Exisistential Goulash

Born a Rebel

2011-03-24T17:36:00.002-05:00

Tom Petty puts on one of the best shows in Rock and Roll, which is why I saw him so many times in my concert going heyday. The first time was after his Southern Accents album, long ago now, but Petty and the Heartbreakers already had a great body of work to draw performances from. A huge Confederate flag graced the stage behind them on this tour, but was abandoned by a slightly more politically accommodating Petty by the time of the next tour, supporting the Let Me Up album. I remember him singing It'll All Work Out from that album to only a smattering of applause , compared to some of the big hits he was doing. Petty kind of mumbled, "I think that is one of the best songs I ever wrote, but I guess it's just me."
The next time I saw him he shared the ticket with Bob Dylan. Petty and the Heartbreakers opened the show with a pared down version of one of their concerts, and then backed up Dylan for the balance of the show. Dylan was in fine form, playing some songs with just his own guitar and harmonica, and some with full Heartbreaker backing, which blended wonderfully.
The last time I saw Petty he was the headliner of a Rock'n'roll Caravan tour with a few other bands; the only one I remember was the Georgia Satellites. (They kinda sucked.) It was a good show, but the main thing I remember was that I had a horrible poison ivy patch, a welt the size of a frying pan on my thigh. It was weepy so I had to patch over it with paper towels and tape, and wear the baggiest pants I could find: my Dad's brown dress pants. So needless to say, I was far from comfortable, and far from the hippest lookin' cat at the show-but hey-the things we do for Rock and Roll!

"Welcome, My Son..."

2011-03-18T16:57:00.005-05:00

Unfortunately, I never got to see PINK FLOYD perform in their strongest incarnation: with Waters, Gilmour, Mason and Wright all together. I saw them all, just not together! I saw Gilmour during the tour supporting his second solo album About Face, in 1984, and this is the show that I have to say is at least a tie as the best concert I ever attended.
It was a great day all around, great friends, great grass, great expectations. We swam in the icy waters of Barton Springs (spotting some awesome topless sunbathers!), watched Ghostbusters on its debut, and rounded things off with Gilmour, all the while fueled on huge doobies of skunkweed.
Gilmour was relaxed and loose, his stage set was pared down compared to the elaborate Floyd shows of yore: nothing but a pair of what looked like psychedelic lighted dominoes on either side of the players and the usual rock lighting. He performed stuff from his solo albums, There's No way Out of Here,I remember particularly from his first solo album, and lots of great stuff from Face, which I enjoy more than any other solo Floyd album.
Of course he mixed in lots of great Floyd tunes, too. His playing was amazing: blistering at times, sometimes wailing; always emotional and moving. He engaged in nice moments of intimate chit-chat with the audience. He finished the show with Comfortably Numb, better than I have ever heard it , before or since. The auditorium, (which was just a curtained-off half of the Erwin Center) was snowed under with fog machines and weed smoke. (I think even the non-partakers would get a second-hand high from all the weed smoke-times were mighty different!)
Waters was touring for Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking when I saw him perform. Pros has a couple of good songs on it, but the "concept" I always thought to be kind of weak. Even though Eric Clapton was recruited as lead guitarist on the album, Gilmour was sorely missed. Clapton of course wasn't playing on the tour, but Waters had a good back-up band . He split the show into two: first half-Floyd tunes, second- Pros played in its entirety. Without Gilmour's vocal presence the Floyd stuff suffered some, but overall was good; Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun being one of the eclectic choices performed. The stage show had a Floydian screen behind it, with the traditional accompanying images to songs like Welcome to the Machine, and the Pros stuff had Gerald Scarfe cartoons featuring Reg,( or is it Rog?) the dog, as star. Scarfe, whose work was brilliant for The Wall, kind of let his old pal Rog (and us) down on this one; the cartoons looked like they were dashed off on a cocktail napkin on his way to collect the check. We were even treated to an inflatable pig, which did not float, it only appeared and withdrew on the side of the stage. During an encore Waters sang the heartbreaking Final Cut, from the album of the same name. What should have been a highlight of the evening was somewhat marred by the very loud accompanying vocals of a nearby teenage concertgoer. (Now I can understand why Waters spit on an audience member once!) Still and all I enjoyed the show quite a bit, and a good rocking was had by all.
The Pink Floyd tour was during what we called the Psuedo-Floyd lineup: the guys sans Waters, They were supporting the Momentary Lapse of Reason album, and had all the trappings of classic Floyd; but somehow was kind of a hollow downer. This had the feeling of a payday show, a going through the motions,and great as the motions were, they lacked spirit. Gilmour, in contrast to his loose, chatty, fun persona during his solo show, was icy and robotic; barely acknowledging that this was a live show and not some audio-animatronic imitation. The effects were there, the pig was cooler than Roger's. But during On the Run, instead of the crashing airplane that graced classic Floyd and Waters' show, the Psuedoes had a crashing bed, in keeping with the bed motif of the album art. Lame. I should have felt rocked by this show but instead I felt rolled.

My First Concert

2011-03-15T21:52:00.004-05:00

1982 seems like several lifetimes ago. Not quite seventeen, and leading quite the provincial life, my appreciation of music was limited to the radio and the record player. My oldest brother and his friends were several years older than I , and to my young mind, seemed to be quite the worldly sophisticates already. When they invited me to see The Police with them in Austin , I jumped at the chance. I remember a rainy ride up to Austin and a fantastic meal at my favorite pizzeria, Conan's Pizza , at its old location on the Drag. I wasn't real familiar with the music of The Police, but I liked Roxanne and Invisible Sun, the latter from their Ghost in the Machine album, which they were touring to promote. The smell of Clove cigarettes , pot, and a potpourri of colognes filled the smoky air.. The seats were in the nosebleeds, but the music rocked.. I remember the tiny figure of Sting jamming on his upright bass, and the sharp crack of the drums. My brother and his friends, who were more up on the bands songbook, seemed particularly happy with a encore that included a song I later grew to like, Secret Journey.
While sorting through some old papers recently, I found a clutch of old ticket stubs that I had
squirreled away over the years. Many memories were evoked, and I hope to share them in brief over my next few posts.
This was my first concert, and it was a good one, but not what I would consider near the best. Still, as they say, there's something about your first...

Review-THE FOUNTAINHEAD

2011-03-12T23:07:00.002-06:00

"A lot of weather we've been having lately, isn't it?"

2011-02-05T08:57:00.000-06:00

The Discourse on Civil Discourse

2011-01-13T21:50:00.003-06:00

Here we go again.
Another "senseless tragedy" (as opposed to a sensible tragedy) and we are off and running.
The Arizona shooting was a bad thing that occurred in a world wherein bad things are part of the machinery.
And yet there is an attempt to "make sense" of the incident. How could this happen? The verdict was in almost as quickly as the question was posed.
It was you again.
Your unhealthy addiction to freedom of speech.
Your discourse has gotten too "uncivil".
As you tried to hash out a solution to a corrupt government, a wrecked economy, and War without end , you got too nasty, and it infected the air , causing this boy to grab a gun and go a-shooting.
"We need to use our Modern Magic, LAWMAKING, to correct these ills: okay Murder is already illegal. Let's outlaw guns, outlaw speech, outlaw shaving your head, outlaw bullets, outlaw public gatherings at Safeway. Make it against the Law to think negative thoughts when you are within 200 yards of an elected official. There must be more things we can outlaw to ensure this never happens again. Let's outlaw Death itself!"
Sorry, folks.
There are no additional laws that need to be passed. There is no one to fire. No one to kick off the air. Just one fellow among we 400 million Americans who got it into his head that taking his guns to town was a swell idea. He will need to pay for his crimes under the existing law.
AND THAT'S IT!
How can we stop this from happening again?
I hate to say it, but we can't do a thing, the numbers are against us, another person will pick up another gun, or a knife, or a bomb, or a box-cutter, and more bad stuff will happen. The only thing we can truly hope for is that more people will have the guts to try to slow the next one down a little if they can, like those few brave citizens who stopped the Arizona shooter from re-loading.
So enough already about our discourse. Civil or not , it is Ours. Sometimes in the Grown-up world we have to think, do, or say things that are unpleasant, and pinning every murder and run over kitten on our conscience will not stop us from saying what needs to be said.
Nice try, though.

So little time...

2010-12-17T17:14:00.002-06:00

There is so much going on right now that I haven't had an opportunity to post. I have a few things I'd like to put together and present but I don't see it happening before Christmas, so, Merry Christmas to all, and here is a new picture so at least you don't have to see Bill Burroughs glowering at you!

A Thanksgiving Prayer-William S. Burroughs

2010-11-19T21:26:00.003-06:00

Burroughs' Thanksgiving poem is not the place to go for a feel-good experience, but he always delivers on thought provoking material. Watch the show I put together with his audio here.

I promise I have something a little more heartwarming in the works for the Big Day.

one scary night

2010-10-30T13:24:00.003-05:00

"My ass!"

I put together a little treat that I hoped would do the trick if you were looking to get into the Halloween spirit, but I couldn't get it to download onto this blog no matter what I tried. Please click http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWrwCbTBezY to visit my YouTube channel and view One Dark Night. The above picture I meant to include in the collage but somehow overlooked!

I wonder if anyone (other than Brer) can identify the theme music?

Race With the Devil

2010-10-26T17:28:00.003-05:00

Another bit of classic 70's horror, filmed on location in San Antonio, Castroville, Bandera, and Leakey, Texas, released in 1975. In the wake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Central Texas seemed to be the new Transylvania. For those of us from the area, it added another layer of fear, seeing such familiar terrain and people as the backdrop to a tale of terror, this being one of the worst kind: Satanic horror!

Folks from the San Antonio area might be amused to see the old Alamo Speedway at the beginning of the movie, along with a cameo by local legend/radio personality Ricci Ware as a racing official.

This is a genuinely scary and fun movie, with acting a cut above the usual of the genre, and a simple straightforward plot that keeps you hooked.

Dalak!

"Plaaay!"

2010-10-22T01:12:00.002-05:00

Mickey and the Haunted House. Another Halloween must. The whole cartoon is great by the way, but the music is really fun. In this 1929 short you can see a pretty rare example of Disney's recycling some animation cycles: some of the dancing skeleton scenes are taken from , logically enough, Skeleton Dance, a Silly Symphony from the year before. Even so, they have some fun with it by having the wind blow away all but the dancing legs!

By the way, I finished Blatty's sequel to The Exorcist, entitled Legion. This was the source to the movie Exorcist III. Oh, what an unholy mess, pun of course intended. It was not all bad, but it was so perfunctorily resolved after an immense build-up, it made me envision Blatty really working hard until the check from the publishers cleared, and then just sewing it up ASAP so he could hit the horse tracks.

Kinderman, the pre-Columbo Columboesque detective is the star of this one, and he is transformed into something of a Jewish mystic. In fact, the whole tale seems to have been written to support his philosophy that Lucifer was the big bang, an explosion of matter into a previously only spiritual universe, and that we are all part of him, trying to find our way back to God. Throw the oh-so-popular early 80's go-to topics of serial killers and televangelists, and you got yourself a sequel sir.

Even the book adds in the back of this 1983 paperback were a degradation from the awesome crap of the 70's. Here we have adds for V.C. Andrews "greatest" releases. I suppose I shouldn't mock, I have never read any V.C. Andrews. But still...

'Magic' is Fun!

2010-10-21T12:49:00.003-05:00

The year:1978.

The place: The Dixie Drive-in.

Ah, yes, good times. Mom loaded up the kids and took us to a double feature: The Phantom of the Paradise and Magic. Never mind that on the way to the theater a small pick-up swerved around us completely out of control , slamming into a telephone pole and vaporizing its unfortunate occupant before our eyes. Shaken and in shock we crept our way through the darkened traffic lights to the drive-in, glass from the wreck still glittering the hood of our car. We were not in too much shock to know Phantom kind of sucked and that Magic was pretty damn good.

Not so much a horror story as a psychological murder/romance, concerning Corky, a successful ventriloquist/magician/comedian, (played brilliantly by a young Anthony Hopkins), and his dissolution into madness as his Dummy alter-ego, Fats, starts calling the shots for the otherwise meek and sensitive entertainer.

Of course there is horror involved. Somehow things can never go well when you put a dummy in charge, (as all voters know) and people who stand in the way of Corky's re-connecting with his childhood dream girl (Ann Margaret) start finding themselves the victims of Dummicide.

The movie is based on a novel by William Goldman, and there was always some speculation on the side that Fats may not just be a fragment of Corky's psyche, but a malevolent force that sought to possess him, an idea that is fed primarily by a scene in the movie that shows Corky raging at the seated Dummy, whose eyes move around without Corky there to manipulate them!

I heard in the director's commentary on the DVD that it was an error that was left in just to bedevil viewers. Nice!

I have watched Magic several times over the years, and have a certain fondness for it. It has one of the most memorable previews ever, as shown above. "Magic is FUN...We're dead..."

Trick or Treat!

2010-10-20T01:06:00.003-05:00

One of my "must see" viewings every Halloween is "Trick or Treat", a Donald Duck short featuring Donald, his nephews, and a friendly old hag named Witch Hazel. This song is fun and catchy. I can hardly ever say the phrase "trick or treat" without hearing this song in my head!

We had a great comic book story version of this for years before ever seeing the cartoon, and the phrase "Whiskers from ye billy goat!" was much quoted from it.

The Legend of Boggy Creek

2010-10-16T20:06:00.004-05:00

This one haunted my childhood , seen by seemingly everyone but the members of my family. I remember camping out with some relatives who had seen the movie, and they chilled and regaled us with various scenes from the movie. (The guy being hassled by Bigfoot while sitting on the pot was a fave!) Years later I got the movie on DVD and finally got to see it. Whoo-ee, a bit of a stinker, but for all it's cheap glory it managed to weave a pretty effective atmosphere, and its' documentary style (aside from the weird musical interlude) really made it fun. When I got the DVD I was shocked to see it was rated 'G', so infamous a film of terror! Then I watched it...Is there anything milder than 'G'? Still it spooked my son and nephew when we watched it, especially when I slipped out of the room and then came back in in a gorilla mask!

I read The Exorcist this week, continuing my October habit of reading great works of horror, and really enjoyed it. I was impressed at how closely the movie stayed with the book, save for a few minor dead-end side plots. But what really gave me a blast of the nostalgia of growing up in the weirdness of the early 70's era that spawned both Boggy and Exorcist, was the Bantam book order form in the back of the old paperback copy that I read.
....In Search of...Extraterrestrials by Alan and Sally Landsburg
....The Devil's Triangle by Richard Winer
....In Search of Ancient Mysteries by Alan and Sally Landsburg
....Not of This World by Peter Kolosimo
....The Reincarnation of Peter Proud by Max Ehrlich
....Chariots of the Gods by Erich Von Daniken
....A Complete guide to the Tarot by Eden Gray
....Gods From Outer Space by Erich Von Daniken
....The Outer Space Connection by Alan and Sally Landsburg.

Kind of brings it all back, eh? (BTW, all were in the $1.25-$1.95 range...sigh...)

The Spirit is Willing

2010-10-15T15:33:00.003-05:00

Do you remember this movie? It was in fairly heavy rotation on TV when I was growing up, but now seems to have slipped into the mists of time. The things that stood out in my memory were first the theme, which, as it turns out was written by the same guy that wrote the Addams family theme, and the ghost of the wacky lady in the red nightie. She always scared me, even though she was played for pretty broad laughs. Turns out this was produced by Master Schkockmeister William Castle! I saw the guy who plays the teenage son , Barry Gordon, on an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm the other day playing an old Rabbi. I always think of him as that nebbishy kid from The Spirit is Willing!

When Vampires Didn't Suck (as such)

2010-10-12T01:01:00.004-05:00

Last evening I finished doing something that I have wanted to do for many years. Every October, I tell myself I really ought to re-read Dracula, seeing as I was a high school freshman the one and only time I read it. It affected me powerfully then, bringing vivid dreams and (I must confess) the very brief but memorable placing of garlic in my bedroom window.

It still packs quite the punch, though I haven't busted out with any garlic (yet!).

Stoker did an amazing job of weaving this complex tale through the first person point of view of numerous different people from different classes, sexes, and nationalities, in a very convincing way. I admired the novel from a technical as well as an entertainment standpoint, and though the Victorian prose sometimes got a bit thick, it was much more fast-paced and accessible than I remembered.

Movies have never gotten the Count just right, but for my money, the BBC's Count Dracula got the closest. My brother and I were such fans of this version we made an audio cassette recording of it when it re-played on PBS in the pre-VCR year (for us anyway) year of 1979. The cast was great, Louis Jourdan brought a suave yet decayed European elegance to the Count, and the true star of the show, Van Helsing, was played to absolute perfection by Frank Finlay. The haunting theme music performed the sublime miracle of capturing everything about Dracula: it was haunting, powerful, menacing, hypnotic, yearning, malevolent,...sad. Amazing.

I won't bore you with rants about how much vampire stuff mostly blows in this Twilight era. You know it and I know it. The modern twisting of the vampire myth to make the daemonic desirable is but one of the many illustrations existing in entertainment today that celebrates the spiritual degradation of the current zeitgeist. See The Monsters Among Us in my archive for more on that if you want.

If you haven't read Dracula, or read it a long time ago, do yourself a favor and enjoy it. If you have never seen The BBC's Count Dracula, track it down and see what I mean.

And keep the garlic handy!

The Dark Secret of Harvest Home

2010-10-06T12:21:00.005-05:00

1978. The Golden Age of "made for TV " movies!

I haven't seen this movie since then, but I remember it well. Bette Davis' performance as the Widow Fortune was powerful scary. (She reminded me of Mrs. Tennyson, my 7th grade Reading teacher at that time!) Later, when I was in 10th grade I read the Thomas Tryon novel Harvest Home on which this mini-series was based, and really enjoyed it as well. The great combination of Fall/Harvest imagery and ancient/pagan ritual made for a very evocative seasonal impression, that has stuck with me for all these years.

I have waited for years for this movie to be released, it is available on DVD only in bootlegs; some old VHS copies are still floating around for sale. It is available for viewing on YouTube and I think I shall watch it there. ( Might not be the best quality, but hey, after 32 years, who cares?)

Tryon also wrote another good book, The Other, which also had a memorable movie made from it, about a little boy on a New England farm, who is haunted by the spirit of his less than innocent dead twin . Reading Tryon, Stephen King, and H.P. Lovecraft at this time convinced me that it was a very good thing that New England was on the other end of the country from me!

