At The Movies
Batman BeginsIt's funny how things once taken for granted, change with the passage of time. Monday evening, the illustrious Mr. Squirrel and I presented at the Showplace 16 for a viewing of a film featuring America's favorite caped crusader. The really pathetic thing is that I was looking forward to the movie all day (I rarely, if ever go to the theater); however, the show started at 10pm, which posed an issue. What's the problem you ask? Well, being thirty-somethings with busy lives has much to do with it as both of us were looking a tad peeked, and were yawning before we even made it out of the parking lot. Reallly quite pathetic for someone who used to thrive on the all nighter. Oh well, growing up has it's consequences. Of course, being at a movie till nearly 1am during the work-week isn't all that responsible, but I really don't care. The consequences were worth it.
And so, Grisby grins and gives
Batman Begins a thumbs up. The film concentrates on Batman's origin and spends considerable time developing the psychology of Bruce Wayne/Batman. Lest ye be negatively swayed by the back story, the pacing of the film is smart & synchronal. The score (by the prolific
Hans Zimmer) is artfully mastered and kept the film moving. Eclectically composed, there is a little something for everyone in the score. From techno beats to Mozart, the music worked for this film. Needless to say, once the film started the yawns dissipated.
I liked director
Christopher Nolan's vision for the film. Mr. Nolan was able to capture some stunning vistas while on location in Iceland (I once lived there for two years and it made me want to go back and visit), which served as the set for China/Tibet, and Bruce Wayne's formal indoctrination into the ninja arts. Additionally, Chicago served as particular segments of Gotham, and is readily discernible as such in the film. This is especially true, if you are at all familiar with
The Blues Brothers.
On this note, I must give pause and attend to Mr. Nolan's idea of the city of Gotham. I liked what he did here as this was a notable departure from what
Tim Burton attempted in the late 80's and early 90's. In this film Gotham is a bright, shining, city teeming with the hustle and bustle of commerce, and humanity. Transit is readily accesible and plays a key role in the plot development. This was much improved over previous films as the grit and grime of the city was contained to the slums of
The Narrows and to mass transit underpasses. This gave Gotham a more realistic feel as a city-one that could actually exist as opposed to the more dark and fantasy based concept of earlier films. In a nutshell-less cartoonish.
Another dimension worth mentioning, is that this film is a little darker in regards to the inner machinations of Bruce Wayne's mind. I like this aspect as it shows a flawed hero, consistent with the rest of humanity. I think
Christian Bale did a fine job in reprising the character of Batman, with one exception. There is a scene, where Batman is taunting a crooked police officer, and this scene is overplayed. Specifically, Bale tries to hard to be a menacing tough guy and this didn't work for me in this scene, as it felt a bit over the top. When taking a more subdued approach, Bale's performance smartly captures the character's internal struggle. Specifically, the character is more flawed- conflicted. At times he is terrorized and at others hie is terrorizing and that works well for me.
The costuming was intelligent and more muted than the original comic book, allowing for Batman to be more mysterious and disappear more readily. I liked the costume. Truth be told, I probably liked Bruce Wayne's tailor equally, for he exhibited some fine suits. Not sure as to the real world designer who supplied the wardrobe, but extremely fashionable.
Gadgets and effects were quite cool and reflected a more utilitarian military purpose, which also seemed more realistic as opposed to previous models of the Bat Mobile, etc. The supporting cast was notable featuring Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldham, and Katie Holmes, quite the ensemble.
The film sets itself up to become a serial and I eagerly anticipate the next installment.
Obsession
No. I'm not talking about the famed Calvin Klein fragrance. Rather, we are a culture obsessed with celebrity. TomKat, Brangelina, Bennifer, and of course the famed postumous celebs., JFK, Jim Morrison, Princess Grace, Princess Diana, et. al. Aren't there
more important things going on in the world?
It is on this note that I have a confession. I've been racked with guilt over this for the past decade. Oh, I really don't care if there is a book deal and made for tv movie in all of this because the truth needs to be heard. I can't believe I'm going to say this......
My senior year in college, I took a prestigious internship in New York City working for a national publication. I must confess, while excited to be in the Big Apple I was disappointed in my placement. I had hoped to land a spot at
Cosmo, thinking that I could hob nob with a supermodel or two, but it was not to be. I ended up at
George, and well, the rest is kinda fuzzy.
