Reader,
I recently watched Charlie Wilson's War, which was an entertaining and provocative movie, even though as usual, I was left questioning the "based on a true story" label. But regardless of the entertainment value of the movie or even the historical accuracy, the movie takes an interesting stance on the place of "war" in terms of larger strategic objectives.
The movie in large part glorifies the actions of Congressman Charlie Wilson who was apparently responsible for raising money for covert weapons sales and training Afghanistan's "military". (The movie also passingly tries to pin the current state of Afghanistan and the growth of terrorism on U.S. Congressional apathy, but that is largely irrelevant to the current issue, which is...) The movie makes no apologies for the support for this war against the Soviet Union, even as it demonstrated the typicality of the Soviet helicopter pilots discussing presumably very American or Western relationship problems.
Of course, the movie decries the horrors of war: depicting the injuries in the refugee camps and telling the stories of the victims, which included the indiscriminant actions of brutal Soviet pilots. There was the occasional mention of rape, torture, tactical murder and malice upon children, along with mass murder and displacement. Each of these terrors has always been a relatively common, widely reviled occurrence in warfare. Yet, instead of glorifying a peacemaker or someone responsible for disarmament, the movie chooses the arms supplier as the protagonist and hero and the supply of arms was not one of his "character flaws," (like in Lord of War) but his flaws were actually his philandering and alcohol abuse. The supplying of arms itself was the action that made him heroic and his redeeming quality. Moreover, Wilson's arms supplying was not lauded because he saved the Afghani people or saved individual lives, but instead because by helping conduct this proxy war in Afghanistan, he helped achieve a larger strategic objective of defeating and destroying the Soviet Union.
The film provided a re-freshing look at the politics of conducting a war. Nowadays, Hollywood movies, made almost exclusively by those who seek to end U.S. involvement in foreign wars, have tended to merely demonstrate the horrors of wars and portray the personal tragedies incurred, almost never depicting possible benefits of some wars. The films have often taken to portraying the emotional torment of a soldier having to unwittingly fight a battle that he had scarcely signed up for. Sometimes, the plight of the film is to display the realization that the enemy has everyday problems, such as relationship issues, feeding children quandaries, and moral dilemmas much like the American soldier. Some films focus on the "underlying" causes (which are usually shown as American intervention or consumerism. The notion of these stories is often similar to that of Bambi, where America is Man that comes in and kills Bambi's mother. Of course, in the scenario Bambi becomes a terrorist, but I broke from that analogy to soon.) There are occasionally even films that show war's negative impact on American society. But, there are rarely movies, other than run-and-gun popcorn thrillers that illustrate the reasons why an American war was "necessary" (really, why the war was a logical or beneficial strategic maneuver, such as efforts to prevent genocide, to dethrone a maniacal dictator, or to prevent one country from taking over another.) A mild prior example of a movie that demonstrates some of the reasons people continue to advocate for one war or another is Three Kings, (which is mostly an action flick). In Three Kings, there are many typical anti-war devices, such as: the movie is about disobeying disillusioned soldiers, the movie humanizes the enemy during a scene depicting the torture of an American soldier, and it decries the oil issues in the war, as well as the American government's balking at keeping promises of aiding those in need under the suffering of tyranny. But, the ending at least, shows some semblance of why a war might be helpful to the suffering people of Iraq (in Persian Gulf 1,) which puts the movie in rarified air.
Since there is no such a thing as a last resort (see a prior blog entry), there must be some criteria whereby war is an acceptable course of action, when war is a reasonable reaction to a set of circumstances perhaps such as in the case of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. And even though there were other motivations for the U.S. involvement and support for the war, including the larger strategic goal of defeating the Soviet Union, preserving the United States oil interests in the middle east, and trying to implant a U.S.-friendly regime in place of an unfriendly pro-Soviet regime, there was at least one humane interest in the war, protecting civilians from an oppressive government. (Of course, detractors will say, why act in one country and not another? Well, because economics dictate, by definition, that any entity (like a country), has limited resources and must make choices based on those limitations. Thus, no one can act everywhere, whether that means military intervention or supplying foodstuffs to the hungry. So, how do we choose where to act? It would have to be a complex mixture of emotional attachment and a calculated matrix of the level of desperation of the people in need, coupled with our ability to aid those people, and yes, perhaps factoring in that country or people's ability to help us in the future (which would enable us to help more people in the future). So, even though we cannot help everyone, I would contend we should try to help those people who we can afford to help and who can use our help to lift themselves up on their own and then contribute back to making a better society. That statement might be controversial, but its purposefully vague too.)
Of course, one should ask, why resort to war, unless self-preservation (or possibly something as horrid as genocide is involved) when there are other alternatives to war. If there is another way to prevent atrocities, almost everyone would agree that diplomatic means, international pressure, or financial pressures are preferable to massive amounts of killing and American deaths. But, diplomatic means are essentially talking (with often unreasonable counterparts who do not appreciate being told what to do or being talked down to), international pressure is the virtual equivalent of peer pressure (which works on teenagers more than on dictators), and the only ways of influencing an adamant country is usually through money (or other natural resources) or violence. Money in the form of aid, could set a bad precedent and encourage other nations to believe that they should be paid for doing something or more dangerously paid to not doing something "wrong", like let's say ever country demanded money not to start a nuclear program instead of feeding a massive starving population. Sanctions and embargoes often hurt the wrong people, the people without the power to affect change (and makes those people villify the sanctioner). Violence on smaller scales is dangerous because an assasination gives the world the idea that the U.S. controls foreign governments by killing off unfriendly regimes. And whether it succeeds or fails, it might not have the desired affect, therefore excaerbating the problem. Moreover, every future death or attempted murder of a leader in that country and perhaps every other country would make the U.S. a legitimate primary suspect. Smaller scale operations, such as CIA funding of foreign wars or Special Operations involvement are often insufficient to accomplish the task, while war, or a war equivalent is a blunt, aggressive tool that physically forces the opposition into submission. Its the most dangerous tool that we have, so it is not feasible that we enter into war lightly, and even though there is no such a thing as a last resort, it is likely that even flawed ignorant politicians considered the alternate possibilities and eliminated them as options sufficient to achieve the intended goals.
That is not to say that we are still trying to infuse the world with President Woodrow Wilson's 14 Points of Light, spreading democracy throughout the world in an ideological manifest destiny. President Wilson, under Bernard Baruch's tutelage, also established a wartime leadership that some have considered the first corporate capitalist government (a euphemism for fascism) to stave off the German Kaiser. World War 2 was fought in Europe primarily to prevent the spread of fascism. The U.S.-Japanese front was fought primarily because the Americans were looking to secure various oil transport islands (U.S. naval oil supply lines) from Japanese control and domination, which in turn threatened the Japanese oil supply, which was needed particularly for its expansion efforts (which were to gather outside resources, like oil. It's an endless cycle really.) Japan thus felt it had no choice but to attack the United States, and chose to attack the U.S. military and try to decapitate the sleeping giant's Navy, rather than attack the closer tactical island targets. Of course, there were then the domino theory inspired Cold War battles conducted all over the world from Korea to Vietnam to Panama to Israel to...
But, the bottom line is that there were questionable primary motives for just about all of the wars in history, from Helen of Troy to the Napoleonic Wars, from the tax on tea to the Spanish-American War, and from the most understandable wars in American history to the least comprehensible. Regardless of whether the wars in Afghanistan or the Iraq Wars were properly justified by the theories upon which we entered, the final result and the historical perspective will determine the worth and success of the war. Of course, we can academically debate the justification for war (i.e. discuss whether the current war is a delayed conclusion to the war ten years prior that involved preventing a tyrant from taking over an independant ally nation, part of a larger war against terrorism to eliminate ties or to consolidate the ties and open up a new front (keeping attacks off U.S. soil against U.S. civilians), a legitimate attempt to remove a dictator that had used chemical weapons on the Kurdish people and tortured political prisoners with rape chambers, who was thought to have additional weapons of mass destruction, or was a neo-con ploy to maintain the military, oil company lobbying, personal vengeance against Sadaam, and part of a Christian (or Jewish) conspiracy to eliminate a potentially powerful Islamic threat) or the hypothetical repetition of the scenario in the future (e.g. what happens if Iran...), but as long as we all are hoping and planning for the same positive results of a better safer world, we are all on the same page. And as long, as we can all evaluate what is best for the country and the world based on our current situation, rather than trying to reestablish a prior relatively war-less situation 10 years ago, then we are having the right discussion about our current state.
The difference between prior wars and current wars is that the United States has gone through a dramatic increase in the priority of our value of life, so much so that we televise the name of every troop that passes away. And at the same time, we have devalued other things that are still extremely important throughout the rest of the world, such as honor. I am not arguing it as a negative societal change, but it makes war victory a much grimmer and more problematic destination. So, when Bill Murray tried to motivate his troops in Stripes by declaring, "We're America, we're 9 and 1," he was using the old standard for what accounts for a win. (The new-age standard for winning in warfare is often described as "nobody wins", which is not to be confused with the new-age standard for determining children's competitions in that "everybody is a winner".)
Tom Hanks's (and Tom Brokaw's, and I think every other Tom I know's) mild obsession with World War 2, has probably given him a wider perspective as to both the terrors of war and the potential glories of war, at least historically. So, when he makes a film about a more modern war, and of course, most modern wars are fought with constant media attention, and with the scrutiny of modern values, I often pay particular attention to what messages he relays. Of course, Mr. Hanks has a political leaning: liberal, I believe he is a supporter of Hillary Clinton, he is likely for the withdrawal of troops in order to best support the troops, and probably operates under the assumption that the current war in Iraq was not "a war of necessity" in other words, not the best means or even likely an effective method of achieving our short or long term goals. But, with the added perspective, whether or not to attack Iraq and whether or not to currently withdraw troops, there is the possibility that one could see a legitimacy behind the assault, behind the harsh politics of right vs. left, behind the gritty reality of thousands of dead and wounded soldiers, and a nation of Iraq that is only very slowly making progress towards becoming a safe and self-determining country.
So, it is on several levels (two levels) that I applaud the film: it was entertaining in that the characters were quirky, funny, and charismatic and it was intellectually provocative in that the plot was an engaging tale of intrigue in the U.S. involvement in what was essentially the Soviet version of Vietnam, except it actually helped tear down the Soviet empire. And more specifically, the movie played a part in the film industry's rediscovering the potential for honor in warfare. It boldly depicted a historical moment of advocacy for the Wilsonian ideals of spreading democracy throughout the world, even if the original Wilson's ideals were diluted by the president's attempts at stifling democratic processes at home. But, venom towards opposition, or passionate illogical vehemence rarely gets us as a nation, the world as a whole, or you as an avid reader of my "column," closer to a larger good, a larger truth, or larger happiness (which actually comes from re-reading the blog over and over.) (Note, I have political leanings of my own, and if asked, I would freely disclose them and/or please feel free to extrapolate or misinterpret my views at your whim.)
