dog. Sometimes he felt like a dog licking his balls. He didn’t do it because he liked the taste, but rather because showers were not an option. He had not been bred for it. He was made to serve her and would do so for as long as he walked The Path.

The buzzer rang and a new thought occured to murdoc. “let’s go!” He shouted at her. She looked stunned for a moment before putting up her middle finger. “I’m through with this Sarah! I’m getting out of here before someone gets killed this time.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Nevertheless.”

“You can’t leave me baby.” She saw he was serious. “That’s not you Charlie. That’s not your Path.” He could actually hear the capitilization of that word.

“Says who?”

“Marcus.”

He hesitated. Marcus had brought him into the Path Of Fire, had raised his consciousness, given his life purpose. He was the promise that all this would end and he could have Sarah. Or be free of her. Either way. “You don’t know dick about Marcus.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Poor Charlie.”

“Poor Charlie is going down the fire escape! With or without you. He opened the kitcheen window and looked down. It was an alleyway, as he knew all too well it would be. He’d gone down it enough. But never like this. Never in retreat. He made sure no one was below or coming up the 3 stories. He lifted a leg over the sill and reached a hand out for her. “Coming?”

“You’re serious,” she said incredulously. “Do you have any idea of what you are doing? This isn’t how things are done on Easy Street.”

He felt a sudden desire to wait for laughter and shook it off. ” Could it be any worse? For either of us? I’m serious Sarah. Legacy serious.”

She saw that he was.

He heard a knock at the door. She looked back, wide eyed and with an unsettling touch of excitement tracing the outlines of her eyes and mouth as if expressions were stage props and she had reached for the wrong one.

“I don’t want this Charlie.”

“So let’s do something about it”

“I mean you. I don’t want you.”

If he was less accustomed to her hatefulness he would have shown the hurt he felt. But he had been in the bag of bad face props himself. That was the thing about Easy Street. Everyone seemed to be wearing something innapropriate. At least innapropriate for a place called Easy Street.

They were smashing the door. Loud thumps. She looked back, then to him, hair splashing cinematically about her. She took his hand and he helped her over and out into the night. As he lowered the window he heard the door give way, hit the wall beside it and bounce off. He heard two voices. They were not the ones he was expecting to hear. His mind was primed for the monotonous, deadpan tones of the minions for The Change. But the voice that he heard yell Sarah was more familiar. Familiar even after 19 years. He wished he could stay to be sure but they had to move. It wouldn’t take long for them to check the fire escape and Sarah was already half way down to the next flight.

One of their shadows started to breach the kitchens entrance, its long silhoutte almost as familiar as the voice. He saw the cigerette dangling from the mouth. The wide brimmed hat. No time! He turned and chased Sarah down to the next flight at once wanting to throw her off and embrace her in exultation.

Could it be? Could it really be Ackerman!

Al Franken’s, “The Truth (with jokes).” A Review

I’ll admit I’m predisposed to liking Al Franken both culturally and politically. Al (as I like to call him), is clearly a liberal He’s the host of an Air America program, author of previous books of political humor, and a legitimate possibility to run for Minnesota Senator. Not to mention the fact that I grew up in the Al Franken decade. And even if you don’t get that joke, or dont feel you like him, really like him, you’ll probably enjoy reading Al if you have a sense of humor and appreciation for facts, scholarship, and research.

Al’s last book, Lies And The Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair And Balanced Look At The Right, took aim mostly at conservative media. It tore empirical holes in the credibility of the Bill O’Reilly’s, Ann Coulter’s, and Sean Hannity’s, while also exposing various right-wing conspiracies as led by the likes of Karl Rove. And it was funny. In The Truth, Al still has some shots to take at these purveyors of lies, but spends most of the book detailing the erroneous and conspiratorial rush to war and the Rove led campaign of fear used to insure an election win in 04. It’s still funny, but it’s not all about the laughs with Al. He’s grown from an Emmy award winning t.v. writer and comedian to a real journalist. He’s always had the educational cred as a Harvard grad, but now he writes best selling books and hosts a highly rated radio show that are both based on punditry. And he knows his shit.