One particular evening, the boss, took us to Elaine's for happy hour. I really don't know if it was the tequilla shots or the bourbon, but around 10pm or so, I started to finally understand my girlfriend's (& her friends) fascination with JFK Jr. Chalk it up to the wild times of the era, it only happened once,
but I too, know the power of such emotionally charged...........................
Detritus. Forgive the saracastic disdain of that fiction, but really! One dead since 1997 and the other shortly after. Why is this news? Some astral-plane energy guru makes a claim that the media would have eaten their offspring to write about 10 years ago, and suddenly, the requisite foam appears in the corners of the mouth? Really, let the dead be and focus on more important issues. Like maybe Africa or the war perhaps?
Posted by
full-of-it@armchairpundits.net
In Between Dreams (A Review)
About five weeks ago, I was coming out of a luncheon at Khan's Mongolian with a few of my colleagues. I had carpooled from the office and my friend, with whom I rode to the meeting, had to leave diretly from the restaurant for antoher engagement. Thus, I hitched a ride back to the office with fellow blog-mate, Sariesocks.
As is apparent from her
Pundits Profile, Sariesocks has an eclectic taste in music. That afternoon she was spinning some tunes which were completely unfamiliar to me. Inquiring as to what we were listening to, I learned that the folksy melodies we were enjoying , were from
Jack Johnson's In Between Dreams album.
Perhaps some of you are scratching your head right about now, wondering who in tarnation is Jack Johnson? Such a response would be consistent with my own. Apparently, Mr. J is a
Cities97 mainstay, although I've yet to hear one track of his on that station, or the radio for that matter.
Now lest anyone freak out at me regarding my cultural ineptitude, keep in mind that I don't get out that much, and for what it's worth, tend to be a channel surfer, so in all liklihood, it's just that I'm never tuned in at the right times. That being said, I find it amusing that JJ's name shows up on
Cities97 bilboards all over town and I've yet to hear him there, but I have stayed to long on this point already.
The ride back to the office couldn't have taken more than two songs, but I liked what I heard. Lots of acoustic work with vocals that were readily discernible to my thick ear. Long-short, a copy of the album was procured and has basically been in my disc player since. So obviously, I have found the album favorable.
I like several things about this particular album. As mentioned, the guitar work is smart, crisp and is comprised of good solid rhythms. Lyrically, Johnson's ability to rhyme is showcased particularly well on
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing (click on the link within for video and sample),
Staple It Together and
Crying Shame. The latter reflects a portentious warning about the direction of our nation. The song is intelligent both in lyric and accompaniment, and is my favorite on the album despite the politicaly overtones.
Another feature of interest for me, is contained in the fact that Johnson is Hawaiian. The orchestration and poetry of the album reflect his roots both musically and geographically. While it is too early (career wise), to say Johnson is a great ballader, his writing can be bard-like. Captivating at times, Johnson is able to conjure up some catchy hooks in his songs. Such hooks work well in communicating his art. Whether innocent and fun like on
Bannana Pancakes or in the more serious tenor of
Good People, where Johnson decries the lack of positive role-models in (and the numbing effect of) media, and seemingly news media in particular (I may be stretching with that but go read the lyrics); he gets his point across in an effective and catchy manner.
In fact, I have often found myself humming a tune or two, which usually strikes fear into the hearts of my co-workers, lest I break out in song, which I've been known to do.
In Between Dreams appears to be Jack Johnson's fifth album, even though it is my introduction to his art. Undoubtedly, some of our readers are probably fairly acclimated already. That being said, I liked almost every song with the first 2/3rds being the strongest on the album. I'd give 4 out of 5 stars, and believe it be an album worth owning.
Post Script: That's it for me this week. Stay tuned next week, for Grisby & Squirrel
"At The Movies", where we'll review the latest blockbuster,
Batman Begins. Have a great weekend!
Stop the Insanity!!!
I mean it this time I really have to stop listening to Air America. If I hear one more insanely stupid thing either my blood pressure will cause my heart to explode or my brain will explode while trying to decipher what was said. Either way it will result in a messy explosion.
So you can all share in my pain, I will describe what I heard last night. On my way home from a late night run to the grocery store, I flipped over to see what the left was thinking and found one Mr. Malloy speaking. They were discussing Senator Durbin’s apology and they didn’t care too much for it.
Anyway a caller came on and said that he felt that someone in the “Bush crime-family” got to Durbin because that was the only rational explanation that he could come up with. O.k. First, I didn’t know that the President was running a syndicated crime-family in his spare time and second, if that is what passes for a rational explanation in the callers mind, I would hate to hear an explanation that was way-out-there. But, it is talk radio and sometimes you get some pretty strange callers. I can live with that.