I also saw Sweeney Todd, which was based on a true story. The title character was a butcher falsely accused of something, landing him in prison, and upon returning, he seeks vengeance upon all the people who wronged him. But he settles by taking vengeance on pretty much everyone, because there are two kinds of people in this world: the people who go out about their business and do good things, and the people kicking those good people in the face, so it would behoove the world to get rid of the bad people and it is a mercy to liberate the good people. That theory is unfortunately not that far from truth, but is violence really the answer? Maybe (see above discussion for details). Depp, as always was excellent, and even his singing was up to the task. Burton and Depp made these despicable characters human, and made these crazy characters flawed. I understand that the film was not quite as funny as the show, but I had a good number of laughs (hopefully appropriately, such as the dream sequence picturing the melancholy, pale, psychotically revenge-focused Mr. Todd on typical vacations.) Overall, the movie is not for the feint of heart, but it's a beautifully shot and positively Burton-esque (probably the greatest auteur of our generation). The pairing of this director and actor has placed a virtual lock on my ten dollars (really twelve and rising) from now on. The choice of which movies are going to get my hard earned money in the future is often going to be between some dark comedy musical like a Burton-Depp pairing or instead some war related piece that forces me to think about war and politics and history, and why on earth would someone choose to spend their precious free time dwelling on those depressing things?
Thinking big,
Papa Bear (ME)
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Un-Moving Images
Hello my friend,
Over the long weekend, I watched a lot of film, but it dawned on me that I have not told you about Atonement, a classic middle of the twentieth century romp, filled with light-hearted frivolity, and a touch of melodrama.
Really, it was your standard faire British period piece, whereby there is a large house or mansion filled with beautiful scenery, and there is a scandal involving the staff invoking all of the common themes of classism with the usual half decent imitations of British accents. (I can say this because the person I saw the movie with had a legitimate British accent and was mocking the various accents in the movie.) (Also, the bit about classism is practically part of the definition of "period piece"; if you think about any movie set at least fifty years in the past, one can see the identity of the movie hinging on the wealth gap disparity.) And this movie was very different than The Notebook because in the Notebook, the characters were played without the British accents.
I would like to come out of the film and say, that Keira Knightley, "she is one attractive and talented woman," but unfortunately although she did an adequate job playing her role as the torn love interest female (as opposed to the torn love interest male), but she did so, looking like she had recently overdosed on heroin (it was the opium of that time). She is stick thin and extremely pale, which would be funny, if I wasn't worried about her. (Yes, as usual, I come out of a period piece without laughs.) The woman who was seeking "atonement" was played well, by a cast of characters. Overall, the film was not that bad, but it was too filled with heavy themes, and various scenes were unconscionably poor, particularly the war scenes. So, guys out there, this is not a war movie to see with your buddies. Although, the fact that there was a token Black guy in the film was pretty funny, and if I were a Black guy, perhaps I would think to myself, "Hey, nice. Black guy in the movie, cool." Maybe, I would then think, "Okay, now I identify with this movie." I honestly have no idea. But, unfortunately, that moment of clarity didn't happen for me, and I was left wondering what that guy was doing there. I mean, I know they are the authors, and I am the audience, so they outrank me, but still, don't I deserve some sort of explanation?
But, more important than Michael Richards take on the movie, I would like to hear Elaine Benes's (the Julia Louise Dreyfuss character from Seinfeld) take on the it. Based on her viewings of the English patient, where she said about the bathtub sex, "That doesn't work... gimme something I could use." She would probably say the same thing about this movie, I mean c'mon, sex on a bookshelf? When was the last time you saw a bookself that sturdy? My bookself can't hold my chemistry text book, let alone, a person, let alone two people, let alone two people having "passionate" intercourse. (I was going back and forth about using a chemistry text book or an anatomy text book... but since I don't actually have either book I just chose by using chronological order.) Well, Elaine was fired for not liking the English Patient, as she prayed for the (rapid) death of torn love interest male. Instead, Elaine was trying to see the movie Sack Lunch, a light-hearted comedy about a family that is either shrunk to fit into a sack or is regular sized, but somehow placed in an extremely large sack. On her way to the desert, to save her job and atone for her failure to appreciate the English Patient, Elaine is finally about to get to see this fascinating movie mix of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and... well, maybe it was just Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. But, on her way, she is about to see Sack Lunch before the plane is captured by Dominican terrorists posing as Cuban cigar rollers upset at having been wronged by a crepe business. Of course, the terrorists upon seizing the plane and controlling it, inevitably didn't appreciate the subtle comedy of Sack Lunch, and turned the movie off. Surely, the terrorists would have preferred the English Patient or Atonement. This highlights the difference between Atonement and Seinfeld: Atonement was okay, but Seinfeld was great.
But moving from one halfway decent movie about a person wrongfully accused to another; Sweeney Todd is a movie I have not yet seen. Nor did I see Charlie Wilson's War yet.
But speaking of movies I haven't seen, I did see the movie Juno, which may be the best movie so far this year. Many people have compared it to Little Miss Sunshine, which is not an apt comparison, but its not that far off either. The story lines of the movies are very different, but the heart of Juno, like Little Miss, is heavily character dependant... quirky character dependant. Comparing the characters would be futile because they are nothing alike as Juno's characters are more realistically drawn (and by that, I mean more typical with more common human foibles; like instead of a boy who refuses to speak to honor Nietzche, a boy who has sex with his girlfriend and then distances himself from her (the comedic savante, Michael Cera). Instead of an adorable, yet not pageanty girl who competes in a pageant, there is a pregnant teen (lead, Emily something). Instead of an old codger heroin addict with a sensitive side, there is a former army officer with a sensitive side (J.K. Rowling). Instead of a suicidal homosexual Proust scholar, there is a husband who is not quite ripe for fatherhood (Justine Bateman's brother). Instead of an unsuccessful motivational speaker, there is a step-mom who is critical yet vocally protective of her step-daughter (Alison Janney). Instead of a quiet disapproving wife, there is a controlling disapproving wife (Ben Affleck's wife from Alias). Despite the realism, I would still say Little Miss Sunshine was the slightly superior film.) But, comparing the movies is futile because the characters are so different. Great performance by Juno's lead in making this character likeable despite her penchant for pushing us away. Additionally, I want to compliment the lingual dexterity of the dialogue, which mixes the modern slang of a teenager with 1950's vernacular of a beatnik. Oh, and both movies use a van.
And as a side note, Disney wants to make a film like Juno about B. Spears's sister, who is also a single pregnant teen. What a strange world we live in, and in a world where memorabilia is so prevalent, prominent, and downright expensive, how much do you think the Spears family could get if they gave away the kid to adoption, ($10 million?) I'm not advocating the thought, (I am firmly against the sale of our youth,) but I am curious.
Speaking of Jews, I would like to comment on the comments attributed to Will Smith regarding A. Hitler. First off, I am not sure what exactly he said, in light of the fact that he claims the article was a gross misrepresentation of his views. Second off, even assuming he said "it", there did not appear to be any malice intended with the notion that even evil people don't think they are evil, as they often think they are good. Third off, this is not a Mel Gibson incident, whereby a series of stories have demonstrated a long standing pattern of anti-semitism. Fourth off, this is no Sean Penn incident, whereby a series of stories have demonstrated a long standard pattern of ridiculousness. Fifth off, lighten up my people or you will crush my dream of a Will Smith presidency because Tom Brady has become too much of a villain to be president; although now he's the frontrunner for vice president (although to be non-partisan, he could also easily be a New York senator or governor.)
Happy holidays, Happy New Year, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanza, and Happy Festivus,
Papa ME Bear
Over the long weekend, I watched a lot of film, but it dawned on me that I have not told you about Atonement, a classic middle of the twentieth century romp, filled with light-hearted frivolity, and a touch of melodrama.
Really, it was your standard faire British period piece, whereby there is a large house or mansion filled with beautiful scenery, and there is a scandal involving the staff invoking all of the common themes of classism with the usual half decent imitations of British accents. (I can say this because the person I saw the movie with had a legitimate British accent and was mocking the various accents in the movie.) (Also, the bit about classism is practically part of the definition of "period piece"; if you think about any movie set at least fifty years in the past, one can see the identity of the movie hinging on the wealth gap disparity.) And this movie was very different than The Notebook because in the Notebook, the characters were played without the British accents.
I would like to come out of the film and say, that Keira Knightley, "she is one attractive and talented woman," but unfortunately although she did an adequate job playing her role as the torn love interest female (as opposed to the torn love interest male), but she did so, looking like she had recently overdosed on heroin (it was the opium of that time). She is stick thin and extremely pale, which would be funny, if I wasn't worried about her. (Yes, as usual, I come out of a period piece without laughs.) The woman who was seeking "atonement" was played well, by a cast of characters. Overall, the film was not that bad, but it was too filled with heavy themes, and various scenes were unconscionably poor, particularly the war scenes. So, guys out there, this is not a war movie to see with your buddies. Although, the fact that there was a token Black guy in the film was pretty funny, and if I were a Black guy, perhaps I would think to myself, "Hey, nice. Black guy in the movie, cool." Maybe, I would then think, "Okay, now I identify with this movie." I honestly have no idea. But, unfortunately, that moment of clarity didn't happen for me, and I was left wondering what that guy was doing there. I mean, I know they are the authors, and I am the audience, so they outrank me, but still, don't I deserve some sort of explanation?
But, more important than Michael Richards take on the movie, I would like to hear Elaine Benes's (the Julia Louise Dreyfuss character from Seinfeld) take on the it. Based on her viewings of the English patient, where she said about the bathtub sex, "That doesn't work... gimme something I could use." She would probably say the same thing about this movie, I mean c'mon, sex on a bookshelf? When was the last time you saw a bookself that sturdy? My bookself can't hold my chemistry text book, let alone, a person, let alone two people, let alone two people having "passionate" intercourse. (I was going back and forth about using a chemistry text book or an anatomy text book... but since I don't actually have either book I just chose by using chronological order.) Well, Elaine was fired for not liking the English Patient, as she prayed for the (rapid) death of torn love interest male. Instead, Elaine was trying to see the movie Sack Lunch, a light-hearted comedy about a family that is either shrunk to fit into a sack or is regular sized, but somehow placed in an extremely large sack. On her way to the desert, to save her job and atone for her failure to appreciate the English Patient, Elaine is finally about to get to see this fascinating movie mix of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and... well, maybe it was just Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. But, on her way, she is about to see Sack Lunch before the plane is captured by Dominican terrorists posing as Cuban cigar rollers upset at having been wronged by a crepe business. Of course, the terrorists upon seizing the plane and controlling it, inevitably didn't appreciate the subtle comedy of Sack Lunch, and turned the movie off. Surely, the terrorists would have preferred the English Patient or Atonement. This highlights the difference between Atonement and Seinfeld: Atonement was okay, but Seinfeld was great.
But moving from one halfway decent movie about a person wrongfully accused to another; Sweeney Todd is a movie I have not yet seen. Nor did I see Charlie Wilson's War yet.