So i’ll tell you right off that I liked the book and wish everyone would read it. I wish they’d read Lies And… even more. Just check out the Paul Wellstone chapter at least. Even reasonably informed people will find shocking things, but if you’re not a political junkie you’ll really be amazed. So enough about the book in general terms. I’d rather touch on a few particulars of interest to me and hopefully to you, my non-eixistent audience.

The election:
Al does a good job (and most importantly for those in the war against the sides of prevarication and misrepresentation, he does an empirical and statistically backed up and documented job), showing how the idea that the religious right won the election and provided Bush a mandate is in fact untrue. With statistics, studies, quotes from Team America the World Police, and other facts, Al shows how negligible the religious effect was. He also proves with little doubt how the fear factor was more than just supposition on the parts of fringe lunes like myself. The advertisements run by the Bush campaign, and the selective statements made by Dick and Bush show a strong indication of a concerted effort to create fear. The wolf advertisement that was filled with more lies about Kerry as with the Swift Boat campaign that Al also rips apart in the book, was meant to invoke childhood psychological misgivings sprung from stories like Little Red Riding Hood that they knew the security, or soccer moms reading these stories to kids in the present would be moved by. This was bolstered with Bush’s claims about the danger to lives if they show uncertainty in election time (meaning changing Presidents), and Cheney puking out such wretched garbage as this:

“It’s absolutely essential that 8 weeks from today, on November 2, we make the right choice…if we make the wrong choice then the danger is that we’ll get hit again…in a way that will be devestating.”

This all goes to social science research they all are made very a ware of. In particular a field called Mortaltiy Salience is used to advantage. Brandonicus and I were discussing this very topic in matters unrelated to Bush and America just a few weeks before I read this book. A subfield of particular note for the real “evildoers,” is something called Terror Management Theory, or TMT. It makes people do alot of stupid shit out of fear of dying. One of them is to affirm your worldview by lashing out at those who believe otherwise, especially those not on the same “I’m going straight to Heaven because I say I follow Christ”, bandwagon. Not that it’s just Christians. But that’s the group Rove and the planners were targeting so cynically. TMT also makes people want a charismatic visionary leader in times of fear, as opposed to a realistic, task oriented one.

A study done last year whose results were published in the Sep 2004 issue of Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, proved how if people were kept in a fearful mode being reminded of death and their mortality, they were much more likely to vote for Bush, the guy reminding them of it.

One group was asked to describe what thoughts of their deaths made them feel, while the other group was asked to talk about how t.v made them feel. They were both asked to evaluate an essay praising Bush and his war. Most in the first group approved of it. Most in the t.v. group thought it bullshit.

Then a third group was added with thoughts of 9-11 given to them to prime the subconscious. Another group did thoughts on death, and the other of pain. Pain was subbed for t.v to control for bad thoughts in general being a factor. The pain group preffered Kerry more than 2 to 1. The death and 9-11 groups overwhelmingly preferred Bush. These were a mix of liberals, moderates, and conservatives. Al quotes the study. here’s my favorite part: “political allegiances are not always based on the balanced, rational forces of self-interest…but also on the operation of nonrational forces of which we are not always aware.”

Morals had nothing to do with any of it. That was based on a poorly designed exit poll. and yet we still have Democrats running around seriously thinking about moving even more to the right than these traitorous cowards already have. It was all about fear and they knew it. Besides a diversion from their illicit activities or bad press, it’s why they kept up with false terror alerts that even Tom Ridge who was running Homeland Security said were based on nothing. It’s why they never stopped with 9-11 talk despite being the regime that allowed it to happen. It’s why they mentioned 9-11, Saddam, Iraq, and terrorism 17,800 times during the Republican Convention and Osama Bin Laden only once. These guys are not dumb. They know that what fires together wires together, as Al also quotes that famous psychological maxim.