But, the host picked up the insane idea and ran with it. Yes, someone in the “Bush crime-family” got to Durbin. I couldn’t believe he was saying it. This is the host of a national radio show, even if it is Air America. He continued. He said that he felt that someone got to Durbin and probably told him that they would go after his wife or his children or his parents. At this point, I’m thinking that the host has serious mental issues. I’m also interpreting “that they would go after people” as meaning that someone had some dirt on a family member and that they would starting a mud slinging campaign against this innocent individual. After his next statement I discovered that I was wrong.
Then came the statement that nearly caused my normal rational brain to explode. Mr. Malloy in an attempt to support his argument that someone got to Durbin said, “afterall, look what they did to Wellstone.” This confused me at first. I thought who ever went after Wellstone. I couldn’t remember anything like that. Then it hit me. The host was actually saying that the President, or someone in his “crime-family,” had Wellstone killed. This guy actually thinks that the President of the United States wacked a Senator. My head was spinning trying to comprehend such an insane idea.
I can’t do it any more. I can’t listen to the rantings of lunatics. I really have to stop. Its not good for my health.
A Response (Of Sorts)
Yesterday, the Star Tribune reprinted NY Times columnist, Nicholas Kristof's piece from June 5th entitled,
A Policy Of Rape. The article rightly asserts how little attention the genocide in Darfur, Sudan has received from the Bush administration, citing a 142 day lapse between the President's mentioning of Darfur in public speeches.
Recounting, Mr. Kristof's article,
Miranda's Musings, posits:
"Apparently, the Holocaust and Rwanda (among other atrocities) have taught us nothing. I would like one good reason why genocide isn't important enough to be discussed by the President of the United States." Justifiably outraged with these writers,
other fine minds have articulated the case for action in Sudan and are contemplating what might bring about such an intervention.
The
White House's official stance regarding Darfur, Sudan is that a genocide is in fact occurring. The date on the President's statement is September 9th, 2004, and today the horrors of rape, mutilation, & genocide continue; hence, the great frustration with inactivity. Recently, President Bush reiterated
his position regarding this in a
meeting with South African President Mbeki. While critiscm for a lack of intervention is warranted, it is far to easy to fault the United States and the Bush Administration for this deficiency. This is troubling on several accounts. First, the scope of this outrage is far to limited. Miranda would like "one good reason" --I would like somewhere between
191 and 194. I write this because the United Nations has 191 members and there are approximately 194 independant countries in the world depending on how you count; therefore, I would like to know why the world as a whole doesn't seem to give a damn about what is going on in the Sudan. The lessons of the Holocaust, Rwanda, etc. are not the United State's lessons alone. These are lessons that belong to the world and should be of specific eminence to those nations within whose borders such atrocitites occured. Targeting one's outrage at America alone seems to prove a rather contentious point in this day and age. That is, it seems to underscore the notion that the United States, is to be (or should be), the greatest force for moral good amongst the nations of the world.
This leads me to my second point. Such a notion of America's
specialness in regard to such a calling or standard, cannot be ambivalent. Either we will seek to be a force for moral good or we will kow tow to Brussels (or whomever we're courting) in favor of what is popular world opinion. If we fail to respond to tyranny, then are we not abdicating the high calling our enduring peace, prosperity and potential affords? Of course such arguments, when concerning Iraq, have been met with scorn, as I'm sure they will be again, regarding this, but what is to be the guide for intervention?
We have essentially exposed a values problem. Are we to be the world's police? Conservative and leftist idealouges alike, argue the veracity of such a position, for it is inherently predicated on values. And whose values then are to be our guide? Secularists? Faith groups? Isolationists? When one side or the other doesn't like each other's values, they invent emoticon labels like "
neo-con/right wing or leftist agendas." So, we are essentially engaged in, as
Prager would say, the "other great war of our time, the values war." It would seem that any attempt at fulfilling such a calling--to not be ambivalent to tyranny & oppression, to the extermination of our fellow humankind--places us on a path that is not easily turned from once initiated. This is a path that polarizes people as the times reflect. Is it possible to legislate a consistent,values-based policy that defines a uniform commitment to action? It ought to be, but in the political milieu of our times, it seems unlikely. And that is troubling, because the toll in human suffering is enormous.