The Raven

2010-09-16T11:26:00.003-05:00

Poe, Dore', and Basil Rathbone...Nice combo...I am pretty pleased at how this arrangement came out except for the blackout at the end, where a couple of misfire credits show through the darkness. I am pretty proud of this, but not THAT proud!

Once Upon a Time

2010-09-09T00:59:00.002-05:00

This is a collection of nice stuff from the Golden Age of Illustration, set to the track "The De Lesseps' Dance" from the Shakespeare in Love soundtrack. I wanted to present these with no added effects so that I didn't get in the way of the great pictures. I recommend watching this on full screen. Enjoy!

Cosmic Consciousness

2010-09-02T00:50:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago while perusing the clearance section of a nearby Half-Price Books, I came across a copy of Cosmic Consciousness, by Richard Maurice Bucke, M.D. The title of the book rang a bell; I recalled that Colin Wilson had made mention of this work several times in his illuminating The Occult and its sequel Beyond the Occult. I looked at the photograph of the author, saw the book was only three bucks, and decided to check it out.

And I am glad I did.

First off , the biography of Bucke is amazing. For a more complete account, click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Maurice_Bucke. But , in brief, Bucke was born in England, immigrated with his family to Canada, lost his parents at an early age, went to the United States to seek his fortune where he was attacked by Indians, survived (the sole survivor, no less) a horrible snowstorm that wiped out his mining party and cost him a foot and several digits, went back to Canada, became a medical doctor, went to Europe and mastered psychiatry, returned to Canada and oversaw an insane asylum where he instituted many progressive developments in the care for the mentally ill. Whew. And that was just his mainstream biography. His "mystical " biography began through his love of poetry, Walt Whitman being his primary guide. He could recite Whitman's Leaves of Grass verbatim from memory, as well as innumerable other works: truly, an amazing man with an amazing mind.

Cosmic Consciousness is the best known of his several works, and has been reprinted often since its first publication in 1901. The first part of the book lays out his theory in a very cogent and well researched manner. In its simplest form it is this: man's consciousness has evolved over the ages, from simple consciousness: the very basic awareness that all animals have of their immediate surroundings and needs, to self consciousness, when man became aware of himself, his place in the world, how to use reason and imagination, and the knowledge of the certainty of his own death, and lastly, cosmic consciousness, a state of awareness that has slowly been developing over the centuries, becoming more and more present as generations unfold. Cosmic consciousness is a sudden awareness that manifests itself in a revelatory manner to an individual , illuminating the wholeness of the universe as one enormous living and organic presence, bringing with it a great feeling of spiritual immortality, intellectual enlightenment, moral profundity, and shedding in that instant the fear of death, and the sense of sin.

The second part of the book is a rundown of the various historical figures that Bucke believed to have obtained cosmic consciousness, such as Jesus Christ, Gautama the Buddha, Mohammad, William Blake, and others , including, of course Walt Whitman. He uses the recorded words and deeds of these individuals to support his theory and breaks them down in a very interesting way.

Bucke makes his case in a very scientific manner. The theory has every potential to go off into mystical hocus pocus but it never does in Bucke's hands; he treats his subject with seriousness and sobriety. Still, the cumulative message about Cosmic Consciousness and its effect on humanity as it develops is profoundly optimistic and affirming.

The book came to me at a good time. I have been prowling around various religious, mythical, and philosophical works, and have been noticing a subtext in most of them that point to this very kind of unifying vision, all shown through the particular local vernacular of its source. I will post more on this later, but I believe that Bucke is correct, and the 109 years that have followed the publication of his book, with all the historical and technological upheavals that have occurred, show an intellectual and spiritual trend away away from the local "masks" of God, and a move towards a universal Spiritualism.

All the President's Spin

2010-08-07T00:28:00.003-05:00

With the political "silly season" cranking up I figured this next Babeltoon was most apropos. Although drawn a few years back, nothing much has changed. I always thought that "a pox on both your houses" political humor was just too easy. However, as someone who has for decades now observed political activity with the same ghoulish delight that some people have watching Faces of Death videos, I just couldn't resist. You have to appreciate the absurdity of the system that we allow to run the world.

TwoDee Players-Science Fiction Tale

2010-07-29T15:41:00.003-05:00

A few years back I drew several stories starring a cast of animal characters. I used them like a theatrical troupe playing different characters in different genre tales. This was "our" homage to Star Trek, and was a lot of fun to do. The music on here is a cheesy version of the theme to Blade Runner by Vangelis, taken off of an el-cheapo Laserlight Sci-Fi theme collection.

The Horror...

2010-07-13T14:20:00.003-05:00

A small tribute to the Monster Madness that permeated the kid culture of my youth, dedicated to two Horror Fathers who were instrumental in it's intensity, William M. Gaines of EC Comics, and Forrest J. Ackerman of Famous Monsters of Filmland. I have long admired the accompanying music, "Reel Ten", taken from the Repo Man soundtrack.

born, never asked...

2010-07-03T20:11:00.002-05:00

Mithrandir

2010-06-28T03:59:00.003-05:00

An homage to my favorite Tolkien character. Thanks to all of the artists whose visions of Gandalf were used for this piece, Leonard Rosenman for the music, and Professor Tolkien for cooking up the whole wonderful mythos that has enlightened our lives...

Do You Remember "Do You Remember These?"

2010-06-22T01:03:00.002-05:00

I am in an odd position of having nostalgia for nostalgia. When I was a kid a huge wave of 50's nostalgia swept the country, most memorably via American Graffiti and Happy Days. But anyone watching TV at that time was inundated with countless K-Tel 50's record compilations- ("Remember those Saturday nights you wished would never end?") 50's style music on commercials, Sha Na Na, etc, etc. I always got a kick out of the Statler Brothers and their 50s nostalgia song came early in the wave, so I never held it against 'em. This is one of their fun songs that we listened to a fair amount from the old parental collection. This video was a homemade production off of Youtube that I thought did a great job of illustrating the song, and actually cleared up a couple of things I always wondered about in the references. I am sure some enterprising child of the 60s or 70s could make a killer version of this tuned to that time, er that is, if an enterprising person could be found among us!

Food For Thought

2010-06-16T23:06:00.004-05:00

"My friend Alan Watts in a lecture once proposed...'The truth of the matter is that you didn't come into this world at all. You came out of it, in the same way that a leaf comes out of a tree or a baby from a womb...Just as Jesus said that one doesn't gather figs from thistles or grapes from thorns, so also you don't gather people from a world that isn't peopling. Our world is peopling, just as the apple tree apples, just as the vine grapes.' We are a product of this earth, that is to say; and, as Dr. Watts observed in that same talk, if we are intelligent beings, it must be that we are the fruits of an intelligent earth, symptomatic of an intelligent system; for 'one doesn't gather grapes from thorns.'

"We may think of ourselves, then, as the functioning ears and eyes and mind of this earth, exactly as our own ears and eyes and mind are of our bodies. Our bodies are one with this earth, this wonderful 'oasis in the desert of infinite space'; and the mathematics of that infinite space, which are the same as of Newton's mind-our mind, the earth's mind, the mind of the universe-come to flower and fruit in this beautiful oasis through ourselves."

-Joseph Campbell, Myths To Live By

Border Reiver

2010-06-14T23:16:00.003-05:00

I thought I might put something current on lest I give the impression that I only listen to songs that are over 40 years old. (Only 95% of the time I do.)

Border Reiver is the first song on Mark Knopfler's new album Get Lucky and is a good representative of state of the art Knopfler...Celtic flavored, literate and fun. For my money Knopfler is the best living guitarist and one of the best songwriters of all time. The flutes unfurling under the drive of the main theme on this song never cease to move me profoundly. Any one who has ever had o job "on the road" can appreciate the spirit of this song. Simply amazing...

And Now Something Colorful

2010-06-12T16:40:00.002-05:00

I saw this on MTV's Liquid Television years ago and really liked the animation and great song. The song is by Danny Elfman and Oingo Boingo. Reminds me of an old Sesame street bit.

The Naughty Lady

2010-06-12T08:17:00.004-05:00

Another old single from Mom's collection, and having the distinction of being the only recording from a member of the Rat Pack in the collection, "The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane" by Dean Martin was much listened to as well. (I love the "puh-piyah's"). A jaunty tune with Dino's signature Italian flavor, "Naughty Lady" must be listened to all the way to the end for the cute surprise.

A Project From the Past

2010-06-10T23:47:00.003-05:00

If you happen be over 30 and grew up somewhere in the metropolitan area of San Antonio, Texas, the best time to view this clip is friday night at midnight. The rest of you won't get it. God bless YouTube!

Roll Muddy River

2010-06-09T22:37:00.002-05:00

"Roll Muddy River" was on another one of those country anthology LP's of Pop's, maybe the same one that "What Are Those Things" was on, I can't recall. I always liked the folksy ramble of this song. It looks like there are many different versions of this song done by many artists, ranging from real bluegrassy to rockin' country. I am not 100% certain that this particular version, by the Wilburn Brothers, is the exact version we had, but if it is not, it is very close to it.Again, I know nothing about the Wilburn Brothers. I can't help but recall an alternate lyric coined by my oldest brother, "I've got a notion Kung Fu's in slow motion", every time I hear this.

They Ain't Robins, Brother

2010-06-09T12:09:00.002-05:00

I hope it doesn't get too tiresome, but I am having fun finding these old songs we used to listen to. This one has been a challenge, too. It was on an anthology album of various country hits that Pop had from the 60's, and was a particular favorite. Charlie Louvin is the artist here, and I am sorry to say I am not familiar with his work. Looking over the albums and titles that are available on iTunes (this song is not BTW), he seems like an old school Johnny Cash type, just my kind o' guy. (He even duets with EmmyLou Harris!) So he is worth further investigation. The only version of this song that is available on iTunes is by Roger Miller, who I normally like all right, but his version is full of weird vocal mannerisms popular at the time that really grate on me when I have this great version to measure it by. I know the accompanying video is kind of weied, right? But it is evocative of the times in its own bizarre way, too...

The World Ain't Big Enough For Me

2010-06-08T23:12:00.004-05:00

We had an old 79 of this that I believe was my Grandmothers' originally, and boy did we listen to the fire out of it. It was a thick, heavy disc with a red Columbia label and it had a lot of pops and crackles, but the voyaging spirit the music conveyed was infectious. The anarchronisms always cracked me up, too. I never paid any attention to the artist, Guy Mitchell, when listening to it then, which made it a little hard to find, but then the music was the thing to me then, not the artist. I see that it is available for 99 cents from iTunes, but I am a little hesistant to hear this song too cleanly...The "canned" effect of the LP really takes me back...

The Powers That Be

2010-03-10T22:09:00.007-06:00

The Tarot cards have always fascinated me.

It is the way the symbols work on the viewer that has always been the draw for me, not so much the idea of their use as an oracle. While having a discussion with my brother concerning the Tarot, I also expressed the fact that I was in a weird book limbo, where I didn't have anything that was particularly calling out to me to be read. Never at a loss for a book recommendation, my brother promptly put a lending copy of Tim Powers' Last Call in my hand.

Now, I suffer from a strange malady that I am sure probably has a medical term. That is, whenever someone lends me a book or movie with much enthusiasm, there is a demonic force in me that resists delving into the material; I don't know why. I have nothing but the greatest respect for my brother's taste in literature, and when I do finally get around to reading his recommendations, I am rarely disappointed. So this time I thought, "Dang it, don't be an asshole. READ THE BOOK!

And I am glad I did.

Last Call is one weird book. It is also fascinating, engrossing, funny, horrifying and epic. It was one of the rare books that just completely kept me guessing all the way to the end. It concerns one Scott Crane, a One-eyed Jack; that is, the son of a very twisted man who happens to be the King of our twisted world by way of a mythic cosmology that dates back to the Fisher King. If the Fisher King remains wounded, the land is wounded, and this particular King's wound is greed for immortality. He has devised a method of bedevilling certain "fish", (that is poker players drawn to an exclusive game), out of their bodies through a magical poker game called "Assumption." Every twenty years he holds a game in which he snares new victims, and as he wears out one body he spiritually assumes another. Scott, as his son, is in line to be a King himself, but Daddy has other plans-he wants to "assume" his own son.

If it all sounds a little mystical, it is. But by blending poker, Tarot, magic, history, Vegas lore, and a host of colorful characters , Powers weaves a completely original and spellbinding story with plenty of action and lots to think about to boot. I understand that this is the first of a trilogy, and I am sure that my trusted brother will have a lending copy of the next two volumes for me when next we meet. Maybe there is hope for me overcoming my malady after all...

Little Close Encounters of a 2010 KInd

2010-02-21T20:40:00.006-06:00

More movies recently watched: Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 2010, Little Caesar.

I saw both Close Encounters and 2010 back when they originally aired in 1977 and 1984 respectively, and this was my first time to see the great Edward G. in Caesar.

Well. Close Encounters. What can I say? I remember being greatly interested in it when I was a boy because there was a real paucity of any big time mainstream examinations of UFO phenomenenonnonanonns, er, stuff, even though the 70s was the golden age of UFO mania. This seemed like a Serious examination by Somebody with some clout: that is Little Stevie Spielboig with his follow-up to the already much-worshipped Jaws. I remember having the novel, written by Spielberg, (yeah, right, and George Lucas wrote the novel of Star Wars -Alan Dean Foster-is that you?) I also nabbed the Fotonovel of the movie and a cool baby -pink bendy of the cool alien that "communicates" with Francois Truffaut at the end of the movie. The only problem was...The movie itself is kind of a bore...Oh, it has some great sequences, and some interesting ideas, but ultimately it just kind of is. None of the characters, although all very earnestly played, really touch you in any way, and I think that is the main deficit. It was interesting, too, from a cultural perspective, to see that the work begun in Close and then solidified in E.T. turned the mass perception , via the movies of course, from the aliens being hostile invaders from without, and the government being our saviour-as portrayed in 50s and 60s era sci-fi, to the aliens being friendly and wise ambassadors from beyond being squelched by a fascistic secretive government. Independence Day almost 20 years later reversed the trend again. The special effects are still quite fun to watch. I always found the portrayal of the ships to be quite unique.

2010. The sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey. Not made by Kubrick, but with his blessing. This movie more or less ditched the trippy mysticism of 2001 and portrayed a joint Soviet-US mission to investigate the derelict vessel and the monolith that shared its orbit around Jupiter. Roy Scheider does great work as Dr. Heywood Floyd, intent on finding out how his first project went kerfluey, and Bob Balaban plays the fussy computer programmer whose prodigy,the HAL 3000, or whatever number of HAL it was , also wants to discover why his golden boy went homicidal. The acting is actually excellent throughout, with Helen Mirren portraying a very convincing Soviet pilot, and John Lithgow as an engineer in over his head. This movie suffers from being a victim of its time. For starters, of course, the US and the Soviet Union were still in a global pissing match. There was also a hot-headed Reaganesque President whose excursions into Honduras touch off a military showdown with the Russkies. The political backdrop of the entire story is familiar sturm and drang Cold War anxieties of the early eighties, back when everyone was more worried about THE bomb and not just bombs. So the pay-off that the movie presents, a hope for a larger family of lifeforms, breaking us free from our death spiral of petty tribal warfare, has lost some of its punch. I remember being impressed by the sympathetic portrayal of the crews trying to muddle through the political cloud hanging over their mission and seeing each other as real people, and that still is impressive. But after having exonerated HAL and taking the gas out of the enigmatic monoliths, I found myself kind of missing the elegant mysteries of the original.

Little Ceasar- just a straight-up gangster tale from the 30s with another great nasty performance by Edward G. Robinson in all of his "Yah, see, yah!" glory. It is a familiar tale of a little man with big cojones who climbs to the top of the gang world by out-gunning and out-doing all of the other evil-doers. He is a vain man, not unlike Tony Montana in Scarface, more into the prestige and bling of his position than anything else, who is only brought low by the determined opposition of some equally ambitious lawmen. I hope to snare the original Scarface in my DVR net soon, so I can see the master at work again. "Mother of Mercy-is this the end of Rico?"

Mad as Hell about Network

2010-02-10T22:01:00.004-06:00

Okay, tonight's TCM scoop was 1976's Network, starring William Holden, Peter Finch, Faye Dunaway, and Robert Duvall.

What a great movie. Oh, I could go through the predictable rigmarole about how what was far-out satire in the 1970s was actually a prescient foreshadowing of the three ring circus that is our modern News Infotainment industry, but it was more than that. It was a remarkably mature examination of the weird soul melding that has transpired between the individual and the zeitgeist, as transmitted by television. Watching this movie made me ache for a return to the times when not every film had to be produced to be a date movie or a stylistic masturbatory fantasy of a fifth generation film geek. The storytelling was on par with a fine novel; the characters well defined and archetypal rather than stereotypical; the language intelligent and flirting with true profundity. (The characters actually used some of them there big words now and then to express their ideas!) It was a tale about the very bright people behind the dumbing down of our collective character.

Fincher's "I'm mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore!" routine as the raving madman-cum-media star Howard Beale is of course an Academy Award winning legendary performance, and I don't need to throw any additional garlands on it. I will say Dunaway's character, a beautiful but soulless TV exec , was not just wonderfully executed but brilliantly written. As Holden's world weary ex-news executive pointed out, Dunaway's character was television: a seductive , dynamic, irresistible love who turns out to be all surface; a soulless unfeeling ratings machine, and ultimately a lousy lay to boot. Few women in movies have really done it for me quite like Dunaway in her prime. She is absolutely riveting.

Duvall is very believable as the Corporate slime ball, but for my money, Ned Beatty in a very small role as the biggest of the Corporate Big-wigs steals the show. He lays out the way the world really is to a dumbstruck Beale, breaking it all down to not a world of nations and laws, but a world of global titans above all world affairs , whose very life-blood is the ebb and flow of world currency. "I have seen the face of God," Beale murmurs in the wake of Beatty's holy tirade.

I guess the closest we have these days to this high level of film making is the occasional Coen brothers movie, when they are not trying to be too cute. If I think about this too much I have a Beale moment myself, "I am mad as hell, and I am not going to watch Seth Rogan anymore!"

2010-02-09T21:43:00.003-06:00

Okay...I need to break the ice on 2010 as regards this blog..I've not had much cooking other than usual survival stuff; but I have been watching quite a few old movies I have been catching with my DVR off of TCM lately...

