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Monday, December 31, 2012

Movie review: "Les Miserables"

 

Les_miz


We saw the new movie version of “Les Miserables” on Saturday afternoon. I’ve never seen the stage show; naturally I know some of the music (there was a concert performance on TV a long time ago, and naturally I remember George Costanza singing “Master of the House” incessantly on “Seinfeld,” and then there was the interminable Susan Boyle).

 

 

I don’t know if there’s anyone who doesn’t know the plot by now, but if you don’t, I don’t want to spoil it for you. But it’s full of escapes and tragedy and deathbed scenes, and if your throat doesn’t tighten up at least once, you have no soul.

 

 

This is a dream cast: Hugh Jackman as the haunted Jean Valjean, Anne Hathaway as Fantine, Russell Crowe as Javert, Amanda Seyfried (whom I only knew as the daughter in “Mamma Mia”) as Cosette, and a wonderful newcomer, Samantha Barks, as Eponine. Lots of critics have complained that Crowe can’t sing, but frankly I don’t know what they’re talking about; he sings beautifully, and he is properly menacing in his role. I felt sorry for poor Hugh Jackman, though, who has a great voice, but who was forced to sing about half an octave above his comfortable range. His upper register is very weak, so the higher he sings, the feebler he sounds . . . But who cares? He’s Hugh Jackman, and I’d drink a whole tubful of his bathwater if I had the chance. (There’s a scene late in the movie when he sings a high-pitched number, and then speaks a few words in a normal tone, and I swear his voice drops four octaves as he does it.)

 

 

Let me just say a word about the wicked innkeeper and his wife, played perfectly by Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham-Carter. (Honestly, what happened to Helena? She was such a fresh-faced young girl back in the Eighties. Then she started playing roles like Bellatrix Lestrange in the Harry Potter movies, and the demented pastry-cook in “Sweeney Todd.” And now this! She probably told the movie’s wardrobe department not to worry about her; she’d just bring her own clothes and fright-wig from home.) Sacha and Helena are a treat whenever they’re on the screen; they’re fairy-tale malevolent, but their stupidity and venality always work against them, and their natural goofiness makes you chuckle every time they come on screen.

 

 

You’ve probably heard the gimmick of the movie: instead of recording the songs separately, Tom Hooper, the director, made his cast sing right on the spot as they acted. This is an interesting choice; it’s what you get during a stage show, after all, and I think that’s what he was after. Sadly, however, Hooper keeps jabbing the camera into everyone’s face all the time, and it can be a little unnerving. 

 

 

But these are minor quibbles. It’s an epic story, and this is an epic production. The acting is first-rate, and the sets are just the perfect combination of stage-illusion and reality. If it doesn’t get a handful of Oscar noms, je mangerai mon chapeau.

 

 

So get out there, kids.

 

 

Aux barricades!


 

 

Sunday, December 30, 2012

For Sunday: "I Can See Clearly Now," by Johnny Nash

Johnny_nash-i_can_see_clear


This is one of the few songs that makes me really happy. It’s all bright sunny imagery, sung by a guy with a pure mellow voice over a simple cheerful rhythm, with one of those background choirs that sings in exactly the right places.

 

 

And the chord progression at the end of the bridge makes me shiver every time: “Look straight ahead, nothing but blue skies . . .”

 

 

Enjoy

 

 


 

 

 

Saturday, December 29, 2012

The tree of heaven

Ailanthus_altissima


I have written enough about carnivorous plants and poisonous plants. Let’s talk about something more pleasant.

 

 

I see the Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima) every summer day in the streets and alleys of Providence. It’s everywhere in the eastern United States, and thrives in cities. It is a weed, believe it or not; it grows wherever it can – up through cracks in the pavement, if that’s all it can find. It can grow six feet a year. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the old book/movie “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” but the title tree is A. altissima; it keeps bursting through the street, and no one can stop it.

 

 

I’ve never noticed (maybe I haven’t gotten close enough), but apparently it smells bad. T. S. Eliot, in the “Four Quartets,” refers to “the rank ailanthus of the April dooryard.” The Chinese word for the tree, chouchun, means literally “stink tree.”

 

 

Ah well, we can’t all smell like lilac or lavender, can we?

 

 

Ailanthus can reach tremendous heights, or it can be a shrub. It loves sunlight, but can tolerate shade when it has to. It likes rich soil best, but tolerates nasty environments too, and can grow in soil with the acidity of tomato juice. (Such a lot of things I learn from Wikipedia!)

 

 

The Chinese use it medicinally, to treat mental illness; the shaved root is mixed with boys’ urine and fermented soybeans, allowed to sit for a while, then strained. The bark contains an acknowledged antimalarial substance.

 

 

Most importantly of all: I like the tree of heaven. A few blocks from here, there used to be a vacant lot full of ailanthus, at least twenty feet high, in full sunlight. I loved them, though I knew they were squatters and that their time was probably short. Sure enough, they were cut down to make way for a Starbucks.

 

 

Starbucks coffee cannot be used to combat malaria, or mental illness, not even if you mix it with boys’ urine and fermented soybeans.

 

 

I would like my grove of ailanthus back.


 

 

Friday, December 28, 2012

New England winter

Cherry_trees_in_snow


Walking through the parking lot of my office a while ago, I noticed that the management company has put up those tall orange sticks again, in the landscaping and along the edges of the sidewalks.

 

 

If you live in a temperate climate, you won’t know what those are for. If you live in a place where snow falls heavily, you’ll know that they’re meant for snowplow season.

 

 

The sticks are about three or four feet high, so that even if we get a whopper of a snowstorm, the sticks will still be visible above the snow, and the plows can avoid the curbs and the shrubs.