But speaking of movies I haven't seen, I did see the movie Juno, which may be the best movie so far this year. Many people have compared it to Little Miss Sunshine, which is not an apt comparison, but its not that far off either. The story lines of the movies are very different, but the heart of Juno, like Little Miss, is heavily character dependant... quirky character dependant. Comparing the characters would be futile because they are nothing alike as Juno's characters are more realistically drawn (and by that, I mean more typical with more common human foibles; like instead of a boy who refuses to speak to honor Nietzche, a boy who has sex with his girlfriend and then distances himself from her (the comedic savante, Michael Cera). Instead of an adorable, yet not pageanty girl who competes in a pageant, there is a pregnant teen (lead, Emily something). Instead of an old codger heroin addict with a sensitive side, there is a former army officer with a sensitive side (J.K. Rowling). Instead of a suicidal homosexual Proust scholar, there is a husband who is not quite ripe for fatherhood (Justine Bateman's brother). Instead of an unsuccessful motivational speaker, there is a step-mom who is critical yet vocally protective of her step-daughter (Alison Janney). Instead of a quiet disapproving wife, there is a controlling disapproving wife (Ben Affleck's wife from Alias). Despite the realism, I would still say Little Miss Sunshine was the slightly superior film.) But, comparing the movies is futile because the characters are so different. Great performance by Juno's lead in making this character likeable despite her penchant for pushing us away. Additionally, I want to compliment the lingual dexterity of the dialogue, which mixes the modern slang of a teenager with 1950's vernacular of a beatnik. Oh, and both movies use a van.
And as a side note, Disney wants to make a film like Juno about B. Spears's sister, who is also a single pregnant teen. What a strange world we live in, and in a world where memorabilia is so prevalent, prominent, and downright expensive, how much do you think the Spears family could get if they gave away the kid to adoption, ($10 million?) I'm not advocating the thought, (I am firmly against the sale of our youth,) but I am curious.
Speaking of Jews, I would like to comment on the comments attributed to Will Smith regarding A. Hitler. First off, I am not sure what exactly he said, in light of the fact that he claims the article was a gross misrepresentation of his views. Second off, even assuming he said "it", there did not appear to be any malice intended with the notion that even evil people don't think they are evil, as they often think they are good. Third off, this is not a Mel Gibson incident, whereby a series of stories have demonstrated a long standing pattern of anti-semitism. Fourth off, this is no Sean Penn incident, whereby a series of stories have demonstrated a long standard pattern of ridiculousness. Fifth off, lighten up my people or you will crush my dream of a Will Smith presidency because Tom Brady has become too much of a villain to be president; although now he's the frontrunner for vice president (although to be non-partisan, he could also easily be a New York senator or governor.)
Happy holidays, Happy New Year, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanza, and Happy Festivus,
Papa ME Bear
Friday, December 21, 2007
Unlikely Science
Dear Readers,
I have a tough read for you today because one of my readers asked if I always write about whatever's on my mind. Well... no. I sift through information that I think would be fun to write about; for example, you wouldn't care if I dreamt about being emperor of the world, or who I "want", or saving people from fires, or to one day become a New York City farmer. I won't talk to you about how I saw Atonement last night, and it was okay, or how I hope to see Juno this weekend. Partly because although, some of that is true, I'm not interested in telling you about these things. But, now, because of that one reader's insolence, I will punish all of you.
To those of you that have known me over the years, you have known that I am, more than anything else, a man of science. And my mind wanders to a world of wonder and, I guess, science, all the time, leading to my various theories and ideas: most notably, my Theories of Nothingness (which is on loan to a PhD friend of mine at Stanford: whereby we, the scientific community, should really study the "nothing" in between atoms and quarks and strings because THAT is the driving force in the universe. Nothing. But, I will spare you the details of my highly technical theories, mainly because of copyright, patent, and trademark issues. But, I will not spare you my next great theory explored at length below.) I often think about what makes an art or what constitutes a science, (and again, I will spare you those thoughts and feelings... for now, except to say, that way too many things are called a science, when they are merely a pseudo-science, and way too many things are referred to as art, when they are really just expressions.) But, this blog, yep... it's an art and a science (and a sport, and I win.)
So, I was watching, PTI, (Pardon the Interruption; a two-person sports debate program on ESPN, which CNN, FOX, and MSNBC should emulate), and they were talking about the odds of something occurring, particularly the odds that Tom Brady will break the Peyton Manning touchdowns per season record (its a football thing, but I am not going to talk about football today.) And one of these two great debators (I can't really tell them apart), switched his opinion from six weeks ago that Brady had a 100% chance of breaking the record and now claims that Brady has a 25%* chance of breaking the record. (*estimated figure, I didn't really care about the number he picked.) So, did he flip-flop like a notable politician, or is there something to the changing of the odds? It got me thinking about the fluidity of odds in sports and in life in general.
So, I'm not sure if I got this from a movie or more likely merged it from a series of movies (and maybe some school, but probably not), but I "came up with" the double asymptotic curve known as the Probability Matrix of Certain Events. The name was carefully crafted for affect like the Laffer Curve. "Probability" because its about probables, likelihoods, and odds. "Matrix" because it was an awesome movie and it describes something. "Certain" is a play on words because it means both specific events and also definite events (I will soon explain). And I used "Events", because I wanted to make it sound festive.
So, let's pick a random event in the future that has yet to happen, like the creation of flying cars, or me dating Natalie Portman*, or the world ending because you hiccup improperly. (I used a "stage" name to protect her from unwanted publicity). The probability for each of these events because they are "theoretically possible" is not zero, but for all intents and purposes might as well be zero because they don't currently exist, nor is there a "probable" or likely scenario by which the event could take place. All events start out with a similar possibility, from the beginning of time (another blog entry) or the beginning of life (another blog entry) to the end of life (another blog entry), or to the end of time (another blog entry.) But, at some point, an event or non-event happens, so the odds must have changed along the way (examples include: regular cars, me already not dating Natalie Portman, you hiccupping from time to time because someone is thinking about you.) So, the odds probably changed over time, either in one giant leap of inevitability, or by a series of circumstances challenging the current odds structure. (Of course, we must question whether the circumstances were inevitable in the first place, and argue over the tenets of Calvinism, Deism, predestination, and free will another time because I'm on a roll here.) Probability is essentially a calculation of the ability to foresee the future, determining the possible outcomes of the future, based on our understanding of the universe through acquiring, interpreting, and analyzing past (and present) data and theories and incorporating that information into a new circumstance. So, 150 years ago, the likelihood of flying cars would be virtually zero; but then when we have new past "facts" such as the invention of a car, it increases the likelihood of a flying car. Again to humanize the theory, if lets say, someone invents some type of air-craft that can sustain flight in addition to the "fact" that cars already exist, the chance of having a flying car increases exponentially.
The bottom line is, yes, I do have a chance with Natalie Portman.
So, you're thinking, "what does this have to do with my life," and/or "why should I care?". This is why you should care (you selfish pig): because you have a near 0% chance of being hit in the face by a baguette, until someone with access to a baguette, makes the decision to throw said baguette (or a random bagel falls out of an airplane), but after it happened to you, there was about a 100% chance that it would happen (before it happened). So, let's say you want a promotion at work within the next 6 months, and you are under consideration along with two other people, but you are not the most likely candidate. Perhaps, you have a 20% chance at that promotion. If you work especially hard (until you get the promotion,) then your odds increase to maybe 27%. And if you spread a rumor that Candidate #2 is having a secret romance with the copy boy, your chances go up to 53% and you become the frontrunner. Then, when Candidate C finds another job, your chances increase to nearly 100%. So, yes, both you, and other outside circumstances and events can affect the probability of the future occurring the way you want it to or the way you manipulate it to. (If I were more than an office politician, I would describe both the extra hard work and besmirching the opposition as a tactic of "last resort". But, really, having no other alternatives is not a legitimate explanation for a politician's (or anyone's) actions, because doing nothing is always an option (just ask me,) and the politician just deemed the action the "best" resort to achieve his/her/our overall strategic goals. But, that's not to say that doing something, possibly even something harmful or dangerous, is not the best option to achieve a larger overarching plan for something we want, which may be a noble goal, like a long term peaceful or co-existing world or a reasonable and practical objective like self-preservation. This side bar is just to say that, there is no such thing as a last resort... well almost no such thing.)
So, you say, "big deal, I know I can do things, and those things can change stuff." Yes, but, over time, tracing the likelihood of an event would yield an doubly asymptotic curve that starts at a point close to zero when that event was entirely improbable to a time when it was an accurate assessment of the future event (accurate as opposed to precise because its not 100% chance and never will be even after it "happened", but more on that later.) On a 2-D graph, the likelihood of the event is on the vertical y axis with the 0% and 100% lines demarcated, and whatever you want can be on the x axis, though I will choose "time" leading up to the event (and beyond). For a picture of the actual curve, see:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Asymptote03.png
So, practically, let's say my hypothetical friend (imaginary) named Michael Jones caught a fly ball at Shea Stadium on April 26, 2007 at a specific time and in a specific location. And Michael Jones turns to me and says, "what were the odds of me catching that ball?" My short answer would be, "knowing you and your catching skills, no chance at all," but my long answer would be... "10 years ago, you had virtually no chance of catching that ball at that place and time, and this morning when you got here, your chances increased, and then when Jose Reyes [name kept the same to protect Jose Reyes from imposters] hit the ball in your direction, the chances increased exponentially, and when the ball was about to hit your lame glove, it became a virtual lock that it would happen." So, that explains most of my graph. The other part is why the probability of the event happening never reaches its destination of 100%, even after it happened.
First off, we're assuming that our world is real and things actually happen, so this is not one of those, "but maybe the universe is all part of the nightmare of a grasshopper" scenario (which is possible, but unlikely, and still wouldn't mean that Matthew Jones didn't catch that baseball.) Second off, we are assuming that truth exists, and things that happened actually happened, so, that assumption eliminates another strong philosophical argument. Third off, I am not entertaining the notion that we merely perceived the event happened, but it didn't actually happen because that would be another deus ex machina, which would break the rules of our hypothetical. Fourth off, I am assuming that using the principles of semiotics, interpreting images, and language, we all have roughly the same understanding of what I mean by "catching the ball". But, I would argue my sordid understanding of Social Relativity, a unique bastardization of my understandings of the highly regarded Theory of Relativity, and the widely critiqued and much maligned Theory of Social Darwinism.
The theory is best illustrated by the idea that the sun is actually revolving around me, (or you... I guess, if you are thinking about it.) Sure, there are holes in the theory, but its a work in progress (for example if I planned a trip outside the solar system and headed in the actual path of the sun, it would not revolve around me, we would collide.) But, in all practicality, I don't notice the motion of the earth (except with mood swings, but that's more a function of the lunar cycle... because I'm Jewish) because I am in an enclosed train car, (the earth) traveling a certain speed and there are other cars outside the train (the sun and the planets) and flies hitting the windsheild at ridiculous speeds on the outside (I know its a train, but who cares about my mixed metaphor anyway), and other flies chillaxing on the inside (and wheels are rotating backwards faster than my eye can capture). So, simply put, things are only happening in relation to or relative to other things happening. Thus, applying that to my life, or begrudgingly applying it to your life, it means that things only happen in relation to how it affects you. Thus, that tree falling in the forest question grows in significance. (Therefore, if you hiccup improperly and die, then the world actually ends?) Ergo, the sun revolves around you. QED.