I watched Hammer's The Hound of The Baskervilles with Peter Cushing as Holmes and Christopher Lee as Sir Henry Baskervilles earlier this evening and found it an entertaining, if not terribly engrossing movie. I remember watching and enjoying it back in the day as well. I am by no means a huge Holmes fan, in fact I think the only story I ever read was The Red Headed League. I watched a few of those BBC productions with the actor Jeremy Britt and thought his was pretty much the best portrayal of the famous sleuth that I had seen. When I heard about the latest actor to don the deerstalker(although I am sure he didn't-that is far too old school) being Robert Downey Jr., I had to groan. I have nothing against him per se, but the match just doesn't sound that great to me. Several people whose judgement I trust have given the movie a thumbs up, and I will probably watch it when it comes out on DVD. My wife asked me who I would have cast instead, and after some thought I came up with Hugh Laurie. I think he has that intensity and cleverness about him along with the sly wit.

Last night I watched The Uninvited with Ray Milland, concerning a lonely windswept mansion on the English seacoast, and the mystery behind a pair of female ghosts who haunt the place and are battling over the life of a beautiful young woman. A good story that kept my interest to the end.

Other TCM viewings of late: In a Lonely Place with Humphrey Bogart; Public Enemy, Angels With Dirty Faces, and White Heat all starring James Cagney (White Heat being the stand-out though all are excellent).

Blood on Satan's Claw is a great British production concerning a coven of witches attempting to flesh out their returning Dark Lord by growing patches of his skin on different people and then reaping it by way of sacrificing the afflicted victims. Quite creepy with a great old Judge who mercilessly snuffs out the evildoers-a character who would probably be a corrupt villain if the movie were made today. Also a small but great role of the Squire, played by the delightful old actor who portrayed Mr. Tibbs on Are You Being Served. Full of creaking rooks, fog and mossy stones, the atmosphere is perfect. It also boasts a brief but creepy glimpse of the gibbering devil, not yet fully made whole, that was quite effective.

That's all for now-the ice has been broken-stay tuned for more news of absurd goodness!

Blame it on Santa

2009-12-21T00:48:00.007-06:00

Could it be that the collapse of faith that our country has experienced over the last fifty or so years was "all because of Santa Claus?"

A case could be made...

Ah, the baby boom generation...Never has a generation been given so much; or destroyed so much...

The gauzy, sweet world in which the children of the Greatest Generation were brought up was meant to be a correction to the childhood-stealing grim realities that their parents experienced coming up; a world of global economic depression and war. Picture perfect families in picture perfect homes experiencing picture perfect holidays was the goal in this new time of plenty. Santa, being the beloved old icon of goodness that he is, had a field day during this era of Ike, Uncle Walt and Uncle Miltie.

One of the first traumas that the children of this prosperity encountered was when it was discovered that their beloved Santa was not "real." The idea that all their striving for the approbation of this jolly old elf was for naught was the first chip in the "perfect" veneer of the crafted world made for them, and in true child fashion, they kept picking and picking at the veneer as they developed until the dirty "truth" was exposed beneath the whitewash of "lies" that their parents had so carefully wrought.

School, government, families, church, every bastion of order and faith was first doubted, then exposed, then decried, then abandoned to some degree or another.

And the soulless miserable "truth" was left for generations to come...Hallelujah...

Somewhere along the way we lost the distinction between "true" and "factual". As science became our new faith we lost the fine art of symbolism, of myth, of understanding through story and image concepts too large and unwieldy to be perceived in mathematical formulae.

Perhaps none of our religious myths are factual, but many are true. There is no way to verify many facts in such an ethereal field, but we do know that we are here, products of some great mysterious power, little pin pricks of mortal energy in a vast and roiling complex of ever transmogrifying power, given five faulty and failing tools with which to try to perceive and make sense of it all. The X factor here is that we can share our findings, not just with our fellow mortals toiling through the void, but with all of the ones who came before us who bothered to pass on what they knew, and with those whom we hope will follow after us. The thing that works best for us it seems, is when we have a "why" in which to put our faith in to help to muddle through the "what" of reality. The trick is in our perception: if you believe too factually in the myth you become a jihadist zealot. To make it work for you takes a bit of a poetic approach. Why did Christ speak in parables, or stories, rather than just espousing dogma?

Part of the problem for modern folks is we are too in on the sausage making. We know how movie magic is done, so movies, as swell as they can make 'em look these days, seem to leave us flat all the same. It is hard to imagine the days when people ran screaming from the image of a train moving at them on a movie screen, or wondering if "they" really trained a giant ape to perform King Kong. Even the most casual fan can bore you to tears with the facts about green-screen technology employed in film today. Yes, we know that The Wizard of Oz is fake; a bunch of Hollywood hoofers, midgets and drug addicted starlets all made up and dusted with pixie dust to create an illusion. But does that mean that the movies' values, the beliefs in friendship, honor, loyalty, courage, etc. etc. are false, too? This is babies and bathwater territory.

I tell my kids about Santa because he is fun. He is a symbol of societal justice for children: the good shall be rewarded, the assholes punished. That is a healthy thing. I don't make a big deal about how "real" he is. They have fun with the dream of Santa and who am I to rain on that parade? If I see things are getting out of hand, I will try to correct the course while still keeping the "truth" about why we have Santa around, what purpose he fulfills. The same with all the other bigger questions to come: there is a collective wealth of wisdom and power in our institutions, only a fool would toss them all away because they utilize illusion to illustrate their values. The biggest gift I can think of to give my kids is the power of discernment when dealing with the shitstorm of information that they are going to be subjected to while moving through this world; a lot is junk, some of it is gold.

Which is just, in reality, a very pretty, shiny, rock...

Merry Christmas to all!

Here's Looking For An Explanation

2009-11-22T10:29:00.005-06:00

While recently scanning the American Film Institute's list of top movie quotes of all times, I was not surprised to see the famous Bogart quote from Casablanca at the top of the list:

"Here's looking at you, kid."

Surely, just on quotability and ubiquity it deserves its' place on the list.

But I have always wondered: just what the hell does it mean, exactly?

We can of course infer affection and some kind of flattery in this quote, but "Here's looking at you, kid?" Does it mean, "Here's to your beauty?" like a toast of some kind? Or just literally "Here is looking at you," like, I am here looking at you...Huh?

How did the writer even come up with such an obscure thing to say?

You hear something so much sometimes it takes on meaning and you never stop for a minute to think about it.

Surely a classy lady like Ingrid Bergman always smelled great. Why not: "Here's sniffing at you, kid?" Nah, that doesn't make sense either...

Okay, maybe I am making too much of it, but by golly, if it is the greatest quote ever, shouldn't it at least make some kind of sense.

If not, I vote for "Zug-zug" from Ringo Starr's Caveman...

The Wisdom of Oz

2009-11-21T08:18:00.004-06:00

1939...Europe steps into the abyss. Fascism in Germany has pushed its' expansionist intentions too far with the invasion of Poland, igniting a World War that will consume tens of millions of human lives before ending in the shroud of two nuclear attacks six years later. The Soviets are willing to play ball with Hitler at first; Stalin has his eye on expanding too, and the non-aggression pact with Hitler seemed like the best means to achieve this end...So too Imperial Japan..Fascist Italy. As Communist , Fascist, and Imperial forces around the world moved their machines into position to dominate the world, a Depression-weary and weakened US is torn in debate as to how to react to the apocalyptic scenarios raging on all sides. One American product that was produced out of this troubled time was to become one of the most beloved fantasy movies of all time, The Wizard of Oz.

One of the bad raps that fantasy has always been given is the term escapist. Well, surely if there was ever a time when folks needed a nice reprieve from reality, it was in 1939. And, too be sure, the wonderful songs and vibrant technicolor visions that Oz offered did transport its' viewers to a happier, funner place. But not a place not fraught with its own dangers, its own forces of darkness bent on possession and destruction of free peoples.

Really good fantasy works on a mythic level. It not only tells a good story, but it gives you a boon of some kind as well. It equips us with what we need in order to stay rooted in humanity and yet spiritually enlightened. The things that the main characters were searching for were the very things that American viewers were going to need to tap into: the Scarecrow wanted brains; the Tin Man wanted a heart, and The Cowardly Lion needed courage. All Dorothy wanted was to return to her home. In the war years that followed, it was the ingenuity, the humanity, the fearlessness, and the desire for peace that not only brought America through the greatest war the world has ever known, but brought it to world prominence when the dust settled.

Now, I am not asserting that it was because of Oz that America won the war. But I believe that the assertion that these things that the characters felt they desperately needed in order to cope were in their possession all along and were to found by searching within not without was a wonderfully empowering message to pluck up an anxious populace. And of course, the mantra of "there's no place like home" was enough to keep desperate soldiers in far-flung hell holes of war motivated to survive; to return to their mother lands.

2001...A still reeling from the 9/11 attacks America goes to the much anticipated first installment of The Lord of the Rings, "The Fellowship of the Ring." In a quiet scene between Frodo Baggins, a poetic, peace-loving hobbit and his friend and advisor wizard Gandalf the Grey, Frodo expresses his wishes that fate had not brought him to this frightening and dangerous place: deep in the bowels of an orc- infested mountain, an early step on a long, perilous, uncertain quest to take on a great evil. Gandalf responds in a way that spoke to all of us who felt like Frodo, wishing what happened had never happened. "So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." That beam of light came to us in a very dark time, and helped equip us for a new world, a new war, a new way of life.

2010...Shapes up to be a very uncertain time both domestically and abroad. Things have moved so quickly in the last year that it is difficult to foresee where we may be this time next year. Let's hope for some wisdom. Some heart. Some courage. And let's hope that our homes stay safe and strong. And let's hope for some good fantasy to help us steer into better times...

Speer's Destiny

2009-10-14T20:45:00.005-05:00

I finished Spandau: The Secret Diaries the other day so I thought I'd throw a few thoughts on the book out there as I said I would in a prior post.

The book is a year by year diary of Albert Speer's 20 year stay in Berlin's Spandau Prison as sentenced by the Allied judges at the Nuremberg trials following the collapse of the Third Reich. It was truly a secret diary, as such personal writings were strictly forbidden by prison rules. Speer wrote on toilet paper, scraps from old calendars, whatever he could find and hide on his person (tucked in a place he knew no guard would want to search). He wrote to record his thoughts; to grapple with his guilt; to report on his experiences; and to try to keep a life-line to his non-prison self and his sanity. Many interesting memories and reflections about his experiences in Hitler's "court" come to him along the way, but to me the most interesting thing was the relationships that developed between the seven prisoners, all former Nazi bigwigs,
who went from planning on how to conquer and divide the world to struggling to come together to paint the prison halls or weed the gardens.

The other prisoners all regarded Speer as an outsider among outsiders for his open repentance for the Reich's crimes and excesses, and although there was some camaraderie that grew through hardship, for the most part Speer bore his punishment on his own . He developed an amusing relationship to Rudolf Hess, Hitler's one-time Deputy , who had been imprisoned since his ill-fated solo plane trip to Britain on a quest to forge a peace between the countries. Hess was clearly suffering from some forms of prison psychosis, but he also tried to "play" crazy , with frequent losses of memory and phantom gastric pains that prevented him from doing much work. He was thorny and wily, but there was a strange bond of respect that Speer and Hess had for each other that made them, particularly on Speer's part, protective and supporting of one another.

There were constant attempts by Speer's family, lawyers, and well-wishers to get him an early release. After many such dashing of hopes Speer became resigned that his lot was probably to die at Spandau. Late in his sentence he mused that the 20 year sentence, which struck him at the time as a great relief, was in some ways not as merciful as a death sentence would have been. Not for any abuse or mishandling in prison; but simply the complete eradication of the natural bonds with an aging family and world.

Still and all he got to enjoy aspects of his monastic life. He transformed a scrubby field into a wonderful garden with flowers, fruit trees and terraced walls. He walked constant rounds, imagining he was on a worldwide walking tour, using many of the books about different countries that he read as a touchstone for his imagination. He read many books about his various fascinations: architecture, art, history. He kept in touch with world events through available, albeit censored newspapers, and felt himself more and more disconnected from the world that ground on outside the prison walls.

He grappled with his own place in history; he, who started with dreams of being remembered for the buildings he made, was instead remembered as a war criminal with almost no surviving creations left standing. His biggest contribution to architecture, he noted with dark irony , was an illusion: the "cathedral of light", an effect he created at the Nuremberg party rally by shining the beams of numerous powerful searchlights into the sky creating the illusion of a gigantic hall that the party members held their rites within. I have included in this post a picture of a mock-up of the interior of the Great Hall that he had designed for Hitler's triumphal Berlin that was never to be. I noticed a weird illusion of Hitler's face within the design, see if you can see it.

At the end of the Diaries Speer is whisked off with his wife out of Spandau and to a new phase of his life. The literary contributions that he made in that last phase actually became his true legacy.

I couldn't help but feel that as horrible is that lost 20 years may have been for him, he certainly fared better in this prison where he read, gardened , walked, listened to symphonies and smoked his pipe, than he would have in, say, Huntsville prison. His experience is more what Jerry and George were probably thinking about on Seinfeld when they mused: "Prison...(wistfully)Someday..."

Close Encounters of the Third Reich

2009-10-06T21:11:00.005-05:00

Lately I have been reading a couple of books by Albert Speer, Hitler's favorite architect and later Armaments Minister during WWII.

The first book I read was Inside the Third Reich, Speer's memoirs of his youth and his involvement in Hitler's inner circle until the end of the war and his imprisonment for war crimes in its aftermath.

I remember seeing a mini-series on TV in 1982 based on this book starring Rutger Hauer as Speer and Derek Jacobi as Hitler. It was a very well done drama, with many scenes that I have remembered for all of these years. Jacobi was a favorite of ours at the time due to his brilliant turn as the lead in Masterpiece Theater's I, Claudius. He did a pretty good job capturing Hitler's ability to weave many brilliant people into his own fevered dreams, but he has a distinctly Anglo aura about him that he was unable to disguise convincingly. Alec Guinness had a similar problem when he portrayed the Fuhrer in Hitler: The Last Ten Days. It always bothered me when Germans were portrayed with icy upper crust British accents. Of course, the best portrayal of Hitler on film thus far has to be Bruno Ganz in Downfall, who has the advantage of actually being German and performing auf Deutsch. He was very convincing as the erstwhile world conqueror, diminished to little more than a cornered rat , trapped in his bunker awaiting the End.

Both in the mini-series and the book, as fascinating as Speer himself is, the star of the show is , of course,Hitler; and as someone who once claimed to be the closest thing that the dictator ever had to a friend, Speer was uniquely positioned to give us a very up close and personal account of the man who took the world to the brink of Apocalypse.

The enigma of Hitler to us from the perspective of time and culture is the mystery of his appeal; not just to rabble rousers and beer hall brawlers, but to intellectuals, artists, scientists, professionals, grandmas, school kids and everyone else. The cliched question is still the prime mystery: How did the culture that produced Beethoven and Goethe embrace Nazism?

Speer is a good example of someone from the privileged class with a bright future who got caught up in Hitler's dream. From his memoirs one could gather that Hitler was given the keys to the kingdom because of two things he offered the German people at a very uncertain time in their history: Hope and Change.

Obviously you could make some pretty heavy duty analogies about now. It is no secret that cultures are at their most vulnerable at times of excessive ease and times of excessive strain. In times of ease the fat life becomes something expected and taken for granted. Things get soft and lackadaisical and right and wrong gets blurred. At times of strain, panic and despair lead to a search for strength and easy solutions. Hitler was a strong man, a father figure for a country that had been orphaned by its old order and left in disarray. He spoke boldly in terms so black and white and certain that all other politicians seemed like dithering bureaucrats more intent on pushing papers than pulling Germany out of the hole it was in. The mystery of his mass hypnotic appeal so often cited is I think a macrocosmic effect that can be experienced by anyone when put into a random group, co-workers on a project; jurors debating a case; even people stuck in a long bank line. An Alpha asserts himself, the group pulls into a societal order of deputies, conspirators, etc., and it is not until the group dissipates again that the whole experience can be looked back on for what it was.

Speer was an architect with a sharp mind and good connections. He was what Hitler had always wanted to be before he was a politician. He picked Speer to design the Future Reich of his dreams, with Grand Domes and Arches of Triumph, great temples to the Party and monuments to attest to the power of National Socialism. But he was what Dylan so poetically referred to as a "Dream Twister." Speer was pulled into Hitler's dream, thinking that his own dreams were being fulfilled. Speer made an interesting observation, saying that Hitler was like a malignant King Midas: instead of everything he touches turning into gold, he turns everything he touches into piles of corpses.

His portrait of Hitler was one of a man at times crude, at times inspiring, more often than not boring, and something of a dilettante regarding many subjects. He kept a distance from everyone in his role as Fuhrer, even Eva Braun , his secret consort.

It was not until the dream ended in catastrophe for Germany that Hitler's true face was seen by those around him; the losing Reich was not worthy of survival; it had to be razed and wiped off the face of the earth, having proved itself as being unworthy and unable to fulfill his desires for world domination and the eradication of Jewry. He was determined to not just commit suicide, but to take all of Germany with him, and Speer was fundamental in disregarding his leader's scorched earth policy, thus saving his country from a much greater destruction than the nightmare it faced in the dissolution of the Reich.

After Hitler's death and Germany's surrender, Speer was put on trial at Nuremberg, along with other surviving Nazi leaders. He fared better than many: 20 years in prison for his part in using slave labor in armaments factories.

The book I am currently reading is The Spandau Diaries about that 20 year imprisonment. I will report on it when I finish shortly.

Speer has many critics who accuse him of being self serving , trying to make himself more sympathetic in his memoirs, and less attached to the Final Solution aspect of Hitler's designs. They even say that his plea of guilty at the Nuremberg trials and denunciation of Hitler's policies were a mere ploy to save him from the hangman's noose, which it did. Several books have been written refuting different aspects of Speer's version of events. I am sure there is some truth to many of these accusations. All autobiographies must be read with a healthy dose of scepticism, after all, the author cannot be dispassionate about his subject. But all the same Speer is an interesting character, with an artistic and earnest eye for detail and examination. One gets the feeling that he truly grapples with trying to make sense of the maelstrom that surrounded him. His precise and probing mind is the crucible in which all the elements of what happened to him personally, and what happened to his country, and to our world are thrown, and Inside the Third Reich is an intriguing result.

The Guilted Age

2009-08-22T09:38:00.005-05:00

Something has been gnawing at me for some time, and after reading a piece about the forthcoming James Cameron movie Avatar, I just have to say something...

It seems that the story of this film concerns a war between Earth and a distant moon that we are exploiting for our own material purposes.