During my pre-Pundits blogging last summer, I referenced
an excoriating article about the Sudan by another NY Times columnist, David Brooks. I dug it out of the deep recesses of my computer, as it seems particularly timely, in lieu of this discussion.
To Much Tyme On Their Hands
Cuke tunes--classic carrot Styx. Tommy Slaw on lead.
A regular reader directed me to
this site. Clearly the authors have a little to much free time. Oops, I meant Tyme. Enjoy!
It's funny how kids...
Have such a filtered view of their parents lives. I mean really, there is so much that my kids don't know about their parents. Not that we don't want to tell them, it's just that many things never really come up.
For instance...I was finishing up cleaning my workshop in our basement (which is another story). My middle son was with me, and asked me about
a helmet that I had hanging on the wall. I don't even notice it, just because it has been there for so long. I told him it was a helmet. "For what?", he inquired. I explained that I was a soldier a long time ago... "What's that?" I was in the ARMY I said (knowing he wouldn't know what the AIR FORCE, or more specifically
AIR NATIONAL GUARD was). "YOU WERE!", he said with his eyes getting huge.So, what is the next logical question.... (Cue the voice on the Speak and Spell) yep, you are right..."Did you shoot a gun?", he quickly asked.Yes I've shot an
M-16 my share of times (although not at anyone, except for blanks during some war games up at Camp Ripley).
Yea... So later that night, I heard my middle boy and my daughter sneaking out of their rooms into the hallway. Their conversation went something like this..."Did you know that dad was in the Army?""What!, Really?""Yea, he used to shoot and kill the bad guys..."I stuck my head out the door and corrected the lad :).
Saying What You Mean
Good old Bill! Man, he has
a way with words. See you back in about an hour or so.
Sick In So Many Ways
Wow.
It is hard to know what to say to such a stories, let alone the horror of the reality they communicate. In mid-May, I came across
this article which piqued my interest. The article illuminates the disappearance of some 300 African boys (aged 4-7) from the London area. The story goes on to discuss the implications of human trafficking and what purposes these children may be brought into the west to serve.
Yesterday, the
following report appeared on the BBC website. The article references the purpose of such trafficking.
Another article referencing these atrocities begins as such:
"Boys from Africa are being murdered as human sacrifices in London churches." It continues,
"They are brought into the capital to be offered up in rituals by fundamentalist Christian sects, according to a shocking report by Scotland Yard. " That gives me great pause. I have known a great many fundamentalist christians, none of which purport the sacrifice of children or the sexual union of adult and child to cleanse oneself of HIV.
This is a meaningless use of language. Clearly, the behaviors described are occultish not Christian. If they are Christian, than that name has no meaning. As Mr. Squirrel as oft cited, "If you misuse a word long-enough you will change it's definition." We need look no further than the words "tolerance" or "judgemental."
Back to the
BBC article:
"But Pastor Nims Obunge from the Freedom's Arc Church emphasised that most African churches were entirely legitimate and overseen within a wider structure. "We do not condone any form of cultish practices and I think we need to define the difference between a cult and a church, that's an important thing and I'm a bit wary when we use the term 'church' in a loose fashion." And all the baptists said "AMEN." Not only does such poor use of language breed misconception or animosity, it denigrates the horror of what is truly happening and continues to blur the line regarding people's of faith and futher promulgates moral equivalency lunacy.
Whoa Nelly!
What a day I'm having. This is a day that
Lileks would say "makes one forget about our interminable winters." It is day in which I am both grateful and forlorned at being self-employed.
First the good news. I am only working a half-day today. Why you ask? Well, the eldest and middlest child are due for a trip to the dentist and I've been charged with Daddy duty for this assignment. Big day this one. X-rays and the whole bit. Also, decided to part from our normal dentist (for the kids) in favor of a pediatric dentist, as it seems the young Padawan, who is my son, may need to have a couple of his teeth pulled. Unfortunately for him, his permanents are coming in and yet the baby teeth are firmly ensconced within his gums. Like sand fleas on a Bahama's Beach Bunny, these little buggers aren't budging without a drastic intervention. That will be another appointment.
My children. Yes my children. I was a little apprehensive as this was my daughter's first foray, but I am beaming so widely right now, if you were standing near me, you'd think I was a walking
Polident commercial. Wink & a shine, the troops rose to the occasion; no complaints, or fussing. I am extremely pleased at their behavior.