Another interesting section goes along way towards bringing together alot of the evidence that this admistration purposefully lied to engage in an invasion of Iraq that 9-11 became the fortuitous excuse for. One quote I had never heard before, Franken includes. It’s a statement to journalist Ron Suskind from a senior Bush adviser. Here’s how Suskind put it:

The aide said that guys like me were “in what we call the reality based community,” which he defined as people who “believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.” I nodded and murmured something about enlightenment principles and empiricism. He cut me off. “THat’s not the way the world really works anymore…we’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality-judiciously, as you will-we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, adn that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors…and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.”

As Franken writes in response, “Doesn’t that sound like the kind of statement a Bond villain would make just before falling into his own shark tank?”

And this is just one of many examples we have of a diabolical evil at work in our name. It’s bad enough they’re stupid, but throw evil into the mix and we have the makings of a really bad movie. Octopussy bad even.

On the subject of stupidity how about this nugget Franken includes from Kanan Makiya, an Iraqi exile that was one of the primary sources of info Bush used to justify how badly we were needed and wanted in Iraq. He visited the White House to watch the Super Bowl and later told former State dept official Dave Phillips that Kanan “Had to explain to the President of the United States the differences between Arab Shi’s, Arab Sunnis, and Kurds.” This was 3 months before we invaded Iraq and long after a decision had been made to do so. But hey who needs information and history when you have Halliburt…uhhh I mean God, on your side.

But Franken includes the hope many of us have been clinging to that the Right has overeached and is getting exposed now. He includes a chapter detailing the failing of the Schiavo issue to further divide as Republicans hoped it would. He ably tears up their media and polticians like Frist and Delay who clearly sought to use this as a wedge issue despite enormous evidence of hypocrisy including Delay having pulled the plug on his own father. And of course there is the basic hypocrisy in the supposed Republican ideals of less government involvement and more state rights. Here we had a case where they moved to take those rights away and get a Federal intervention so that they could play off what they thought would be a wedge issue in an election year.

Anotherr chapter gets into the evil that is Jack Abramoff and Tom Delay. This includes Delay’s involvement with the Mariana Islands U.S. Commenwealth that gets by not having to have our laws due to this status and is engaged in slave labor, forced prostitution, and forced abortions. Delay, a champion of the pro life crowd spent time on the islands basking in his investment there and telling the japanese and chinese investors that what they were doing there represented the direction of the Republican party as a “shining light,” and, “what we’re trying to do in America.”

Franken gets into some of the Abramoff-Scanlon degrading and ripping off of Indian tribes which is in the news and a major potential issue that should be played up more for all Abramoff’s connections to the party and mountain of scandals and illegalities. He’s the missing link that can connect alot of dots of corruption, and if nothing else serves as an indicator of what the party is about and who they do business with.

Then of course we have the Social Security privatization movement that failed. Franken compiles some of the evidence in a user friendly way (at least for me who am admittedly not an economic whiz), to show how Bush clearly lied and mislead people in a way that jeopordized their futures because Wall Street bankers and investment managers had lobbied him for a new system that promised to make them richer. It was nothing new since Republicans have long attempted to undo S.S. as a reminder of a liberal program that has constituted one of the greatest success stories and heroic civil efforts in the history of humanity.

Among the interesting points is that one of the numbers floated by the administration to prove the insolvency of S.S. was based on numbers that extended life expectancy to 150 and kept retirement age at 67. It also used infinity as a base of measurement. At one point Bush tried to make the case that S.S. was unfair to black people despite overwhelming non partisan agreement that it was blacks and minorities, along with widows and injured workers who benefited most. The Right Wing Heritage Foundation provided the faulty numbers that tried to convince black families that because black men die earlier than white sthey were not receiving S.S.’s benefits. But the methodology was torn apart by those non biased groups that actually do this kind of stuff for a living. What Heritage did among other things was assume every black person would drop dead exactly the day they turned 69 with no health care concerns before that, no disability necessary, no living with dignity into thier 70′s or 80′s. Just pay into the system until 67, and die 2 years later with nothing but 2 years reward. Heritage knowingly ignored the reality of life expectancy as well as the fact that many blacks need to get help due to these other factors S.S. pays out for like survivor and disability benefits. And of course due to our social inequalities black people are more likely to need and receive these other benefits and would be fucked without them.