So we are the bad guys...Again...

The guilt complex that we are foisting upon ourselves just for existing, and the consumptive requirements that existing necessarily bears has gotten way out of hand.

We are made to feel guilty for the food that we eat , ('we are overfishing the oceans! We are turning the planet into a desert with the deforestation that raising cattle for our hamburgers causes! The fertilizers we are using are running into the oceans and causing dead spots!) We are condemned for the use of fresh water, we are even vilified by ourselves for having to poop and the necessary need to deal with the poop once it is here. ('Bad baby! Stinky baby!' )

Our clothes are made by foreign slave labor...Everything we do pollutes...We are killing off everything on the planet by eating it, destroying its' habitat or trying to domesticate it too much. We have also polluted our upper atmosphere with tons of 'space junk'. Even methane producing farts are polluting and destroying us.

Do you remember being able to enjoy watching nature documentaries? I can't even bear to watch them anymore because rather than portraying the nature of the subject, the main theme of these shows is invariably how man is destroying what is left of these marvelous creatures.

Do you and your spouse want to have children? You greedy fools, you are adding to overpopulation and over consumption. ("You have thrown the worst fear that can ever be hurled- the fear to bring babies into the world."-Bob Dylan, "Masters of War") . If you are selfish enough to exist, the only thing that you could possibly do that is worse is to die. Coffin burials are polluting, cremations add to ozone decay. If you allow yourself a 'green burial' it is a little better, your corpse can be thrown on a 'possum pile' along with the egg shells and old coffee grounds.

The bad guy in almost every movie, and certainly in every kid's movie, is a greedy capitalist pig who is trying to bulldoze over some little corner of heaven in order to set up his soulless money sucking industry. (All of these movies brought to you, hypocritically enough, by big soulless money sucking industries!) Is it any wonder that in the last elections half our country felt that moving to communistic or socialistic approaches to government was worth entertaining?

Now I am not here to soft pedal any of the challenges that we as a species face, God knows we need to be better stewards of the planet, if that is indeed our destiny. But for goodness sake, we need to preserve the planet so that we may better survive on it as consuming living organisms!

The Big Guilt Trip that we have been on since about 1965 or so has been so all encompassing as to obliterate the origins of its cause. It has almost become a mass delusion of self loathing , a priming in the human psyche to rationalize a species level suicide, rather than a warning to better ensure the survival of the species.

We are clearly a species on the decline...

When you think about the glory days of humankind, when it was called Mankind, and I am not being sexist here, our self image was quite different. The Greeks may have had a host of colorful deities that ran the show, but they were all organs of power on which Man could draw as he climbed the heights of cultural and educational enlightenment. With the warning against hubris keeping him in check, the future was not self annihilation but discovery and growth. The Greek Empire may not have lasted, but the Greek spirit and outlook influenced and shaped the world in the most profound way.

It is easy to have a very dark view of humanity in a general sense. Working in the service industry as I do, I get to see people of all different kinds acting in all different ways. When I have an encounter with a genuine asshole I get very down on "people", but then I run across a genuinely nice person who acts in an unsolicited kind way to another person and I am reminded that we are like a large organism consisting of good and bad cells that must coexist for the good of the whole. We must not allow the assholes to condemn the species to an unfair self-loathing. Rather than always focusing on our limitations, we would be better served to look at our potential, and not just in the light of our modern religion, Science, (which can be blamed for most of the malaise we are in), but in our capacity to make the world a better place with a better attitude towards things that make us better people treating each other in a better way: civilization. And no, I don't mean necessarily by feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, etc., etc., (fill in with more whiny liberal guilt trip crap). I mean, treat your kids like the potential great Humans they could be, treat the oldies with the respect that they deserve, respect the brainpower, the imagination, the common joy we all share in the things that make life worth living. I believe Art, rather than being a tool for propaganda or just keeping the bored entertained, can save the self-image of our species, and just maybe, save our species itself.

Artists, don't make us feel guilty for being alive. Make us feel alive!

Who knows, maybe Avatar will do just that.

We can only hope...

Curse of the Videotapes

2009-08-19T21:16:00.004-05:00

Piles and piles of video tapes...Years of recordings from cable, dubs of movies, music videos, lots of miscellaneous junk of interest at one time or another. Not only do I have my own sizable stash of tape, but a huge archive of stuff that my late brother had meticulously recorded for his own purposes over the span of about 25 years is also in my care. Part of me (my better half, the wife) says throw it all away and don't look back. It has been collecting in the dusty cabinet in my garage, broiling away on these 100+ degree days of summer, making me wonder how long all this stuff can survive anyway. Then I start looking at the titles. So much cool stuff! Destroy these wonders? Never!

I borrowed my brother's dvd/vcr converter and set out on a quest...

One of my first compilations had to be a selection of some of the many great horror titles that we captured over the years. I started with a kind of sentimental choice. Terror In the Aisles is a compilation of scenes from various movies. It was released in the 80's with Donald Pleasance hosting. It was pre-Freddy, and had a interesting selection of scenes, not just from standard horror movies like Halloween , and The Thing, but some terrifying moments from suspenseful or action packed movies like NightHawks.

The next movie I dubbed was Curse of the Demon. This movie deserves a full write up, which I will work on ASAP.

I just wanted to set the table for the next few posts, where I will talk about some of these cool old movies.

I also wanted to say that if anyone has tried to post a comment on this blog lately, I apologize, I have not been snobbishly rejecting them, I have stupidly forgotten to update the email address to my new one that I got about four months ago! That should be fixed now, so let the show go on!

There's Something About JAWS

2009-08-08T09:25:00.009-05:00

At my nine year old son's insistence we watched Jaws again the other night. It was the second time I watched this movie with him. We saw it together last summer as well. Jaws is definitely a summer movie.

I can't say how many times I have watched this movie; probably somewhere between 50 and 75 times, there is no way of knowing at this point.

I had some hesitation to watch it with my kid. We always enjoyed body surfing in the big waves of Port Aransas beaches together, and I didn't want to screw that up. I am still being vilified by my sister for having scared one of my niece's out of any desire to swim in salt water for having shown her merely the clip of the shark rising to Chief Brody's chum.

But Joey has a remarkably clear-eyed view when it comes to all things involving Nature, and has never suffered under any illusions about where humans are on the food chain. He is also a big fan of "riding the whoppers", the big waves, so it's all good.

Watching Jaws again made me think about the first time I saw it, when I was about Joey's age back in the summer of '75. My oldest brother Mike went to see it with some of his friends when it finally came around to our small town. It was already a huge sensation around the country and the airwaves were filled with Jawsmania. It is weird to think of it now, but back in those days we rarely got first-run movies on their opening week at our local theaters. Many movies never came around at all. And of course there was no video market then, so if you missed it, you missed it, at least until it came out in horribly edited versions on TV. You had to seek out the almost universally horrible movie adaptation paperbacks, called novelizations, or on some rare occasions, a Fotonovel, which was a video image cartoon version of the movie. Not to get too far off the main subject, I recall that the novelization of the Jaws/killer -giant -animal ripoff movie Grizzly, was much better than the actual movie which I finally got to watch on video years later, so not all novelizations were bad.

Anyhow, back to 1975 and my brother. He came home from watching Jaws brimming with excitement and inspiration. Sitting around in our bunk beds he regaled us with an amazing almost frame by frame narration of the tale, from the opening prowling music accompanied shark's eye view cruise through wormy beds of sea grass, to the last shot of the exhausted survivor's drifting onto an abandoned Amity beach. It was a virtuoso telling, many of the phrases he used to describe the story stick with me to this day, and I hear them in my mind whenever I watch the movie. I was deemed a little too young for the movie at that time, which in a way was a relief for me. Up to that time, the only movies I saw in the theater were Disney movies, or pioneer family movies like Against a Crooked Sky.

In the meantime there was Peter Benchley's novel to investigate. We found what looked like an old library copy of the book at a garage sale. It bore the familiar shark bearing up on a swimming girl cover, but instead of the awesome great white image of the movie poster, the shark more closely resembled a giant lemon with a mouth slit carved in it. This was the first book written specifically for adults that I ever read, and beyond the classically corny prose-"The great fish moved silently through the water-", there was plenty of potboiler sleaze involving lesbians,extramarital affairs, and the like. Considering I had been reading the Gold Key Comics adventures of Andy Panda and Little Lulu right before it, this was truly hot stuff.

Finally my turn came. Jawsmania had raged all summer long, and by popular demand, Jaws returned to the Palace theater late that summer for one more lap at the box office. This time after much begging, wheedling and cajoling I convinced my Mom to let me accompany my older brothers to the theater to see what all the hoopla was about. I remember my oldest brother Mike was wearing Ice Blue Aqua Velva when we went to see the movie, and the smell of this after shave still reminds me of the experience. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by the experience. The shark of course was scary as hell, but what scared me the most was the grue of the shark's victims, particularly the remains of Ben Gardener, the hapless fisherman who met his end in a mysterious attack on his boat. I remember my brother Mike could send me running in fear, simply by chanting "the little head popping out of the hole!" I always wondered what happened there; had the shark attacked his boat and given Ben Gardener a heart attack? Did scavenging fish nibble out one of his eyes or did he lose it in the attack on his small vessel by the shark? I guess it doesn't really matter, but I always wondered. I was also always prone to brooding on little thoughts such as "Gee, that estuary victim whose severed leg drifted to the ocean floor put that shoe on that morning like any other not knowing it would be the last time he would do it."

Most of all I was sad for Quint. I remember viewers of the time always referred to Quint in a negative way, mostly based, I am sure, on his heavy macho attitude and initial berating of sensitive 70's guy Matt Hooper. I always saw Quint in a different way. He reminded me of my Dad, and certain old uncles, all veterans, all fishermen and/or hunters who had a personal relationship with the life and death struggle. It made them all a little crazy, (Quint was certainly a loon, his blustering blabbing at the wharf as they are setting out on the hunt was almost embarrassingly over the top), and it made them all a little scary. But there was something sad there, too, an unfinished business that they all pursued and that could only end one way. If Quint had a Death Wish, then he certainly got what he wanted. It was interesting how the book and movie differed. Hooper, who brought on his comeuppance in the book by bedding Brody's wife, was spared death in the movie , and was much more of typical "correct" hippy hero of the times. Brody, as the Everyman, survived, as he did in the book, but was given a much more heroic part to play by causing the shark's exploding death. The shark in the book had the really disappointing end by simply expiring of old age ,exhaustion , or harpoon stress at the last minute as it was about to consume Brody. I guess it was in keeping with the whole Moby Dick implacable force of nature thing, rather than a boffo popcorn movie ending, but it was still a bit of a letdown to end a novel with. This was one of cases where the movie version of a story was a vast improvement on it's original source material.

The fallout of such a huge cultural phenom continues to this day. I read (and loved) all of the myriad Mad magazine, Crazy, Cracked etc. parodies. When the sequel came out I read the Hank Searls novel and saw the movie. (Both disappointing.) From there on it got worse and worse as it usually does, and I skipped most of the other sequels until years later on a bored video rental whim.

The original film, now almost 35 years old, still packs a punch. The shark still looks pretty darn cool to me. All of the bizarre side characters in Amity are much beloved or behated icons on par with Mayberry's little world of small town folks. The Mayor's anchor suit still brings a smile to my face. (Does he wear that thing ALL of the time?) And it still brings me back to that awkward time when both book and movie formed a bridge from my childhood to my adolescence. The horror is all still there, although I now feel more of the parental terror that the Brody's and the Kintner's experienced than I did before.

I am sure it will hold up well over the next 50 to 75 viewings...

2009-04-27T08:51:00.003-05:00

The other day my son, daughter and I accompanied my brother and nephew to a Toy Convention in the neighboring city of Live Oak. It was pretty much what you would expect of such an affair; rows and rows of vendors peddling their wares of action figures (from fancy, pricey mint in box affairs to big plastic tubs of junk toys, my favorite) comic books (meh) and cards (bo-ring). It was an interesting affair trying to herd the kids through all this, keeping them from going completely nuts and browsing through the stuff myself. My main reason for going to these things is to check out the odd bits of memorabilia that have survived since the "old days" of my childhood. Even if there are things around that I didn't have or know about at the time, it is cool to see stuff from that era because they evoke the feelings of the time. Last time we were there a guy was dressed in a Darth Vader outfit, and in person, Darth's outfit is huge and you get a real sense of the dread that the "real" character would exude. (The fact that Darth sported a prominent fanboy paunch did nothing to dampen the effect.) This time there was a fully suited clone trooper and he was equally impressive. (I think it was the same guy, his paunch looked mighty familiar.)

After selecting a large stuffed Pinkie Pie (My Little Pony) for my daughter and an ARC trooper (Star Wars) for my son, and a big bag of old squeaky toys (ostensibly for the kids, but I really liked them), we were about ready to call it a day. But I just had to make my way back to the front area and get a look-see at the special guest who was there signing autographs. It was Jonathan Joss, the voice of John Redcorn on my second favorite series currently running on the air, King of the Hill. I went to the table that was his station, and by this point in the show there was no one around it. There were a few guys sitting behind the table, which was decorated with dried red corn husks and stacks of pictures and Tee shirts with KOTH characters adorning them. I scanned for who among the guys sitting behind the table may be Redcorn and I couldn't see any of them being the one. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, A guy who could be no one else BUT Redcorn stepped up and introduced himself. He looked exactly like his character, only a more human version, and he was exceedingly polite and fun. I told him it was an honor to shake his hand, (yes I gushed a little), and he said the honor was his, that he lived to meet the people who supported the show, and we had a great conversation where he hinted that there was some talks in progress for ABC to rescue KOTH from its' announced cancellation from Fox at the end of this season. He joked that he always thought that Redcorn should have his own show. He was a delight and a class act, so I plunked down $5 for a autographed color picture of the KOTH gang. Later I told my wife that I had shaken the hand of someone who had no doubt shaken the hand of Tom Petty (who brilliantly provides the voice for the character Lucky) who had to have shaken the hand of fellow Wilbury George Harrison, my all-time favorite musician. That's only two degrees of separation!

It would be fun to do one of those profile tests to see which character of King of the Hill you most resemble. I think I have some strong Hank tendencies, but none of his proficiency with tools, lawns, and such. I have some very Bill-like tendencies as well, I am sorry to say. Who do you think you are most like?

Movin' On Up

2009-04-02T20:48:00.002-05:00

Long time no post...Life has a way of hogging up all your available time and brain power sometimes. Since I last posted I was laid off from one job, got my old job that I had prior to that one back, and went on a whirlwind trip to Florida.
And through all that I only have one burning issue that has compelled me to dust off the old username and password and get back on the blog..
The horror of the Three Stooges movie announcement.
Not so much that one is being made, heck , the corpse grinding never ends . Much worthier subjects have suffered the grinding. I am not even a big fan of the Stooges, they used to scare me when I was little . I only started watching them with my son, who loves their violent antics. It was the casting...Sean Penn as Larry...Jim Carrey as Moe...Benecio Del Toro as Curly...WTF?
That is AWFUL! That is cozy casting run rampant.
I started thinking of who might be better and thought I'd throw it out there and see who YOU think would be better...
While watching TV Land the other day, my wife mentioned that Marla Gibbs on The Jeffersons was the Wanda Sykes of her day. We jokingly cast the Jeffersons movie and came up with Martin Lawrence as George Jefferson, Queen Latifah as Weezy, Sascha Baron Cohen as Mr. Bentley.
Are you listening, Hollywood?

God, I hope not...

The Monster Among Us

2009-02-11T18:51:00.004-06:00

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he doesn't become a monster."--Friedrich Nietzsche

Monsters have always both repelled and fascinated me. When I was very small I was what my Pop dubbed a "chicken poop", easily frightened by scary images on TV or in books. I remember being terrified while watching Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein when the Monster threw a nurse out of a laboratory window. Sure, it was just Abbot and Costello, and the bit was just put in for some good Universal Monster grue; but in my imagination I filled in the Nurse's horrible death: the lacerating explosion through the glass, the terrifying plummet through dark misty night air, the bone breaking impact on cold stones, the tumble into icy sea water, all the time through the searing pain, the knowledge that death was imminent. I doubt even the actress portraying the nurse worked her way through the "method" as much as my five year old mind did in that instant.

There was always a ready supply of monsters and spooks on TV but my childhood was also haunted by various "native" monsters as well. Our parents, wanting to keep nosy kids from rooting through various packed mementos in a closet, invented a "hoopher" that lived among the boxes, guarding their contents with scratchy claws and needle teeth. I remember my Pop, to add a little realism to his monster myth, showed us all a bloody cut he had received somehow, and chalked it up to the work of the "hoopher", guarding his horde. The terror that the "hoopher" evoked grew to such a fever pitch that our parents must have decided that the monster had gotten away from its original intent, and was having a decidedly unhealthy impact on over imaginative children. Pop staged the "death" of the "hoopher", and took his tiny body out to the trash pile and burned it. I have no idea what was actually burned but I can remember seeing some lifeless limp thing in Pop's hands as the creature went to his funeral pyre. The aura of fear lingered in the closet for some time after. And then we tore into their stuff!

There was also the man who took kids who would not take their naps away to the dump in a burlap bag, there to barbecue his naughty prize on a pile of burning trash. Now, these native monsters may seem like prime examples of psychological child abuse to our 2009 minds, and undoubtedly they were, but they were also in a very long tradition of various bogey men designed by parents from time immemorial to get children to do things that they would otherwise be loathe to do.

As time went on, my "chicken poop" side turned to morbid fandom. I read every classic horror story, bought and consumed Famous Monsters of Filmland, and watched every horror movie that I could. I became a true student of the macabre. I wrote scary stories, and planned horror novels and movies with my friends. As a student of the horror genre, it was interesting to watch how the emphasis changed with the times.

The monster was always the star of the show, and usually the movie or book was named for it. But in the old days, the story was always told from the perspective of the victims and/or those who fought them. The monster was the other, and as such had to be cut out like a cancerous tumor, for the sake of society, and any concerns about how the monster became a monster or saving its soul, were a very low concern, if a concern at all. The monster was always dispatched with at the end, even if it was destined to be reborn in a sequel, the audience was never left with an open ending to haunt their dreams upon leaving the cinema.

After America "lost its innocence" in the post-JFK assassination, post-Vietnam, post-Watergate era, the focus started to change. The evil wasn't necessarily an 'other' anymore, it could emanate from your child, ala The Exorcist and The Omen, or the rustic family off the highway ala Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The endings were much less cut and dry; things did not always end nicely, the monster more often than not won the day.

