Barry Bonds or Kenny Rogers?
So, who is the worse cheater?
On the one dirty hand, obviously, steroids are controlled by the law and cause longterm health damage. So they are worse for the game's image and worse for their influence on the kids. They cause medical and legal issues that far outreach anything pinetar does to you.
On the other dirty hand, at least steroids are a form of self-improvement. You still have to work out like crazy, and you are trying to better your internal skills. Doctoring the ball involves no skill. It is an external cheat, a quick fix.
Plus, if you take steroids, everyone can see you are cheating. You're practically boasting. The whole point of the pinetar graft is to pretend you are honest.
I don't buy that "everyone does it" line. Everyone takes steroids too. Friends in major college sports tell me everyone on the baseball team is dirty, either serially or for a onetime boost.
No one talks about 'greenies', amphetamines that improve gametime performance. These are the worst in my opinion - you are absolutely breaking the law, you are damaging your health, of course you are cheating, but no one can see it, and it is a quick fix.
But no one does a story on those things. Didn't anyone wonder, "Hey, why did Rick Ankiel have a complete meltdown and disappear from baseball?"
The real issue here is that steroids are new, new as in within the past 2 decades. Aging pitchers have been doctoring balls forever. That doesn't give it a pass in my book.
So I would say that it is probably worse for the game and it's image for Bonds-style cheating over Rogers-style cheating. But as far as sportsmanship goes, I'd feel less wronged by giving up a bomb to Bonds than whiffing on an oblong ball from Rogers.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Men's Underwear Options: The Definitive Study
The purpose: Most men wear boxers. Boxers are aesthetically the most comfortable option. No one sees anything untoward. But are they really the ideal?
Definition of Terms: To avoid offending youths who might need this guide, we will using a euphemism chosen at random for certain parts of the body: the Letter-to-the Editor and the Business Reply Mail.
FACTS: We have 4 real underwear options once we're potty trained. We started with the tighty-whitey. We graduated to boxers in Junior High and High School. Somewhere along the line, someone added the boxer-briefs to the mix. And then there's that enigmatic commando option. There is the exotic option, the banana hammock, which deserves little consideration because a) it looks ridiculous, b) it's horribly uncomfortable, and c) no one wants to look like a European guy at the beach...UNDER THEIR CLOTHES NO LESS!!!
This study proposes to look at our options and make the proper suggestions.
1. Tighty-whiteys. There are good reasons why we start with these - they absorb excess dripping, they provide support, guiding The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail through that reckless phase when we don't realize their importance and we like to run into things. And indeed they remain the best option for athletics throughout life, keeping the Letter-to-the-Editor and the business reply mail safely in the mailbags. But we all realized their limitations - they make it hot and sweaty in there, and eventually smelly. They're like diapers, they hold the Letter-to-the-Editor's hand through the roughdrafts.
2. Boxers. These made us feel like men - yes, I am wearing shorts underneath my pants. They clean up, the weather is tolerable. I'm flipping, I'm flopping. I've got a Letter-to-the-Editor and it deserves notice. So does the Business Reply Mail. Heck, boxers are even fit for more frequent reuse than the old T-W...they don't get dirty as fast. Sports are a concern, yes. But we're ok.
Then slowly, damningly, the disadvantages set in. First there's the riding up, the rising in. The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail voice some dismay. But then the laundry process sets in and you are slowly drawn in to an inevitable cycle of discomfort. The boxers folks realize that their item doesn't need replacing like a razor or even like a normal piece of clothing - who cares if the colors fade if you can't see them. Sure boxers aren't like jeans...no one's going for the 'pre-worn look' but a faded boxer never scared anyone off.
The boxers' makers really only have one item working in their favor - fast-food. The inevitability of a man's laziness, unwillingness to cook, and naturally slowing metabolism mean that the rear's growth is all but a foregone conclusion. We eat like we're at the training table long after they take high school football from us. The boxer must widen accordingly.
This may come as news to you. When I bought my first pair, I asked my dad about sizes. He said, "Just get your waste size." I had a strange look on my face - wasn't there 1-3 things that needed a little more consideration? So he laughed, "What did you think the sizes went by?" Laugh as he may, my concern was warranted. How can my Letter-to-the-Editor not get a little more consideration? You see, some of us are Asian, and some of us are Italian. And apparently, all the boxers' makers are Asian women. Because you would have to buy boxers whose elastic barely stretches around your waist to enough room for your Letter-to-the-Editor. Sure, it seems alright before you put your pants on. But once the pants go on, the mail gets sorted, and it needs to pick a direction. And in that choice, you're right back in tighty-whities.
To make matters worse, they make the elastic shrink. I swear they use sweater fabric on boxers because they shring WAY faster than normal clothes. The idea is simple - as the Letter-to-the-Editor gets choked off at the opening sentences and the Business Reply Mail piles up, we'll go out and buy more boxers. They've transplanted the idea behind the lightbulb business to our beloved postal business!
The Boxer-Brief - the boxer-brief is really supposed to be the beginning stages of phasing out the tighty-whitey. That's the idea. But I have grave concerns about this new contender. Yes it is more aesthetically pleasing and politically correct than the tighty-whitey. It still gives out hints about the contents of the Letter-to-the-Editor for the audience's sake. The idea seems to be - guys will be more comfortable walking around in these things in the lockerroom, and the ladies will get what they need. But it's one of those ideas like New Coke or the Hair Plugs that sounds great in theory but goes woefully awry in practice.
You see, as a man, you have a choice. You can go tight for support for your letter-to-the-editor, but then you're forcing yourself into a pair of underpants that are DESIGN TO RISE UP. Or you can go loose, and you're basically getting a pair of boxers with an ungodly vendetta against your business reply mail.