A sweet irony is that some of the inspiration came from a Heritage and Cato Institute paper calling for reform in S.S. based on Leninist strategies. This had something to do with isolating and destryong opponents as they purposefully set out to willfully collapse society. Of course propaganda would be a tool o effect this as they formed a plan Bush would be the puppet for as he knowingly lied to seniors to divide them from younger people and isolate along generational lines. Blatant editing of quotes from town hall meetings across America along the lines of the way bad movies will use a partial quote that makes it sound like a goood review was another tool. But none of it worked. We may not be the brightest citizenry in creation but the lesson here is don’t mess with our money because when it comes to that we will do our homework. Also old people aren’t stupid.

One revelatory moment on Bush’s S.S. reform trail stands out as showing his character in the vain of his insulting brushing aside of the death toll numbers from iraq the other day. One of the pre screened town hall subjects went off script and mentioned to Bush that she had to work 3 jobs to support her retarded child. Bush’s response:

“Uniquely American isn’t it? I mean that is fantastic that you’re doing that. Get any sleep?” (Laughter ensues.)

The woman’s reply: “No. not much.”

Bush: “Well hopefully this will help you to get your sleep to know that when we talk about Social Security nothing changes.”

Ahhh feel that compassionate conservatism?

I’m trying real hard to be loving and forgiving. To not let anger overwhelm me. To love and transcend. But fuck me this scumbag son of a bitch deserves to have his head on a chopping block in a town square as a black man, an elderly person, a single mother, a limbless Iraqi vet, and Jesus piss on his face before the blade comes down. I’m sorry if that’s harsh, but it’s bloody-teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony-compared to what this monster has done in a willful and knowing manner.

There’s more in the book which I certainly recommend, but I’ll close with this quote I was familiar with from Eisenhower. Franken quotes it in his chapter on S.S.:

“Should any political party attempt to abolish Social Security, unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs you would not hear of that party again in our political history. There is a tiny splinter, of course, that believes you can do these things. Among them are…a few Texas oil millionaires, and an occasional politician or businessman…Their number is negligible and they are stupid.”

Ike warned us about the military industrial complex, and he gave us an honest heads up about these guys. Well now their numbers have grown, though their seeds are still in that Texas oil millionaire good ole boy mentality. They also have roots in the John Birch society and the ravings of people like Ayn Rand. They are children of Nixon and their motivations remain as selfish as ever.

And they are still stupid.

The Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe.

Alot of people read C.S. Lewis Narnia books growing up and delighted in their world of fantasy and possibility. It was a magical world that opened a wardrobe door onto another world that we could identify with as we longed for an escape, and a place to let our imaginations run free. I wasn’t one of them. But I did accidentally see the movie based on the first book and here’s what i thought of it.

I read alot of books like theese growing up, and even later, but I was more of a Lord Of The Rings person. God knows I needed escaping and looked for it in various literature. Didn’t go out of my way to avoid Narnia but it just didn’t come up. Later when I found out about Lewis’s Christian leanings I became less interested. So did J.R.R. Tolkien, a fellow Oxford Professor who apparently played in the same fantasy league with Lewis, but didn’t appreciate his usage of allegory. Tolkien wasn’t much for allegory period. He thought it was hubris on the author’s part asserting itself over the readers imagery and ideas. I don’t completely agree with him, but I see where he’s coming from, and certainly could have done without some of the kind in this movie.

Things start off with four siblings being sent away from England to avoid Axis bombing during the war, as Hollywood once again continues to treat Germans circa the 30′s and 40′s as if they were evil fascists engaged in systematic programs of mass murder. So Peter, Edmund, Elizabeth, and the youngest and most adorable and interesting, Lucy, are seperated from their parents as they are presumably plopped down in a setting meant to warrant escape from reality. But the kids wind up in a huge mansion that’s got alot of cool stuff in it and the only thing wrong with things seems to be the housekeeper who doesn’t want them running around and breaking stuff. This does not for me constitute the kind of mental anguish and duress needed to engage the required empathy for the kids and awakening of my own childhood desires to escape into another world. I don’t know about the book, but couldn’t they have thrown a whipping or two in there? Some forced dusting?