Not so fast... even if that ridiculous crap were true, why would that explain the chances of Matthew Jackson catching the ball after he had already caught the thing. Wouldn't the fact that he caught the ball mean that right now, he had 100% chance of catching the ball? Good question me (and possibly you, if you also posed it.) Well, two things, one we could say that the chances were always 100% that it would happen (because it did in fact happen) and with enough information from the past, and present we (meaning God, or a supercomputer, et al.) could predict eternity (and infinity), but that is irrelevant because I don't want to talk about it now. So, what if Matthew Jackson caught the ball and it did not affect me; then it did not happen? Yes-ish. That's assuming: I wasn't there that day, which I wasn't and I have an alibi, Jackson didn't tell me about it (which would make sense considering he doesn't actually exist), and the distinct possibility that neither his life changed, nor did any other failed ball-catching-suitors' lives change as a result of MJ catching the ball. If it didn't affect anyone in terms of their lives, their actions, their thoughts, or feelings, (which you could argue is "nearly" impossible,) then it wouldn't affect me, and then its just some stupid tree in some stupid forest far far away (and not a person in Paris sneezing with the rest of Europe catching cold.) Thus, the top end of the asymptote never reaches 100%. And by the way, this holds true for anything that already did NOT happen as well, like you marrying Audrey Hepburn. There is virtually no chance that will happen, but don't rule it out completely because of the theory of social relativity. (Notice I didn't capitalize the theory that time.) FIN.
And so, now, you have a fully explained 2-D graph (I was hoping for a 4-D graph or at least a picture on the site) demonstrating the Probability Matrix of Certain Events, and you know a lot more about odds (whether it's true or untrue). That's why I like to say that there is a 50% chance of anything possible happening because it either does occur or it doesn't. You should try gambling with me.
Your Stockbroker,
ME PB
I was going to sign off with the "First World Emperor, Mark PB Ellis" but there are too many interpretations, connotations, and implications, and I don't want it to be miscontrued as me having a plan to take over the world because that's not what my Brain is working on (as you might have noticed) for I have my heart set on other endeavors. And, for whatever its worth, any part of the above entry that is not true was a joke or it might not be true in the classic sense of the word, but it could still be truthy in the Colbert sense of the word.
I have a tough read for you today because one of my readers asked if I always write about whatever's on my mind. Well... no. I sift through information that I think would be fun to write about; for example, you wouldn't care if I dreamt about being emperor of the world, or who I "want", or saving people from fires, or to one day become a New York City farmer. I won't talk to you about how I saw Atonement last night, and it was okay, or how I hope to see Juno this weekend. Partly because although, some of that is true, I'm not interested in telling you about these things. But, now, because of that one reader's insolence, I will punish all of you.
To those of you that have known me over the years, you have known that I am, more than anything else, a man of science. And my mind wanders to a world of wonder and, I guess, science, all the time, leading to my various theories and ideas: most notably, my Theories of Nothingness (which is on loan to a PhD friend of mine at Stanford: whereby we, the scientific community, should really study the "nothing" in between atoms and quarks and strings because THAT is the driving force in the universe. Nothing. But, I will spare you the details of my highly technical theories, mainly because of copyright, patent, and trademark issues. But, I will not spare you my next great theory explored at length below.) I often think about what makes an art or what constitutes a science, (and again, I will spare you those thoughts and feelings... for now, except to say, that way too many things are called a science, when they are merely a pseudo-science, and way too many things are referred to as art, when they are really just expressions.) But, this blog, yep... it's an art and a science (and a sport, and I win.)
So, I was watching, PTI, (Pardon the Interruption; a two-person sports debate program on ESPN, which CNN, FOX, and MSNBC should emulate), and they were talking about the odds of something occurring, particularly the odds that Tom Brady will break the Peyton Manning touchdowns per season record (its a football thing, but I am not going to talk about football today.) And one of these two great debators (I can't really tell them apart), switched his opinion from six weeks ago that Brady had a 100% chance of breaking the record and now claims that Brady has a 25%* chance of breaking the record. (*estimated figure, I didn't really care about the number he picked.) So, did he flip-flop like a notable politician, or is there something to the changing of the odds? It got me thinking about the fluidity of odds in sports and in life in general.
So, I'm not sure if I got this from a movie or more likely merged it from a series of movies (and maybe some school, but probably not), but I "came up with" the double asymptotic curve known as the Probability Matrix of Certain Events. The name was carefully crafted for affect like the Laffer Curve. "Probability" because its about probables, likelihoods, and odds. "Matrix" because it was an awesome movie and it describes something. "Certain" is a play on words because it means both specific events and also definite events (I will soon explain). And I used "Events", because I wanted to make it sound festive.
So, let's pick a random event in the future that has yet to happen, like the creation of flying cars, or me dating Natalie Portman*, or the world ending because you hiccup improperly. (I used a "stage" name to protect her from unwanted publicity). The probability for each of these events because they are "theoretically possible" is not zero, but for all intents and purposes might as well be zero because they don't currently exist, nor is there a "probable" or likely scenario by which the event could take place. All events start out with a similar possibility, from the beginning of time (another blog entry) or the beginning of life (another blog entry) to the end of life (another blog entry), or to the end of time (another blog entry.) But, at some point, an event or non-event happens, so the odds must have changed along the way (examples include: regular cars, me already not dating Natalie Portman, you hiccupping from time to time because someone is thinking about you.) So, the odds probably changed over time, either in one giant leap of inevitability, or by a series of circumstances challenging the current odds structure. (Of course, we must question whether the circumstances were inevitable in the first place, and argue over the tenets of Calvinism, Deism, predestination, and free will another time because I'm on a roll here.) Probability is essentially a calculation of the ability to foresee the future, determining the possible outcomes of the future, based on our understanding of the universe through acquiring, interpreting, and analyzing past (and present) data and theories and incorporating that information into a new circumstance. So, 150 years ago, the likelihood of flying cars would be virtually zero; but then when we have new past "facts" such as the invention of a car, it increases the likelihood of a flying car. Again to humanize the theory, if lets say, someone invents some type of air-craft that can sustain flight in addition to the "fact" that cars already exist, the chance of having a flying car increases exponentially.
The bottom line is, yes, I do have a chance with Natalie Portman.
So, you're thinking, "what does this have to do with my life," and/or "why should I care?". This is why you should care (you selfish pig): because you have a near 0% chance of being hit in the face by a baguette, until someone with access to a baguette, makes the decision to throw said baguette (or a random bagel falls out of an airplane), but after it happened to you, there was about a 100% chance that it would happen (before it happened). So, let's say you want a promotion at work within the next 6 months, and you are under consideration along with two other people, but you are not the most likely candidate. Perhaps, you have a 20% chance at that promotion. If you work especially hard (until you get the promotion,) then your odds increase to maybe 27%. And if you spread a rumor that Candidate #2 is having a secret romance with the copy boy, your chances go up to 53% and you become the frontrunner. Then, when Candidate C finds another job, your chances increase to nearly 100%. So, yes, both you, and other outside circumstances and events can affect the probability of the future occurring the way you want it to or the way you manipulate it to. (If I were more than an office politician, I would describe both the extra hard work and besmirching the opposition as a tactic of "last resort". But, really, having no other alternatives is not a legitimate explanation for a politician's (or anyone's) actions, because doing nothing is always an option (just ask me,) and the politician just deemed the action the "best" resort to achieve his/her/our overall strategic goals. But, that's not to say that doing something, possibly even something harmful or dangerous, is not the best option to achieve a larger overarching plan for something we want, which may be a noble goal, like a long term peaceful or co-existing world or a reasonable and practical objective like self-preservation. This side bar is just to say that, there is no such thing as a last resort... well almost no such thing.)
So, you say, "big deal, I know I can do things, and those things can change stuff." Yes, but, over time, tracing the likelihood of an event would yield an doubly asymptotic curve that starts at a point close to zero when that event was entirely improbable to a time when it was an accurate assessment of the future event (accurate as opposed to precise because its not 100% chance and never will be even after it "happened", but more on that later.) On a 2-D graph, the likelihood of the event is on the vertical y axis with the 0% and 100% lines demarcated, and whatever you want can be on the x axis, though I will choose "time" leading up to the event (and beyond). For a picture of the actual curve, see:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Asymptote03.png
So, practically, let's say my hypothetical friend (imaginary) named Michael Jones caught a fly ball at Shea Stadium on April 26, 2007 at a specific time and in a specific location. And Michael Jones turns to me and says, "what were the odds of me catching that ball?" My short answer would be, "knowing you and your catching skills, no chance at all," but my long answer would be... "10 years ago, you had virtually no chance of catching that ball at that place and time, and this morning when you got here, your chances increased, and then when Jose Reyes [name kept the same to protect Jose Reyes from imposters] hit the ball in your direction, the chances increased exponentially, and when the ball was about to hit your lame glove, it became a virtual lock that it would happen." So, that explains most of my graph. The other part is why the probability of the event happening never reaches its destination of 100%, even after it happened.
First off, we're assuming that our world is real and things actually happen, so this is not one of those, "but maybe the universe is all part of the nightmare of a grasshopper" scenario (which is possible, but unlikely, and still wouldn't mean that Matthew Jones didn't catch that baseball.) Second off, we are assuming that truth exists, and things that happened actually happened, so, that assumption eliminates another strong philosophical argument. Third off, I am not entertaining the notion that we merely perceived the event happened, but it didn't actually happen because that would be another deus ex machina, which would break the rules of our hypothetical. Fourth off, I am assuming that using the principles of semiotics, interpreting images, and language, we all have roughly the same understanding of what I mean by "catching the ball". But, I would argue my sordid understanding of Social Relativity, a unique bastardization of my understandings of the highly regarded Theory of Relativity, and the widely critiqued and much maligned Theory of Social Darwinism.
The theory is best illustrated by the idea that the sun is actually revolving around me, (or you... I guess, if you are thinking about it.) Sure, there are holes in the theory, but its a work in progress (for example if I planned a trip outside the solar system and headed in the actual path of the sun, it would not revolve around me, we would collide.) But, in all practicality, I don't notice the motion of the earth (except with mood swings, but that's more a function of the lunar cycle... because I'm Jewish) because I am in an enclosed train car, (the earth) traveling a certain speed and there are other cars outside the train (the sun and the planets) and flies hitting the windsheild at ridiculous speeds on the outside (I know its a train, but who cares about my mixed metaphor anyway), and other flies chillaxing on the inside (and wheels are rotating backwards faster than my eye can capture). So, simply put, things are only happening in relation to or relative to other things happening. Thus, applying that to my life, or begrudgingly applying it to your life, it means that things only happen in relation to how it affects you. Thus, that tree falling in the forest question grows in significance. (Therefore, if you hiccup improperly and die, then the world actually ends?) Ergo, the sun revolves around you. QED.