Commando - At first glance, it sounds crazy. No underwear? What substances are you inflicting on your poor pants! What if someone pantses you or, heaven forbid, an unfortunate XYZ situation lets everyone read both your letter-to-the-editor and your business reply mail when they are in no condition for public consumption. Indeed, commando is a wholly unsuitable option through any age in which a pantsing is a possibility. There's the occasional situation in which you will be taking off your pants...say a physical...when you'll obviously want something to keep matters under control.
But reexamine the possibilities - you get all the room you could need, there's no rising up, no riding in. Kramer may have grossed you out, but was he a genius? Your humble correspondent can say that, in the interests of this study, he tried it, and his letter-to-the-editor and his business reply mail couldn't be happier. However, don't go jogging in this condition...ever. Women are only human and you can cause a traffic accident.
Until the boxers makers employ some men, and I mean straight men, not gay men forcing us towards bizarre dreams of a legion of banana-hammock wearers, I must reccomend a multifold strategy based primarily on the Commando and the tighty-whitey or boxer brief. The commando for work and relaxing, the briefs for sports. Then you can keep a few pairs of boxers on hand for when you go to the doctor.
The purpose: Most men wear boxers. Boxers are aesthetically the most comfortable option. No one sees anything untoward. But are they really the ideal?
Definition of Terms: To avoid offending youths who might need this guide, we will using a euphemism chosen at random for certain parts of the body: the Letter-to-the Editor and the Business Reply Mail.
FACTS: We have 4 real underwear options once we're potty trained. We started with the tighty-whitey. We graduated to boxers in Junior High and High School. Somewhere along the line, someone added the boxer-briefs to the mix. And then there's that enigmatic commando option. There is the exotic option, the banana hammock, which deserves little consideration because a) it looks ridiculous, b) it's horribly uncomfortable, and c) no one wants to look like a European guy at the beach...UNDER THEIR CLOTHES NO LESS!!!
This study proposes to look at our options and make the proper suggestions.
1. Tighty-whiteys. There are good reasons why we start with these - they absorb excess dripping, they provide support, guiding The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail through that reckless phase when we don't realize their importance and we like to run into things. And indeed they remain the best option for athletics throughout life, keeping the Letter-to-the-Editor and the business reply mail safely in the mailbags. But we all realized their limitations - they make it hot and sweaty in there, and eventually smelly. They're like diapers, they hold the Letter-to-the-Editor's hand through the roughdrafts.
2. Boxers. These made us feel like men - yes, I am wearing shorts underneath my pants. They clean up, the weather is tolerable. I'm flipping, I'm flopping. I've got a Letter-to-the-Editor and it deserves notice. So does the Business Reply Mail. Heck, boxers are even fit for more frequent reuse than the old T-W...they don't get dirty as fast. Sports are a concern, yes. But we're ok.
Then slowly, damningly, the disadvantages set in. First there's the riding up, the rising in. The Letter-to-the-Editor and the Business Reply Mail voice some dismay. But then the laundry process sets in and you are slowly drawn in to an inevitable cycle of discomfort. The boxers folks realize that their item doesn't need replacing like a razor or even like a normal piece of clothing - who cares if the colors fade if you can't see them. Sure boxers aren't like jeans...no one's going for the 'pre-worn look' but a faded boxer never scared anyone off.
The boxers' makers really only have one item working in their favor - fast-food. The inevitability of a man's laziness, unwillingness to cook, and naturally slowing metabolism mean that the rear's growth is all but a foregone conclusion. We eat like we're at the training table long after they take high school football from us. The boxer must widen accordingly.
This may come as news to you. When I bought my first pair, I asked my dad about sizes. He said, "Just get your waste size." I had a strange look on my face - wasn't there 1-3 things that needed a little more consideration? So he laughed, "What did you think the sizes went by?" Laugh as he may, my concern was warranted. How can my Letter-to-the-Editor not get a little more consideration? You see, some of us are Asian, and some of us are Italian. And apparently, all the boxers' makers are Asian women. Because you would have to buy boxers whose elastic barely stretches around your waist to enough room for your Letter-to-the-Editor. Sure, it seems alright before you put your pants on. But once the pants go on, the mail gets sorted, and it needs to pick a direction. And in that choice, you're right back in tighty-whities.
To make matters worse, they make the elastic shrink. I swear they use sweater fabric on boxers because they shring WAY faster than normal clothes. The idea is simple - as the Letter-to-the-Editor gets choked off at the opening sentences and the Business Reply Mail piles up, we'll go out and buy more boxers. They've transplanted the idea behind the lightbulb business to our beloved postal business!
The Boxer-Brief - the boxer-brief is really supposed to be the beginning stages of phasing out the tighty-whitey. That's the idea. But I have grave concerns about this new contender. Yes it is more aesthetically pleasing and politically correct than the tighty-whitey. It still gives out hints about the contents of the Letter-to-the-Editor for the audience's sake. The idea seems to be - guys will be more comfortable walking around in these things in the lockerroom, and the ladies will get what they need. But it's one of those ideas like New Coke or the Hair Plugs that sounds great in theory but goes woefully awry in practice.
You see, as a man, you have a choice. You can go tight for support for your letter-to-the-editor, but then you're forcing yourself into a pair of underpants that are DESIGN TO RISE UP. Or you can go loose, and you're basically getting a pair of boxers with an ungodly vendetta against your business reply mail.
Commando - At first glance, it sounds crazy. No underwear? What substances are you inflicting on your poor pants! What if someone pantses you or, heaven forbid, an unfortunate XYZ situation lets everyone read both your letter-to-the-editor and your business reply mail when they are in no condition for public consumption. Indeed, commando is a wholly unsuitable option through any age in which a pantsing is a possibility. There's the occasional situation in which you will be taking off your pants...say a physical...when you'll obviously want something to keep matters under control.
But reexamine the possibilities - you get all the room you could need, there's no rising up, no riding in. Kramer may have grossed you out, but was he a genius? Your humble correspondent can say that, in the interests of this study, he tried it, and his letter-to-the-editor and his business reply mail couldn't be happier. However, don't go jogging in this condition...ever. Women are only human and you can cause a traffic accident.