When Halloween launched the era of 'splatter' horror , the monster almost took over the role of the hero, the victims were cardboard cut outs set up for the monster to dispatch with in more and more creative ways. There wasn't even the expectation of a "sewn up" ending anymore. Now, the cynical observer might just say that these monsters could not be finally destroyed because it would be tantamount to killing off Mickey Mouse; the end of a lucrative franchise. That may be true to an extent, but I believe there is also a deeper, more sociological reason. I believe the trend reflects the maturing realization that evil can not be truly destroyed; it can be beaten back but never removed entirely. The evil is not necessarily out there anymore, it may even lurk inside of us. This certainly is behind the new 'torture horror' trend in the genre, where the bad guy is definitely the only interesting thing in the tales. This existed to a degree in some classic horror, but much more as subtext.(Frankenstein's true monster was not the creature he brought to life, but the blasphemous drive inside him to attempt to be God-like.)

The place where you should always truly look for a 'moral' is in the actions of those who attempt to take on evil. How do they go about it? Do they stick to their principles, or become more like the evil itself in order to take it down? This is where horror movies can really be insightful. The horrors that we face in our personal lives (financial, medical, marital, career woes) can make us stronger, wiser people for taking them on; or they can make us victims ourselves; or even worse, we can become twisted and evil in an attempt to be victorious. This also works on the level of our roles as citizens. Does the government that represents you truly reflect your intentions in the way it takes on the horrors that it must? (war, economic collapse, the erosion of freedoms)

Anyone who passes judgement too quickly and superciliously on horror as a genre is losing sight of the fact that it is primarily a modern morality play, our modern equivalent of The Harrowing of Hell or The Divine Comedy. They may not always say what we want them to say about us, or we may not always agree with what they do say, but they hold up the mirror, and it is up to us to look and ponder.

And to an old chicken poop like me, it is both thrilling and illuminating to do so...

1776

2009-02-05T14:35:00.004-06:00

I just finished reading David McCullough's 1776, and I am sad. I am sad because the scope of the book was limited to just the events of the eponymous year, and even though I know how things turn out, I am sure left wanting to continue my trek with His Excellency General George Washington and his rag tag Continental Army. This book was written as a companion piece to McCullough's Pulitzer prize winning John Adams, which I have not read yet. I watched the excellent HBO mini-series starring Paul Giamatti , which I recommend highly, and thought I'd read 1776 as a warm-up to tackling Adams. So my sadness is tempered with the joy of expectation for my next read, but, if the mini-series is faithful to the book, many of the great historical occurrences may just be glancingly presented in relation to the effect on Adams' life. But I trust McCullough to do it right enough.

I don't need to spend much time singing McCullough's praises, he is a much read and honored writer of history. 1776 is the first book of his that I have read, however, and I was completely engrossed throughout the chronicle. The portrait of Washington in this book , though preserving some of the enigma that all great historical figures seem to present, made me consider the man, not the icon. For the first time the fragility of the birth of our nation , the uncertainty, the danger, the true ballsyness of rebelling against the Greatest Power On Earth was brought home to me.

It occurred to me how this great tale has been somewhat shrouded in the gauziness of myth.We all learned the basics, the Boston Tea Party, crazy old King George III, and the almost miraculous coming together of the Founding Fathers to Declare Independence, and shoot at Redcoats from behind trees until they gave up. But the real nitty gritty, desperate, brave, freezing, green, conflicted and uncertain struggle is not as well portrayed. I was trying to think of other movies concerning the American Revolution, and the only one that came to mind was Revolution, an Al Pacino starrer that I believe came out in the 80s and was, if memory serves, a stinker. There was also The Patriot, starring Mel Gibson, but this one, while dealing with some historical characters and events, was a fictionalized account. And of course, the musical 1776.

And this begs the question: why hasn't the story , the real story, ever been told in all the glory and horror that it deserves?

My theory is that the heart of the average member of the Powers That Be is much more in line with the priggish ruling Tories, and the average Founding Father with his patriotic and libertarian zeal would be considered a religious whack-job militia man.

If you want to see the Civil War portrayed, you can take your pick of any number of films, some of them very fine. I think that apart from being closer to our own time, the central theme of slavery is a more fun "teaching moment" for filmmakers to engage in. There may have been a time when the assumption that the details of the story are too familiar from repeated exposure in school, but that was before society crumbled.

In any case, there are always books, and 1776 is a great place to start. Maybe McCullough will finish the job and grace us all with a complete history of the Revolution someday. Then maybe we'll get our movie!

From Rolling Stone Issue #34521 June 2019

2009-01-28T08:27:00.010-06:00

The Dream Is Over...Again

Around the world, Beatle fans and fans of Beatle fans are mourning the unexpected break-up of a newly formed supergroup, and are left pining for " what might have been."

News broke late on May 10 that the group comprised of the famous offspring of the Fab Four was breaking up almost as soon as it had formed.

First announced only two months prior(RS- April #34519-"Here Comes the Sons") the group calling itself The White Alumni comprised of Sean Lennon, Stella McCartney, Dhani Harrison and Zak Starr broke the world's heart through a terse press release, effectively ending what was a thrilling prospect for rock fans worldwide: the closest thing to a Beatles reunion we could possibly expect.

In case you have been living in a cave for the last two months, here is a brief recap of events.

Phoenix-like, the hopes of this band rose from the ashes of the inferno that claimed the life of many stars, among them the last surviving Beatle , Lord Ringo Starr, at the tragic and ironically named Ringo Starr Celebrity Roast disaster of January 8, 2019. (RS -February #34517 -"Helter Swelter") " We should not have booked Great White to play at the event, " Gilbert Gottfried, the Roast's coordinator conceded. The funeral for the fallen Starr brought the famous Beatle offspring Dhani Harrison and Zak Starr together. Jamming through their pain, a bond was formed, and then, a Band was formed. "It just felt right," said Starr, "And I think our Dads would approve."

A call was made to Julian Lennon with the invitation to join his mates. Unfortunately,a back injury incurred in a plumbing accident precluded Lennon's ability to tour, and he was unable to get vacation time from his boss to allow any studio time either. Reluctantly, a call was then put in to Sean Lennon who immediately joined up. The last vacancy was to be filled by someone more famous in the fashion world than in the music world, Stella McCartney . "We considered signing on some of Uncle Paul's bastard sons but in the end Stella offered to design our tour wear for free if we signed her, so fate smiled on us there," Dhani Harrison said during the band's launch press release.

With the aide of the Martinizer, the state of the art production computer designed by the original Fifth Beatle, Sir George Martin himself , the band was now equipped with the essential tool that could not only mix, record and edit their music, but could also brew the best pot of tea in England.

After kicking around various monikers including, Bad Seed, Bad Blood, The Nowhere Men and The Apple Doppel-Gang, the band settled on the now famous The White Alumni.

Preparations were made at Abbey Road; the world was enthralled by the press releases, the family of Mark David Chapman was put under police surveillance; everything was set for The White Alumni-mania. Then fate stepped in. On the first day of recording, Kyoko Ono, daughter of John Lennon's widow Yoko Ono from her first marriage, arrived with Sean Lennon, at their mother's insistence. The band, attempting to cut their first song, were aghast at the wailing and caterwauling of Kyoko , and a chill fell on the proceedings that was never to thaw out.

"We unanimously decided that the time was not yet right," Dhani Harrison sadly announced after the May 10th press release was broadcast. "We thought that once all the original Beatles were no longer with us, we could make a respectful go of it, but we didn't really take the fact that Yoko is still living into account."

The world is left bereft again.In the words of John Lennon: "And so, dear friends, we'll just have to carry on...The dream is over!"

Smarty Pantsuit

2009-01-26T08:41:00.004-06:00

"We must use what has been called 'smart power', the full range of tools at our disposal. With 'smart power', diplomacy will be the vanguard of foreign policy."--Hillary Clinton

Normally I am not one to nitpick such sweeping and vague pronouncements from a member of our beloved leadership, but when Hillary made the above proclamation at her Senate hearing the other day, a chain reaction was started in the media that I just have to speak to.

"Smart Power" seemed to be the only thing that Ms. Clinton really had to promise in order to get the enthusiastic approbation of the Senate and the media. There was no real substance to her proposal. It basically came down to "I will be smart, not dumb. (Like Bush and Co.) We will be good, not evil. (Like Bush and Co.) And all will be great, not crap. (Like Bush and Co.)

Wow, it must have taken a think tank a lot of long nights and many pots of coffee to come up with this new political philosophy.

I know she is trying to say she will employ diplomacy first and military might only when necessary, but this is really the exact approach taken by Bush and just about every other administration before.

But hers will be "smart!"

I have come to really hate when the word 'smart' is employed to sell things, the inference is if you don't want it or like it you are dumb. It's the same technique used with the Patriot Act or The Fuzzy Baby Bunny bill-"How can you oppose it?!"

I defy you to find an article about Tina Fey that does not mention that she is "smart. "And she has the glasses to prove it!"

Now, I don't doubt the IQ of either of these fine women, they have both achieved substantial things in their given fields of endeavor. I just get weary of seeing an appellation like 'smart' getting craftily attached to something to create a 'spin' that is usually unchallenged by the media. It is what the great poet Charles Bukowski called "a shortcut to thinking."

I remember years ago when the movie Bram Stoker's Dracula came out, almost every reviewer to a man mentioned how true to Stoker's tale this movie was, I am sure because of it being Bram Stoker's Dracula instead of just Dracula. And of course, they revealed to everyone that has read the book that they had never cracked its' pages, because Bram Stoker's Dracula is waaay off!

And just as an aside, I wonder if Hillary would confess to having employed 'Dumb Power' when she signed on to the invasion of Iraq?

This Is Who We Are...

2009-01-24T05:49:00.005-06:00

For the last week and a half or so I have been indulging in one of my favorite pastimes: renting and consuming an entire season of a good TV series. In the past I have had epic screenings of The Sopranos , Ken Burns' The War, the mini-series John Adams, to name a few. It is endlessly delicious to be able to boot up the next episode immediately if so desired, and not need to wait until the next air date. Viewing episodes in this manner gives you a better macro-comprehension of the series as a whole as well. I get the same pleasure from reading anthologies of great comic strips instead of just getting the daily four panels.

This week's journey has taken me to the rainy, dark world of Millennium. I remember watching the series as it aired and enjoying it for the most part, particularly season one, which is the season I rented and have been watching. The series was Chris Carter's follow-up to his hit , The X-Files, which was riding high the year Millennium debuted, in 1996. I was never much of a fan of X-Files. This was primarily due to the fact that I found the main characters, Mulder and Scully, to be painfully cartoonish. The treatment of many of my beloved cryptozooilogical critters was also shabby (the Jersey Devil is only a hairy, crazy lady in the woods!) and the underlying mystery just got more convoluted and confusing as time went on, hinting that if the producers ever actually tied things up the series would be over (see Lost) therefore viewers would be left on eternal third base.

That being said, Millennium initially looked like a different animal. It was cast as sort of to crime what X-Files was to aliens . Chris Carter supposedly pitched the show to Fox producers as "Seven in Seattle", and you can certainly see some David Fincher influences not just in the subject matter, but also in the look of the show. One of the main enticements for me was the casting of the lead role. The show revolves around the experiences of retired FBI man Frank Black, played by the great Lance Henriksen. Frank Black hunted serial killers for the FBI as a profiler, using his unique talent to be able to get inside their skin (figuratively speaking!) and "see" aspects of their case that would be undetectable to normal investigative procedures. The impression that you get is that he is psychic, along the lines of Will Graham from Red Dragon, but Carter always denied this, saying that Frank merely had an extremely acute sense of empathy, his "gift"-his "curse". The darkness that Frank visited in his daily work life apparently crept into the imposed sunlight of his safe haven family life, causing a breakdown for Frank and a break from the FBI. He retires with his family to his hometown of Seattle and settles in a house he had painted bright yellow, the new haven of light and normalcy amidst the darkness of fear and crime. He also joined a mysterious group of ex-law enforcement types known as The Millennium Group which at the onset of the show just seemed to be a super-capable group that used their various skills and talents to solve crimes going beyond normal law enforcement procedures. Frank is not only the heart of the show but it's soul as well. He is the model of integrity, but not in the cartoony John Wayne hero way. He is quiet, serious, dignified, concerned, and a great force of humanity dealing in in the most inhumane spectrum of human behaviour. In Henriksen's soulful wise eyes you can believe that here is a man who has seen it all. His calm thoughtful way of speaking is somewhat contagious, too, I find myself unconsciously emulating him from time to time, which would be annoying if it wasn't so damn effective in defusing stressful situations. Henriksen is one of those rare actors that does his best acting with his face, however, and whatever lead might have been in the script is turned to gold when he puts it over physically. Terry O'Quinn plays Frank's liaison to the Millennium Group, Peter Watts. Here is another very fine actor who, like Henriksen, has been relegated to somewhat schlocky roles but always shines in them. (Remember him in The Stepfather? Wow!) In season one Peter is a great right hand to Frank, doing much of the necessary research via the Group to aid Frank in catching the bad guys. And bad guys there are! Any one with a passing knowledge of true crime can detect the sources of many of these killers, but they are vividly realized and portrayed by some really scary actors, many you recognize by face if not by name, as quality actors you've seen somewhere before.

A word or two must be said about Frank's wife Katherine, played by Meagan Gallagher. She is Frank's rock, and , as a social worker who sees a lot of bad stuff herself, she knows his path isn't easy, but it is right. She boosts him up and helps him keep his center. At first she seems dangerously close to the stereotypical cop's wife, bitching about him never being home, getting pages at inopportune family moments, etc. , but as the series unfolds she becomes more dimensional . She even gets to be the prime lead in an episode concerning a monstrous case of child abuse, which, if not being among the best of season one's episodes, is a nice vehicle to showcase her character's own motivations besides "being there" for Frank and Jordan, their small daughter. Did I mention she is gorgeous as well? That doesn't hurt anything, either.

I won't catalogue much about the stories involved except to say they are generally very good with some being exceptionally good.(The one about the Russian Anti-Christ that started Chernobyl should have been a movie!) Many are strictly crime stories but some go into a more possibly demonic area. There is a lot of religious themes in text and subtext, mostly of an apocalyptic nature. The whole thing reminds you of the apprehension and millennial madness that was churning around out there in the late 90's, as the year 2000 approached. One of the goals of the show was to cash in on that anxiety , and it is a pity that the series never made it that far, being cancelled in 1999. Frank showed up in a special episode of The X-Files in 2000, ostensibly to tie up all the loose ends that the shows cancellation left in the air, an admirable, if ultimately unsatisfying, effort.

It has been a long time since I watched the shows of seasons two and three, but I remember being unhappy with the direction the show took. It may have been a natural progression of the shows' story arc, but it seemed more like a re-tooling to me. The Group turned out to be a bunch of religious nut jobs intent on killing off everyone in the world by means of the release of a super virus, with only their chosen few given the antivirus. The once solid Peter was turned into a sinister force, throwing Frank's world into chaos. They even killed off poor Katherine in an attempt to make Frank's journey to the millennium as bumpy as possible. To my mind, the re-tooling seemed to be an attempt to make the show more like The X-Files, which was a mistake. Here again was the big baffling and maddeningly slow revelation of an over-arching mystery, a strip-tease that could never end, that rather than getting me hooked on the show to see what happens next, left me bored because I knew we would never find out the answers. Still, there were some stand-out shows along the way, and if given the opportunity, would gladly watch seasons two and three on DVD. I am trying to think of a case where the re-tooling of an already airing series actually worked, and the only one that comes to mind is Chris Elliott's Get a Life. As soon as he ditched the yuppie couple and moved into Gus' basement the show turned to gold. Other than that I am at a loss. I read on the Internet that there was some buzz about Carter making a Millennium movie, which would be pretty cool. However, given the near universal yawn that met the last X-Files movie, I wonder about its' chances now.

Oh, and by the way, the theme music for the series is awesome. It is by Mark Snow, who also did the X-Files theme. It is a haunting mix of Celtic-style strings, deep percussives, and ethereal synthesizers. I saw it was available on Itunes, and on my next buy I am going to snag it. The film montage that accompanies the theme music on the opening credits is a masterful collection of glowing, colorful, and mysterious images.

The world of Millennium is perhaps not the happiest place to spend the last couple of weeks but it is full of rewarding viewing. It his highly evocative of its' time, where end of the world anxiety abounded, and pre Y2K jitters even had the government spending billions to avoid a technological apocalypse. It all seems almost innocent in our post 9/11 world. Far from a big splashy end, the collapse seems more likely to be like the ants that take down the elephant, the death of our way of life due to a lapse in faith; faith in God, faith in our liberty, faith in the human ability to effect change in a positive way. Sometimes it seems like we are at the wheel of a car that is heading for a cliff and yet we are too transfixed to simply turn the wheel...Like I said, the world of Millennium is no tea party, but it does present some interesting food for thought...

Vital Statistics

2009-01-17T04:19:00.004-06:00

"If the sun and moon should doubt

They'd immediately go out."-William Blake

As far as we can tell , humans have always required a higher power to call upon for securing their well-being; whether it be for the blessing of a hunt, a crop, or a good and restful place to go to in our afterlife. Whether God created us in his image or we created him in ours has been, of course, subject to debate for centuries, but what is not open to debate is that there is an inherent need, even if only at certain times, for us to have a "parental figure" of some kind to depend on to carry us to our fates. Your god usually depends on your geography, or your station in society. You may not even consider the higher power a "god" as such, but the faith that is put into any force that cannot be 100% quantifiable is , in the end, not unlike any other. They all have their degree of unlikeliness that must be handed over to some degree of faith.

In his book, Beyond the Occult, Colin Wilson discusses the "anthropic principle" which propounds that "the existence of life in the universe seems to argue that the universe was somehow designed to create life and that life is finally destined to colonize the furthest corners of the universe." He then tells of the vitalist view , saying that rather than life arising through some fantastically unlikely combination of chemical compounds out of the dead matter of the universe, perhaps it entered the universe from outside, that life invaded matter, which was really just a cosmic machine created for its expansion. "Life is," he says, "in some fundamental sense, independent of matter." This is certainly the spiritual view. He makes an interesting analogy that we are like cosmic explorers who, after making a spearhead into the unknown country, lost contact with our mother source, and after centuries of struggling independently in the colonies, have only subconscious and mythic reminders of that source. But we still have that need to keep contact.

