Archive for category Nonsense

Political Annoyance

Madison puts that uppity boy in his place

So, I once again got embroiled in a facebook political diatribe *mostly against my will* because of this ridiculous cartoon. It immediately struck me as insulting — in part, because it mistakes sanctimonious asshattery for being funny.  Beyond this initial annoyance I found the bitter core of my indignation: it’s bloody well racist, that’s why (not the only racist attack in recent memory, I might add).

Before I tell you why, let me admit that I am not a raving fan of Mr. Obama’s presidency. I have nothing against the man himself: he’s broad-minded, well-read, genteel, moderate, and reasonable. But his presidency has certainly disappointed liberals almost as much as it has conservatives.  Given the hysterical historical timing of his election, I don’t believe this was really avoidable, and my critique is but a droplet of water amongst of sea of better argued ones (like this one).

That does not excuse this cartoon, which is guilty on two scores:

  1. Factual inaccuracy: Obama never said these words. Many people have confused the idea of progressive taxation with “confiscation” or “class warfare.” In actually, Obama’s presidency has actually shrunk the federal budget for the first time since 1987. Better yet, the administration has done so in the midst of the mountain of debt created by his Republican predecessor. That’s right: the Government Accountability Office (surely a socialist or even a communist facade) calculated that GW’s Medicare Part D created a greater fiscal burden than Social Security.
  2. James Madison owned more than 100 slaves for most of his life.  While he was a good owner (no irony intended) by most accounts, and critiqued the idea of slavery on principle, he didn’t do a damned thing to confront the institution while it burgeoned during the early days of the Union (in his defense, even Lincoln didn’t get behind emancipation until it aligned with his principle purpose of ending the rebellion).  Nevertheless, the fact of this history puts a different spin on this cartoon.  Here on the one hand, we have a man of compound heritage, a largely self-made man, who has had words of confiscation and theft artificially placed into his mouth.  On the other hand, we have a white slaveholder who was born to the richest family in Orange county and was raised as the primary heir of a Virginian tobacco farm.  Unlike Washington, he did not voluntarily free a single slave during his lifetime.

But the ultimate irony of misrepresentation is, as usual, found in the crinkles and recesses of historical context. Madison’s home state of Virginia (the land of tobacco and freedom!) was one of the most regressive in the union. It wasn’t until the constitutional revision of 1851 that Virginia even got around to dropping the requirement allowing unpropertied white men to vote — the poorer, Western half nearly seceded over this issue even before the Civil War.

To review the state of voting rights in Madison’s home state during the time of his political career:

Do you have a vagina? So sorry, you're disqualified.

You may actually be worth 3/5ths of a vote.

If your job description involves any amount of sweat, you should leave statesmanship to the pros.

Are your children obnoxious in restaurants? Sorry, but we don't grant political representation to your kind.

Do you smell bad or live with livestock, or even (god forfend) name your livestock? Sorry, you're out.

You're *sure* you're not the sparkly kind? Okay, you're in.

I’m not saying Madison was bad — he wasn’t at all, by any measure. Like Obama, he was broad-minded, well-read, genteel, moderate, and reasonable. He was, I think, more idealistic than Obama in his thinking — or at least his idealism had a broader scope — but that was coupled with a greater pragmatism in accepting the injustices of his time period. Those injustices were certainly greater than the ones we are confronted with in our own time period. That is why Madison was able to build a political legacy around the topic of “Freedom”, earn the title “Father of the Constitution,” and two centuries later be referred to as “an architect of Freedom” — despite the fact that he personally owned a hundred or more slaves, governed a population that systematically displaced the entire native population of an eastern quarter of North America, and lived in a state that didn’t universalize even white male suffrage until 15 years after his death.

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Cleaning and Kitties

Whole house vacuum, including furniture relocation, corners, and deep crevice extraction: 5 hours

Mopping of all non-fabric surface areas (approximately 900 square feet): 2.5 hours

Deep carpet cleaning for all carpeted surface areas and two large area rugs (approximately 600 square feet): 2.5 hours

Time to recover from cat urine fumes every time I emptied the carpet cleaner: approximately 3 minutes per empty x 4 empties = 12 minutes of my life I’ll never get back

Morale damage when I found my cats getting cozy with freshly cleaned laundry: -24 points, inspiring immediate panic, rapid pulse, and short breath.

Tigerlily is happy!

Ralph is so cute!

Stick with goldfish, people.

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What is WRONG with these people?