Until the boxers makers employ some men, and I mean straight men, not gay men forcing us towards bizarre dreams of a legion of banana-hammock wearers, I must reccomend a multifold strategy based primarily on the Commando and the tighty-whitey or boxer brief. The commando for work and relaxing, the briefs for sports. Then you can keep a few pairs of boxers on hand for when you go to the doctor.
Friday, September 01, 2006
The Reggie Bush Curse Begins
First off, perhaps it's better to call this the Football Jesus curse or in honor of the Big Easy, The Voodoo Football Jesus Curse.
The elements should be familiar to Red Sox and Sonics fans - drafting an overhyped oaf over Michael Jordan or passing Babe Ruth over to your rival.
It's clear now that a lone Katrina survivor who was relocated to Texas has hexed the Houston Texans for unspecified reasons. Perhaps sheer spite for Texas not catching much hurricane flack while New Orleans suffered.
The result: Reggie Bush goes to New Orleans. Next thing you know, steady running back starter for Houston Dominic Davis has knee bones grinding together. Out for a while? The year? Forever? I've only heard that description used for Terrell Davis and Curtis martin, both done for good. Watch out Houston RB's, your future is in jeopardy.
First off, perhaps it's better to call this the Football Jesus curse or in honor of the Big Easy, The Voodoo Football Jesus Curse.
The elements should be familiar to Red Sox and Sonics fans - drafting an overhyped oaf over Michael Jordan or passing Babe Ruth over to your rival.
It's clear now that a lone Katrina survivor who was relocated to Texas has hexed the Houston Texans for unspecified reasons. Perhaps sheer spite for Texas not catching much hurricane flack while New Orleans suffered.
The result: Reggie Bush goes to New Orleans. Next thing you know, steady running back starter for Houston Dominic Davis has knee bones grinding together. Out for a while? The year? Forever? I've only heard that description used for Terrell Davis and Curtis martin, both done for good. Watch out Houston RB's, your future is in jeopardy.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Ranking the Coen Bros. Films
Given that they're the most talented filmmakers of their generation, and they seem to be on sabbatical, it's time to rank their films. The Coens have 3 distinct traits, not always employed and not always employed well when employed: intelligence, humor, and style. Keep those in mind. Starting with the worst:
11. Barton Fink - A movie about writer's block. Predictably boring. This film is sorely lacking in humor and is only mildly stylized. That leaves us with an intelligent film, but an intelligent film about writer's block and a bitterness towards Hollywood that is generally lacking in the Coens usually boisterous, light ribbings.
10. The Ladykillers - A film with too disparate a hodgepodge to pull together. Certainly the characters are good but the film lacks consistency and seems to bounce around aimlessly. A disappointing effort apparently done for the sake of Hanks' interest and a need to make money.
9. O Brother Where Art Thou - Because the film is good and soundtrack changed music, if ever so briefly, it may be a surprise to find this film so low. That said, kitchy journey stories like the Odyssey are a cop out. The film has strong moments, is beautifully shot, and features strong performances. But it wears thin.
8. Blood Simple - The Coen's first film is lacking in style and humor, but is brutal and smart. Very effecting but only a glimpse of potential.
7. Intolerable Cruelty - Extremely uneven. At its best moments, it is fantastic. Unfortunately, it is clear that the Coens took the project on and made it good rather than creating it from the ground up. There are mismatched elements and a bum stretch towards the end, plus a surprisingly humorless turn from Cedric the Entertainer, makes it lose steam. Still a very underrated film featuring moments of astounding comedic brilliance and real heart.
6. Raising Arizona - The first true Coen film, in parts bizarre, funny, and smart. Cage is good, Tex is better, and all around it is a genuinely likeable film. An appropriate midpoint to hold hands with the #5 film, which is very similar, only better in every sense.
TIMEOUT: I would just like to mention To the White Sea. To the White Sea was an essentially dialogueless adaptation of a very brutal novel by the writer of Deliverance about an American airman trapped behind enemy lines. To be done in black-and-white, and hopefully with a better ending than the novel, it was an artpiece to surpass all there other art pieces. They got the interest of the generation's most underrated actor, skill-wise, Brad Pitt. This was going to be their best art film...but they couldn't budget it. If only we had phlianthropists who made films for the hell of it.
5. The Big Lebowski - The best of the basically plotless comedies, a worthy cult classic. Nothing need be said here except that I think moview with real narrative features to be inherently superior.
4. The Man Who Wasn't There - The best of their art films, a dark, very intelligent, very powerful film, superbly scored (as always), brilliantly written, directed, and acted. There are, again, flights of fancy a bit too silly...it would have been better to play this one a little straighter. But a very impressive effort, a travesty to have received no Oscar attention. Whose shoes did these guys spit on that no one wants to nominate them? Perhaps it's because they're too smart for Hollywood and don't make dull overtly-political tripe.
3. Fargo - A controversial choice. Many Coen fans find the more mainstream dramas of the mid-90's to be a travesty against true Coendome. Others would say that Fargo is without question their best effort. The truth is that Fargo is a good film but not a deep one. It lacks the artistic flares, the repeated symbolism that would push it to the top of the list. But it is a great movie.
2. The Hudsucker Proxy - A delightful film, funny, consistently themed, a rare topic, well-acted and tight as a drum. Only second to:
1. Miller's Crossing - The only time the Coens blended everything perfectly and added a touch of Godfather to the mix. Funny, quirky, and intelligent, the film is missing the missteps and goofiness and inconsistency that takes away from many of the other films. It adds a literary stroke of intelligence and a slow, well-measured descent from light comedy to an extremely mature conclusion.