It is interesting to play with such provocative ideas. The concept that the dueling forces of the universe , God vs. the devil, good vs. evil, light vs. dark, are all poetic readings of life vs. matter is certainly intriguing. In some ways it is beside the point, as Bob Dylan said "you either got faith or disbelief, and there ain't no neutral ground." But I think that what makes atheists and agnostics out of many people is there definition of god. It is understandably difficult in the Age of Science to buy into certain ancient mythologies. However, the old cliche "there are no atheists in foxholes" still rings true. In this turbulent era we realize, to some degree, that our whole world is a "foxhole". We have hardwired in us the need and ability to have faith in certain things; the stripes in the center of the road are just licks of paint, but if we didn't have the faith that the majority of drivers would honor what those stripes symbolize, we would never dare go down the road.

Faith is part of us, part of our evolutionary survival, as individuals and as a species. What we do or do not do with it is our free will, and everything hangs in the balance. So the struggle continues...

Movies That Moved Me Part One

2009-01-09T07:56:00.007-06:00

I remember when I was a little kid just the word Exorcist was enough to fill me with dread and horror. The movie had quickly earned the reputation of being "the scariest movie ever" , and everyone who saw it in the theatre would tell of their revulsion and fear with a nervous laugh and a shiver. This was one of the rare cases in which I was relieved to be too little to see an influential release such as this, for it almost became a test of one's bravery and stamina to endure a screening. The anecdotes about green puke and blasphemous crucifix usage, not to mention twisting heads and the most hideous voice ever recorded became the stuff of mass cultural legend.

As I entered adolescence I developed a keen interest in horror literature and movies, and Famous Monsters of Filmland, helmed by the late Forrest J. Ackerman became something of a monthly obsession for me. I hunted down and watched as many of the genre classics as I could. But still, The Exorcist remained something of an intimidation to me.

Finally, when the age of the VCR dawned and it was possible to screen movies uncut and outside normal circulation I had to face it head on. My oldest brother rented the movie and we watched it. From the opening scenes at an archaeological dig in Iraq to the last in the misty grey streets of Georgetown I was spellbound. Here was a movie that happened to be concerned with horror; not a horror movie. The direction was mature and refined, the imagery profound. The acting was of the highest caliber. At times amusing, at times almost unbearably naturalistic, you sensed right away that this was a movie that was crafted, not cranked out. Certainly not the exploitation flick that its' reputation might lead you to believe.

I won't dwell on any details of the story; no doubt anyone reading this has probably seen it before, and if you are like me you have screened it many times. I will say that despite the obvious spiritual horror of the possessed girl, it is the medical horror of all the tests performed on the girl that really gets to me, especially now that I am a parent myself.

The story hinges primarily on the character not of the Exorcist, nor of the possessed girl or her mother, but on the battle being waged for the soul of the Exorcist's assistant, Father Damien Karras. He is battling with a feared loss of faith at the onset of the picture; frustrated by the impotency he feels in the face of his inability to "save" his mother from a decline in health leading to her despair and death. Indeed it is despair that seems to be the demon's weapon of choice as he uses the crucible of the girl's soul to take down all the characters concerned for her well- being around her. In the end, Father Karras overcomes his impotence of spirit and sacrifices himself-"Come into me!"-seemingly the true target of the sinister force-that the girl may be free. His crucifixion was a fatal header down an epic set of stone stairs, and the scene where his priest friend holds his bloody hand and administers a trembling Last Rites is incredibly moving.

It is in the film's final moment, as the mother and now- free child are leaving Georgetown and being seen off by Karras's priest friend that the big punch arrives. As they are saying farewell, the girl, Regan, who was raised in a strictly secular single parent family, focuses on the priest's collar , and in a spontaneous act of gratitude to the Almighty Power that collar represents, embraces the priest and seemingly "accepts" the Power . Not being terribly spiritually- minded at the time, I nonetheless was deeply moved by this, and I knew that the film I had come to I expecting to see "the greatest horror movie" of all time, was in fact one of the greatest" pro-Christian" films of all time; and a classic one.

It was certainly provocative then, and each time I view it, (once a year is my ritual), I get the same overwhelming meditation on trial, redemption and faith. It is a true classic. By the way, the re-released "version you've never seen" with added footage, while a somewhat interesting variant, is, in my opinion, inferior to the original cut, and should only be viewed after seeing the original cut if at all. The less said about the sequels and prequels the better.

This is an entertainment with religion; not a religious entertainment, and I think that is in general the best away to approach the subject; show don't tell.

And I must say, after all these years, I still get a tingle when I hear the word Exorcist, but at least now it doesn't just concern green puke...

New Year's Evolution

2008-12-31T12:38:00.005-06:00

"...Consciousness tends to focus upon what we lack rather than what we possess. From the moment we are born we struggle to achieve the things we lack , or think we lack: food and drink, possessions, the esteem of other people, security, personal fulfilment. It is only when we are faced with some threat or crisis that we grasp how lucky we are, how much we already possess. Then, suddenly, consciousness ceases to focus upon what we still want and focuses upon what we already have...."--Colin Wilson

I remember when I was a freshman in high school I embarked on the writing of a Lord of the Rings inspired fantasy novel. My brother and I conceived the characters and story together, and we called it Goldfire. It was pretty much what you would expect such an effort to be; although in light of the flood of other such works that have come out since then ours was not too bad. It is one of many unfinished novels of mine, but the thing I remember most about slogging through the 500 some odd (some very odd) handwritten pages of Goldfire was the intense longing I had for a manual typewriter to help me in my efforts. I got a job at a local supermarket bagging groceries, and eventually saved up enough money and purchased the much anticipated typewriter. You would think I was in heaven. Well, I was. For about two days. Then I started thinking about how I really needed a good desk to work at. After much begging and wrangling I was able to talk my Mom into letting me use a dresser as my beloved desk. Then I needed a good light. Then a good workspace. There was always something else that I needed to acquire in able to become the successful author I so longed to be.

Well , my dissatisfaction kept me acquiring until I had everything I should need to do the job, but somewhere in the chase I lost the fire for Goldfire.

I realized then that no matter what I was able to acquire or achieve, I would always be unhappy, because I was more focused on doing the next thing, rather than making the most of what I actually had. I had unwittingly stumbled on the Buddha's Second Noble Truth, Samudaya , the origin of suffering is craving.

Certainly an argument can be made for the dynamism of consumption being the dynamo for effort, warding away stagnation; etc. After all, we must provide what we need to survive.

The moments that we are able to see what we do have, and we are able to count our blessings, are typically rare and usually a peak moment of bliss or produced by the threat of losing what we have.

I'm certainly not going to be a hypocrite about it. I haven't changed much since my Goldfire days. I just got through badgering the same brother that collaborated with me on the book into getting me a leaf blower ( that I had no money myself to purchase but just had to have) as a late Christmas present, and am already contemplating what I will just have to have next.

But I think almost everyone can agree that 2008 was a pretty rotten year overall. The economy is in a shambles, the globe is still inflamed in turmoil, etc. Today is New Year's Eve, and we are about to put this terrible year behind us, and at least embrace the perception that with a new year comes new opportunity. The truth is, of course, that every day is a new opportunity, but we, as a species, take this day to contemplate our lives and progress as a civilization.

There is no telling what we might be saying about 2009 at this time next year. For now, I think it is good to take stock of what we have, what is worth fighting to keep, and what we can afford to get rid of.

The main thing I could afford to get rid of is my desire for new stuff I cannot afford. Oh, and about 75 pounds...

Absurd Good News of Great Joy

2008-12-25T22:44:00.006-06:00

"I look at the side of your face as the sunlight comes

streaming through the window in the autumn sunshine

and all the time going to Coney Island I'm thinking,

Wouldn't it be great if it was like this all the time?"--Van Morrison

The last hour of Christmas Day is ticking away as I write this, family tucked in and drowsing off after a full day of fellowship, food, and of course fun presents for the little ones. All the usual stresses of the pre-holiday madness melted away with the early morning unwrapping, and before the melancholy duties of dismantling all the decorations begins , I wanted to reflect on an interesting phenomena.

Colin Wilson often refers to a state of consciousness that he calls "the holiday effect." I think most of can understand his thinking here based on personal experiences: it is the feeling that we sometimes have when on a holiday from our usual routine, that life is much bigger, more magical, and much more brimming with possibilities than we usually perceive . I suppose it is the very goal of taking a holiday for many of us; not so much the physical destination as the mental one that we journey towards to "clean out our systems."

Most of us when asked about favorite childhood memories will recall holiday events, or birthdays, or vacations, those occasions when time seemed to slow down and become less "in charge".

Then there are the peak moments. Not so much the moments of achievement or accomplishment, although these can of course be very important to us; but the small moments wherein somehow, unsought after or expected, life glows with the meaning, vibrancy and possibility that we feel on holiday. Whether it be a particular bright day, or a moody storm, or any of countless small moments that could have been forgetful , but instead became part of the parcel of joy that you carry in your spirit forever.

What is it that causes these moments, this "holiday effect"? Can we produce these consciously, or are we only to catch them when they arise?

Obviously the feeling is a perceptual phenomenon. Two people standing side by side experiencing the same environment may not necessarily get the same effect from their surroundings. It occurs within the beholder; the filling in of significance at an unconscious and super normal speed , washing over the beholder as an experience that occurs to him rather than by him. Rather like a dream, only in a waking state. So it would seem that the short answer to "can we consciously evoke peak moments?" would be "no."

It is probably wise that our Creator made it difficult to summon peak moments; after all , they would cease to be peaks if we were allowed to be there all the time; which is probably what we would do, like the lab monkey that repeatedly stimulates his pleasure center without nourishing his body and ends up dead.

However, we can make things conducive for them. Have you ever had the experience of waking from a dream that you were enjoying and being able to talk yourself into getting back into that dream? It doesn't work all the time ;but occasionally, while still in that receptive, relaxed mode, you can will the dream to go on. I think by actively exercising our perceptive abilities we can increase the chance of having these spiritual, cleansing moments. Take the time every so often to really look at your surroundings; listen to what is going on all around you, use all your senses to help you take in just what is going on in your life. The robot that gets you from point A to point B, so you can earn your daily bread, needs to be turned off from time to time, so that you may connect with the real you in the real world...

Doing these things will help us feel like we do on those really meaningful holidays: connected to each other, to our world, and most importantly, to the Creator of all things...

E Spiritus Unum

2008-12-20T01:13:00.005-06:00

"You should undoubtedly bow before all views. But there is a thing called unswerving devotion to one ideal. True, you should salute everyone. But you must love one ideal with your whole soul. That is unswerving devotion." ---Ramakrishna

"They call you Christ, Vishnu, Buddha, Jehovah,

Our Lord

You are Govindam, Bismillah, Creator of All."---George Harrison

Have you ever had the experience of reading an article concerning a subject that you had first hand knowledge of and being aghast at how skewed the facts had become between the happening and the reporting? Or if some media figure dips into a realm of your expertise and reports something as the gospel that you happen to know they got completely wrong? The experience inevitably causes you to wonder, 'Gee, if they got this all wrong, how much of the other stuff are they getting wrong that you just accept as truth?'

In an earlier post I talked about the difference between fact and Truth, and the impact that a confusion of these two principles have had on modern humanity's "buy in" on certain religions. When we read stories concerning events that occurred thousands of years ago, we know that they were written themselves mostly long after the fact, mostly by people not remotely attached to the subject matter, and mostly from what one may call a political agenda. There are different levels of objective at work at all times; edification, indoctrination, etc. And yet there is often the bones of what we may believe to be the source material there, enough to gather the essential wisdom of the many prophets and pilgrims of spirituality that came before us.

When I first heard the lyric that I quoted near the top of this page in the George Harrison song "Life Itself" back in 1982 it opened my eyes to the idea that many of the world's religions were only separated by vernacular mythology, that all were paths to homage for the same Creator. They were what Joseph Campbell called the "Masks of God". And the further down the road I go the more I see that this is so, and there are many bones of the source material to be found in the works of world religion.

One of the tough things to square with this viewpoint as a Christian is Yahweh's insistence on strict adherence to shunning all other gods except Him. If there was no other lesson to be learned in the Old Testament it was that one. I know you can rationalize your way out of or into anything, but I believe since Yahweh's plan was to set aside the Hebrews as his Chosen people so that he could eventually incarnate into a man and be among his own creatures for a time in order to bring us to the next stage of spiritual evolution , it was necessary to demand this from his people. If many of the gods are different aspects of one, then no other gods are being put before the other. So, I think this can be squared .

In future posts I will go into more detail about my thoughts on Christ. I have issues with some of the attributions concerning his birth and activities after death; but the bones of the source material, his teachings and so on, are to me the pinnacle of spiritual wisdom and a great boon to Mankind. It is in his teachings that I have placed what Ramakrishna referred to as "unswerving devotion", and though I find wisdom, joy, and enlightenment in many sources, it is to Yehushuah that I turn for ultimate spiritual guidance.

What is your source for "unswerving devotion"?

The Underlining Truth

2008-12-17T23:56:00.008-06:00

"There is only one journey. Going inside yourself..." --Rainer Maria Rilke

I bought a book I had been wanting to read for a long time the other day. It was secondhand , but in good overall condition. However, when I set upon reading it , I noticed with some annoyance that it's previous owner had underlined many lines and passages in the first half of the book. It's not so much for the aesthetic marring of the pages that this bothers me , so much as the fact that as I read along I always pay special attention to what was underlined. After all, if it was important enough for the previous reader to take pen in hand, it must be more significant than the other stuff. As I went along though, it seem to me that most of the marked passages were random, oddball, and not in any obvious way to me more relevant than unmarked passages. I began to wonder about this reader. Here was an eloquent work with pearls of wisdom sliding by left and right, and yet the oddest, almost throwaway items were being tagged as significant. I began to make a mental profile of Reader X. I determined that he/she was probably a student forced to read the book and really didn't know what to look for. Reader X could not have had much of a feel for the work because only half of the book was marked up, and hey, they sold it off to a used bookstore, so there could not have been much of a bond there. As I pushed on into the parts that Reader X had left unmarked I'd come across some stray item that seemed random enough to have been underlined by their busy pen, and I would laugh to myself that they missed out on that one.

And then it occurred to me. There really was no telling what this reader had in mind. The stuff that I considered important might seem as offbeat to them as theirs seemed to me. They might have been at a level of journey were they needed those particular thoughts to help them along. Or perhaps they were so far in their journey that they saw relevance in things that I could not. I am not much of an under liner myself by habit, but I wondered if I re-read a book that I had underlined passages in, say, ten years ago, would those items still be the most significant things in that work to me? I think we are often exposed to things when it is not time for us to "see" them and they have a tendency to "bounce off." I had read Christ say "Let he who has ears hear," for years before I finally had "ears" to really here what He had to say. So it was not right to judge poor Reader X too harshly. In fact, I paid closer attention to things I would have glanced through otherwise, and perhaps had a fuller, more rounded read of the subject matter than I otherwise would have.

And at least Reader X didn't use a highlighter pen... Those are just annoying!

Angels in the Architecture

2008-12-16T00:59:00.005-06:00

"Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?"--Hebrews

"Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light."--2nd Corinthians

While perusing the new calendars at a book store the other day I noticed many different versions in an "angel" theme. Most seemed to be of the maudlin or romantic variety, some culled from the works of the great masters of art. But it got me to thinking about the nature of angels, and their place in spiritual practice. I remember reading somewhere that a great majority of people who were polled on the subject professed to a belief in angels. Certainly anyone raised in the Christian faith, as I was, has been so steeped in the presence of angels in Bible stories that a belief in them is in some ways less challenging than a belief in God himself.

I can certainly see why Yahweh would choose the form of an angel to address mortal men, as He seems to have when approaching Abram. There is no doubt that their appearance is majestic in some way, exuding an awesomeness that makes them typically tell whoever they appear to to "fear not!" Even to Moses, the closest man God ever had to having what you might call a "pal" , the most he got to personally see while still in his mortal incarnation was the majestic backside of the Creator, lest he be overcome by the awe of seeing any more.

The angels that approached Lot also seemed to be aspects of Yahweh. It seems clear that in the Old Testament much of the activity of angels was as God's helpers, and as things progressed they became Man's helpers.

This all smacks of the kind of "parlor game theology" that I have previously eschewed but stay with me. I know it can be theorized that EVERYTHING is an aspect of the ONE, and this is probably true to a degree, but other than as tools to help us understand the enormity of an almighty Lord , I don't see the necessity, spiritually speaking, of all this angel hoopla. I am not saying necessarily that I do not believe in them myself, if I do have a guardian angel than I am glad to have as many friends as I can, but to me , it is like over emphasizing middle management when you can have the ear of the CEO whenever you want it.

There are all kinds of layers and layers of angel lore, different names and powers, etc. , mostly created by the Catholic faith. And on the flipside, there are lots of detailed descriptions of demons and devils , too. This all seems to be an effort to restore the colorful demi-gods to a place in Christian belief that had been dumped back in the days when Moses and Joshua were ordered to wipe out anyone who had household gods or worshipped in high places. So why bring them back? Probably for the same reason that Mary was elevated to an intercessory position, restoring , at least partially, the Goddess of old back into what was a decidedly strict Semetic patriarchy. The colorful characters were familiar to the "pagan" masses that were being indoctrinated into the Faith, and it made for a more seamless union.

And that is all very well and good if that is your thing. But does it help us any to worry or think about any of this? As I see it , our world is populated by many spirits, both incarnate and disincarnate; but the only two that I need to truly invest in are my Creator's and my own. Certainly I hope to help guide my children and anyone who cares into a good direction, but then it is up to them.

Still, they do make for some very lovely works of art...

Say What?

2008-12-10T01:03:00.006-06:00

"Language was made to express concrete facts and ideas: it is helpless to describe even the difference between the smells of an orange and of a lemon..." -Colin Wilson

One of the difficulties in communicating about subject matter that could be considered "way out" is that it is often very challenging to capture the ineffable in terms that can be easily comprehended by anyone. Sometimes I get the impression that certain writers overload their compositions with heavy duty metaphysical-speak to cloak the fact that they don't know what the hell they are talking about. Usually if you break everything down there is a meaning, but deciphering it is such a tortured process that only the brave or foolhardy stick it out long enough to see whether the idea is cogent or not.

It is somewhat unfair to blame these writers for being obscure, because often times language is just too limited to do something of unusual depth justice. Here is an excerpt of Franklin Merrill-Wolf trying to describe his experience of Nirvana:

"I abstracted the subjective moment- the 'I AM' or 'Atman' element-from the totality of the objective consciousness manifold...Naturally, I found what , from the relative point of view, is Darkness and Emptiness. But I realized It as Absolute Light and Fullness and that I was That. Of course, I cannot tell what It was in It's own nature. The relative forms of consciousness inevitably distort non-relative Consciousness."