But of course the world at large needs an escape from the horrors of war, and the kids find it stepping through a wardrobe with so many furs, coats, and fairies inside you’d think it was Liberace’s. There they encounter a helpful Fawn, the Witch and Lion that make up the other part of the titles trifecta, as well as opposite ends of the battle for Narnia. We come to find out that the kids are part of a prophecy that foretells a new spring and end of something bad, though i’m not quite sure what. it’s got something to do with the Witch who is apparently self appointed Queen ruling over the beasts, hybrids, and assorted creatures with an iron fist though it doesn’t appear she really gets out much or has that many people working for her. But hey she’s a Witch so maybe it’s a magic thing and we know how much real Christians hate the magic.

I on the other hand hate prophecies in movies. This is a far overused plot device in literature, t.v. and movies, that does little to create drama for me. In fact isn’t it pretty much giving the ending away? I don’t want to know how a story is going to end at the begining. And they all do it. From Tolkien to Rowling. And why are so many of these epic writers English by the by? Why aren’t Americans creating worlds and myths? Wherever the nation of origin is, i don’t want to know how it ends. I know the good guys are mostly going to be ok, but does everyone in the movie have to know too? Can’t I just enter without having to have a heads up? Usually these things take place in books or movies with multiple parts which means my ratio for plot spoilage is being violated opposite to length. This is exactly how I wouldn’t want it to be done. If it’s a 90 minute one time movie I can handle it because I’m not being asked to invest a huge chunk of my life to the outcome. But these epic fantasies have an inverse proportion of plot secrecy to length of dramatic work. It’s like the author or director is saying, hey i know it’s a long trip so this is basically how it ends, but stay with me here and i’ll have Neo make some cool moves, or give you some made up elvish language along the way.

But we don’t get Trinity in spandex here, and nor do we get any grizzled Rangers singing in a made up tongue. Unless we count the Christian stuff, but that’s more of a made up idea. The story is not about religion though, and apparently the movie doesn’t have all the Lewis stuff. But we do get sons of Adam, and daughters of Eve in the 4 kids, as well as the sacrificial Lion, Aslan, who goes on to become a dead and resurrected stand in for that guy in the New Testement who does the same after copying it off of many other legendary figures who did it long before him. We even get Edmund in the Judas role. It is the younger brother’s betrayal that is the original sin of the film that the Lion sacrifices for in order to make attonement for the son of Adam’s transgression. Well you see what I’m getting at.

Another thing that bugs me in movies like these is when people are ordained to greatness like the older brother Charlie. He wanders in through a clothes closet and people are prostrating themselves like Wayne and Garth in front of Alice Cooper. You got all these people working with the lion their whole lives and here comes a shiny glowy human from out of the closet and he gets to be leader? What about meritocracy? And how is he good with a sword already? These kinds of things completely do away with paying dues, earning your keep, and free will. Which in the case of the last may be intentional since some forms of Christianity are not big on that. At least make a pretense like Neo getting skills downloaded into his brain. Have him draw a magic sword like Arthur. Or have powerful parents like Luke Skywalker or Harry Potter. You don’t just have them because it was written somewhere. A predisposition to the learning is fine, but a kid who’s never even had a wet dream yet, much less picked up a weapon or organized a battle should not just get to lead a gigantic army of creatures in the biggest showdown in Narnian history. Make an effort to explain things logically, to create levels of structural consistency, to…oh right, this is a Christian allegory. Forget it.

Not that I love it when we do get an explanation like Luke being Annakin’s love child, or Neo being hard wired, but I can go with it. And hey at least Lucas is American. What I did like about this movie was it’s early stages when Lucy finds Narnia on her own and makes friends with the Fawn-hoofed-man-dude. I loved the atmosphere she stumbles into. A perfectly white snowy terrain surrounded by trees and lit by a solitary street lamp. There’s just something about snow passing in front of these old fashioned gas lamps that gives me a sense of warmth and goodness. It’s an evocative image and Lucy is charming and full of great facial expressions as she does the Wonderland thing that no one believes at first. The early stages of discovery held my interest, perhaps recalling similar fantasies and thoughts in my youth. The Witch was interesting early on as well, as were some of the creatures.