Not so fast... even if that ridiculous crap were true, why would that explain the chances of Matthew Jackson catching the ball after he had already caught the thing. Wouldn't the fact that he caught the ball mean that right now, he had 100% chance of catching the ball? Good question me (and possibly you, if you also posed it.) Well, two things, one we could say that the chances were always 100% that it would happen (because it did in fact happen) and with enough information from the past, and present we (meaning God, or a supercomputer, et al.) could predict eternity (and infinity), but that is irrelevant because I don't want to talk about it now. So, what if Matthew Jackson caught the ball and it did not affect me; then it did not happen? Yes-ish. That's assuming: I wasn't there that day, which I wasn't and I have an alibi, Jackson didn't tell me about it (which would make sense considering he doesn't actually exist), and the distinct possibility that neither his life changed, nor did any other failed ball-catching-suitors' lives change as a result of MJ catching the ball. If it didn't affect anyone in terms of their lives, their actions, their thoughts, or feelings, (which you could argue is "nearly" impossible,) then it wouldn't affect me, and then its just some stupid tree in some stupid forest far far away (and not a person in Paris sneezing with the rest of Europe catching cold.) Thus, the top end of the asymptote never reaches 100%. And by the way, this holds true for anything that already did NOT happen as well, like you marrying Audrey Hepburn. There is virtually no chance that will happen, but don't rule it out completely because of the theory of social relativity. (Notice I didn't capitalize the theory that time.) FIN.
And so, now, you have a fully explained 2-D graph (I was hoping for a 4-D graph or at least a picture on the site) demonstrating the Probability Matrix of Certain Events, and you know a lot more about odds (whether it's true or untrue). That's why I like to say that there is a 50% chance of anything possible happening because it either does occur or it doesn't. You should try gambling with me.
Your Stockbroker,
ME PB
I was going to sign off with the "First World Emperor, Mark PB Ellis" but there are too many interpretations, connotations, and implications, and I don't want it to be miscontrued as me having a plan to take over the world because that's not what my Brain is working on (as you might have noticed) for I have my heart set on other endeavors. And, for whatever its worth, any part of the above entry that is not true was a joke or it might not be true in the classic sense of the word, but it could still be truthy in the Colbert sense of the word.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Island Dreams
Dear Blog Diary,
At the one month mark, its time to reevaluate your (my blog's) utility in my life. Time to decide whether I am a Rock or I am an Island; so to help me decide, I will start by determining the pros and cons of maintaining the blog.
Pros and cons:
Pro: It's always funny when I get to say, "I should put that in my blog" (and then never put it in my blog.)
Con: It's never funny when someone else says, "you should put that in your blog" (and I never put it in my blog.)
Pro: It kills some time while I'm watching TV.
Con: It takes my attention away from my TV (right now, American Beauty; last time, Dave Attell stand-up.)
Pro: Sometimes, the blog can even tell what was on my mind, like when that thing happened and I hinted about it by mentioning something vaguely related. That was a special moment.
Con: I've had the blog for a month, and I still don't know anything about my blog.
Pro: I can have a Q & A session with my blog.
So, without further ado, a quick-hitting Q&A Session with my blog to find out more about my blog:
ME: Let's skip the pleasantries and hit this up, Meet the Press style. Are you my therapist or my pusher?
Blog: Therapist, but I'm a bad one.
ME: Are you my priest or my pimp?
Blog: Neither, I can't get you laid and I ain't got no absolution.
ME: My confidante or my town crier?
Blog: Both, but don't tell anyone.
ME: My muse or my outlet?
Blog: I'm not here to give you any ideas. Just, suck it up and tell me what's on your mind.
ME: Are you a product of my endless vanity or my boundless egoism?
Blog: Aren't those the same thing? So, yes, to both.
ME: Am I writing in the bounty of your womb to help me achieve some temporal gain or to find an ethereal place or moment within myself?
Blog: Shut up. Seriously man, shut up.
ME: Am I writing now to benefit myself or to benefit others?
Blog: Now, that's a good question.
ME: Do I care if anyone reads this, and if so do I care if they enjoy it or am I writing for my own edification?
Blog: That's more of a ME question.
ME: So, what is this page all about? Oh, right... who cares? But, thank you for being a friend.
Blog: Are you quoting the Golden Girls theme song?
ME: You know me too well, my blog friend.
Last night, I had a dream that I thought would be perfect fodder for the blog with its humorous, yet touching, witty, yet universal theme that was such an understated tour de force that it woke me up. Unfortunately for both of us, I cannot even come close to remembering what that dream was about or why it struck my fancy. But, I thought it was important for you to know that I had a dream.
So, instead you are stuck with my pathetic actual life. If I have to deal with it, so do you. My past weekend revolved around a Saturday hanging with my cousin, tossing around the old pigskin and giving some Papa Bearly advice like ... don't get your hand caught in the honey pot... or don't try to squeeze through a hole you can't fit into (ala Winnie the Pooh Bear)... and put your dang gloves on to avoid freezer burning your hand meat (which is like frost bite, but with more of an edge.)
I also saw "I am Legend", which was a solid mostly enjoyable flick and follows in a long line of Will Smith movies that help prove the old adage/axiom that charisma is a powerful acting tool. To give you a brief summary of the movie: envision Castaway (guy on an island with dim hopes of ever seeing anyone again interacting with volleyballs and/or dogs) with a touch of Career Opportunities (the fantasy of a person stuck in a department store with access to everything the store has to offer, except this store was all of NYC and Jennifer Connelly was a mannequin [insert your acting joke here],) and a healthy dose of Night of the Living Dead (no explanation given). Overall, the movie worked because of Will Smith's scrumptrulescent (see Dictionary.com in the links section to your left) performance and New York City's excellent portrayal of a flawed, but heroic refuge hiding dark secrets behind its sexy veneer.
After the movie, some friends and I toured random people's (friends of friends) Christmas house parties. I really like this time of year because of the music, the generosity of spirit, and the ridiculously bright sweaters. I hope to see more of these sweaters over the course of the next week. Keep up the good work, knitting aunts of America. Perhaps because the holiday is not designed for me or my people and I was able to remain unbiased, I have become an excellent judge of Christmas trees. Some trees really highlight a room, bringing a sense of whimsy to an otherwise less whimsical area. Other trees are just plants in a space. So, I would be an awesome judge in a Christmas tree pageant.
Sure, I had an interesting night hanging with "the billion dollar girl" (its all part of a five year plan) and a cool farmer's daughter, but I would rather discuss the half a conversation I had with a friend about whether Lost had a weak third season. I argued that despite random great episodes and a ridiculously strong finish (no spoilers), the lag episodes in the third season made it the weakest season to date. And I say that despite having converted people after the third season and having bought the Third Season on DVD yesterday. But, Nicky and Paolo are much worse than Michelle Rodriguez's lame redundant character (Ana Lucia). And the random answers to the questions were often pointless questions like, what did Jack's tattoo say? The answer was pretty good, but it did not require a full episode to tell us. Maybe, the deleted scenes will tell me more, but I'd rather bank on the 4th season being even better and more revealing.
For those of you who don't know Lost: envision Castaway (being stranded on an Island), The Breakfast Club (a jock, a nerd, a freak, a princess, and a punk... or whatever), and a healthy dose of Night of the Living Dead (explanation required).
But as for the Lost discussion/debate... of course, I won. Well, it is my blog, so my rules.
Then, Sunday happened. And that was cool too.
And in a flash it was Monday; and my weekend was stolen from me again by the bowels of time. Crap.
Your Papa Bear,
ME
At the one month mark, its time to reevaluate your (my blog's) utility in my life. Time to decide whether I am a Rock or I am an Island; so to help me decide, I will start by determining the pros and cons of maintaining the blog.
Pros and cons:
Pro: It's always funny when I get to say, "I should put that in my blog" (and then never put it in my blog.)
Con: It's never funny when someone else says, "you should put that in your blog" (and I never put it in my blog.)
Pro: It kills some time while I'm watching TV.
Con: It takes my attention away from my TV (right now, American Beauty; last time, Dave Attell stand-up.)
Pro: Sometimes, the blog can even tell what was on my mind, like when that thing happened and I hinted about it by mentioning something vaguely related. That was a special moment.
Con: I've had the blog for a month, and I still don't know anything about my blog.
Pro: I can have a Q & A session with my blog.
So, without further ado, a quick-hitting Q&A Session with my blog to find out more about my blog:
ME: Let's skip the pleasantries and hit this up, Meet the Press style. Are you my therapist or my pusher?
Blog: Therapist, but I'm a bad one.
ME: Are you my priest or my pimp?
Blog: Neither, I can't get you laid and I ain't got no absolution.
ME: My confidante or my town crier?
Blog: Both, but don't tell anyone.
ME: My muse or my outlet?
Blog: I'm not here to give you any ideas. Just, suck it up and tell me what's on your mind.
ME: Are you a product of my endless vanity or my boundless egoism?
Blog: Aren't those the same thing? So, yes, to both.
ME: Am I writing in the bounty of your womb to help me achieve some temporal gain or to find an ethereal place or moment within myself?
Blog: Shut up. Seriously man, shut up.
ME: Am I writing now to benefit myself or to benefit others?
Blog: Now, that's a good question.
ME: Do I care if anyone reads this, and if so do I care if they enjoy it or am I writing for my own edification?
Blog: That's more of a ME question.
ME: So, what is this page all about? Oh, right... who cares? But, thank you for being a friend.
Blog: Are you quoting the Golden Girls theme song?
ME: You know me too well, my blog friend.
Last night, I had a dream that I thought would be perfect fodder for the blog with its humorous, yet touching, witty, yet universal theme that was such an understated tour de force that it woke me up. Unfortunately for both of us, I cannot even come close to remembering what that dream was about or why it struck my fancy. But, I thought it was important for you to know that I had a dream.
So, instead you are stuck with my pathetic actual life. If I have to deal with it, so do you. My past weekend revolved around a Saturday hanging with my cousin, tossing around the old pigskin and giving some Papa Bearly advice like ... don't get your hand caught in the honey pot... or don't try to squeeze through a hole you can't fit into (ala Winnie the Pooh Bear)... and put your dang gloves on to avoid freezer burning your hand meat (which is like frost bite, but with more of an edge.)
I also saw "I am Legend", which was a solid mostly enjoyable flick and follows in a long line of Will Smith movies that help prove the old adage/axiom that charisma is a powerful acting tool. To give you a brief summary of the movie: envision Castaway (guy on an island with dim hopes of ever seeing anyone again interacting with volleyballs and/or dogs) with a touch of Career Opportunities (the fantasy of a person stuck in a department store with access to everything the store has to offer, except this store was all of NYC and Jennifer Connelly was a mannequin [insert your acting joke here],) and a healthy dose of Night of the Living Dead (no explanation given). Overall, the movie worked because of Will Smith's scrumptrulescent (see Dictionary.com in the links section to your left) performance and New York City's excellent portrayal of a flawed, but heroic refuge hiding dark secrets behind its sexy veneer.