Given that they're the most talented filmmakers of their generation, and they seem to be on sabbatical, it's time to rank their films. The Coens have 3 distinct traits, not always employed and not always employed well when employed: intelligence, humor, and style. Keep those in mind. Starting with the worst:
11. Barton Fink - A movie about writer's block. Predictably boring. This film is sorely lacking in humor and is only mildly stylized. That leaves us with an intelligent film, but an intelligent film about writer's block and a bitterness towards Hollywood that is generally lacking in the Coens usually boisterous, light ribbings.
10. The Ladykillers - A film with too disparate a hodgepodge to pull together. Certainly the characters are good but the film lacks consistency and seems to bounce around aimlessly. A disappointing effort apparently done for the sake of Hanks' interest and a need to make money.
9. O Brother Where Art Thou - Because the film is good and soundtrack changed music, if ever so briefly, it may be a surprise to find this film so low. That said, kitchy journey stories like the Odyssey are a cop out. The film has strong moments, is beautifully shot, and features strong performances. But it wears thin.
8. Blood Simple - The Coen's first film is lacking in style and humor, but is brutal and smart. Very effecting but only a glimpse of potential.
7. Intolerable Cruelty - Extremely uneven. At its best moments, it is fantastic. Unfortunately, it is clear that the Coens took the project on and made it good rather than creating it from the ground up. There are mismatched elements and a bum stretch towards the end, plus a surprisingly humorless turn from Cedric the Entertainer, makes it lose steam. Still a very underrated film featuring moments of astounding comedic brilliance and real heart.
6. Raising Arizona - The first true Coen film, in parts bizarre, funny, and smart. Cage is good, Tex is better, and all around it is a genuinely likeable film. An appropriate midpoint to hold hands with the #5 film, which is very similar, only better in every sense.
TIMEOUT: I would just like to mention To the White Sea. To the White Sea was an essentially dialogueless adaptation of a very brutal novel by the writer of Deliverance about an American airman trapped behind enemy lines. To be done in black-and-white, and hopefully with a better ending than the novel, it was an artpiece to surpass all there other art pieces. They got the interest of the generation's most underrated actor, skill-wise, Brad Pitt. This was going to be their best art film...but they couldn't budget it. If only we had phlianthropists who made films for the hell of it.
5. The Big Lebowski - The best of the basically plotless comedies, a worthy cult classic. Nothing need be said here except that I think moview with real narrative features to be inherently superior.
4. The Man Who Wasn't There - The best of their art films, a dark, very intelligent, very powerful film, superbly scored (as always), brilliantly written, directed, and acted. There are, again, flights of fancy a bit too silly...it would have been better to play this one a little straighter. But a very impressive effort, a travesty to have received no Oscar attention. Whose shoes did these guys spit on that no one wants to nominate them? Perhaps it's because they're too smart for Hollywood and don't make dull overtly-political tripe.
3. Fargo - A controversial choice. Many Coen fans find the more mainstream dramas of the mid-90's to be a travesty against true Coendome. Others would say that Fargo is without question their best effort. The truth is that Fargo is a good film but not a deep one. It lacks the artistic flares, the repeated symbolism that would push it to the top of the list. But it is a great movie.
2. The Hudsucker Proxy - A delightful film, funny, consistently themed, a rare topic, well-acted and tight as a drum. Only second to:
1. Miller's Crossing - The only time the Coens blended everything perfectly and added a touch of Godfather to the mix. Funny, quirky, and intelligent, the film is missing the missteps and goofiness and inconsistency that takes away from many of the other films. It adds a literary stroke of intelligence and a slow, well-measured descent from light comedy to an extremely mature conclusion.
Monday, August 21, 2006
ESPN embarrasses itself.
With baseball playoff races still only percolating and football a few weeks off, ESPN has hit one of its low points in desparately trying to stir up controversy.
Points A and B: Reggie Bush and Terrell Owens.s
First TO:
TO and Bill Parcells are favorites because they feed ESPN stories to soak up time. So you put both of them together on America's team and ESPN starts shivering in ecstasy. So TO tweaked a hammy, now ESPN has to ride this story "TO not working hard, already causing controversy", "Parcells disgruntled" despite the fact that there's no story. He tweaked a hammy. Plenty of guys take it easy in preseason with a bum hamstring. There is no controversy, except now ESPN has forced TO back on the practice field, whether he's ready or not.
WORSE: Bush
Bush is really good. So ESPN wants to hype him. First, he missed a day of training camp unsigned and ESPN was reporting he would sit out the season. He practiced the next day. Then ESPN covered his Monday night performance. They knew it was something very..., they just didn't know what. They couldn't get their story straight. The Sportscenter crew was creaming itself like every cut he made was the next coming of Barry Sanders' highlight reel. Then they cut to the sideline reporter's post game interview, and she was blitzing Bush with questions about getting "completely stuffed".
Stop. Stop. Stop. Cover the event, stop embarrassing yourselves. It's too lame to even demand creativity.
With baseball playoff races still only percolating and football a few weeks off, ESPN has hit one of its low points in desparately trying to stir up controversy.
Points A and B: Reggie Bush and Terrell Owens.s
First TO:
TO and Bill Parcells are favorites because they feed ESPN stories to soak up time. So you put both of them together on America's team and ESPN starts shivering in ecstasy. So TO tweaked a hammy, now ESPN has to ride this story "TO not working hard, already causing controversy", "Parcells disgruntled" despite the fact that there's no story. He tweaked a hammy. Plenty of guys take it easy in preseason with a bum hamstring. There is no controversy, except now ESPN has forced TO back on the practice field, whether he's ready or not.
WORSE: Bush
Bush is really good. So ESPN wants to hype him. First, he missed a day of training camp unsigned and ESPN was reporting he would sit out the season. He practiced the next day. Then ESPN covered his Monday night performance. They knew it was something very..., they just didn't know what. They couldn't get their story straight. The Sportscenter crew was creaming itself like every cut he made was the next coming of Barry Sanders' highlight reel. Then they cut to the sideline reporter's post game interview, and she was blitzing Bush with questions about getting "completely stuffed".