 

 

It took me well over twenty years to figure out what the orange sticks were for. The property managers put them in place well before the snow falls, usually, so you don’t really make the connection between stick and snow.

 

 

I grew up in a very temperate place: western Washington state. Winters there are dark and rainy and relatively warm, and snow falls only once in a while. We didn’t need orange sticks in our parking lots.

 

 

Does it bear repeating that the New England winters are getting less and less snowy, and more and more like those Northwest winters? Here we are in mid-December, when the weather in Rhode Island should be freezing every day, and it was – mm – damp and dark and rainy today. Just like those old rain-foresty temperate winters in western Washington.

 

 

Also, there are still those damned cherry trees that bloomed a few weeks ago. It’s been happening with regularity over the past few years: the blooming of those insane (or deluded) trees in mid-winter.

 

 

The world is changing, kids, Mayapocalypse or no Mayapocalypse.

 

 

There are those who assure us that, even if climate change is happening, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. There’s a Northwest Passage! Saskatchewan and the Dakotas will be like Paradise!

 

 

And who needs Florida, or South Carolina, or the Maldive Islands, or cares if they’re swamped completely?

 

 

And who cares if the equatorial regions become uninhabitable? No one important lives there, right?

 

 

As I’ve said before: I have maybe twenty or thirty years left on earth, if I’m very lucky. I never dreamed I’d say something like this, but: I hope I don’t live to see the worst of it.

 

 

I’ve seen cherry trees blooming in New England in December.

 

 

That’s bad enough for me.


 

 

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Joe Kernan, Ebenezer Scrooge, and how not to be a gadfly

Kernen


A gadfly is, by definition, a person who shakes up the status quo. He/she questions the status quo. He/she challenges complacency and accepted wisdom.

 

 

It’s an important role. Socrates was a gadfly, and died for it. Galileo was a gadfly, and paid heavily for it.

 

 

However (to paraphrase Monty Python): being a gadfly isn’t just contradiction. It’s something more substantial than that.

 

 

There are people in the media who pose as gadflies. They do it by saying ridiculous things, and then they defy their audience to contradict them.

 

 

For example: Joe Kernen on CNBC’s “Squawk Box” on weekday mornings.

 

 

Recently, Kernen interviewed someone on the topic of climate change. During thee interview, he told his guest that he (Kernen) was an MIT graduate, and that he (Kernen) knew that there was no such thing as “climate science.”

 

 

This isn’t being a gadfly. This is just being stupid.

 

 

Recently, Kernen was talking about foreign aid. “Someone told me,” he said (I paraphrase), “that going without government aid was a great incentive. Why don’t we apply the same idea to foreign countries? Don’t give them aid. It’ll encourage them to do better.”

 

 

Or, of course, they might perish.

 

 

From Dickens:

 

 

``At this festive season of the year, Mr Scrooge,'' said the gentleman, taking up a pen, ``it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.''

``Are there no prisons?'' asked Scrooge.

``Plenty of prisons,'' said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

``And the Union workhouses?'' demanded Scrooge. ``Are they still in operation?''

``They are. Still,'' returned the gentleman, `` I wish I could say they were not.''

``The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?'' said Scrooge.

``Both very busy, sir.''

``Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,'' said Scrooge. ``I'm very glad to hear it.''

``Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,'' returned the gentleman, `a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when want is keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?''

``Nothing!'' Scrooge replied.

``You wish to be anonymous?''

``I wish to be left alone,'' said Scrooge. ``Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned: they cost enough: and those who are badly off must go there.''

``Many can't go there; and many would rather die.''

``If they would rather die,'' said Scrooge, ``they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides -- excuse me -- I don't know that.''

``But you might know it,'' observed the gentleman.

``It's not my business,'' Scrooge returned. ``It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!''

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.

 

 

This was Scrooge’s idea of how to be a gadfly.

 

 

I hope you remember the rest of the story.

 

 

Merry Christmas, Joe Kernen.


 

 

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Movie review: "The Hobbit"

Hobbit


Partner and I saw “The Hobbit” on Xmas Eve. I’m a big Tolkien nerd, so I couldn’t stay away, but I was dreading it a little too. The “Lord of the Rings” movies were beautifully made, but they didn’t always precisely agree with the way I’d imagined the books when I read them in the 1960s, and it hurt my heart a little.

 

 

“The Hobbit” is a children’s book. It tells the same basic story as “The Lord of the Rings” – a journey, lots of adventures along the way, spiders, monsters, battles, a distant mountain in the East – but it’s jokey and cute. There are some solemn bits, but they’re solemn in a long-ago-and-far-away fairy-tale way. 

 

 

So the question was: could Peter Jackson take a funny clever children’s book and make something of it that wasn’t just “Lord of the Rings: the Prequel”?

 

 

The early reviews weren’t great. David Edelstein last weekend said that “The Hobbit” was “our punishment for liking ‘The Lord of the Rings’ too much.” Other reviewers complained of all kinds of things: too fast, too slow, too much CGI, too serious, too long. The only reviewer I saw who liked it was the FT’s Nigel Andrews, who calls it “a sort of masterwork.” He allows that you “have to like looking at folkloric weirdos with beards, hats, and bulbous noses,” and also that the first part of the movie has too many “walkies and fighties,” but it carries you along with it anyway.

 

 

I am here to tell you that Nigel Andrews was right, and I am the kind of person who likes weirdos with bulbous noses and pointy hats, and I liked it very much.

 

 

First, however, the bad news: it’s much too long. The book moves along very briskly, so Jackson really had to pump a bunch of stuff into it to make it longer: flashbacks, explanatory sequences, framing devices. He drew, not only from “The Hobbit,” but from “The Lord of the Rings” itself, and its appendices, and lots of other Tolkien material. I didn’t find it tedious – as I said above, I’m a Tolkien nerd, I can name all thirteen dwarves while standing on my head – but I wondered how Partner was dealing with it. Was he overdosing on Middle-Earth?