After the movie, some friends and I toured random people's (friends of friends) Christmas house parties. I really like this time of year because of the music, the generosity of spirit, and the ridiculously bright sweaters. I hope to see more of these sweaters over the course of the next week. Keep up the good work, knitting aunts of America. Perhaps because the holiday is not designed for me or my people and I was able to remain unbiased, I have become an excellent judge of Christmas trees. Some trees really highlight a room, bringing a sense of whimsy to an otherwise less whimsical area. Other trees are just plants in a space. So, I would be an awesome judge in a Christmas tree pageant.
Sure, I had an interesting night hanging with "the billion dollar girl" (its all part of a five year plan) and a cool farmer's daughter, but I would rather discuss the half a conversation I had with a friend about whether Lost had a weak third season. I argued that despite random great episodes and a ridiculously strong finish (no spoilers), the lag episodes in the third season made it the weakest season to date. And I say that despite having converted people after the third season and having bought the Third Season on DVD yesterday. But, Nicky and Paolo are much worse than Michelle Rodriguez's lame redundant character (Ana Lucia). And the random answers to the questions were often pointless questions like, what did Jack's tattoo say? The answer was pretty good, but it did not require a full episode to tell us. Maybe, the deleted scenes will tell me more, but I'd rather bank on the 4th season being even better and more revealing.
For those of you who don't know Lost: envision Castaway (being stranded on an Island), The Breakfast Club (a jock, a nerd, a freak, a princess, and a punk... or whatever), and a healthy dose of Night of the Living Dead (explanation required).
But as for the Lost discussion/debate... of course, I won. Well, it is my blog, so my rules.
Then, Sunday happened. And that was cool too.
And in a flash it was Monday; and my weekend was stolen from me again by the bowels of time. Crap.
Your Papa Bear,
ME
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Empty Box
Hello stranger,
so, the winter TV season is coming to a close and I'd like to discuss a few of the under-appreciated programs of the past season.
First off, I'd like to congratulate ABC on promising to bring back Pushing Daisies, the best new show of the season. Each frame is so beautifully and meticulously shot that it makes me hungry... for pie. And the narrator has the perfect voice as it brings back my pleasant memories of nostalgia. I remember nostalgia, it was awesome, wasn't it? Then, there is the totally ludicrous plotline about a guy who can bring back the dead for one minute by touching them and return them to eternal slumber by touching them a second time. If he does not touch the zombified corpse a second time within the one minute allotted, something else (seemingly of equal weight) dies in its place and he still can't touch the dead-alive thing lest it dies anyway. And then of course, he becomes a pie maker and works on the side with an opportunistic, yet fascinating private detective solving homicides. But, yes, you guessed it, Pushing Daisies is a romantic comedy. Throw in a few musical numbers and orchestrated dance sequences; its pretty much a full-fledged romance. Ned, the heroic introverted socially stunted hero has pined over a girl named Chuck his whole life, and now that he is reunited with her remains unable to touch her because of the rules described above; and thus they slowly develop a loving relationship that is forced to compensate for a lack of physical intimacy (and several dark secrets, well, some dark secrets and some not so dark secrets, but most of them secretive). Then, of course there is the uber-competitive diminutive singing dancing, terminator named Olive, who works in Ned's pie shop, oblivious to his "ability" and madly and hopelessly in love with the piemaker. It has already vaulted to my favorite shows and its a heart-warming experience that will make you laugh and make you swoon (not me though... I don't swoon, but you... you will swoon.)
From a girl named Chuck to a show named Chuck about a guy named Chuck... Bartowski, Chuck Bartowski. The plot of the show is a normal very smart guy who gets an email, which makes him privy to nationally-protected intelligence information, unwittingly forcing the "everyman" to become a spy hero. Foremost, this is a show about a ridiculously hot girl, Sarah Walker (whose availability makes me less sad about Jessica Alba's pregnancy anouncement. But seriously picture Naomi Watts, only somehow even hotter... somehow much hotter, prancing around in sexy spy garb and fantasy role playing faire.) Of course, there are the two doctors (to contrast his saving the world with their saving individual lives,) Chuck's sister who is solid and her boyfriend, Captain Awesome (because of his repeated use of the word "awesome" and his apparent flawlessness, but which is also an excellent nickname that I have incorporated into my vernacular.) There is a male, best-friend soul-mate, which was the weak link of the show and has become tolerable over time. There is the illustrious Adam Baldwin whose nuanced gruff performance is a not-so-subtle reminder of the greatness that was Jayne Cobb and Firefly/Serenity. And then, there is Chuck himself, who is a veritable puppy dog, whose sad sack performance is perfect for the role and leaves you constantly rooting for him to overcome whatever superspy mission he's on and to get the girl described at lust above (I meant at length above, but I didn't say it). But, like that puppy dog, whenever Sarah shows less interest in him, he poops in her shoe and makes me (and I guess her) angry with him.
Speaking of anger, how about the devil in Reaper (a show that would have Goethe spinning in his grave, and laughing at Sock, the best new character of the season.) The devil pulls off a constantly eerie performance where you cannot really tell where he stands and whether he is trying to help the embattled, over his head, demon-catcher Sam (who my law school roommate pointed out is a lot like Chuck). Sam, the main character, "everyman", is a little too frustrating and unhappy as a lead, but pulls it off just well enough to make his boldness in catching demons and in his timidity in his personal life believable and sympathetic. Oh, by the way, Sam's parents sold his soul to the devil before he was born to save a parent's life, and the devil is collecting by making Sam, Hell's bountyhunter, collecting escaped evil souls. And to collect the souls, Sam has two friends by his side (and an endless supply of Home Depot equipment), one good character, and one great character. Disgusting, shallow, fat, pathetic, loud, and obnoxious, but still witty and still occasionally moved by sentiment, Sock is funny. His love/hate relationship with the devil, who he has not met... yet and his flirtation with the 50 year old DMV employee, Gladys has me in stitches. But, his main strength is his overconfident demeanor as he leads the scraggly unimpressive bunch from one ridiculous premise to another: from catching demons with a vacuum cleaner to breaking into the District Attorney's office to acquire otherwise attainable information to hitting on girls that he has no chance with (including his ex-girlfriend who works at the D.A.'s office.) Sock singlehandedly elevates the show from good, (good dialogue, moderately funny premise, plausible but tame love interests, often silly individual episode storylines, etc.) to very good.
From the Devil and Daniel Webster to some good clean evil fun in Dexter. I know its not a new show, but its my first year with the blog and I didn't have Showtime last year, so I watched all the episodes in the last few months, so its new to me... Besides, my blog, my rules, you don't like it, get your own. Dexter is awesome. Dexter is Captain Awesome. Aside from accurately portraying Miami as ridiculously hot, and having interesting characters like a spunky sister, the Ice Truck killer, and Angel, the show is filled with bits of comedy and slabs of heart. The show is about a sadistic serial killer (who analyzes blood spatters and patterns with the Miami P.D.) who was pushed by his adoptive father to try to use his evil urges for good causes. Dexter repeatedly tells himself (through internal narrative) that he has no feelings, but the show, in every episode, takes great pains to demonstrate that he does have feelings: not only a lust for killing, but also slices of caring for his girlfriend and her two children, and chunks of warmth for his sister and his "friends," as well as interspliced desires for self-preservation and self-sacrifice. And his father, Harry, whose code he lives by, leaves you with a lot of questions about whether Dexter's killerocity was totally inevitable or possibly evitable and learned and honed. But, Dexter, himself leaves, at least this viewer, in a constant state of self-doubt and inner turmoil as I struggle to figure out how or why I have so much in common with this monster; my best guess is that he is so intricately woven in that his human parts are commonplace and his monster parts are so understandable (and it is presumably written by non-serial killers for non-serial killers). To be clear, I have never killed anyone (as of the date of this posting), nor do I have any desire to kill anyone (as of the date of this posting,) but I know what Dexter means when he says he doesn't feel anything or really when he deludes himself into believing that, because I do that too. We both also like to drive and eat. So, I dare you to watch the show and find out how much you have in common with a brutal serial killer. Sometime, I might have to tell you about my theory on the lack of feeling versus the lack of passion, or maybe I don't have to do that. Truth to tell, you don't deserve it.
Are any of these shows like Lost or 24 or the Office or Arrested Development or Seinfeld; are they destined for prolonged excellence? Its too soon to tell, but somehow I doubt that Dexter is the next Seinfeld.
So, the writers struck (striked? strook?) and we are left with less TV, which may not be such a bad thing. I can see more movies and have a chance to get more of a social life. I can take that cruise I've always been joking about. I can go skydiving or learn to samba or to make a creme brulee with only the crackable tops. But, I'm not going to do any of these things because re-runs are on, and I can't miss those. Watching those shows again, reminds me of the nostalgia I used to have... (wait, I talked about that already?). Right, at some point, I should talk about the top 5 shows I have listed above or maybe some other quality shows and characters like Sylar from Heroes or Barney from How I Met Your Mother or Saracen from Friday Night Lights or Dr. G. House from House, or Lex Luthor from Smallville, or the Turk-J.D. relationship from Scrubs or... man, I watch way too much TV.
I have to return some videotapes,
Mark "PB" Ellis
so, the winter TV season is coming to a close and I'd like to discuss a few of the under-appreciated programs of the past season.
First off, I'd like to congratulate ABC on promising to bring back Pushing Daisies, the best new show of the season. Each frame is so beautifully and meticulously shot that it makes me hungry... for pie. And the narrator has the perfect voice as it brings back my pleasant memories of nostalgia. I remember nostalgia, it was awesome, wasn't it? Then, there is the totally ludicrous plotline about a guy who can bring back the dead for one minute by touching them and return them to eternal slumber by touching them a second time. If he does not touch the zombified corpse a second time within the one minute allotted, something else (seemingly of equal weight) dies in its place and he still can't touch the dead-alive thing lest it dies anyway. And then of course, he becomes a pie maker and works on the side with an opportunistic, yet fascinating private detective solving homicides. But, yes, you guessed it, Pushing Daisies is a romantic comedy. Throw in a few musical numbers and orchestrated dance sequences; its pretty much a full-fledged romance. Ned, the heroic introverted socially stunted hero has pined over a girl named Chuck his whole life, and now that he is reunited with her remains unable to touch her because of the rules described above; and thus they slowly develop a loving relationship that is forced to compensate for a lack of physical intimacy (and several dark secrets, well, some dark secrets and some not so dark secrets, but most of them secretive). Then, of course there is the uber-competitive diminutive singing dancing, terminator named Olive, who works in Ned's pie shop, oblivious to his "ability" and madly and hopelessly in love with the piemaker. It has already vaulted to my favorite shows and its a heart-warming experience that will make you laugh and make you swoon (not me though... I don't swoon, but you... you will swoon.)