Time to leave and so the bill must be settled. Cue sad music, strings accompaniment. Forlorn expression. No dental insurance. My wallet now being $400 lighter, the kids & I bid adieu to the fine folks at the dentist's office.
Home again, playing/singing
Veggie Tales songs at the same decibel level reserved for Bon Jovi and Def Lepard during my teenage years. Ah yes, parenthood changes a person and all for the better I must add. Kids eat lunch, Dad changes clothes and puts on a quick four miles, before settling in for a shower, sandwich, and quick good-byes for the office. Yep. It's the best and worst of being entrepreneurial in just a few short hours.
Off to the office, phone calls, emails, schedule changes, bang out post in 10 minutes before I have to run to the bank on the way to Burnsville for an appointment. Who knows what time I'll get home with all the traffic? Ah well, it's all good. I refuse to let this day be spoiled. Enjoy it dear people--it holds the promise of summer!
Squirrel On Assignment (Part II)
I put on my best jungle jacket again today and went back into the field. I received good intel that, over the lunch hour on Nicollet Mall, our “friends” at MoveOn.org were having a petition signing opposing President Bush’s Social Security Plan.
I arrived on the scene shortly after 11:00 a.m. They had staked out the corners of 8th and Nicollet. There were approximately three on each corner for a grand total of twelve. I observed one television camera (I was unable to determine if they were actually with a local station or were just filming the event).
My first time through the gauntlet, I made it through unscathed. I even had to wait momentarily for a red light. Apparently, I looked too conservative. Approximately five to ten minutes later, I returned through the gauntlet. This time I was accosted twice. I was asked if I would like to sign a petition against the privatization of social security. I respond, “Sorry, I support private accounts.” Leaving them stunned, I walked on.
A point of interest in case you missed it above. They are playing on peoples fears. They specifically said “privatization.” Their stickers said no privatization. Their handouts, which I saw, but was not offered (I wonder why), all referenced privatization. You will, however, note my response. “I support private accounts.” The President’s proposal is not to privatize social security, but rather to establish private accounts for younger workers. Of course, that information was not prominently displayed.
For armchairpundits.net, this is Squirrel reporting. Courage.
For Moms
Looking for a good feminist, paging a good feminist! Where are you?
Okay Moms. This one is for you.
Michelle Malkin has written a scathing article regarding the double standard media elites apply toward the female breast. Yes, I said it. Please read her article. You'll see what I'm getting at.
Tales From The Hood (Part IV)
The Story Of Grisby's Grass & The Waffle Offal.
As regular readers are no doubt aware, my rather pleasant nature seems to be threatend of late, by several minor (& often major) annoyances. Thus, my attempted hiatus from political muse. Even so, lately I find myself perturbed non-politically. Specifically, by those who see no good reason to police their "
precious babies," and by this I mean their pets. The case in point: a woman who lives up the street from me, let's call her
Jenny From The Block, is in the regular habit of walking her dogs in front of my house. This is a good thing, as both the animals and she get the requisite exercise their bodies are craving. That being said, a problem remains and is mainly as follows.
For the last few years, I have caught
Jenny, at various times, allowing her animals to meander into my lawn. I know this may be shocking, coming from a thirty-something Blaine resident, but I do care about my lawn. A lot. In fact, fellow blog-mate,
Mike, has accused me of suffering from the dreaded "
old man's lawn disease," the etiology of which remains safely hidden in the deep recesses of the human psyche. Although, in my case, it's cause isn't that hard to figure out. You see, living in the NW suburbs for nigh on ten years, I have been tormented by the sandy soil. It nearly keeps me awake at night. The water it takes to make things grow--my goodness. Of course, the upside is never having water in the basement, but that is small consolation to a man without a garden.
I employ the term torment, for my father-in law is a green-thumbed, lawn & garden god. His vegetables-delicious. Flowers-thick with blossoms. Fruit plants--high yield. It is no surprise, that as a farmer, his crops were highly sought after. You'd think his name was Adam. When walking in his grass, you leave footprints. I'm not kidding! You see the crooked indentation of every toe. It is that thick and lush. On Larry's Lawn
TM, one is compelled to dispense of his/her footwear and is soon overcome with wanting to [best
Rocky & Mugsy voice] "
make like a" deer and curl up under the shade of his trees to nap.
I know that it must be clear by now. I have lawn envy. Yes, I do. And no matter what vain attempts I conjure to make my own lawn beautiful, I find myself thwarted. Whether it's seeding trees, Creeping Charlie, ants, or others' pets, I seem destined to frustration. And that brings me back to the matter at hand.