 

 

But no! He liked it!

 

 

So there’s got to be some good stuff there.

 

 

Are you kidding? There’s a ton of good stuff there. There’s Martin Freeman as Bilbo Baggins, funny and very (ahem) human; Ian McKellan as a (slightly) younger Gandalf, irascible as ever. Hugo Weaving is back as Elrond, and he doesn’t look constipated anymore: he actually looks cheerful at times! And, naturally, you will find Andy Serkis’s Gollum, creepy and sad and horrible, in the movie’s best scene.

 

 

Jackson departed from the book, naturally, but his choices were mostly good. Bilbo and Gandalf are travelling with a group of thirteen dwarves. How in the hell do you create thirteen distinctive characters all at once and make them memorable? The answer: you don’t. You make maybe five or six of them distinctive, and rely on the rest of them to make background chatter. So we get to know Balin and Dwalin, and Bofur (I think), and Bombur (well, even in the book he’s the fat one), and Fili and Kili. And that’s plenty.

 

 

Jackson made the fight-scenes monumental, and dramatic, and even clever. (Barry Humphries, the comedian who created Dame Edna Everage, is the Great Goblin, a horrible creature with a huge goiter and a gift for snappy dialogue.)

 

 

But here’s the best bit of all.

 

 

In the book, about fifty pages along, Bilbo and the dwarves encounter three trolls with Cockney accents. The trolls want to eat Bilbo & Co., and have a big argument over how to cook them.

 

 

Before we went, I said to Partner, “I hope he gets the trolls right. And I hope they have Cockney accents.”

 

 

And they do.

 

 

Elbereth bless you, Peter Jackson.


 

 

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

For Christmas: Grace Jones sings “The Little Drummer Boy”

Grace_jones_little_drummer_boy


Okay, it’s Christmas, and it’s Obama’s second term. I get it. I need to be inclusive. I need to put something out here for everyone.

 

 

How about Grace Jones, circa 1990, on Pee-Wee Herman’s Christmas special, wearing a bizarre metallic headdress and breastplate and singing a technopop version of “The Little Drummer Boy”?

 

 

Now that's inclusive.

 

 

Joyeux Noel.

 

 


 

 

Monday, December 24, 2012

For Christmas Eve: Dominic the Italian Christmas donkey

Dominic


There are some Christmas songs that I block out of my mind, until I hear them the next December, and think: Oh dear little lord Jesus, I forgot about that one.

 

 

This is one of them.

 

 

The more Italian you know, the funnier this song gets.

 

 

Hee-haw!

 

 


 

Sunday, December 23, 2012

For Sunday: The ELO implores you not to be “So Serious”

Elo_so_serious


This is a nice Eighties song with a bouncy beat and a pleasant melody, and a welcome message to boot.

 

 

It’s always best not to be so serious.

 

 


 

 

Saturday, December 22, 2012

The Electoral College

Electoral_college


The Rhode Island Secretary of State, Ralph Mollis, recently sent me the cutest email invitation, as follows:

 

 

Following the second-highest turnout in state history, our remarkable election year will officially end this Monday when we convene RI's Electoral College for the purpose of casting votes for president and vice president.

 

 

 

The historic ceremony will begin at noon when the Kentish Guards in colonial military garb will escort the state's four Presidential Electors and other dignitaries to the House Chamber, where the event will take place.

 

 

 

If you would like to attend the ceremony, please RSVP to elections@sos.ri.gov because seating in the House Chamber is limited. Capitol TV will also televise the ceremony live on Channel 15 on Cox Cable and Full Channel and Channel 34 on Verizon. In addition, we will set up TV monitors in the State Room to accommodate anyone who cannot be seated in the House Chamber.

 

 

 

State Rep.-elect Marvin L. Abney of Newport, Emily A. Maranjian of Providence, L. Susan Weiner of East Greenwich and Mark S. Weiner of East Greenwich have the honor of representing RI. By federal law, the state Democratic Party got to select the electors because Democrat Barack Obama won Rhode Island's popular vote.

 

 

 

This is sort of adorable, in the way that the Beefeaters in the Tower of London and the Swiss Guards at the Vatican are adorable. We’re a small state, so we like ceremonies; it’s easy for pretty much anyone in the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations to attend this, if he/she wants to. Notice the reference to “colonial military garb”: we’re one of the original thirteen colonies, right?

 

 

 

The Electoral College is a charming but unnecessary leftover from the early days of our Republic. But it needs to get lost. We need to elect our President and Vice-President by popular vote, nothing more, nothing less. Our history would be very different if we’d done this; there have been four elections (1824, 1876, 1888, and – surprise! 2000) when the popular vote went against the electoral vote.

 

 

 

There is an initiative running around among the states: the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact. In brief: states are declaring that they will give all their electoral votes to the winner of the national popular vote (so long as enough other states sign onto the compact).

 

 

 

Sadly, the only states to sign onto this compact so far are progressive/liberal states in the Northeast and West.

 

 

 

The red states seem suspicious of this initiative. I’m not sure why.

 

 

 

Maybe they just love their Kentish Guards.

 

 

 

Kids: time to put away childish things. Let’s get rid of this relic, the Electoral College, once and for all.

 


 

Friday, December 21, 2012

Happy belated birthday, Ludwig van Beethoven

Beethoven_schroeder


Beethoven’s birthday was a few days ago.

 

 

How do I know this? Why, the dear late Charles Schulz, of course.

 

 

Charles Schulz was the artist behind the comic strip “Peanuts.” He created the character Schroeder, who played his toy piano as if it were a grand piano, and who especially appreciated the music of Ludwig van Beethoven.