Stop. Stop. Stop. Cover the event, stop embarrassing yourselves. It's too lame to even demand creativity.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Traffic Flow Dynamics for Dummies
(That means you idiot!)
My brother has a theory on driving and politics - we're all sympathetic to Democrats when we use public transportation - we all suffer together, we're all in it together. Then we get in our cars and realize, "I'm living in a nation of assholes."
It's bad enough that the traffic lights aren't synchronized...we all have to deal with drunkards, senile people, immigrants who come from countries with different theories than the "shortest route is between two points" standard, ladies afraid of the highway, and people who are lost and think the way is found by going as slow as possible.
So here are a few tips for sane, thinking people to consider when driving down the street to keep the traffic flowing and the roadrage safely controlled by CDs or talk radio.
1. The fast lane is for going faster than the speed limit.
2. Get out of the traffic and into the exit/turn lane...THEN SLOW DOWN.
3. Never go the same speed as the lane next to you
4. Merge at freeway speed
5. Do not use the brake on the freeway unless there is a traffic jam...taking your foot off the accelerator will slow you down sufficiently
6. It is possible to drive while it is raining.
7. Your blinker signals your intentions.
8. If you are pulling up to a red light and do not plan to turn right, please vacate the right lane so that those who do intend to do so can use it.
9. Cell phones, sandwiches and the radio are to be fiddled with only for those capable of driving their car normally while using them. Don't turn into a senile Asian woman just because you're talking to your girlfriend.
10. For heaven sakes do not NOT NOT drive slower than the speed limit up to a green light and then speed through it when it turns yellow with other cars left at the red behind you. THIS IS WORSE KARMA THAN CLUBBING BABY SEALS.
(That means you idiot!)
My brother has a theory on driving and politics - we're all sympathetic to Democrats when we use public transportation - we all suffer together, we're all in it together. Then we get in our cars and realize, "I'm living in a nation of assholes."
It's bad enough that the traffic lights aren't synchronized...we all have to deal with drunkards, senile people, immigrants who come from countries with different theories than the "shortest route is between two points" standard, ladies afraid of the highway, and people who are lost and think the way is found by going as slow as possible.
So here are a few tips for sane, thinking people to consider when driving down the street to keep the traffic flowing and the roadrage safely controlled by CDs or talk radio.
1. The fast lane is for going faster than the speed limit.
2. Get out of the traffic and into the exit/turn lane...THEN SLOW DOWN.
3. Never go the same speed as the lane next to you
4. Merge at freeway speed
5. Do not use the brake on the freeway unless there is a traffic jam...taking your foot off the accelerator will slow you down sufficiently
6. It is possible to drive while it is raining.
7. Your blinker signals your intentions.
8. If you are pulling up to a red light and do not plan to turn right, please vacate the right lane so that those who do intend to do so can use it.
9. Cell phones, sandwiches and the radio are to be fiddled with only for those capable of driving their car normally while using them. Don't turn into a senile Asian woman just because you're talking to your girlfriend.
10. For heaven sakes do not NOT NOT drive slower than the speed limit up to a green light and then speed through it when it turns yellow with other cars left at the red behind you. THIS IS WORSE KARMA THAN CLUBBING BABY SEALS.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
An Inconvenient Truth: I paid money for a 2-hour campaign commercial.
I went to Al Gore's movie having been told it was very good. Parts of it are and bring up consequences I had not before contemplated. But the movie is a slideshow, and we know how much we loved those in college.
More importantly. this movie has 2 glaring flaws: Al Gore and Al Gore.
Glaring Flaw #1 Al Gore plays Michael Moore.
As we all know, Michael Moore introduced the "documentary" political campaign commercial as a self-marketing ploy to actually get money from people for telling them how to think rather than spending to have them ignore you when you tell them how to think. Al Gore has a long history of lacking creativity, or claiming he had a creative idea after someone else invented it(internet, the movie Love Story, he even admits in his movie that his passion for this issue is based upon his 'soaking in like a sponge' the message of his professors.)
And so, for his hagiography, err...documentary, Al Gore mimick's Moore's canon. We have the oh-so clever cartoon, the photo montages, the quotes from great men, the angry documentor confronting wrongdoers. But most of all, just like in Moore's film, the subject is not the subject, it is only a vehicle for the ego of the filmmaker. At least Moore is a goofy, hokey presence on camera; even though it is a sham, it is a good one and we are all posers at this point anyhow.
But Gore, Gore never knew he was in the first place. He is his ambition and his sense of superiority. There is nothing else. Al Gore is not a man, like John McCain, or even a character, like Bill Clinton. He is a hollow man. He is a Richard Nixon. The words "Al Gore" mean nothing unless there is something, something like "Vice President" or "Congressman" or "Filmmaker" beside it. Because there is no Al Gore. What little there is of Al Gore is what he believes about the environment. But even that must carry the train to what Al Gore cares about most - Al Gore. If only there were something to care about.
Which is Glaring Flaw #2: Al Gore plays Al Gore.
This movie is not a documentary. It is a CV for president and just as doctored as your average average Harvard student's application. It diverges wildly from it's environmental message to allow the quintessential Empty Suit to take another stab at reframing his life to make him likeable and respectable. I could not believe what I was seeing for the first 15 minutes of the film - it was nothing but Al Gore. When they ran out of angles to shoot Gore from, they actually put the back of his head on screen for several seconds with no voiceover...TWICE!!!
This version of Al Gore is apparently funny. Or at least a canned audience of concerned Ivy League backbenchers is willing to laugh at the punchlines. There'll be at least one toady at your local theater obsessed enough with his/her politics to go along. We find time for Gore to show his 2000 Presidential run and the fallout from the contested election. If you were one of the few women out there who was turned on by Gore's condescending-ex-husband-like showings at the Gore-Bush debates, consider this an orgy of pedantry.