When emerging from my garage, back yard, or wherever, I may be, the canine lover from up the street, um...
Jenny, is found to be exuding a shameful expression, as though she is about to receive a paternal scolding for having her hand in the cookie jar. Why the look? Do I strike fear into the hearts of my neighbors? I hardly think so, but my entrance into the front yard, is met with the, uh-um, cough,
Jenny trainer's reprimands to her beloved babies.
"C'mon now" Jenny tugs the leash. "Why imagine that, Mr. Grisby! Them dumb dogs just wandered up'n thar whilst I was contemplatin' the Grinch's horticultural comptincies."Incompetencies is more like it. For those of you who've been to Casa Grisby, you know of which I speak. One doesn't need to be psychic to see what is going on.
Jenny feigns concern when I appear, but otherwise, her
babies meander with impugnity.
Soon after,
Jenny departs the block and I discover the root of her facial contortions. A moist, waffle-like, deposit on Grisby's Grass. Unfortunately, it's discovery was a squishy prompt to get out my spade and with a surgeon's precision [tear down the cheek], dig the offensive matter out of my lawn. I could see no other remedy for removing the foul display. Adding insult to injury, a few days later, I find urine spots in my grass on the other side of my driveway.
"Confound you Jenny! Must I post sentry in my own yard?" I guess it's time to invest in a BB gun. I'm really starting to fit in here in Blaine.
Quick Change
Ok. I understand the reticence. As such, I've changed the settings of the blog to allow for anonymous commenting. Keep in mind however, that if foul & inappropriate language is employed, I will remove the comment. Write away!
Potty Tales
If you are one of faint sensibilites, who cannot tolerate the mere mentioning of bodily functions, I advise you to exit quickly for my writing is about to take a curious turn.
Two things. First a question to our readership and then an amusing little tinkle tale. I beg of your graces for my long set-up. As many of you know, I have been engrossed in a home improvement project for nigh on fifteen months. Thus far, I have added an additional full-size bathroom.
At a recent garage sale, the proprietor of said event gifted me with a magazine rack that corresponded nicely in it's hue to the trim of my new respite room. Arriving home, my lovely bride of nearly a decade queried me as to what I might have planned for this fine piece of oaken craftmanship. If memory serves, I mumbled something to the effect of "I dunno' maybe I'll put it in the bathroom." I received a response in the key of W-cubed - meaning "where, why, and what in the name of all that is clean & holy are you thinking? This spawned an interesting discussion as to why some fancy their commodal time as devotional, while others prefer current events or world affairs. And by this, I mean you Mr. Newspaper P. (as in periodical) reader. Still another group remains, those who quickly get down to business and are in & out in such a furious dash, one faintly hears old Captain Picard bellowing the command, "Mr. LaForge--warp speed." Thus, my question: Are you a water closet philosopher or an olympic sprinter? Why? Note that you can comment as anonymous. I look forward to you responses.
Perhaps, right about now, you are shocked that my thinking has turned to the more base functions in our human experience. This is the case because of two recent conversations. The first, I have already detailed, the second follows.
Potty training children is God's little way of giving Gran & Gramps a modicum of retributive satisfaction for us forcing them to make peace with the fact that their Target list now includes bottles of hair dye and Rogaine. It is a task that requires immense patience, which at times can be difficult to engender when, for the fourth time that day, you find yourself mopping pee off of your freshly, $140 shampoo'ed carpet. Other times, old tricks you once employed come back to mess with your mind and herein lies my tale.
I have three children, the oldest of which is a six year old boy--hence, the first graduate of the Grisby School For Blissful Continence. A few nights back, we found ourselves out late as a family, and as such, were pressed for time regarding the bedtime routine. I was assisting with the brushing, not to be confused with gnashing, of teeth, when the following conversation ensued.
"Daddy, let's have tinkle races."Ah, the floodgate of memories re-opened as I instantly was transported back to the days when I had instructed the boy in the matter of his sacred birthright as a male. That is, the finer points of peeing whilst standing up. A point my saintly wife has forgiven me, once I convinced her of the utility such a skill commands, i.e., golf course emergencies, back country camping trips, experiments in the laws of electricity (there once was this boy and an electric fence....), and of course putting out fires. Wait. That just stinks. And I do mean that literally.
"Okay" I replied.