 

 

Schulz said later that he loved the idea of a child playing real music on a toy piano, and he showed this by showing Schroeder playing the actual (complex) Beethoven scores. You can always identify the music that Schroeder is playing; Schulz reproduces it perfectly, note for note.

 

 

And every December Schroeder remembered and celebrated Beethoven’s birthday, on the seventeenth of December.

 

 

Was Beethoven really born on the seventeenth of December? No one is sure. He was baptized on the seventeenth, in any case.

 

 

In belated honor of Beethoven’s birth (and baptism): the lovely ethereal opening movement of the late E major piano sonata No. 30, op. 109.

 

 

Celebrate!

 

 

Beethoven_e_major_i.mp3 Listen on Posterous



 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Christmayapocalypse

Christmayapocalypse


The Syfy Channel (I hate that name!) has been showing winter-themed disaster movies this month: “Ice Quakes,” “Ice Twisters,” “Snowmageddon,” and most notably, “The Twelve Disasters of Christmas.” This last one was best of all: a filmization of the Mayan apocalypse that’s scheduled for tomorrow, Friday, December 21, 2012.

 

 

Perfect!

 

 

We’ve all been joking for some time about the world coming to an end on December 21. And won’t we be all giggly if it turns out to be true!

 

 

But I think the end of the calendar year, and the darkness of the season, always makes us gloomy and fatalistic.

 

 

I noticed the other day that the asteroid Toutatis passed close to the Earth. Partner told me recently that a new asteroid just buzzed past Earth – closer to Earth than the Moon, in fact. The asteroid was approximately 120 yards wide – about the size of the asteroid that caused the Tunguska disaster in Russia in the early 1900s.

 

 

So many little perils! So many things that might happen to ruin our day!

 

 

So, while you’re waiting for the end of the world, a little traveling music from Elvis Costello:

 

 


 

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Technology and its discontents

Cords


Some time back, Partner’s nephew appeared on Mecum Car Auctions (you should watch it sometime, it’s fascinating), driving a couple of the cars being auctioned. We wanted to share the video experience with Partner’s sister, because there were a few good shots of her son in the car.

 

Probably, with the right connections, we could have plugged into the TV or the DVR and extracted the images.  But neither of us is very good at that, and I have struggled for a long time to figure out how to do it.  We have a conventional DVD player / VCR wired into the system, but I think I connected the units in the wrong sequence; according to the DVR manual, I should be able to record programming onto a videotape, but I can’t. And I’m sure somewhere in the wide world there’s a cord that I could plug into the TV or the DVR to connect it with the laptop, but after buying at least three different cords (and facing blank stares from Best Buy staff members when I labor to explain what I want), I have given up.


So this is what we did:

 

 

   We recorded the show on the DVR.

   I took my little Polaroid digital camera (which takes videos too) and made a mini-movie of the relevant clip (Partner was behind the remote control on the DVR; it was a two-man operation).

   I uploaded the clip to Facebook.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely Partner’s nephew, and if I do say so myself, it wasn’t bad.

   I called Partner’s sister on my cellphone and told her to log into Facebook.  She assured me that she was no longer on Facebook, because she hadn’t logged in for so long.  I assured her that she was wrong.  I talked her through it, step by step.

   And finally I heard her shriek: “OH MY GOD!  MY BABY!  MY BABY BOY!”

 


It was worth it.


But I desperately need to figure out a better way to do this.

 

I am told that the DVR has something like a computer’s hard drive at its heart.  If so: why can’t I dive in there and copy out a file?  It would be so much easier.

 

And can someone please go beat the bejeezus out of those stupid boys at Best Buy for me?


 

 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Theory and belief

Bill_nye


People on the right/conservative side of the political spectrum have taken to saying that science is “just another theory,” and that religion – or craziness like “intelligent design” – is just as valid as any scientific “theory.”

 

 

But science is not “just another theory.”

 

 

Science is based upon observation. A real scientific theory begins with observed phenomena, and posits explanations for those phenomena, which can be disproved. (That last phrase is very important. Read it twice or three times.) If these explanations can’t be disproved by modern methods, then – huzza! – the theory is valid. (Until a better or more elegant theory comes along.)

 

 

Here’s an interesting statement: “I have a theory that Satan buried dinosaur bones to confuse us into believing in the false theory of evolution.”

 

 

Is this a real theory?

 

 

 

Well, is it based on observation? Not really. There are certainly dinosaur bones, but Satan’s fingerprints are nowhere to be found on them. 

 

 

Is it disprovable? Nope. The more I argue with this “theorist,” the more he insists that I’m a dupe of Satan.

 

 

Is this, therefore, a real theory? Nope.

 

 

Here’s another theory: “Dinosaurs existed hundreds of millions of years ago.”

 

 

Here are some facts:

 

 

-         Dinosaur fossils have been found all over the world, and have dated to the right periods, using reliable methods.

-         These fossils have been found in geologic layers which have also dated to the right periods.

 

 

(Is this disprovable? Yes, in many ways. Our dating methods might be found to be unreliable, or the fossils might be found to be fake. But, at this point, neither is the case.)

 

 

-         Thus: we have no reason to doubt that there were dinosaurs back in the Jurassic.

 

 

Except, of course, that the Religious Right tells us that God doesn’t allow for that kind of thing.

 

 

Here’s your friend and mine, Bill Nye the Science Guy, explaining sweetly and reasonably why science is important:

 

 

 

 

I respect people of faith, but I do not want to hear them dismissing science anymore.

 

 

Because they just don’t know what they’re talking about.