From a girl named Chuck to a show named Chuck about a guy named Chuck... Bartowski, Chuck Bartowski. The plot of the show is a normal very smart guy who gets an email, which makes him privy to nationally-protected intelligence information, unwittingly forcing the "everyman" to become a spy hero. Foremost, this is a show about a ridiculously hot girl, Sarah Walker (whose availability makes me less sad about Jessica Alba's pregnancy anouncement. But seriously picture Naomi Watts, only somehow even hotter... somehow much hotter, prancing around in sexy spy garb and fantasy role playing faire.) Of course, there are the two doctors (to contrast his saving the world with their saving individual lives,) Chuck's sister who is solid and her boyfriend, Captain Awesome (because of his repeated use of the word "awesome" and his apparent flawlessness, but which is also an excellent nickname that I have incorporated into my vernacular.) There is a male, best-friend soul-mate, which was the weak link of the show and has become tolerable over time. There is the illustrious Adam Baldwin whose nuanced gruff performance is a not-so-subtle reminder of the greatness that was Jayne Cobb and Firefly/Serenity. And then, there is Chuck himself, who is a veritable puppy dog, whose sad sack performance is perfect for the role and leaves you constantly rooting for him to overcome whatever superspy mission he's on and to get the girl described at lust above (I meant at length above, but I didn't say it). But, like that puppy dog, whenever Sarah shows less interest in him, he poops in her shoe and makes me (and I guess her) angry with him.
Speaking of anger, how about the devil in Reaper (a show that would have Goethe spinning in his grave, and laughing at Sock, the best new character of the season.) The devil pulls off a constantly eerie performance where you cannot really tell where he stands and whether he is trying to help the embattled, over his head, demon-catcher Sam (who my law school roommate pointed out is a lot like Chuck). Sam, the main character, "everyman", is a little too frustrating and unhappy as a lead, but pulls it off just well enough to make his boldness in catching demons and in his timidity in his personal life believable and sympathetic. Oh, by the way, Sam's parents sold his soul to the devil before he was born to save a parent's life, and the devil is collecting by making Sam, Hell's bountyhunter, collecting escaped evil souls. And to collect the souls, Sam has two friends by his side (and an endless supply of Home Depot equipment), one good character, and one great character. Disgusting, shallow, fat, pathetic, loud, and obnoxious, but still witty and still occasionally moved by sentiment, Sock is funny. His love/hate relationship with the devil, who he has not met... yet and his flirtation with the 50 year old DMV employee, Gladys has me in stitches. But, his main strength is his overconfident demeanor as he leads the scraggly unimpressive bunch from one ridiculous premise to another: from catching demons with a vacuum cleaner to breaking into the District Attorney's office to acquire otherwise attainable information to hitting on girls that he has no chance with (including his ex-girlfriend who works at the D.A.'s office.) Sock singlehandedly elevates the show from good, (good dialogue, moderately funny premise, plausible but tame love interests, often silly individual episode storylines, etc.) to very good.
From the Devil and Daniel Webster to some good clean evil fun in Dexter. I know its not a new show, but its my first year with the blog and I didn't have Showtime last year, so I watched all the episodes in the last few months, so its new to me... Besides, my blog, my rules, you don't like it, get your own. Dexter is awesome. Dexter is Captain Awesome. Aside from accurately portraying Miami as ridiculously hot, and having interesting characters like a spunky sister, the Ice Truck killer, and Angel, the show is filled with bits of comedy and slabs of heart. The show is about a sadistic serial killer (who analyzes blood spatters and patterns with the Miami P.D.) who was pushed by his adoptive father to try to use his evil urges for good causes. Dexter repeatedly tells himself (through internal narrative) that he has no feelings, but the show, in every episode, takes great pains to demonstrate that he does have feelings: not only a lust for killing, but also slices of caring for his girlfriend and her two children, and chunks of warmth for his sister and his "friends," as well as interspliced desires for self-preservation and self-sacrifice. And his father, Harry, whose code he lives by, leaves you with a lot of questions about whether Dexter's killerocity was totally inevitable or possibly evitable and learned and honed. But, Dexter, himself leaves, at least this viewer, in a constant state of self-doubt and inner turmoil as I struggle to figure out how or why I have so much in common with this monster; my best guess is that he is so intricately woven in that his human parts are commonplace and his monster parts are so understandable (and it is presumably written by non-serial killers for non-serial killers). To be clear, I have never killed anyone (as of the date of this posting), nor do I have any desire to kill anyone (as of the date of this posting,) but I know what Dexter means when he says he doesn't feel anything or really when he deludes himself into believing that, because I do that too. We both also like to drive and eat. So, I dare you to watch the show and find out how much you have in common with a brutal serial killer. Sometime, I might have to tell you about my theory on the lack of feeling versus the lack of passion, or maybe I don't have to do that. Truth to tell, you don't deserve it.
Are any of these shows like Lost or 24 or the Office or Arrested Development or Seinfeld; are they destined for prolonged excellence? Its too soon to tell, but somehow I doubt that Dexter is the next Seinfeld.
So, the writers struck (striked? strook?) and we are left with less TV, which may not be such a bad thing. I can see more movies and have a chance to get more of a social life. I can take that cruise I've always been joking about. I can go skydiving or learn to samba or to make a creme brulee with only the crackable tops. But, I'm not going to do any of these things because re-runs are on, and I can't miss those. Watching those shows again, reminds me of the nostalgia I used to have... (wait, I talked about that already?). Right, at some point, I should talk about the top 5 shows I have listed above or maybe some other quality shows and characters like Sylar from Heroes or Barney from How I Met Your Mother or Saracen from Friday Night Lights or Dr. G. House from House, or Lex Luthor from Smallville, or the Turk-J.D. relationship from Scrubs or... man, I watch way too much TV.
I have to return some videotapes,
Mark "PB" Ellis
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Organized Chaos
My dearest reader,
as I sit here watching some hilarious new Dave Attell material, I reflect on the complexity of my weekend. It started off quickly on Friday when I rushed home to watch a substantial amount of television and recover the remnants of my ailing voice.
Not sure if you remember that I had a football game scheduled for Saturday, but I did, and it happened, so eat it. I arrived at the location about 2 hours early and panicked for about 2 hours. At the scheduled time, there was only me with one other person, who would destroy me in a game of 1 on 1 football, which would be a lot like American Gladiators. When the people finally started arriving, I was able to stop quivering, but I did deface a park monument... in a good way.
In my efforts to integrate the various groups of friends I had invited, I shared my newest reading material with the group. While many of them (all of them) mocked me and my heterosexual credentials for choosing the new Nicholas Sparks book, I felt my football playing amigos (and comrades) were secretly enchanted by the Notebook and were afraid to admit it (or at least they didn't hate it as much as they say they did). Of course, self-depricating humor is a great method of uniting a divided crowd, so with this orchestrated stroke, they could all relate to each other, if only to mock me for my effeminate reading material. So, my intricate strategy of easing everyone into a good mood worked. And yes, it was part of my plan to loosen the crowd.
Now, just because I planned the whole thing out and introduced the book to the group solely to make everyone feel at ease (and because it was a funny bit) does not mean that I'm not going to be reading the book and relishing every beautiful word in a silky bubble bath with a glass of red wine, while listening to Enya. I'm just kidding... I wouldn't drink red wine in the tub because of the danger of spillage... and white wine is better for my pores anyway.
The game itself was great because of the impressive turnout (15 people), warm temperatures (40's F.), some laid-back participants (hung-over players), competitive banter (trash talk), a muddy field (field was muddy), last second heroics (game came down to the last play), and nobody cried... after the first two plays... when we moved the baby out of the corner. (That's what we call Jennifer. Actually, not one Jennifer showed up.)
So, we took our "nobody crying" streak to a Mexican restaurant and had some drinks. Then, we went to an Irish pub to have some drinks. Then, we went to a bar of indeterminate heritage, to have some drinks. It was worth noting that the bartender had a phu man chu, which really highlighted his bright red hair. He also seemed to be one of the more unhappier people I have ever met because he combined a depressed look (slumped shoulders, teary eyes) with frustration (frequent sighing and lazy waving of his arms), and bitterness (scowling expression and gruff retorts). Or maybe I was just projecting. It was a fun place though, you should check it out. (See Papa Bear's New York Guide Book, a book which I am shamelessly plugging even though it does not exist and I have no intention or desire to write it.) But, importantly, I did find out that Hoboken is apparently the Paris of New Jersey, which of course is a dubious honor.
Overall, it was a good crew of people. It was sad that my friends (who were not part of the football team) wanted to be part of our team, but there are no spots open. So, you, Reader 212, are not invited either... and if I do invite you, don't tell those people. As we all parted, I went to watch the boxing match where I sat with 20 Americans, with just about every one of them rooting for some British jerk over a charismatic American jerk. Go figure.
Oh, and then Sunday happened. That was cool too.
Still correcting the paperwork of my life,
Mark stet Ellis
as I sit here watching some hilarious new Dave Attell material, I reflect on the complexity of my weekend. It started off quickly on Friday when I rushed home to watch a substantial amount of television and recover the remnants of my ailing voice.
Not sure if you remember that I had a football game scheduled for Saturday, but I did, and it happened, so eat it. I arrived at the location about 2 hours early and panicked for about 2 hours. At the scheduled time, there was only me with one other person, who would destroy me in a game of 1 on 1 football, which would be a lot like American Gladiators. When the people finally started arriving, I was able to stop quivering, but I did deface a park monument... in a good way.
In my efforts to integrate the various groups of friends I had invited, I shared my newest reading material with the group. While many of them (all of them) mocked me and my heterosexual credentials for choosing the new Nicholas Sparks book, I felt my football playing amigos (and comrades) were secretly enchanted by the Notebook and were afraid to admit it (or at least they didn't hate it as much as they say they did). Of course, self-depricating humor is a great method of uniting a divided crowd, so with this orchestrated stroke, they could all relate to each other, if only to mock me for my effeminate reading material. So, my intricate strategy of easing everyone into a good mood worked. And yes, it was part of my plan to loosen the crowd.
Now, just because I planned the whole thing out and introduced the book to the group solely to make everyone feel at ease (and because it was a funny bit) does not mean that I'm not going to be reading the book and relishing every beautiful word in a silky bubble bath with a glass of red wine, while listening to Enya. I'm just kidding... I wouldn't drink red wine in the tub because of the danger of spillage... and white wine is better for my pores anyway.
The game itself was great because of the impressive turnout (15 people), warm temperatures (40's F.), some laid-back participants (hung-over players), competitive banter (trash talk), a muddy field (field was muddy), last second heroics (game came down to the last play), and nobody cried... after the first two plays... when we moved the baby out of the corner. (That's what we call Jennifer. Actually, not one Jennifer showed up.)
So, we took our "nobody crying" streak to a Mexican restaurant and had some drinks. Then, we went to an Irish pub to have some drinks. Then, we went to a bar of indeterminate heritage, to have some drinks. It was worth noting that the bartender had a phu man chu, which really highlighted his bright red hair. He also seemed to be one of the more unhappier people I have ever met because he combined a depressed look (slumped shoulders, teary eyes) with frustration (frequent sighing and lazy waving of his arms), and bitterness (scowling expression and gruff retorts). Or maybe I was just projecting. It was a fun place though, you should check it out. (See Papa Bear's New York Guide Book, a book which I am shamelessly plugging even though it does not exist and I have no intention or desire to write it.) But, importantly, I did find out that Hoboken is apparently the Paris of New Jersey, which of course is a dubious honor.