But eventually it got to be old hat, the Witch a caricature who lost me when she started sword fighting during the battle. I’ve never been huge on talking animals and we get alot of them here. I guess they all can talk though we forget that, which makes for a funny moment with a horse named Phillip. But talking animals becoming worldy confidantes and comrades goes back to kidhood I guess and a part of that was appealing as well. I’m not sure what Jesus would have thought about them all, but i’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and say he wouldn’t have thought Satan was speaking through them as i’m guessing many would today if their dog suddenly started going on about prophecies and introducing them to mutant man-horse hybrids. The Beavers are the main companions of the group, the damn building kind, not Ward and June. They’re cute as Beavers go, but not the choice i would have made for the first animal to talk or be the most stalwart friends. But then maybe Jesus was big on the Beaver.

This is a fantasy and in judging it in that context, I can’t really recommend it. You’re not going to get Lord Of The Rings here. LOTR was more epic in scope, the payoffs harder earned, and the concepts less childlike even with the intended absence of an allegorical agenda. The early part where that sense of wonder is somewhat engaged with kids we can relate to more than Hobbits or Jedi’s has some power, but most of the film lacks any real thoughtfulness or novelty. It’s an ok kid film, not entirely a loss for adults, we’ve seen all this before. We will most likely see it again. And we will know how it ends.

John Lennon

Lennon On Thursday December 8th, radio stations including Woodstock’s WDST will mark the 25th Anniversary of the death of John Lennon with moments of silence and other events geared towards the message of peace and love Lennon is so remembered for. There will also be a candlelight vigil in Poughkeepsie at 6 p.m. WDST. Clearly this is a man who has meant alot to many people for him to inspire this kind of passion 25 years after his death. Here’s what he means to me.

John Lennon is of course, one of the most iconic pop cultural figures ever, and debatedly one of the most iconic figures of our time period. He’s certainly one of my favorite artists. This is despite him dying when I was merely 12 years old with little to no appreciation of the Beatles or his solo work. I can still remember that night, though it’s ramifications would not hit me for years to come. Neither would the tears that his life and death are capable of extracting from the dessicated shell of cynicism and aloofness I can often wear. Like many, I heard the news from Howard Cosell during Monday Night Football. My friend Jeff, who did have the pleasure of coming of age in the years Lennon and the Beatles were still together sent me an e mail tonight recounting the same moment as he too watched that game (I seem to recall it being Miami vs New England but I’m not entirely sure). For him it led to a sleepless night tuned to the radio where everyone was paying tribute to John through his music. For me the news led to the rather incongruous and embarrasing thought causing me to wonder if Lennon was the cute one or the smart, or funny one.

I remember the imagery of the period though it didn’t effect me yet. The shots of the Dakota building where my mom would later be offered a job cleaning. The throngs gathered at Strawberry Fields in Central Park holding up candles as tears streamed down their faces. Turns out Jeff was one of them, there with his wife at the time after the wake that it seemed like the world participated in. Much of it did participate in a collective show of remorse and disbelief as if they could will him back or together turn reality into a nightmare they could rouse each from. It wasn’t just New York, but mostly I remember it feeling like New York lost one of its own.

And it did. Manhattan is the adopted home of many who come from all over the world to be part of its amazing energy and opportunity. It is the cultural melting pot where anyone can find acceptance. And if they are unique then they are in like Flynn. One of the reasons it is so special is because so many choose it, or are chosen by the city, and not merely placed there by accident of birth as most people are who are born somewhere and play out their entire lives within a hundred miles of that place. John was a man of the world who could have found home anywhere and chose not only a different country than the one he grew up in, but N.Y. City. We all have seen John in that photo where he’s wearing that N.Y. City shirt. It’s an image that has stood out and spawned t shirts of John wearing that T shirt. I myself own one though it’s a bit small to wear prominently. I think that connection between John and the city is one that speaks to many of us and is why that shirt exists and that image has become as iconic as he has.