 

 

Monday, December 17, 2012

My profile picture

Ljw_new_profile_pic_2012

 

I have been using the same profile picture online for some years now. Regardez:

 

Lorenxmas2007

 

It was taken at an office holiday party. I was feeling very elegant in my dark coat that evening, and probably I’d had a few drinks, which explains the serene expression. And, if you look carefully, you’re notice that I’m wearing a iParty necklace made of brightly-colored little plastic fruits and vegetables.

 

 

A little dignity, a little frivolity.

 

 

Well, I liked the picture. I had it made into postage stamps by Zazzle, a company which will turn just about any (non-obscene) picture into authentic U.S. postage, but they halted my order and asked me: was I sure this was me? Was I sure this wasn’t a pirated photo of some celebrity?

 

 

That was irritating, but also very flattering.

 

 

But that was five, or six, or seven years ago. One has aged. One no longer wears glasses like that. Also, one’s complexion has grown a little puffy and pale. Also, one fancies the clever little hipster hat that one purchased outside the Moulin Rouge in Paris last October.

 

 

Browsing through our vacation pics from France, I hit upon this one, taken by Partner while we were at Disneyland Paris:

 

Ljw_new_profile_pic_2012

 

It’s got everything: the hipster hat, the hipster glasses. I’m even smiling, if a little weakly. And, if you look carefully, you’ll see a certain sagginess and puffiness. It shows that I’m older and grayer.

 

 

It’s poifect.

 

 

Look for my aging image on this new Internet thing!


 

Sunday, December 16, 2012

For Sunday: the Troggs sing “Wild Thing”

Troggs_wild_thing


What was the best rock-and-roll song to feature an ocarina solo?

 

 

There’s really only one answer.

 

 

Enjoy.

 


 

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Gun control

Friday, December 14, 2012

Doing something for the kitties and puppies

Kitties_and_puppies

The local grocery market is not my favorite place. They are not very good at customer service, and they’re not cheap.

 

 

They do one nice thing, however: they give one percent of the money I spend there to the local charity of my choice.

 

 

Here’s how it works: I collect my receipts from XX Supermarket, and give them to my local charity. The charity, in turn, submits them to XX Supermarket, and receives one percent of the money I spent there.

 

 

It ain’t a million bucks, but it’s something. It’s painless, and it’s simple: all I have to do is collect the receipts and deliver them to the charity.

 

 

There is an animal shelter right next to my office. They are very good to the animals (not just dogs and cats, but rabbits and turtles and everything you can think of); they have toys and food and everything. Most of the animals are abandoned or orphaned. I go over and look at them sometimes, but not very often; some are cute and hopeful and playful, but many are worried and confused and sad, and it’s not comforting to see them upset and unhappy.

 

 

All of them are waiting for adoption.

 

 

So I give my one percent to the kitties and puppies. It will buy them some kibble, and toys, and a soft bed.

 

 

And that, Charlie Brown, is what Christmas is supposed to be all about.

 

 

Please go see if some merchant in your area does the same thing. It is a painless way to do a tiny bit of good in the world.


 

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Reading the cards

Reading_the_cards


I think of myself as very irreligious. I don’t really believe in any god, except inasmuch as there may be more powerful or knowledgeable entities than me in the universe (which is completely possible). But a personal deity? One who cares about me, and who can help me in a real way? I don’t see it.

 

 

On the other hand, I think the universe is full of odd connections and synchronicities. I think that “fortune-telling” – horoscopes, cards, palmistry – is just a way to tease out the synchronicity, and maybe latch into a feeling about things that are happening around you.

 

 

I have an especially strong feeling about card-reading. You shuffle cards in the here and now, and the cards fall into a shape that’s dictated by what Kurt Vonnegut’s Tralfamadorians called “the structure of the moment.”

 

 

The cards fall a certain way when you draw them and lay them on the table. An experienced reader can find all kinds of interesting things in them.

 

 

Why not?

 

 

I have read cards – regular playing cards, Tarot cards, and even the cards of Madame Lenormande – many times. I feel them in my hands as I deal them, and I can tell if the reading is going to be the real deal or not. Sometimes the cards get annoyed with you, especially if they know you’re asking a stupid question (a stupid question is a question to which you already know the answer). Sometimes you get what I call “static” – nonsense answers – but not very often.

 

 

Most often, the cards tell me (very sincerely) what’s going on in the world.

 

 

Example #1: Back in the early 1980s, I was in a dreadful job, and was applying for a much better job. I was assured – assured! – by the new employer that I was the leading candidate for the job.

 

 

I was thrilled. So, just for confirmation, I read the cards.

 

 

And they told me I wasn’t getting the job.

 

 

I resented the cards’ bad attitude, and dealt them again. They told me again – in very definite terms – that I was not getting the job.

 

 

Foolishly I dealt the cards a third time. The cards hate this. (I know I’m anthropomorphizing the cards, but it’s difficult not to; they have moods.) This time, the DEATH card came up.

 

 

And – what do you know? – I didn’t get the job.

 

 

Example #2: A few years later, I was offered a Peace Corps job in Morocco. I was excited, but uncertain. I read the cards. I saw:

 

 

Uncertainty.

 

 

Strife.

 

 

Difficulties.

 

 

Travel overseas. (No kidding!)

 

 

And, at the end of it, The Sun. This card represents – let me quote an online source:

 

 

The Sun promises the querent his/her day in the sun. Glory, triumph, simple pleasures and truths. This card symbolizes discoveries made wide awake. This is science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect and youthful energy. Like the Sun, the querent will likely come across to others as warm and radiant, and he/she can be told that this is a good time to make decisions.

 

 

In short: Oh, shit, go ahead and do it. It’ll turn out just fine, despite the difficulties.

 

 

And it did turn out just fine. There were twists and turns and unexpected things, just as the cards had warned.

 

 

And at the end of it, the Sun: radiant happiness.