But more importantly, Gore and the director make an effort more labored than Shatner's rendition of Rocket Man (http://www.youtube.com/watch?search=Shatner&v=aVlf04AwHCI) to tie in a new, earthier version of the Life Al-a-Gore. In the first family segment, Gore's poor, noble, farmer father raises him on a rural road where they farm cattle. Gore mysteriously goes on to the Ivy League and jumps right into politics where he tirelessly lectures bought off scientists on their duties, only later to be cheated out of the presidency.
We are, of course, reminded once that Gore lived most of his childhood in a DC Hotel. If you were unfamiliar, Gore's father was a Senator, and not just any Senator, but the Vanderbilt family's personal senator. Don't be surprised if Gloria Vanderbilt's child, CNN nepotism-hack Anderson Cooper has a lovejones for Gore come 2008. Cooper's book was just as wastefully self-centered as Gore's film.
We also have a laughable rendition of Gore's connection to big tobacco. You see, Al Gore's sister died of lung cancer. You remember that humble cattle farm the Gore's kept...well, I guess they also grew a bit of tobacco. But when Gore's sister died, the Senator from Vanderbilt, according to Al, stopped growing tobacco. It just wasn't right to make money off of their sister's death.
Except Gore was widely bashed in the late 90's, before the hush campaign to get him past Bush, for his continued connections to, and profits off of, big tobacco.
The bigger question is - what in the name of Sam the American Eagle is any of this doing in a documentary on Global Warming? A few oblique literary turns of phrase are somehow supposed to bridge the gap and justify to the viewer that he spent 8 bucks to watch a long commercial?
An inconvenient truth: Al Gore is running for something - even if he's given up on the presidency, and that's not at all clear, he's still running for Al Gore (Fill-in-the-blanks-here).
I went to Al Gore's movie having been told it was very good. Parts of it are and bring up consequences I had not before contemplated. But the movie is a slideshow, and we know how much we loved those in college.
More importantly. this movie has 2 glaring flaws: Al Gore and Al Gore.
Glaring Flaw #1 Al Gore plays Michael Moore.
As we all know, Michael Moore introduced the "documentary" political campaign commercial as a self-marketing ploy to actually get money from people for telling them how to think rather than spending to have them ignore you when you tell them how to think. Al Gore has a long history of lacking creativity, or claiming he had a creative idea after someone else invented it(internet, the movie Love Story, he even admits in his movie that his passion for this issue is based upon his 'soaking in like a sponge' the message of his professors.)
And so, for his hagiography, err...documentary, Al Gore mimick's Moore's canon. We have the oh-so clever cartoon, the photo montages, the quotes from great men, the angry documentor confronting wrongdoers. But most of all, just like in Moore's film, the subject is not the subject, it is only a vehicle for the ego of the filmmaker. At least Moore is a goofy, hokey presence on camera; even though it is a sham, it is a good one and we are all posers at this point anyhow.
But Gore, Gore never knew he was in the first place. He is his ambition and his sense of superiority. There is nothing else. Al Gore is not a man, like John McCain, or even a character, like Bill Clinton. He is a hollow man. He is a Richard Nixon. The words "Al Gore" mean nothing unless there is something, something like "Vice President" or "Congressman" or "Filmmaker" beside it. Because there is no Al Gore. What little there is of Al Gore is what he believes about the environment. But even that must carry the train to what Al Gore cares about most - Al Gore. If only there were something to care about.
Which is Glaring Flaw #2: Al Gore plays Al Gore.
This movie is not a documentary. It is a CV for president and just as doctored as your average average Harvard student's application. It diverges wildly from it's environmental message to allow the quintessential Empty Suit to take another stab at reframing his life to make him likeable and respectable. I could not believe what I was seeing for the first 15 minutes of the film - it was nothing but Al Gore. When they ran out of angles to shoot Gore from, they actually put the back of his head on screen for several seconds with no voiceover...TWICE!!!
This version of Al Gore is apparently funny. Or at least a canned audience of concerned Ivy League backbenchers is willing to laugh at the punchlines. There'll be at least one toady at your local theater obsessed enough with his/her politics to go along. We find time for Gore to show his 2000 Presidential run and the fallout from the contested election. If you were one of the few women out there who was turned on by Gore's condescending-ex-husband-like showings at the Gore-Bush debates, consider this an orgy of pedantry.
But more importantly, Gore and the director make an effort more labored than Shatner's rendition of Rocket Man (http://www.youtube.com/watch?search=Shatner&v=aVlf04AwHCI) to tie in a new, earthier version of the Life Al-a-Gore. In the first family segment, Gore's poor, noble, farmer father raises him on a rural road where they farm cattle. Gore mysteriously goes on to the Ivy League and jumps right into politics where he tirelessly lectures bought off scientists on their duties, only later to be cheated out of the presidency.
We are, of course, reminded once that Gore lived most of his childhood in a DC Hotel. If you were unfamiliar, Gore's father was a Senator, and not just any Senator, but the Vanderbilt family's personal senator. Don't be surprised if Gloria Vanderbilt's child, CNN nepotism-hack Anderson Cooper has a lovejones for Gore come 2008. Cooper's book was just as wastefully self-centered as Gore's film.
We also have a laughable rendition of Gore's connection to big tobacco. You see, Al Gore's sister died of lung cancer. You remember that humble cattle farm the Gore's kept...well, I guess they also grew a bit of tobacco. But when Gore's sister died, the Senator from Vanderbilt, according to Al, stopped growing tobacco. It just wasn't right to make money off of their sister's death.
Except Gore was widely bashed in the late 90's, before the hush campaign to get him past Bush, for his continued connections to, and profits off of, big tobacco.
The bigger question is - what in the name of Sam the American Eagle is any of this doing in a documentary on Global Warming? A few oblique literary turns of phrase are somehow supposed to bridge the gap and justify to the viewer that he spent 8 bucks to watch a long commercial?