Idiots in Bad Stage Make-up

Okay, so I made the mistake the other day of googling Gwar. I’m not sure what made me think of it, really, but once it was there I had to look. Surely they weren’t as bad as you remember them! And the pictures — well, they’re hilarious! Nothing wrong with a self-respecting metal band dressing up like fantasy monsters with…  obscene codpieces and drawn-on abs, pracing around on stage, scattering fake body fluids over the audience…  right?

Well, then I checked out a video.  Not some videos.  ONE video.

It was this one.  Don’t watch it if you’re easily offended, like me.  Or if you’re my wife, or if you’re under the age of 13 without the written consent of your parent or guardian.  In triplicate. And please, if you are my significant other, DO NOT WATCH THIS VIDEO.

 

They are sick bastards. I mean, really, WHY? They’re worse than I remembered. ICK. It’s not realistic at all, but it arouses in me the same visceral nausea (cold palms, cold sweat, descending stomach as my transverse colon contracts in horror) that I felt when I made the mistake of watching the opening sequence from La Terza Madre. This isn’t art, it’s depravity.

I’d like to think that the big, dramatic, glory-drenched flash-mobs would be a perfect antidote…

…but I know too well that at least one of the people sitting at those tables, smiling and nodding as the universe breaks out with a glorious fruit of unexpected order and cooperation, is probably thinking about how best to stage a fake disembowelment at a concert.

So instead, I will cure myself with Goldfrapp and FC Kahuna. That is all.

Ridiculous Lawsuits

Court is IN SESSION, DAMN IT

I’ve been wanting to see Drive – I’m a little afraid to watch it because it looks rather violent. Also, it has the dreaded 1.4 critical-to-popular approval ratio on Rotten Tomatoes — I can usually do okay with 1.25 and below, but 1.4 is pretty damn high for my blood.

Well, it looks like not all moviegoers are taking it’s high-falutey-ness sitting down. According to CNN, an independent viewer is suing the studio that produced the movie (and the theater she saw it at) for NOT INCLUDING ENOUGH DRIVING IN THE MOVIE. And she’s trying to turn it into a class action lawsuit.

I will presume the legal systems of Europe would never tolerate such tomfoolery — if so, Roberto Benigni would never have been able to make another movie after La vita è bella.

Would anyone like any butter flavored grease on their tort reform?

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Bad Philosophy

It has been an interesting week and a half.  I’m still coughing out the lingering cold that has been sucking marrow from my bones.  Last week a career opportunity beaned me out of left field and yesterday I gave notice to my friend and current employer, which was a good step for me pragmatically but not exactly what I would classify as a satisfying emotional experience (Poem, David, Nakey, Mason: I’m going to miss you).  The stock markets are a disaster area.  The federal budget is totally hosed.  Global warming seems intent on making Roland Emmerich look subtle.  Oh, and my house still feels a lot like a hotel: I have no idea where my clothes are, and I keep looking in the wrong places for dishes and the garbage bin.

My sister wrote a blog post today.  It’s title, fittingly enough, was “Fuck It.”  Her bitterness today makes my own look like the carefree ramblings of a gradeschooler ;-)

I have NO CONTROL over the bad things in the world, the shit that people do to each other, over cancer, and pollution and violence and that ASSHOLE DRIVING DOWN THE ROAD THAT DOESN’T USE HIS TURN SIGNAL…I only have control over how I react to to these things. (Emma Bush, http://emmabush.com/?p=946)

Strangely enough, this sounds a lot like the thesis I started writing for my final paper back at UW 8 years ago — the one I never finished, thus failing to achieve my all important diploma.  How droll.

Today, I went to my favorite beach — my place for walking in solitude, for contemplation, for stepping out of the world — and found that someone had tagged the shoulder with the phrase “Hello Coal.  G’bye Beach.”  Could my beach actually go away?  In any case, we’ll become strangers: I’m moving south this winter, with no plans for an immediate return.

Is the world ending?

Four Horseman, or Forty Bazillion?

The answer is yes, but not the way you’d think.  War, hatred, intolerance, stupidity, ignorance — these things are simply not the villainous forces that we have taken them for.  Do a google image search for the phrase “apocalypse” and take note of what you see.  Mushroom clouds, superheroes, zombies, and desolated cities — a lot of them.  No real people.  These notions of destruction are a distraction from the real force actively aging you, eroding you, and with almost imperceptible slowness destroying your world.  The truth is, most dramatic acts of distraction have the effect of stopping time, and slowing it down — keeping the real force of destruction at bay.  Organizational skills, indifference, distraction, and efficiency are the servants of the true destroyer.