 

 

I am timid of the cards. I do not ask them casual questions. I play with them, and meditate on them, but I respect them.

 

 

(Do I sound superstitious? I suppose I am.

 

 

(But I believe that the present holds the seeds of the future, and that – if you know how – you can peer into the structure of the present and glimpse, dimly, the shape of the future.)

 

 

(Want me to read for you someday?)


 

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Lynda Barry

Lynda_barry_at_apexpo_7714


I just picked up a book by Lynda Barry, one of my favorite graphic novelists / illustrators / authors. She has published lots of books in which she narrates and illustrates her childhood. They are brilliantly funny, sometimes sad, and always memorable.

 

 

 

Nowadays Ms. Barry tours the country doing a creativity seminar called “Writing the Unthinkable.” She gets people writing and drawing by coaxing them, and urging them, to remember what it was like to be a kid with a pencil or a crayon. Just color. Just write. Just scribble. Don’t worry too much about the result.

 

 

The book I picked up, “Picture This,” is a collaboration between Ms. Barry and her husband Kevin Kawula. It’s about creativity, and writing, and drawing. It features strange characters like “the nearsighted monkey” and “the dear chicken,” as well as some of her older creations like Cousin Marlys. It’s full of collage and watercolor. It’s a feast. I was reading it on the University shuttle the other night, turning page after page, and I realized that the student sitting next to me was reading it along with me. That should tell you something.

 

 

Anyway: one of the points she makes in this book is that you just need to keep the pen (or brush, or the cursor, or whatever) moving, in contact with the paper. You need to feel that contact. Make spirals. Draw ballerinas. Write nonsense.

 

 

Keep moving forward.

 

 

Some of it might be terrible.

 

 

Some of it might be wonderful.

 

 

Keep filling those notebook pages, kids.


 

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

The Bayeux Tapestry

Bayeux1


 

We went from Caen to Bayeux on a sunny Sunday afternoon in October. It took less than half an hour by train.

 

 

Bayeux is smaller than Caen, and perfectly beautiful. The medieval church towered over the city – we could see it from the train station – but we didn’t want to waste time, so we took a cab directly to the Tapestry Museum.

 

 

The Bayeux Tapestry is a miracle. It is a piece of linen seventy-five yards long and maybe a yard high, which (maybe, but probably not, but it’s charming to think so) Queen Matilda and her ladies stitched as a memorial to Matilda’s husband William the Conqueror’s triumph over Harold II of England.

 

 

Partner and I were very lucky; very few people were in the museum that day. We were given an audioguide, which normally I hate, but which in this case was invaluable: it narrated the entire tapestry, and kept us moving from panel to panel.

 

 

The story is very absorbing: Harold knows that his brother-in-law Edward the Confessor wants William of Normandy to be his successor, and agrees to carry the news to him in France. William is delighted, but suspicious, and makes Harold swear in Caen Cathedral that he’ll recognize William as the successor. Edward dies, and – guess what? – Harold takes the crown. William takes arms and sails across the channel and meets Harold at Hastings. Harold is killed, with an arrow in the eye. William is victorious.

 

 

The whole thing is there on the tapestry. But you really have to see it.

 

 

The tapestry is gorgeous. The people are beautifully depicted, and there are even captions, and even footnotes: small pictures tucked away under the main story. There’s a naked man about halfway through, and I’m not sure what he’s supposed to be all about, but he’s very amusing.

 

 

Later, in the gift shop, I picked up a cute book called “Le tapisserie de Bayeux en bande dessinée”: “The Bayeux Tapestry as a comic strip.”

 

 

It’s already a comic strip.

 

 

It’s just a very serious comic strip.

 

 

The French expression, “bande dessinée,” is better than our “comic strip.” Our expression implies that the content is funny or at least amusing. The French expression just means “drawn strip.”

 

 

The story told by the Bayeux Tapestry is wonderful and beautiful, but it’s not one bit funny. It’s a terrible story of a terrible time when people died.

 

 

But then again: every time is a terrible time.

 

 

Look at our own time: war, strife, death. Now think of making a “comic strip” out of it.

 

 

But could you make a bande dessinée of it?

 

 

Bien sur.


 

Monday, December 10, 2012

Christmas

Christmas

I am not feeling much like Christmas this year. My feelings for the holiday have been diminishing for a couple of years now; I used to enjoy decorating, and looking at lights, and giving gifts, and getting gifts in return. Now it’s just a list of things to do: buy a few things, mail some cards, write emails to those people that I’ve been neglecting shamelessly for months now. Partner and I will go away for a few days between Xmas and New Year’s, just for the hell of it, and to break up our routine.

 

 

This is exactly the way my parents felt about Christmas when I was a kid. I hated their bad attitude, and swore I’d never be that cynical.

 

 

And here we are today.

 

 

I have decided, though, that I’m not going to rain on anyone’s parade this year. My mother used to whine and complain about Christmas to anyone who’d listen. I do not intend to follow her example. Why ruin other people’s fun?

 

 

Better to light a candle, etc., etc.

 

 

But not everyone agrees:

 

 

You_stupid_darkness


 

Sunday, December 9, 2012

For Sunday: Van Halen (and David Lee Roth) want you to "Jump"

Van_halen_jump

 

If I were in a more pompous mood, I would tell you that this song is actually a chaconne, with a varied melody over a repeated series of chords.

 

 

But I’m less pompous than I used to be, and frankly, I just like watching David Lee Roth leaping around and mugging for the camera.

 

 

Enjoy.

 

 


 

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Sesame Street, Elmo, and Kevin Clash

Kevin-clash-with-elmo


Over the past few weeks, a mini-drama has been growing over Kevin Clash, who voices Elmo, the little red Sesame Street monster.