John had chosen us, and we were proud.

And to some extent it is that choice that killed him, and that maybe makes us feel just a little bit guilty.

He had this kind of power for many reasons. it is not those reasons that need be discussed. It is the power that I want to acknowledge as a memorial to a legend.

Years later my growing familiarity with The Beatles and Lennon’s music, combined with a cultural awareness would make me feel some of the pain and loss so many felt a quarter of a century ago. Whenever I see images of it now as on one of those VH1 Behind The Music specials, I feel the sadness, I cry the tears, and I live the loss.

Some of what instills Lennon with such legend are the what-if questions. He was unquestionably influential and we can not help wonder where those influences might have taken us over the past 25 years. Though i have not been alone in wondering if he may have even had the power to change our political climate, it is most probably that particular kind of romanticizing and myth making that builds grand cathedrals in the inviolable past where it so easily resides with nothing to tear it down. Perhaps he would have faded from the limelight, becoming cynical (more so), and fed up with the modern music industry. Or were his talents and love of making music so deep that nothing would have stopped him from creating, and subsequently altering the musical landscape? How about a Beatles reunion? Could he have scared Rove as much as he scared Nixon? Would he have forced him to play the “We’re bigger than Jesus Christ card?”

Watching documentaries and anthologies of the Beatles, as well as living their progression and life story through the albums that bring so much history and drama to them, you can’t help feel like you’re going along on a ride that encompasses the zeitgeist of the times and the events that altered the world. It’s almost as if the Beatles and the individual lives lived by it’s members have a religious prominence. Think about a question you have in your life, a problem that needs some wisdom, and just look through the Beatles story and music for a lesson that seems to have the weight of scripture.

And the music managed to be cutting edge without tearing anyone down. All of their stuff, individually and as a group has a joy and perhaps a sadness, without being hateful or angry. Of course John could let the rage out a bit more in his solo work, but it was always tempered by overiding themes like giving peace a chance, the world living as one, and calls to gimmee some truth! John could get personal as when he attacked Paul in How Do You Sleep At Night, or god in the song by the same name, but it was part of his uncompromising standards of truth and activism. Wrong or right, Lennon was dedicated to telling like he saw it without varnishing his vision for record companies or a larger audience. He’d never have the following he enjoyed as a Beatle, but of course part of his charm was that he didn’t want it. His raging at the machine, and spitting in the face of fame, gave birth to the Kurt Kobain’s of the world. This may not be an entirely good thing, but it is real and something people like me relate to and identify with for better or worse.

I think one of the big things about Lennon is how he tried so hard to be a messenger of peace, love, truth, and idealism despite being an acknowledged asshole in many ways. Anyone familiar with him knows this is true. He was far from perfect. Could be a nasty fucker. But he tried hard to conquer the worst of himself and show the world that we can change, just as he did in many respects towards the end of his life.

I try to personalize my own relationship with truth more and more and live to a higher ideal as well despite knowing how all too human i am. It may mean nothing in the end and it will certainly change far less than lennon, but if I have succeeeded at all, and do ever succeed more, he wont be the only reason, but he will be part of the rich gestalt of greatness that has led the way and to whom i owe some thanks.

So on the 25th year after he was murdered for being famous, I cry for that fame and the society that has such a twisted and dysfunctional relationship with it. I cry for the randomness of a bullet, for the culture of his adopted land that embraces and destroys simultaneously, for a land where guns are gotten so easily and truth so rarely, I cry for the lost music, the political activist, the straight shooter so unafraid to say what he thought and spit on the status quo. I cry for my own inability to make a shred of difference in comparison, for millions of people who lost a kindred spirit and leader by default, for a movement that in some ways died with him, for lyrics and music that erases time and might survive to an untold future to connect us to a past and future that I can never be part of.

John Lennon is special because he and his music could have this effect and edgender this loyalty without flags or institutionalized dogma to touch the baser instincts that too often connect us and forge our bonds to others. Those who share a bond in the love of the music and life associated with John, share something that reaches for a higher part of us.

Imagine that.