Namely, Time.  An parade consisting of an infinite succession of horses.  Each horse signifies a moment passed, never to return.  Some of them will bring you gifts; some will carry your children to you.  One of them will nuzzle you insistently, and you will ride away with it.  They carry the world away, but no faster than they bring replacements for everything they take.  They destroy the world, and recreate it, one grain of sand at a time.

Eight years ago, I was philosophically distressed.  This sort of conception of the singularity of every life and every minute felt weighted, depressing.  I am thankful to have shaken free of this sort of fatalism, which did neither more nor the world any good whatsoever.  Instead, I am glad to be destroyed, to be part of the process.

If you live on the assumption that the world is constantly ending/ended/rebooting/starting again, that means that every day is new.  Slavery to the past, to history, to habit — these are all a misconception created by the illusion that you’re still living in the same world you lived in yesterday.  We are freer than we feel.

Embrace your freedom, and your time: appreciate every microcosm you can.

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Lesson of the Week: Sickness & Cinema

This summer has been a go-go-go sort of season, consumed in large part by travel (Pittsburgh to see family, Provo and Austin for business) and home improvement (new furnace and ductwork, new walls here and there, and a complete layout redesign), with a wedding and some visits to Seattle thrown in for good measure. Sadly, there was no room in the schedule for camping this year! Until last weekend, that is. I got away for one night to Deception Pass State Park, just in time for my nascent head cold to meet a convergence of rain, wind, pine needles, and tabletop gaming.

Believe me, folks — there is no better medium for germs than playing cards. I’m sure I infected everyone there.

56 hours later, I was a complete disaster, lying in a pool of my own mucous, and incapable of tasting even the sharpest cheeses. It was seriously one of the nastiest colds I’ve had in many years. I’m still coughing the last of the gunk out of my throat and lungs, and I still have fluid behind my temples and ears. Nasty.

Foolishly, I decided to kick back and watch of few of my old, favorite movies. What better way to take your mind off of a sickness, right? WRONG. I had forgotten that a bad cold poisons not only your body, but your thoughts as well — that it can make you hate something which, under ordinary circumstances, you enjoy enormously.

Die Hard (1998).  Though exceptionally well reviewed for an entry in its genre, I found McClane’s smug antisocial tendencies to be deeply irksome and the movie’s mores (probably not surprisingly) to be extremely recessive.  Oh, and it was much grosser than I remembered — the groin shooting near the middle was particularly disturbing, with the liquified legs sequence taking a close second.  More than anything else, though, McClane’s smugness just drove me nuts.  Yippi ki yay, huh?
 
The One

The One

The One (2001). I remember loving this the first time I saw it. How flat and cliched it seems now! I know there’s a fabulous action sequence in the last fifteen minutes — featuring Jet Li kicking his own butt in rather spectacular fashion — but boy oh boy, this stinker just did not hold up for me, and I didn’t even get close to that scene. In the words of Ebert: “Offers brainless high-tech action without interesting dialogue, characters, motivation or texture.” Thanks, Rog.
 

Constantine

Constantine (2005). Such a pretty movie. Such a lost opportunity. A little more character development (if any of John’s friends had been more than set pieces, it would have helped!) and a little more screen time for the female leads (Swinton and Weisz were both excellent casting choices) could have bumped this film by 15 points, easy. HOWEVER, that would have done nothing to fix the plastic, unsatisfying demons. I mean, they basically look like Gollum after a botched execution by guillotine! They simply weren’t scary; hell, Gabriel was much scarier than they were (speaking of which, I love this scene, especially from about 2:30 on).
 

Aliens

Aliens (1986). Speaking of scary females… I still remember the first time I kind of watched this back in the eighties. Actually, I mostly remember hearing it because I spent most of the movie hiding behind the sofa. Then again, I was 15. Whatevs.

My tolerance for cinematic violence has developed to a point now where… I don’t have to close my eyes anymore. And I have heard Sigourney shout, “get away from her, you bitch!” one too many times. It is still a beautiful movie but… blame the cold virus… they could safely have trimmed about 35 minutes from its runtime and lost nothing. Perhaps it’s just been too heavily borrowed from to feel “fresh” anymore.

OK, the moral of the story here is, when you are sick… DO NOT WATCH MOVIES YOU LIKE! Watch trash that you can afford to hate without having to replace your DVD collection. That is all.

Addendum

I think Constantine would have been awesome if Constantine had been played by Sigourney Weaver. Seeing her go head to head with Tilda Swinton would have been frickin’ amazing.

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