 

 

First there was a man who claimed that Clash had relations with him while he was under 18; then he recanted his claim. Since then, however, two other men have come forward with the same story.

 

 

Oh dear.

 

 

I love Sesame Street, and the Muppets. During this past Presidential election, Mitt Romney said he was ready to end funding of PBS and CTW, the homeland of Sesame Street, and there was a backlash: people claimed (very fairly) that Mitt Romney wanted to kill Big Bird, inspiring images like this:

 

Bigbird

 

Well, Obama won the election.

 

 

And now it turns out that the voice of Elmo is a child molester.

 

 

Awful? Of course. But oddly timed. I can’t help wondering if this is Republican reprisal for the election, to weaken PBS as a whole. I wonder if they’ve been digging for dirt on PBS, and finally found some.

 

 

Clash, if guilty, should be punished. But PBS should not be punished.

 

 

The mission of PBS is to make America a little smarter. It made me smarter, back in the 1970s. As for expense: they (together with NPR) receive one one-hundredth of one percent of the Federal budget, for God’s sake!

 

 

If we have to jettison Kevin Clash, fine.

 

 

But let’s not jettison PBS.

 

 

Let your representatives and senators know how you feel about this.

 

 


 

 

Friday, December 7, 2012

Chris Matthews: our very own left-wing babbling idiot

Chris_matthews


I’ve written before about right-wing radio and TV hosts whose political rantings drive me up the wall. I know I’ve mentioned Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh.

 

 

Want to know a surprise? We have a few idiots like that on the left too.

 

 

I like to watch Chris Matthews’s show “Hardball.” His guests are often interesting, and Chris’s politics are close to mine, so I find him easy to watch.

 

 

But, kids, Chris is often unbearable.

 

 

He’s loud and rude. He asks his guests endless “questions” which aren’t questions at all, but long speeches; then, if his guests speak for more than fifteen seconds, he cuts them off. His comments are often pointless. He repeats himself endlessly. He’s very self-congratulatory: recently, when a guest referenced a movie, Matthews cut him/her off to go on and on about the movie, and how he liked it. Who cares, Chris?

 

 

On a recent show, Chris presented Kegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele, co-writers and performers on their own show, “Key and Peele,” who do a very funny Obama routine: Peele as the cool rational Obama, Key as his “anger translator” Luther. It was meant to be a friendly encounter, but Chris kept messing up. He called Obama “cool,” which – coming from an aging white man – sounds like an adjective you’d apply to Miles Davis. He kept referencing the fact that both Key and Peele are biracial, like President Obama, and saying that this enabled them to say things other people can’t say.  Really

 

 

But the worst moment came when Chris asked Key about his routines about football players with funny names. “Well,” Key said (I paraphrase), “lots of people were given funny names, because their mothers wanted to give them unique names. I’ve got a funny name. And you got it wrong, Chris, when you called me Michael. But that’s okay, because my parents gave me a funny name.”

 

 

Chris suddenly realized that he was being called out – which he hates – and blustered back: “Why? What did I call you?”

 

 

“Michael,” Key replied calmly.

 

 

“And what should I have called you?” Chris bellowed defiantly.

 

 

“Well, my family calls me Kegan,” Key said, still calmly.

 

 

Chris made drowning noises for a few seconds, then calmed down.

 

 

Chris, as a Democrat, was trying to be down with the homies, you see. Except that he had no idea what he was doing, or what he was saying.

 

 

Ah well.

 

 

At least he’s not as bad as Rush, or Glenn, or Sean Hannity.

 

 

(Sigh.)


 

Thursday, December 6, 2012

2012 Election Post-Mortem: Why Don't Minorities Vote Republican?

2012_election_minorities


Partner and I often watch “Up with Chris Hayes” on weekend mornings. I find him a bit shrill and wordy, but at least I agree with him and most of his guests. (And, as we all know, we all prefer to listen to people who confirm our beliefs and – gulp! – prejudices.)

 

 

On the morning of November 10, Chris had a very nice gentleman named Avik Roy on his panel. Avik is an American of Indian ancestry, whose expertise is in health care issues, and was described on the show as FORMER ROMNEY CAMPAIGN ADVISOR.

 

 

He was very gentle and reasonable on the show, which was to be expected; his party (and his candidate) had just lost a big election, and he was surrounded by political opponents (mostly raving liberals, like yours truly).

 

 

But he still said some ridiculous things.

 

 

Such as:

 

 

“My mother is a very conservative person: she’s frugal, she believes in self-reliance. She’s a natural Republican. But she insists on voting for Democrats.”

 

 

And: “The Republican Party is about small government, and fiscal conservatism. It’s not about bigotry or racial disenfranchisement.”

 

 

And: “I understand how Mexican immigrants, legal or illegal, must feel in the United States. But I feel more strongly for the people who have tried to enter legally. I think of the Indian school valedictorian who wanted to enter the United States, but who found that he/she wasn’t able to get a visa because of the Obama administration’s policies, and I ask myself if this is really fairness.”

 

 

These are all valid opinions, stated respectfully and intelligently, and I respect all three of them.

 

 

Except that they’re all completely specious.

 

 

#1: “My mother is a very conservative person: she’s frugal, she believes in self-reliance. She’s a natural Republican. But she insists on voting for Democrats.” Kiddo: your mother has dark skin. She has been experiencing American racial prejudice for longer than you have, and in a more intense way. The Democrats are an inclusive party, and welcomes minorities; of course your mother feels more comfortable with them. You, Avik, are younger, and more educated, and have grown up in a more liberal society, and have experienced much less prejudice as a result. Do you get that?