Okay, not completely incomprehensible, but it took me a couple of times to get the complete gist of what he was trying to express. It ain't easy. That is why the visual arts, and such forms of communication as poetry and mythology are so often utilised; they speak to us on a deep level that is not lost when delivered. Sometimes meaning is sacrificed when a profound idea is dissected into cold hard words. And then you come across someone who speaks to you, like a C.S. Lewis, say, who manages most times to keep the gossamer intact. You realize IT CAN BE DONE! Of course, the ultimate example would be Christ, who in beautiful and poetic parables taught the world some its deepest lessons.

Still for all that I know many people don't have patience with poetry and art; and yet they hunger for Truth, too. There is many a pitfall in writing about this subject matter: no matter how you put it , much is cliche; or if you get too carried away you run the risk of sounding like Merrill-Wolf , and lose everyone in a metaphysical fog. Worst of all you can come across as some sanctimonious Maharishi , who has got all the answers, and expresses them in mysterious riddles and questions.

I certainly don't claim to have answers;I am a pilgrim inviting other pilgrims to join me on my journey. I will try to speak from the heart, always, and as clearly as I can with my limited tools. I write this as both a Mission Statement of sorts, and as a request for mercy from my readers for the inevitable times in the future when I may fall into any of the pits I have mentioned! Bear with me, correct me when I am off base, and let us journey on...

Common Myth Conceptions; or, Jung At Heart

2008-12-06T23:37:00.000-06:00

"Myth is the natural and indispensable intermediate stage between unconscious and conscious cognition." -C.G. Jung

In my post entitled "Questions, No Answers" I posed a series of questions concerning the soul, its' nature, and the central proposition of whether it was something that was truly believable or not. It may have seemed a bit psuedo-mystical or too cute by half, but my primary aim was to try to slap enough questions together concerning the soul to jolt the reader into truly thinking about his spiritual self; not as some philisophical parlor game, but as a real force within, an essential part of our selves that by its' nebulous nature is often ignored or not even considered to be real.

I can remember the first time I felt "aware" of something within me that I later came to regard as my soul. It also happens to be the first peak experience I can recall. I was around six or so, playing alone in the back yard of our old family home on a fine autumn day. It was cold and windy, but the sun was shining brightly in a blue sky. I was wearing a red fuzzy sweater which kept me quite cozy, and lying on the tin roof of a homemade doghouse, watching the amber leaves blow around against the blue sky, full of expectation of a trip to some relative's house that we were going to undertake later that day. I felt a huge welling of joy at the beauty, the promise, and the security of the moment , and I thought to myself, "I will always remember this moment of this day." And of course I have. I have felt all of those emotions at various times before and since that moment, but that moment was so unique because I felt a one-ness and some kind of cosmic approbation that I have only felt on rare occassions since.

These are the moments where we glimpse something of the infinite, when our "higher consciousness" speaks to us. Colin Wilson is a very interesting and provacative author who has synthesized much of the thinking of the philosophers, artists, and mystics who have grappled with the "Big Questions" of humankind, and he posits a very interesting theory about conciousness. In essence, it is this: There are three aspects to our conciousness; the conscious, our thinking, left-brain, everyday awareness that you consider you; your subconcious, that primal, right brain , involuntary area that can only communicate to you in dreams, symbols, and hypnogogic states, and what you might call a superconscious, the higher force that is considered your soul, the spirit that incarnates the flesh and bone machine of your body, and perhaps the immortal fragment of the infinite spirit that comprises the universe.

Absurd Good News is the way the regular consciousness momentarily grasps some notion of the superconsciousness, all the aspects of our "self" align like some astrological event and we feel ourselves in our full potential. I feel our spirit and our relationship with it are the starting point of any quest for "enlightenment", because only if we are in tune with that part of ourselves can we begin to examine our spiritual relationship with God.

On the subjects of God and religion I hope to explore in depth as this blog unfolds, but for now I would just like to say a word on belief, because this is key when discussing matters of the spirit. In our scientific rationalistic world there has been a great schism that has occurred because so much of the content in the great religious works clearly could never have factually happened as recorded. A confusion has occurred that has done a great disservice to spirituality. Much of what is contained in spiritual literature is the Truth, even if it never happened. Material that was meant to instruct in that deep, symbolic language that works on different levels of conciousness has been either fanatically accepted as factual , or discarded as superstious bosh; both of which throw the baby out with the bath water. I will often quote things that I have found to be true from different faiths; this doesn't mean I have endorsed all the dogma of that faith; it means that I believe in Truth when I hear it. No particular faith is true, but all faiths are a path to Truth. I don't think that it is so important what you believe ,as it is important that you believe. As regards the soul, a big positive "yes" of belief knocks down all the barriers and greenlights progression much better than the halting "maybe" of a coy dabbler , waiting to be wooed into acceptance.

The question becomes: if we know that peak moments are our best moments of communion with our spirits, what can we do to have more of them? Is there a way, or do we just have to take them as they come? Where do we turn to? Inward, through meditation, maybe? Or outward, through consulting the mystical wisdom of all the pilgrims who came before us? Perhaps go right to the souce: prayer...Or all of the above?

We'll take a look in future posts...

A Fish Called Wisdom

2008-12-05T01:05:00.000-06:00

"I was born here and I'll die here-

against my will-

I know it looks like I'm moving-

but I'm standing still."

-Bob Dylan

I had a dream last night that I had come home to find that the light/hood thingy that covers my small aquarium had somehow fallen into the tank, pinning Oscar, my beloved bottom feeder , and it looked like he was dead. I quickly reached into the tank and plucked him out. His lips moved slightly so I began to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in hopes of reviving him, and then I woke up. It was dead serious in my dream, but kind of bemusing once I was awake. However, it did not even strike me until later in the day how absurd the act of trying to administer artificial respiration to a gilled creature was. Sort of like pumping water down the throat of a drowning man in hopes of saving him. And it got me to thinking; was this significant in some way? If so, what was my dream-consciousness trying to tell me? Having just embarked on The Absurd Good News Network , and taking in the daunting challenge that documenting a spiritual quest entails; the pessimist in me couldn't help but think: "Maybe it means that launching such a dubious venture is futile; trying to break down all the questions, longings, insights, etc. is as pointless and perhaps harmful as trying to puff life back into a dying fish. " I quailed at the thought; re- spun the interpretation a few times, but the pessimist always ended up winning. This troubled me for awhile even though I kept reminding myself of Freud's "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." Then I remembered that right before I woke up, it seemed that Oscar was coming around as I worked on him. And, as absurd as it was, it made me feel better. Maybe it means that unconventional methods can be beneficial as long as the giver and receiver are both sharing the goal. So I will continue my journey after all with that in mind. And I can be bemused again...Until I think of what our friend Freud might have made of my going lip to lip with my pet bottomfeeder ...I prefer my interpretation, I'll stick to it.

Questions, No Answers

2008-12-04T00:39:00.000-06:00

"There never was a time when I did not exist, nor you...Nor is there any future in which we will cease to be...That which is non-existent can never come into being, and that which is can never cease to be..." -The Bhagavad Gita

Do you have a spirit? How can you be sure? What is its nature? Can you communicate with it? Are you doing good by it? Is it doing good by you? Is it distinct from your conciousness? Is it immortal? Is it part of God? What is its purpose? Are you helping fulfill it? Is it leading you? Are you leading it? Are you on the same page? Do you really know anything about it? Are you interested in finding out? Is it even possible to explore it? Do you look within? Do you seek without? What is this force that lives inside us, is more our true self than we are, and yet is virtually ignored by most of us most of the time?

It seems like a good time for a proper introduction...

Declaration of Interdependance

2008-12-02T12:42:00.000-06:00

Absurd good news...This is how writer/thinker/all-around wise man G.K. Chesterton described those moments when for no good reason, for no apparent purpose, something occurs to remind us that life really is great; there is more out there than we generally regard; we are connected to each other and the world and the universe in a moment of stabbing beauty and intensity; what Maslow called a "peak experience". For that moment possibilities are opened before us; solutions seem absurdly simple; time seems to stop momentarily and allow some higher part of ourselves to see not just the "forest for the trees" but the whole countryside, the continent, the planet, even beyond. The problem, of course, is that these are only moments, and before long we re-settle to our state of "normalcy" and the only thing left of our peak moment is a warm emotional imprint. Most people have these moments from time to time. It is said that if we make a point of recounting, sharing and thinking about these moments that they are likely to occur more frequently. The aim of this blog is to detail information that is conducive to the nourishment of this "higher part of ourselves" . It is not necessarily a self-help blog , although hopefully its' content will be somewhat helpful. It is merely a counter to the squalid catalogueings of death and misery that we receive as "news you can use" . Nor will it present "happy" news stories of firemen rescuing cats and so on. This blog aims to represent a cafeteria of "food for thought". I intend to travel far in my investigation; some entries may be "absurd good news" some may just be absurd, but I wish to share this journey with all of you ,for in my peak moments I am not alone; I am with all of you, too. So let's set forth together and see what we can see...

The Desolation of the Obama Nation

2008-08-08T00:32:00.000-05:00

Some time ago I found myself going down the grocery aisle of presidential contenders that had been coughed up from the inky pits of party politics with a totally open willingness to eschew any old resentments or prejudices (politically speaking) in an effort to find someone, anyone, who might right our mighty ship of state, and guide us through the troubled waters we have found ourselves in as a nation. Alas, even with this receptive search mode pickings were alarmingly slim. I won't dwell on why the rejects were rejected; most of the decisions were quite easy ;(President Kucinich, anyone? I think not). But then there was Barack Obama. Once you got past the name (and it is not too difficult in our great polyglotinous melting pot), and started looking at the man, you had to consider deeply. My first reaction was that he was sent right out of central casting: young, black, not too good looking but not too bad looking, family man, not a bad speaker, (not as great as everyone seems to think he is, but then everyone always said that sonorous bore Clinton was eloquent as well). Okay, but was there any there there? Well, he was short on Senatorial experience, but he did make a good call on Iraq (as it turns out). But it was in his biography that there seemed to be the greatest hope. As a son of mixed race parents he represents the embodiment of a long held dream of this country: the healing of the wounds between black and white. And as a Christian man with a Moslem heritage he represented a potential bridge in the understanding of these two poor misrepresented and ill-abused faiths. We could hope to have hope, which is about as good as we can expect in our cynical times. But maybe it was unfair to heap so much hope on poor Barack. He reminds me of a syndrome that has occurred to me several times over the years, and may have occurred to others: you see someone intriguing; beautiful; wise looking; full of mystery and power: you fantasize about the greatness of this person if only you could connect with them; and then finally you chance to hear them speak and from their beautiful sculpted lips comes the braying voice of a trailer park madonna: fantasy dissipated...So too with the Great Black Hope; the more familiar we become with him the more it becomes clear that he was chosen in the modern equivalent of the smoke-filled room: the smoke-free room, by the same gang of hucksters that have coughed up every other sorry hairball for our consideration over the last generations. He was burnished with a brilliant patina of bullet- proof cover: you can't criticize him without risking being called anti-

Black, anti-White, anti-Christian or anti-Muslim...Wow...It really makes you disgusted with how candidates are selected at all. We are all so addled by the over -influence of movies in our culture that we treat the selection of our nation's leader like we are casting a role in a big budget blockbuster that we are going to be forced to watch for 4 to 8 years. In past times you were expected to have actually done something to deserve the opportunity to run for president, like, I don't know , lead in a war that we won (are you listening, McCain?), or craft a Constitution or something. I know Yoda says that wars do not make one great, but winning a war would be nice for a change and I think would show some greatness. But what we get to choose from at this point are only the greedy homunculi spawned by spotty party bosses to be their face to the world. We gotta do better. Only the rich seventh lawyer's son of a seventh lawyer's son can even dare to think he can engineer the money for a run. (It helps if one has a rich 18th century forbear) . Here's my suggestion, and please don't pooh- pooh it out hand. Keep the system as is: don't even waste a cent trying to undo two and a half centuries of gerrymandering. Instead, throw up a third party candidate from the Reality Party. That's right, let's hammer our Nielsons shares into swords! Let's use the very thing that has been poisoning our minds for these last years, Reality Television, to select a third party candidate and let democracy reign. So You Think You Can Run the Country can sweep through thousands and thousands of Presidential wannabes across the nation , narrowing the choices by putting the candidates through grueling tests and scenarios until we find the best person that our 33 cents a minute phone votes can select and then throw them in the faces of the two- party puppet people. Can we do much worse?It sounds a little ridiculous until you see Mitt Romney flipping pancakes in New Hampshire and realize that the circus is in town anyway. Let the contestants prove they care by visiting schools, prisons, hospitals, nursing homes, foreign countries, etc, and work through microcosmic solutions that would mould their mettle for the big job. At least you'd have an idea of what you were getting before the trailer park madonna brayed. It would be fun to watch too, might just be a ratings hit. If we do try it, though, let's just hope we can have a better impact on the political world than American Idol had on the music world. (Fantasia, anyone? I think not.) Okay, you can pooh-pooh it now if you want to.

Press Release from John O'Khan/A-1 Party Leader

2008-07-21T19:39:00.000-05:00

I have been catching a lot of poo lately about our party's position on the situation in Iraq. In brief I believe that we should exit the Iraq theatre altogether to allow local powers to hash out who is going to be top dog; a situation that is bound to occur whenever we end up leaving, whether it be tomorrow or in 50 years. If the outcome is intolerable to us we can reserve the right to bomb the fritters out of 'em, but I personally think we have done enough to those poor people. Now, there is a lot of fallout that will occur in the region no matter what we do;let's do what is best for us here and now, apologize, and get our heinies out of the mix. You know, when this whole mess started, 9/11 was fresh in our hearts and minds. I don't really believe that we wanted to go there for revenge so much as to take down the most vulnerable of the bad dudes over there that was always giving us the finger and flaunting all his bad ass killer toys which we came to find out later he either gave away, let degrade away, or he never had them to begin with. We couldn't trust the UN inspectors much more than we could trust Saddam, so we did what we had to do to deal with the situation; we HAD to know. Well, what's done is done, and now we know. Now we've been struggling for years to put something together that doesn't really want to be put together, and it's a mess. I may have put our parties support behind the effort if it looked like we had the expertise to pull something off there, but after a coupla years of sucking wind we had our best and brightest come up with the brilliant strategy called the Surge. What was the great plan? Send in more troops! Wow! How Douglas freakin' MacArthur of them! Oh, and you hear them all bragging about the success of the Surge! OOO! Here's my even better idea-send a Super Surge! Even more troops! All the troops, send 'em all! I guarantee you'll see less fighting back if there's 10 US troops for every Iraqi. And then when we finally leave, what's gonna happen? Gee, hard to say. Now if the unspoken strategy is that we stay there forever somebody best speak up and let our democracy have a say on what we should do. I am a patriot in that I love our silly, grumpy, lazy, unimpressed people,; we're far from perfect,we're not as tough as we think we are, or as good, but we are all right at heart; mainly our folks want to be let alone and leave everybody else alone despite what our government does. Here's my real proposal:leave everybody else alone unless they muck with us, and blow 'em up real good if they do. What the hell is wrong with that?

Love In the Time of Cholesterol

2008-07-11T20:18:00.000-05:00

DATELINE-Bangporajum, India-When you were a child your mother probably warned you a thousand times about playing in the street , not jumping off of houses or teasing viscious animals. Well, it turns out you were right; your mother was full of crap. Recent studies coming out of the Om Shanti Stress Institute indicate that doing things that one may consider dangerous, foolhardy or downright stupid may actually be good for your general health and welfare, provided you survive. "Our alleged instinct for self-preservation has actually had a reverse effect ," explained Dr. Nop Bhoviindajapradaparad. "For many countless millenia before we developed into the placid machine-operating, money-counting, plant -harvesting hominids that we are, we were ruthless hunters duking it out with mother nature, red with tooth and claw. We became highly skilled killers, the top of the food chain, by centuries of pulse pounding battle and flight, and our bodies became hard-wired for that. But now-" Dr. Nop gestured towards the window of his 20th floor window, "if you look at your average person, he or she fights to avoid any and all stress, their bodies have turned on them, filling with fat, cholesterol, cancer, etc. What many consider stress today; say , traffic jams or office politics, is a walk in the park compared to taking on a one and a half -ton cave bear with a rock lashed to a stick!" So his recommendation? "Seek out danger! Doctors tell you to opt for the stairs rather than the elevator for your health--I say, climb out the window and scale the wall! Jump those rhino barriers at your local zoo and see if you can make it to the other side! Crosswalks are for corpses! Jump out there and zig-zag your way through traffic, you'll feel like a million dollars if you make it to the other side! Many people have instinctively caught on to this already, jumping out of planes, bungee jumping, climbing mountains, etc. I say they're on the right track, but should take it up a notch." Sounds kind of extreme, but Dr. Nop has some true believers among his volunteer subjects. Gerry Gundt, a volunteer from Australia, swam naked among the great white sharks haunting the Great Barrier Reef. "What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger," Gundt said via a voice synthesizer shortly before expiring in his hospital bed. So will this just be the latest health fad to totally reverse itself in 6 months? We all recall how margarine was supposed to be better for you than butter, only to be villified as poison later; and coffee once thought to be bad for you is now considered to be one of the best things you can drink. "No, this is no fad," Dr. Nop assures us. "some have sought to poo-poo my theories, derisively calling them the " Jackass Treatment," after some silly show in the states; but I challenge anyone to jump into a pen full of pit bulls and not feel a real lust for life." So there you have it. Try to ignore the voice of your mother in your head;eat butter, drink coffee, and do it in the middle of the freeway! To your health!