An inconvenient truth: Al Gore is running for something - even if he's given up on the presidency, and that's not at all clear, he's still running for Al Gore (Fill-in-the-blanks-here).
Monday, July 17, 2006
Closer: Why Your Favorite Movie is Lame
While reading Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man", late in the novel, Joyce reviews his own book, claiming true art is best when it arises no passion in it's reader and can be appreciated only for its artistry. This revelation bites heavily into the reader's enjoyment of the book - if you were ever moved by a part of the book, then you had read it wrong.
As a lesser writer, Closer's author, was forced into self-deprication to indulge his vanity and review his own work on screen, having his trampled flower bemoan how all art is supposed to be sad to be beautiful but the people are still sad, so it is not beautiful. And in one scene, everything that is right and wrong with Closer is on display - the set up is strong, the picture of herself crying taken by the woman who has caused these tears, shared with this woman's lover. But the delivery is wordy and trite, forced to hear the scene's punch through the author's whiny reflections rather than to see it and know it. In this, the author reveals his arrogance - that his words are better than the scene (they aren't) and that his audience is much dumber than he is (we aren't).
First the basics - the film is in fact quite obviously a play since it is driven by dialogue rather than action. It was clearly penned by a long-struggling author with a bit of flare and wit, but one completely self-absorbed.
The cast almost entirely reads of the artist's artist's conceits - the struggling author, the trampled woman of the night, the falsely sophisticated art docent. It is only Clive Owen's porn-obsessed doctor who breaks new ground, but in this case the character feels false and only squeaks by thanks to a strong performance by Owen. All of the characters are too witty for their own good, written to indulge the author's strongest skill rather than to fit the character itself. Though Owen is very good, his character isn't working class enough...every character becomes a psychiatrist as they wander their way through the reams of dialogue.
Julia Roberts seems to have either not been up for such wordiness, or to have successfully convinced the director to leave out her dialogue. Her role is effectively understated in comparison to the rest. Her effectiveness in the role is still bothersome - the queen of Hollywood is far too comfortable in the role of the film's weakest character, a tawdry and weak woman masquerading as a sophisticate. The power women of Hollywood past could never have played the role, for they chew up the screen and the characters around them. Roberts' skill actually diminishes her star.
The same goes for Jude Law, who once again looks the part of a dashing movie star, but plays the role of a weak and flighty cad. Since this is the role Law always plays, with the exception of woefully chosen turns in Spielberg movies, we can assume that Law will never be a true picture star, merely something for the girls to look at.
Finally there is Natalie Portman, cast against type because she's trying to reprove herself and wash the Star Wars out of her hair. Unfortunately, she hasn't been around long enough to prove herself a first time and we're left with a rather shallow performance that could have done with less dialogue and false wit.
The film occaisonally makes attempts at turning the setting into art, but never quite gets it right. There is almost no cinematographic artistry to bring the movie home as something beautiful, most probably because the director was too in love with the psychosexual dialogue to spend much time making a picture. This is an egregious error in a love-story/drama/independent work, but a love story especially, because our notions of love or so intimately tied with beauty.
The above referenced scene, with Portman looking at her own photo, is a clear example - are we left with a timeless image of the moment, something like Anita Ekberg's moment in the fountains from La Dolce Vita? No, what we remember is her flat delivery of an airless line about the nature of art. Other scenes are lifted from the film's intellectual forebears, most notably Law and Portman's final split being an almost exact replica of the superior Les Mepris (Contempt).
And finally, the movie is only as big as its characters and its drama. Unfortunately, these are all characters who we are assumed to have a too easy sympathy for. Since we never fall in love with them, and move so quickly into the betrayals, we do not care for them or about them. They are all, in their own way, weak and tawdry human beings for whom we develop no awe to displace this lack of sympathy. All that's left is what intellectual sustenance we may find, and though there is some, there is not enough to make the film great.
While reading Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man", late in the novel, Joyce reviews his own book, claiming true art is best when it arises no passion in it's reader and can be appreciated only for its artistry. This revelation bites heavily into the reader's enjoyment of the book - if you were ever moved by a part of the book, then you had read it wrong.
As a lesser writer, Closer's author, was forced into self-deprication to indulge his vanity and review his own work on screen, having his trampled flower bemoan how all art is supposed to be sad to be beautiful but the people are still sad, so it is not beautiful. And in one scene, everything that is right and wrong with Closer is on display - the set up is strong, the picture of herself crying taken by the woman who has caused these tears, shared with this woman's lover. But the delivery is wordy and trite, forced to hear the scene's punch through the author's whiny reflections rather than to see it and know it. In this, the author reveals his arrogance - that his words are better than the scene (they aren't) and that his audience is much dumber than he is (we aren't).
First the basics - the film is in fact quite obviously a play since it is driven by dialogue rather than action. It was clearly penned by a long-struggling author with a bit of flare and wit, but one completely self-absorbed.
The cast almost entirely reads of the artist's artist's conceits - the struggling author, the trampled woman of the night, the falsely sophisticated art docent. It is only Clive Owen's porn-obsessed doctor who breaks new ground, but in this case the character feels false and only squeaks by thanks to a strong performance by Owen. All of the characters are too witty for their own good, written to indulge the author's strongest skill rather than to fit the character itself. Though Owen is very good, his character isn't working class enough...every character becomes a psychiatrist as they wander their way through the reams of dialogue.
Julia Roberts seems to have either not been up for such wordiness, or to have successfully convinced the director to leave out her dialogue. Her role is effectively understated in comparison to the rest. Her effectiveness in the role is still bothersome - the queen of Hollywood is far too comfortable in the role of the film's weakest character, a tawdry and weak woman masquerading as a sophisticate. The power women of Hollywood past could never have played the role, for they chew up the screen and the characters around them. Roberts' skill actually diminishes her star.