The race ensued and as was the case when such games had purpose, the boy eclipsed his father
with a tinge of smuggish pride. Hey now! Give me a break. It's a simple matter of volume!
"You always win tinkle races" I stated matter of factly.
"I know. I guess this means I am talented" he retorted.
The boy wonder continued,
"You know what else this means dad?""No. What?""This means that I must be growing up faster than you."Akward silence of contemplation. The profundity of this moment between a father and his son, interrupted only by my uproarious laughter. Yep. We grow 'em fast and talented in the Grisby household.
Mishandling Koran??????
So
this is abuse of the Koran? Koranic abuse sounds more like moronic abuse to me. Man, Americans are so evil! How do we live with ourselves? Please note the heavy tenor of sarcasm.
Moral Equivalence Lunacy
Gulag America? Amnesty International has lost it's freakin' mind! The soviet state employed the gulag system from the time of Lenin until it was finally abolished under Gorbachev. This system reached it's zenith during the Stalin years, and as my 92 year old grandfather likes to say, Stalin nearly makes Hitler look like a boyscout. The death toll under Stalin's reign of terror alone, is
estimated in the millions.
Carol Platt Liebau has
noted elsewhere(half-way down & link), the gulags were a place where priests were covered in human excrement, forced to bless excrement as sacremental, and a where torture routinely included the crucifixion of Christians.
For Amnesty International to call for the President and other U.S. officials 'high-level architects of torture' and to commend foreign governments to arrest them if they cross their borders is utterly absurd. Sheer leftist lunacy!
Total deaths to date in the
American Gulag at Gitmo: 0 (source Star Tribune, June 5, 2005).
Yeah that's right--nada.
If you're interested in a little more "heated editorial" than the one I just provided, check out the following:
Screedblog. Read them all.
Prager.
Part II
Ok. Back to
What The Bleep. Having on good authority that this film asks some intriguing questions, raising even more intriguing answers, I had high hopes. This film delivers on the interesting questions, but when it comes to the answers or even some of the set-up for the questions, it resorts to a pop-quantam physics/new age spirituality as opposed to doing the more difficult and rewarding task of a more thorough review of the scientific literature. Additionally, the film attempts to make the query more palatable by interweaving a fictious story about a woman dealing with the pain of a broken relationship. The actor portraying the lead character of Amanda, is none other than the well respected
Marlee Matlin, a fine actress, whose considerable talent would have been best lent elsewhere.
I have an amateur's interst in this field and have a cursory understanding of it, much gleaned from a Nova special on PBS. Entitled "
The Elegant Universe," this fine piece of documentary exams string theory. In short, this theory promulgates 11 dimensions of reality, which in turn, lends credence to the notion of parallel universes. I know this sounds like comic book fancy, but what is truly fascinating to me, is that this works out mathematically; however, perceptually only three dimensions are readily observible to human experience. Now to my way of thinking, this has interesting implications as to the geographic existence of heaven, not to mention thinking about how (meaning by what physical law) Christ, in his resurrected form, was able to walk through walls, etc. I know. I am thinking like one who believes science exists to further manifest and display the glory of God. Certainly that isn't necessarily popular, but hey! There are plenty of blogs with other opinions.
So how much do we really understand the laws of the universe? Newton ruled the day until Einstein blew some minds with e=mc2. I am curious as to what the next great discovery will be. Certainly, being able to evidence the existence of strings as the smallest unit of matter vs. the quark will be a great embarkment concerning that endeavor. Currently, there are multiple millions of dollars being spent annually on this type of research and from my limited understanding, this seems to be the physics frontier.
This is what I had hoped for from
What The Bleep. The film did not satisfactorily address the real science being conducted, which is a shame considering some of the minds involved with the picture. Resorting to new age, psuedo-spirituality in the form of a centuries old Egyptian god being channeled by a buxom, middle-aged blond woman, was disappointing and not the "enlightenment" I was looking for.
One redeeming feature of the film was the brief but interesting reference to Dr. Masaru Emoto's,
The Hidden Messages In Water. This has some interesting implications regarding the messages people internalize, thus effecting the psychology of one's life.
Again, Mark Steyn's review (linked in previous post) of this film is spot on and worth reading. For my money, skip the DVD rental and purchase the Nova video.
A Tale Of Two Films
I will spare you all regarding my voracious appetite for science fiction and focus on two films that I think will have a broader appeal. I know, you're greatly disappointed that I'm not writing about Star Wars again, or for that matter, taking umbrage with
Mark Steyn's review. No matter....I have something worth reviewing.