Cool Reading For a Hot Summer

2008-07-09T19:47:00.000-05:00

Well the dog days of summer are here, and there's no better time to relax on the beach, or sit under a shady tree, or just curl up inside under the ice cold AC and catch up on your reading. Here are some suggestions to make your Summer Reading most enjoyable...From the good folks at Penultimate Press comes the latest tome from prolific author Fabian Frobias entitled The Cutting Remark, taking up where he left off with running character Jack Barker. This story covers the next phase of Barker's many adventures, this time around as a barber in Baltimore in the early part of the 20th century. Taking up where we left him in the last volume, Body of Work, as a mortician's apprentice helping to embalm the late President Mckinley, the young protagonist has a nervous breakdown, and fleeing the mortuary with the possesed heart of Edgar Allan Poe in a jar, heads to Atlanta to make his fortune as a barber. Before long he meets Celia Freud, neice to the visiting Dr. Sigmund Freud , and falls madly in love with her. But alas, this was not to be; Celia is murdered before their love is consumated by a madly jealous Englishman, who may or may not have been Jack the Ripper. Wracked with grief, young Barker flees to Europe hoping to trim the Crowned Heads,only to find himself desperately broke and shaving bums in a poorhouse in Vienna. In a deliciously brilliant chapter Barker meets a sensitive young artist whom he persuades to be the subject of his tonsorial experiments, inducing him into letting Barker cut his strong Bavarian style moustache into a toothbrush patch. "Ja, this is gut!" exclaims the young man , who advises Barker to remember his name-Adolf Hitler! WWI beaks out, and unable to join the fight or maintain steady employment, Barker hops a steamer back to the U.S. via England. While on board he gives the toothbrush trim to the moustache of an aspiring young English comedian that he befriends named Charlie, who , amused by the strange waddling walk that Jack, who had contracted ricketts, had, asked if he could use the mannerism in his comedy. Once back in the States Jack Barker learns that he has the share of a fortune from distant uncle J.P. Morgan, and gambling it all in the stock market, becomes a very wealthy man. Shortly therafter the market crashes and the Great Depression is underway. A ruined man , Jack ponders suicide until the possessed heart of Edgar Allan Poe , that he has kept so long in its jar, convinces him to take another path, undoubtedly the next volume to come. Frobias hints at what is to come, and we won't spoil the fun, but it seems to involve FDR and a magical leg salve. A witty and romantic romp, you will marvel as history comes alive in an entertaining way...Our next selection Drexy Dunlop and the Witch's Titty, is a fantasy story for children of all ages. Accused by some of cashing in on the Harry Potter phenom, author Winna Stonecroft Wilson , nonetheless weaves a magical tale that is sure to entertain and empower its readers by following the quest of young witch-in-waiting Drexy Dunlop. The beautiful edition put out by Schoolmarm Press boasts many colorful paintings that will thrill even those who can't abide the printed page. The tale tells of Drexy's flight from her puritanical parents who are hardcore members of a Christian cult called Yahweh's Avengers, and her ascent into the wondrous world of pagan pageantry via the guidance of Mother Buttwart, a hideous but lovable crone who is the headmistress of the Sweet Satan School For Girls. With friends she meets along the way Oliah Oldfat and Butter Kumquat, it's up to Drexy to find the titular Witch's Titty ("Titty" being old English for "purse" in case your parental spidey sense is tingling) to save the school from wandering evil evangelist Toobigga Fourbrecches. It's all good clean fun and we can see the beginnings of a great franchise for those muggles who have been going through Harry withdrawal. Here's hoping that the "familiar" toad character, Turdy Hoptaker , gets his own spin-off at some point! Our last recommendation is from a genre that is finally getting the respect it deserves:the graphic novel. Eat...Poop...Eat Again is the latest effort of veteran graphic novelist Erwin Skyler, who has perfected the art of the mundane becoming revelation in his comic career. Stricty autobiographical, Skyler uses his bout with chronic constipation as a framing device to ruminate on stories of his childhood behind the Iron Curtain in Warsaw, his failed relationships with all the women in his life, from his superstious Polish Grandmother to his eleven year marriage to fellow cartoonist Greta Cobbel. As he strains to make poop he also strains to come to terms with his feelings of alienation as a liberal Democrat in conservative Texas,ans as a deadbeat dad to a 9 year old boy he thinks is possesed by the spirit of Richard Nixon. The spare black and white pen and ink work is powerful and expressionistic , and lest the subject matter makes you fear being overcome with despair, just remember that Eat...Poop...Eat Again is sidesplittingly funny; another instant classic from Bad Karma Press...Well there you have it, hours of engrossing reading awaits you so, pack up your beach gear and folding chair and enjoy!

LETTER TO THE EDITOR--JANUARY 2775

2008-07-06T16:39:00.000-05:00

As millions of Americans are piling into their hover cars and hitting the International Moon Resort for the two week MLK B-DAY holiday season, I think it is only appropriate for us to belay the traditional tofu log and exchange of holo-tatoos just long enough to pause and recall the remarkable man to whom we are supposed to be honoring during this joyful time of year. Few people pause to consider why it is that we don black suits and pencil moustaches on MLK's day eve, or take our children marching down the streets singing protest songs and getting candy door to door. One only needs to zap load into Wikipedia and learn about this unique man; for instance, did you know that MLK stands for Martin Luther King? He was a hero of the Civil Rights movement in the early to mid 20th century, widely credited with having had a dream about freeing the slaves. He heroically helped elderly women find seats at the front of terrestrial mass transit vehicles. Along with the 35th president of what was then called "The United States of America", John F. Kennedy, early sound recording legend Frank Sinatra, and 2D star John Wayne, MLK formed what was then called "the Rat Pack". After many struggles MLK was shot as he was looking over a balcony by lone gunman James Earl Carter. As he fell from the balcony much of the country erupted into rioting. Even though the Man was dead, his legend lived on; and his crusade carried on by the next generation of Civil Rights warriors: Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton the First, and Don Imus. Many have widely credited MLK's efforts for the unprecedented six terms of President Barack Obama. So this year, before you round up the kids and Grandma to go surfing at the South Pole resort, stop and contemplate why we are celebrating; help keep the MLK in MLK B-Day...

Hey Kids! Check This Out!

2008-07-05T21:33:00.000-05:00

The time...Sometime in the early 70's...The comic...Probably a Disney, or Man-Thing, or, God only knows what ...The comic has been lost to the mists of time, but the experience of stumbling over this little ad amongst all the sea monkeys, ugly hands and X-ray specs remains; the wonder of such a magnificent and generous offer-two whole Roman armies for a couple of dollars! It was enough to set a clutch of greedy brothers to dreaming- ah! the magnificent carnage of 132 roman soldiers with spears, catapults, chariots tearing into each other for victory or death! Well, I'm sure you know the rest of the story, you probably had one of your own, whether it was the 6 ft Frankenstein or the flying ghost, or those stinkin' sea monkeys; you begged borrowed or stole the couple of dollars, despite parental warnings that "those things are all gyps!" , you had to see for yourself...After all, the only plastic figures to be had in stores were the same tired sets of jungle animals, farm animals, dinosaurs, and the ubiquitous cowboys and indians...They would change the size or the color of the plastic but they were always the same, sometimes with very crudely painted details that made you wonder why they bothered ...(I remember an elephant with very tiny eyes on the figure being painted with huge splotches of white and yellow making it appear as if two huge fried eggs had been dashed against its face.) So something as exotic as roman soldiers was just too much to pass up...Besides, on the order form it said "Gentleman- enclosed is my order for-"...Now these were Gentleman, they would never dash the hopes of red-blooded American youths by gyping them, would they?Well,after months of waiting and dreaming the soldiers finally came marching in; in a box the same size as the kind kitchen matches come in...Yes, they were tiny, really small, you'd have to use tweezers to play with them...The other batch we had ordered at the same time were bigger but were flat! They were equally sucky in two very distinct ways...Needless to say we were embittered by the whole experience , when you could consider that our mighty Roman legions could be defeated by a wayward line of sugar ants...I think we had one or two half-hearted attempts at playing with them before giving up and admitting defeat...Those guys were no gentleman! You could imagine the greedy turds smoking cigars and laughing as they hauled the pitiful envelopes of hoarded dimes and quarters to the bank...Then the scales fell from our eyes,; we lost our innocence; we could see the rip-off behind every offer: the six foot Frankenstein, a mere paper cut-out; the flying ghost, a wad of tissue on a string; the horrible hands, green dishwashing gloves; and of course we all know the sea monkeys are spiky little brine shrimp...Looking at the ad now I can see the tiny print indicating the figures size, but we were looking at the ad through dreamy kid's eyes and didn't foresee the burn, one of those burns that sticks with you... Now, all these years later , I have finally learned to forgive...Because the thing that we really bought for $2.25 plus shipping and handling was wisdom-let the buyer beware! A good healthy dose of scepticism can keep you out of the poorhouse, steering you clear of miracle weight loss programs, hair growth treatments, and quick and easy refinancing offers...It's also helpful when examining religious beliefs, political philosophies and even relationships...So, maybe these were gentleman after all...Oh, and I don't know for sure, but I bet those X-ray specs really did see through clothes; man, I should have gotten those instead...

A Clear and Presidential Danger

2008-07-04T20:25:00.000-05:00

We sat down with Mr. John O'Khan in the boardroom of his massive San Antonio, Texas headquarters to discuss his recent foray into national politics with the launching of his own third party, the A-1 party...Mr. O'Khan is slightly intimidating at first sight ; a 6'6" 300 lb. Texan with intense blue eyes and a shock of unruly white hair that reminds one of Andrew Jackson; but after a firm handshake and a massive clap on the back one is put at ease and reminded more of one's asshole uncle...We got right down to business drinking Big Red and eating cold BBQ supplied by a nervous female staffer...

Mr. O'Khan, are you serious with this third party business? They haven't had a particularly strong track record in recent centuries...

No, not particularly serious, in fact you can leave now, I won't waste anymore of your time...Of course I'm serious! This damn thing is costing me money! And of course I care about the country and all that crap.

I'm just wondering because of the name, the A-1 party. Sounds more like a plumbing venture..

Well, that's an astute observation, 'cause that's exactly my intention. The A-1 party wants to perform a service on the country, it needs a good roto-rootin' don't you think? I could have named it anything ,it doesn't matter what; it's a new approach to getting things done that I think most folks will go for if they ever get a chance to decide for themselves.

Let's get down to it, then. Energy prices are obviously on every voter's mind...Does your party have any new ideas to bring some relief at the pump?

I've got a bunch of ideas, of course. First, we got to treat the situation with the same urgency as a Pearl Harbor or 9/11; the comparison is justified, you got foreign countries assailing our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of driving wherever the hell we want to. We got to take a multi-pronged attack. All this bullcorn about it taking years to tap into our domestic reserves is just an excuse to give the big oil companies time to boondoggle the hell out the situation and soak us all, as usual. It's our land, our oil, let's get it ourselves. If every one of the the 200 million or so motorists would pony up the round about average cost of a tank of gas, say 50 dollars, that gives you 10 billion dollars, a pretty good start to our own oil company. We own it, we tap it, we use it, at a deep discount for owner-users.

Interesting...

Yeah, I know it's a little out there, but heck, if we pumped out a zillion tanks, planes, and battleships to go kill a bunch of people in WWII, we should be able to get our crap together enough to draw some oil.

How about alternative energy?

How about it? Ain't nothing saying we can't develop alternative fuel sources while we're tapping what oil we have left. Heck, my ultimate goal is to have our country running off fuel generated from our own poop! Talk about an unlimited supply! I think we should mine through all our old land fills for salvagable materials and burn the rest for energy...There's a great job for prisoners given life sentences, to sift through all that crud for us.

And nuclear energy?

I'm all for it, the more plants the better, but with an eye towards making them terrorist-proof.

How about the nuclear waste they would produce? Would you make the prisoners take care of that for you to?

In a way. I would dump the waste along our border with Mexico. That's two birds with one stone. Anybody who'd come across the border illegally then would have to know they could grow extra limbs or something. Maybe I'd have the prisoners dump the waste.

I guess that gives us an idea where you stand on our borders. And criminal justice. Are we safe to assume you are pro death penalty?

It is not safe to assume that. I am against the death penalty. The greatest being to have ever graced our planet was wrongly executed; that's Jesus Christ. But I am not for being easy on the hard cases,; hard labour for hard cases.

So you would just have put Christ to work in the dump?

Well, uh, yes...

How about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan? How would you handle the situations there?

Ehh, you're talking about a real mess. I think the only thing we can do there (in Iraq) is get the hell out and let them fight it out and figure out who's boss. Probably won't turn out the way we'd like, but if get our domestic energy revolution underway, who cares? We already blew that one, and there and no way to make it right for those people except maybe give 'em free American TV and movies for 100 years. Now in Afghanistan, we got to figure how much money we've blown over there to date, I don't know, let's say 50 billion dollars, and offer that as the bounty on Osama bin Laden's head, and get the hell out. I guarantee you'd have a taker before too long. But it would have to be legit, you know, carcass presented and verified, etc.

What if the person who offs Osama is just as bad, say, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad?

Well, that would be a hell of a thing...I don't know, maybe we'd pay him in pennies?

Okay, new topic. Health care. A lot of talk about nationalized health care has been going around. What's your take?

Everybody should pay so and so much every month into a national health fund that pays all the doctor bills, hospital fees and such unless you are sick; then you pay nothing. That way, the only way the system makes money is if you are well, not sick like it is now. Incentivize them keeping you healthy for God's sake. Get rid of all health insurance and set up the Wellness Fund instead.

Gay marriage?

Excuse me?

Are you for legalizing gay marriage?

No. I'm for legalizing gay shmarriage. See, it could be all the same in the eyes of the law, yet you can preserve the tradition of a marriage being between a man and a woman. Everybody's happy.

Shmarriage?

Or whatever you wanna call it

"Will you shmarry me?" Sounds weird.

Well, it would be a little weird no matter how you slice it, but hey, whatever floats your boats! I mean, we can come up with a better name, I guess.

So you are pro gay rights?

Well, yeah, everybody should have the same rights, God gave us our rights, just like he made us straight or gay... I admit I don't know much about gay culture or anything, but, you know, I always thought that that guy who played J.R. Ewing on Dallas was a handsome man, so, you know, it's all good...

Some quick takes. Education?

Free. For everybody. Through college or specialty training. Are we crazy making it so expensive and hard for our people to better themselves?

Taxes?

Well, I'm afraid all them "free" educations'll have to be paid somehow. I'm afraid I would still have to tax everybody, but I'd like to think you'd get more for your money.

Election reform?

And how. One person, one vote, amen. I know all the arguements for the electoral college, but in the end one person one vote is the only way to really be democratic .

The environment?

Take care of what we can, but let's make sure we prioritize what we're doing. Let's not give the Middle East all of our blood and treasure just so the elk can have a place to hump. and I'm all for recycling and stuff, you remember my landfill plan.

Thank you, Mr. O'Khan, and good luck with A-1.

Thank you, I just hope the steak sauce people don't come after me for naming my party that!

BREAKING HOLLYWOOD NEWS!

2008-07-03T22:06:00.000-05:00

Exciting news from the Entertainment Desk!!!Hollywood has been doing such boffo box office with comic book adaptations such as Batman, Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Ironman, etc., that Lupis Arts Entertainment has announced a forthcoming big budget extravaganza based on the hugely popular Little Lulu franchise! Details are top secret but our Hollywood Source has gotten the first scoop on the exciting production.SPOILER ALERT! Here's the poop: Director Ang Lee helms the project and has promised a darker more complex approach to Lulu and her neighborhood pals. Through the wizardy of ILM adult actors will be portraying the beloved moppets with such masterly casting as Angelina Jolie as the eponymous heroine, Philip Seymour Hoffman as Tubby; Steve Carrell as Alvin; in an artistic coup Iggy Pop has been tapped to play the character Iggy; and (this we gotta see!) Lulu's parents are both to be total CGI figures voiced by veteran actors Sir Ian Mckellan and Dame Judy Dench! Here's the Spoiler stuff-(2nd warning!) Tubby deals with the effects of a botched lap-band surgery, Alvin goes on a hilarious spree after his Ritalin prescription is mixed up with his dad's Viagra, and Lulu herself has to compete with an Ethiopian girl that her parents adopt(to be played by Beyoncee Knowles). "We wanted Lulu and the gang to come out of the 50's or 40's or whatever the hell decade they were stuck in , and be contemporary kids with contemporary problems, " director Lee told our Source. This darker , edgier take is just what the old franchise needed, and in the capable hands of this talented crew we can expect big business and many more chapters to come...The Little Lulu Chronicles, as the still -in -production pic is tentatively called, is set for a Christmas 2008 release and we can't wait, after all, Little Lulu we love you-lou just the same!

The Ages of Man

2008-07-01T21:10:00.000-05:00

I have decided to use my first post to put forward an observation that has fascinated me for some time now...It seems to me that the "baby boom" generation has had such a massive effect on its times that one could look at the decades that it has occupied and see a correlation between the decades themseves and the stages of the boomers lives...To illustrate: The 50's: Childhood: Strong paternal figures like Ike and Walt Disney; a sense of innocence and relative isolation...Even the War of the Decade in Korea, as nasty as it was, in the end could be compared to neighborhood kids fighting over a street border..The 60's: Adolescence; trying new fashions and rebelling against parental mores, experimenting with different cultures and beliefs all in a sweaty attempt at individuation...Vietam, The War of the Decade: relatable to the High School Experience: nobody wants to be there and the achievements were dubious at best...The 70's: Early adulthood: Nixon is the A-hole Boss at your first real job, the music was more tied into the mating ritual, dancing, making out, etc., after the fade out of Vietnam, no real War of the Decade here, after all, with all the dancing and making out, who wants to fight? The 80's: maturity with all of its implications set in, the making of money and children...Every other movie that came out had a baby at its center, and the Greed decade, as it was christened by the same media that coined the term baby boom, was in full sway under the watchful eye of the decades' patron father-in-law, Reagan...The Cold War was won like a hostile business competition where one - company , the USA, had , and used ,a bigger line of credit and forced its rival company, the USSR, into bankruptcy by trying to compete...The 90's: mid life crisis...Prosperity and routine leads to temptation and speculation...The desire to gamble one's fortune in the stock market; one's marriage with adulterous affairs that boost aging egos...Clinton is the embodiment of this era, and he and Papa Bush both waged their wars more with an eye on proving that we "still got it" than anything else...The 2000's : this is where it really gets worrisome...The beginning of old age...The spectre of Y2K was the first real intimation of our mortality; like getting the news from your doctor that you only have a few more years to live...The 2000 election had all the squabble and drama of a family's having to decide what to do with an elderly member, and then came 9/11, the fall in the shower, and Hurricane Katrina, the dreaded broken hip...Our wars are more like desperate attempts to ward off the pneumonia and flu that we know will be our undoing, and we are presided over by Young Bush, who inherited the family firm and who we know we could do better than if we had only had his connections...The Next Decade my friends , if my projections are accurate will be decrepitude...Therefore I am making my prediction here and now that John Mcain will be our next president...I thank you...