The same goes for Jude Law, who once again looks the part of a dashing movie star, but plays the role of a weak and flighty cad. Since this is the role Law always plays, with the exception of woefully chosen turns in Spielberg movies, we can assume that Law will never be a true picture star, merely something for the girls to look at.
Finally there is Natalie Portman, cast against type because she's trying to reprove herself and wash the Star Wars out of her hair. Unfortunately, she hasn't been around long enough to prove herself a first time and we're left with a rather shallow performance that could have done with less dialogue and false wit.
The film occaisonally makes attempts at turning the setting into art, but never quite gets it right. There is almost no cinematographic artistry to bring the movie home as something beautiful, most probably because the director was too in love with the psychosexual dialogue to spend much time making a picture. This is an egregious error in a love-story/drama/independent work, but a love story especially, because our notions of love or so intimately tied with beauty.
The above referenced scene, with Portman looking at her own photo, is a clear example - are we left with a timeless image of the moment, something like Anita Ekberg's moment in the fountains from La Dolce Vita? No, what we remember is her flat delivery of an airless line about the nature of art. Other scenes are lifted from the film's intellectual forebears, most notably Law and Portman's final split being an almost exact replica of the superior Les Mepris (Contempt).
And finally, the movie is only as big as its characters and its drama. Unfortunately, these are all characters who we are assumed to have a too easy sympathy for. Since we never fall in love with them, and move so quickly into the betrayals, we do not care for them or about them. They are all, in their own way, weak and tawdry human beings for whom we develop no awe to displace this lack of sympathy. All that's left is what intellectual sustenance we may find, and though there is some, there is not enough to make the film great.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
BOY VANDERBILT HITS BACK:
"I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THE PAYOLLA, THEREFORE, NOTHING WRONG WAS DONE."
Anderson Cooper, the boy anchor promoted over similarly bland media mediocrities for his shiny silver hair, alternative lifestyle, and fabulously wealthy mother, has lashed out at critics (that is, people working for his own organization) of CNN/Time's payolla scheme to buy the exclusive Angelina interview.
In a nutshell, Time paid 4 million to Jolie's charity. Suddenly, they landed an exclusive from her and her agent called the Dandy Vandy for an exclusive interview. Disgusted CNN/Time employees leaked the news and suddenly we can all delight in a wonderfully juicy bout of hypocrisy.
Media-types like Anderson make a living off of leaks. But now leaks are very bad things. So bad that Anderson curses them with the dastardly "Killer Quotations". You see, the insiders who gave Drudge his scoop weren't really insiders. They were "insiders". I guess the only insiders that can't be trusted by CNN are CNN's own insiders!
Funnier still, Anderson can't deny the story, as firmly as he denigrates it as all lies and quotations. All he can say is that he doesn't know anything other than that money changed hands, the agent called his people, and you should watch his interview.
Politicians have supporters and fundraisers who employ dirty tactics all the time, perhaps with their knowledge, perhaps tacit approval, or perhaps completely independently. But would that stop Serious Newsperson Anderson Vanderbilt, excuse me, Cooper, from casting serious doubts on the morality of the politician in question? I can just see Anderson looking stolidly into the camera, perhaps from outside his own mother's estate, and shaking his head in disgust at the dirty deeds of some other Anderson.
Now that the rumor, slander, leaking, and payolla has to do with Anderson, he's as clean as a whistle because he didn't know it was taking place. In the style of his creek-of-consciousness autobiography, he was probably daydreaming during his hardhitting refugee piece wtih Miss Jolie about how the refugees' plight reminded him of the time his mother didn't have his Mercedes ready for his 16th birthday.
Just another reminder brought to you by Anderson Cooper - no one does anything legitimately.
Even if you're a Vanderbilt backed by Ted Turner, you still have to pay up.
"I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THE PAYOLLA, THEREFORE, NOTHING WRONG WAS DONE."
Anderson Cooper, the boy anchor promoted over similarly bland media mediocrities for his shiny silver hair, alternative lifestyle, and fabulously wealthy mother, has lashed out at critics (that is, people working for his own organization) of CNN/Time's payolla scheme to buy the exclusive Angelina interview.
In a nutshell, Time paid 4 million to Jolie's charity. Suddenly, they landed an exclusive from her and her agent called the Dandy Vandy for an exclusive interview. Disgusted CNN/Time employees leaked the news and suddenly we can all delight in a wonderfully juicy bout of hypocrisy.
Media-types like Anderson make a living off of leaks. But now leaks are very bad things. So bad that Anderson curses them with the dastardly "Killer Quotations". You see, the insiders who gave Drudge his scoop weren't really insiders. They were "insiders". I guess the only insiders that can't be trusted by CNN are CNN's own insiders!
Funnier still, Anderson can't deny the story, as firmly as he denigrates it as all lies and quotations. All he can say is that he doesn't know anything other than that money changed hands, the agent called his people, and you should watch his interview.
Politicians have supporters and fundraisers who employ dirty tactics all the time, perhaps with their knowledge, perhaps tacit approval, or perhaps completely independently. But would that stop Serious Newsperson Anderson Vanderbilt, excuse me, Cooper, from casting serious doubts on the morality of the politician in question? I can just see Anderson looking stolidly into the camera, perhaps from outside his own mother's estate, and shaking his head in disgust at the dirty deeds of some other Anderson.
Now that the rumor, slander, leaking, and payolla has to do with Anderson, he's as clean as a whistle because he didn't know it was taking place. In the style of his creek-of-consciousness autobiography, he was probably daydreaming during his hardhitting refugee piece wtih Miss Jolie about how the refugees' plight reminded him of the time his mother didn't have his Mercedes ready for his 16th birthday.
Just another reminder brought to you by Anderson Cooper - no one does anything legitimately.
Even if you're a Vanderbilt backed by Ted Turner, you still have to pay up.
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