Last night the wife and I were out for a rare mid-week date. For that matter, any date without the children is rare. And while we greatly love and enjoy our children, it is nice to connect without them at times. I know what you're thinking about now. "Considering your frugality Grisby, what was the occasion of your frivolity?" Well, such thinking means I might be a little to predictible. We had received free tickets to a sneak preview of
Cinderella Man. The event was sponsored by
Nemer Fieger Associates in conjunction with K102 & Cities 97.
This film is the second pairing of Russell Crowe and Ron Howard with the screenplay by Akiva Goldsman. All previously worked on the Oscar winning
A Beautiful Mind, which like this film is biographical in nature. Let it be said, that Ron Howard and Russell Crowe are the Hollywood tour de' force. These guys are absolutely dedicated and brilliant--at the top of their craft. This film was stunningly beautiful. Set in the depression, it is the true story of how one man rallied the spirits of those in his community. I loved the grit of the film, the struggle. It was a powerful testament to character and reminded me of how far we've come from hard times in this nation. Based on the life of James Braddock, it is the real life rise, fall, and rise again of an ordinary man who was destined to become a boxing legend. What is truly inspiring about this man's life is that he ran in the elite circles during his heyday, but he never forgot who he was, he maintained his roots and didn't let fame or fortune corrupt his character. The film contains exceptional performances by
Paul Giamatti and Renee Z. Oscar buzz people! This is a film worth spending money on.
The second film is What
The Bleep Do We Know. Having a novice interest in quantam physics I was anticipating this film and recently viewed it on dvd. The film did not live up to my excitement, with one minor exception. But alas, I am out of time for today, so I will have to finish on Monday. I will leave you with more from
Mark Steyn re: this film (scroll down 1 review). I agree with him whole-heartedly. Have a nice weekend!
Why I'm Not A Leftist
Ok, I couldn't resist one more. Blame
Prager for stimulating my mind. The plain and simple truth for why I am not a leftist is that it just doesn't work. The great socialist experiments have been tried and they have failed.
The elite left tout the age old line that they are for the
little guy, but who is this
little guy anyway? And what of his psychology? Victim or conqueror? Industrious or entitled? Inferior or self-confident? Are you the
little guy or
gal as it may be?
The American left heralds the social policies of the European enlightened, but as stated they are not working, for they cannot be sustained long-term economically. This is the tacit sentiment of the no vote regarding the EU constitution. As
David Brooks' piece in the New York Times this morning explicates:
"This is the psychology of stagnation that shaped voter perceptions. It wasn't mostly the constitution itself voters were rejecting. Polls reveal they were articulating a broader malaise. The highest "no" votes came from the most vulnerable, from workers and the industrial north. The "no" campaign united the fearful right, led by Jean-Marie Le Pen, with the fearful left, led by the Communists."Fear and Rejection. Timely, clarifying, and appropriate. I hope you read it in it's entirety.
Changing My Tune
Well, shortly I will. First things first. Squirrel & I were in the Big House on Sunday.....ahh wait, I see the problem. Correction, we were in our normal gathering place enjoying the fellowship that typically occurs upon concluding our Sunday meeting. Myself, I was having leave of my (c)enses confusing 501(3)(c)'s & 404(c)'s. (c)ensing my (c)onfusion, my (c)lear headed friend, not doubt (c)oncluded that I a) hadn't slept for awhile or b) was torturing myself with the vigor of an insomniac in a vain attempt to eviscerate the tax code. None-the-less I finally got my c's straight and proceeded headlong into bemoaning the political landscape. And this, my dear readers is the problem. I am growing weary of politics.
Soooooooooo....I think I will take the summer off. Meaning , I have a few other ideas, like loose electrons, running through my head that I should devote a little more time to. More on that shortly.
One last fling before, I change my tune. European constitution's in trouble, chalk up another victory for nationalism--the ism that many thought was dead. Deep throat? Who really cares anymore? I know I don't. And why name the guy for a porno anyway? I am sure Woodward & Bernstein detail it in their collective memoirs/books, but I really can't recall. For my money, I would rather witness the unsealing of the congressional documents concerning Kennedy's assasination. This would prove far more interesting in my opinion. At any rate,
Lileks' take on the matter provides the usual erudition you would expect from the word god.
And on the changing tune.....watch for Summer Stock 2005.