 

 

#2: “The Republican Party is about small government, and fiscal conservatism. It’s not about bigotry or racial disenfranchisement.” The first sentence is more or less true. Sadly, the second sentence is not true. As several other panel members explained to Avik Roy on the show, Nixon’s Southern Strategy was all about using bigotry to get people to vote Republican. At the beginning, it was just a campaign strategy: the Republicans get bigots to vote for the GOP, and once they’re in office, they’ll quietly ignore that section of the electorate. (Nixon was a pretty awful president, and a bigot, but he didn’t legislate bigotry.) Over time, however, the bigots realized they were being snubbed by the GOP, and insisted on representation. So we get terms like “illegals” and “welfare cheats,” and we know that we mean “Hispanics” and “African-Americans.” So, Avik, I’m afraid your party – for many reason – has in fact espoused bigotry as a vote-getting method, and (once in office) tends to legislate that bigotry.

 

 

Worst of all, #3: “I think of the Indian school valedictorian who wanted to enter the United States, but who found that he/she wasn’t able to get a visa because of the Obama administration’s policies, and I ask myself if this is really fairness.” Oh, Avik. Do you think that the average Republican voter, in Mississippi or Wyoming or Arizona, would welcome that Indian school valedictorian in the United States? Certainly not. He’s not white, Avik.  

 

 

Avik, Avik. Go have a chat with your mother. And get a clue.


 

 

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Hobbit

Hobbit-movie-cast-2012-best-movies-ever-martin-freeman


Are we looking forward to Peter Jackson’s filmization of “The Hobbit”? Yes, of course we are.

 

 

I was born into the Lord of the Rings Generation. When I was in the seventh grade I bought “The Two Towers,” not knowing that it was the second book in the trilogy, and not understanding how trilogies worked in any case.  Naturally I didn’t understand a bit of the plot, but I struggled through it anyway. Then one of my teachers, Mister Lorenz, bless him, noticed what was going on, and offered to lend me his copies of “Fellowship of the Ring” and “Return of the King,” so long as I didn’t damage them.

 

 

I was an immediate convert to Tolkienism.

 

 

A summer or two later – around 1970, anyway – I wrote to Ballantine Books, and sent them my $2.00, and received in return a copy of “The Hobbit,” which was described on the cover as “the enchanting prelude to ‘The Lord of the Rings.’”

 


I devoured it in a couple of days.

 

 

Have you ever noticed that “Hobbit” is exactly the same story as “Lord of the Rings”? A hobbit (Bilbo / Frodo) is enticed by Gandalf to leave the Shire with a group of oddball travelers. They encounter problems on the way (trolls, Nazgul, whatever). They get to Rivendell and have a chitchat with Elrond. They cross the Misty Mountains, but not without difficulties (Bilbo with Gollum and the goblins, Frodo in Moria). They pop out the other side and have a little rest (Bilbo and the dwarves with Beorn, Frodo and his companions in Lorien). They cross the river, and get into trouble, and get separated. There are spiders. There’s an ominous mountain. There’s a treasure that needs to be thrown away or given away (the Arkenstone / the Ring). There’s a big climactic battle. “The eagles are coming! The eagles are coming!” A few key people are killed in each battle (Thorin in “Hobbit,” Theoden in “Rings”).

 

 

And then the hobbit goes home to the Shire.

 

 

I’m delighted that Jackson is bringing back some key people: Ian McKellen, the perfect Gandalf, and Hugo Weaving, a grave (if intense) Elrond. (Please note that I love the Elrond that Tolkien gives us in the books; he’s thousands of years old, but he’s also very nice. Hugo Weaving looks irritated all the time, or maybe constipated, which is maybe more likely for someone who’s half-human and thousands of years old.)

 

 

Martin Freeman, like Ian Holm and Elijah Wood, is a perfect hobbit; like them, he’s a little unearthly-looking.

 

 

I hope the movie isn’t too CGI-reliant. “Hobbit” is a children’s book, but this had better not be a children’s movie.

 

 

And I don’t know if this is true, but I hear that Stephen Colbert is in the movie, as an elf. (He’s spoken Elvish on his show more than once, so he’s got the right background.)

 

 

We will see.

 

 

Here’s hoping for the best.


 

 

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

My wife

My_wife


I was out in the lobby at work the other day, talking to Mike the mailman about our recent trip to France. “Did your wife enjoy it too?” he asked.

 

 

 

I saw Chelsea, the student working at the front desk, give a sudden spasmodic jerk of her head as Mike said the word “wife.” She was wondering what I’d say next.

 

 

 

And, after a whirlwind review of my options, I said: “Yes, she enjoyed it very much.”

 

 

 

Okay. You know I’m gay, and that Partner is a man. Here are excerpts from the angel/devil dialogue that whirled through my head in that moment:

 

 

 

-         He’s the mailman. He doesn’t need to know our business.

-         What are you, afraid to come out to the mailman? He’s like three inches shorter than you, and chubby.

-         But it gets tiresome coming out all the time. Sometimes you should just give in and let people assume whatever they like.

-         That’s no way to think. This could be a teachable moment. This could be the tipping point at which Mike the mailman thinks: Hey! Loren’s gay! Gay people are okay!

-         Or not.

-         Are you ashamed of being gay, after all these years? I hope not.

-         But you love being accepted by all these big macho men: all these repairmen and policemen and construction workers and moving men you work with. You need to keep up appearances, don’t you?

-         The parking cops know that you’re gay, and they don’t seem to mind. They bring you Twinkies and Snowballs. And they both used to be prison guards.

-         Well, maybe they’re trying to tell you something with all those Twinkies and Snowballs.

-         Oh, shut up.

 

 

 

 

Anyway: coming out is a very long complicated process.

 

 

 

I’ll let you know once I’ve gone through it completely.

 

 

 

But I can tell you right now that it’s exhausting.