Overall, it was a good crew of people. It was sad that my friends (who were not part of the football team) wanted to be part of our team, but there are no spots open. So, you, Reader 212, are not invited either... and if I do invite you, don't tell those people. As we all parted, I went to watch the boxing match where I sat with 20 Americans, with just about every one of them rooting for some British jerk over a charismatic American jerk. Go figure.
Oh, and then Sunday happened. That was cool too.
Still correcting the paperwork of my life,
Mark stet Ellis
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Linked In
Hey again, my adoring fan,
I got my first angry caller last evening, and he was ranting about how Jerry Seinfeld is not Seinfeld; instead that Larry David was Seinfeld, which is just ludicrous. See below.
But, first off, this is not a radio show, this is a web-based dialogue, where I do most of the dialoguery. So, shut your trap hole, and/or type words. I have taken great pains to add blogging to my repertoire and I have little interest in engaging in real time live debate with you regarding topics that are more fluidly constructed on the page (where I have the decided advantage... because I am taller here.)
Second off, I was speaking with a family member who got disheartened when he found out from the blog that I was not feeling well. It turns out that the blog is now my conduit to relay information about myself, which is pretty sweet. Even though it upset a reader (and a family member) that I had little else to add to the telephone conversation (because he knew about the sickness,) we could proceed to how he was doing.
So, I have now used the blog to replace telephone conversations with people because unless they are calling to catch me up on some important tidbit about their day or their life (e.g. Brad Pitt left Jennifer Anniston to go out with Angelina Jolie,) I no longer have anything to say about my day. And isn't that why people talk to me? To be entertained for three to seven minutes?
Thank goodness that I removed telephone calls from repertoire because the talking really puts a strain on my beautiful voice (i.e. frequency distortion, which alters my voice from a soulful depth to a robotic gruff.)
Third off, I wanted to clarify my policy regarding links. I support links and I would like to include a link section in my blog to other blogs and websites (when someone shows Papa Bear how to use this gizmo), but at this point in time, I have no intention to make daily links a part of my repertoire.
The daily links to other good material would be an unnecessary way for me to avoid typing (which is not really that difficult for my rich, textured fingers.)
Finally off, I just wanted to let you know that my football game with cones is going down this Saturday at the date and time I specified, so if you are supposed to be there, be there. If you are not supposed to be there...
As playing football has now been part of my weekly repertoire for almost 8 months, I feel like my teammates and I are properly linked and and synched and I don't have to call them to remind them. But I will anyway... unless I get lazy... which I probably will. So, this is the reminder.
My number one fan,
ME
PS: You can tell by the name of the show, Seinfeld, which guy held all of those cooky characters together. He was more than the substance of that show; he was the funny glue guy. Would the show be able to move forward without a George or a Kramer or an Elaine? Of course, they could replace any one of them with a summer George or a zany neighbor without skipping a beat. And lest you say that Larry David was the guy behind the scenes, I tell you, nay, as I dare you to try to figure out which seasons Larry David picked to skip out on. Why? Because when he was gone, the show did not miss a heart-beat. I'm not saying Curb or Larry David is not funny, I saw him do a bit about Hitler and magic that was extremely funny; I am just saying that Seinfeld was hilarious because Jerry as the straight man took all of these funny guys and made them hilarious.
Sorry about my rant there, but Thursday night watching Seinfeld (TV program) with my parents and brother (family members) eating Hunan Park (Chinese food) was the most important part of my repertoire growing up and it linked me with all that is good and funny in this world (though mostly funny, and Superman taught me what was good. Flying is good.) (Though I really hate ending these things with something in parentheses.)
I got my first angry caller last evening, and he was ranting about how Jerry Seinfeld is not Seinfeld; instead that Larry David was Seinfeld, which is just ludicrous. See below.
But, first off, this is not a radio show, this is a web-based dialogue, where I do most of the dialoguery. So, shut your trap hole, and/or type words. I have taken great pains to add blogging to my repertoire and I have little interest in engaging in real time live debate with you regarding topics that are more fluidly constructed on the page (where I have the decided advantage... because I am taller here.)
Second off, I was speaking with a family member who got disheartened when he found out from the blog that I was not feeling well. It turns out that the blog is now my conduit to relay information about myself, which is pretty sweet. Even though it upset a reader (and a family member) that I had little else to add to the telephone conversation (because he knew about the sickness,) we could proceed to how he was doing.
So, I have now used the blog to replace telephone conversations with people because unless they are calling to catch me up on some important tidbit about their day or their life (e.g. Brad Pitt left Jennifer Anniston to go out with Angelina Jolie,) I no longer have anything to say about my day. And isn't that why people talk to me? To be entertained for three to seven minutes?
Thank goodness that I removed telephone calls from repertoire because the talking really puts a strain on my beautiful voice (i.e. frequency distortion, which alters my voice from a soulful depth to a robotic gruff.)
Third off, I wanted to clarify my policy regarding links. I support links and I would like to include a link section in my blog to other blogs and websites (when someone shows Papa Bear how to use this gizmo), but at this point in time, I have no intention to make daily links a part of my repertoire.
The daily links to other good material would be an unnecessary way for me to avoid typing (which is not really that difficult for my rich, textured fingers.)
Finally off, I just wanted to let you know that my football game with cones is going down this Saturday at the date and time I specified, so if you are supposed to be there, be there. If you are not supposed to be there...
As playing football has now been part of my weekly repertoire for almost 8 months, I feel like my teammates and I are properly linked and and synched and I don't have to call them to remind them. But I will anyway... unless I get lazy... which I probably will. So, this is the reminder.
My number one fan,
ME
PS: You can tell by the name of the show, Seinfeld, which guy held all of those cooky characters together. He was more than the substance of that show; he was the funny glue guy. Would the show be able to move forward without a George or a Kramer or an Elaine? Of course, they could replace any one of them with a summer George or a zany neighbor without skipping a beat. And lest you say that Larry David was the guy behind the scenes, I tell you, nay, as I dare you to try to figure out which seasons Larry David picked to skip out on. Why? Because when he was gone, the show did not miss a heart-beat. I'm not saying Curb or Larry David is not funny, I saw him do a bit about Hitler and magic that was extremely funny; I am just saying that Seinfeld was hilarious because Jerry as the straight man took all of these funny guys and made them hilarious.
Sorry about my rant there, but Thursday night watching Seinfeld (TV program) with my parents and brother (family members) eating Hunan Park (Chinese food) was the most important part of my repertoire growing up and it linked me with all that is good and funny in this world (though mostly funny, and Superman taught me what was good. Flying is good.) (Though I really hate ending these things with something in parentheses.)
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
My Robot
Hello again my new friends,
I report to you for the first time since my short spell down south. If you saw someone in a Ford Mustang convertible driving through the streets of a Florida city (pulling a lot of Thelma and Louise moves), and then found that same person in uber-trendy night spots doing the robot, the chances are... you saw me twice... or someone who was doing the same things I did. But no one cares about that other guy.
So, you must be saying, "Tough Guys Don't Dance", (see Norman Mailer's sentiment). My response to you is that The Robot is not just any dance, like the tango, the polka, or the line dance... The Robot is like a state of mind, but mostly its a dance. So, there I was, doing the Robot for awhile, when from the right side (not my good side), I attracted the attention of a nearby bridal party of some kind (perhaps a bachelorette party, but there was one guy with them wearing a tux, and one girl wearing a wedding dress). And the guy, clearly saw my skills as a dancer and repeatedly encouraged me to dance with the group. To be fair, I had imbued a few drinks and it was a loud club, so I was not sure whether he kept trying to drag me out to the dance floor to dance with a particular girl (not wearing the wedding dress) or whether he was more interested in me for himself. Obviously, I'm moderately flattered either way, but I feel like my rep would be improved more if he was into me for himself, (not because I'm into guys or because its hip tha guys are into me, but more) because people (girls) always seem to think I would be great for someone else. "You would be great for my friend/sister/stranger {subtext, you are not good enough for me}" So, I'm not even sure which way I'd prefer to remember the incident. Maybe I will make that my next vote. I did dance with a girl from the group who was cute, but that's none of your business. But, ask me later and I'll tell you. But nothing happened. So, don't ask.
While I was there, I partook in several sporting events, including a Heat-Celtics game, which demonstrated how good the Celtics are and how dominant Shaq can still be on the defensive end as he stopped Garnett in the 4th quarter, pretty much entirely. Also note that the Miami Heat dancers are distractingly attractive. I actually kept the magazine of posters they gave out for free in the lobby. I carried the posters around and hid them like it was pornographic. It felt a little more pornographic since there was basically no indication that the posters were related to the Heat and the magazine could easily have been the advertisement for a high class strip club, or a medium class bordello. Not that I know the proper classes of these things. But, I would really break out my best Robot to impress those ladies.
But, the weekend's main event was the Loser Bowl. The Dolphins-Jets game was historic if but for one reason, which I will get to when I feel like it. Sure, the Jets won and half of my section were Jets fans, or apparently "snowbirds" as we're called, but the crowd was united in our agreement that the heat in Miami is nearly unbearable. After a few quarters, once the crowd no longer expected to see a close game, the crowd would literally cheer the clouds rolling by that would protect us all from the sweltering sun. We had Jets fans and Dolphins fans screaming at parents who were selfishly watching the game in the dangerous heat at the expense of their infants. Heat is apparently one of the few things that transcend sports; along with the two other things, which I don't know. It makes me wonder why animist religions (which include some fine respectable religions such as the soap opera that was the ancient Greek gods), worshipped the strong fearful sun and not the pleasant wayward clouds. Just goes to show, people naturally respect what they fear... and its easier to draw a smiley face on the sun, (ask any second grader).
But, all that Roboting has led me to catch the sickness. That combined with the fierce cold has placed my impending football game (with cones) in jeopardy (scaring away some easily intimidated players.) But, I digress because I have no complaints about the past sports weekend or the upcoming football game (with cones) weekend. Just know that if you are looking for a deity to pray upon (or did I mean "to prey to") that I do a really badass robot and its easy to draw a smiley face on me (ask any second grader).
Fear ME,
Papa Bear
I report to you for the first time since my short spell down south. If you saw someone in a Ford Mustang convertible driving through the streets of a Florida city (pulling a lot of Thelma and Louise moves), and then found that same person in uber-trendy night spots doing the robot, the chances are... you saw me twice... or someone who was doing the same things I did. But no one cares about that other guy.
So, you must be saying, "Tough Guys Don't Dance", (see Norman Mailer's sentiment). My response to you is that The Robot is not just any dance, like the tango, the polka, or the line dance... The Robot is like a state of mind, but mostly its a dance. So, there I was, doing the Robot for awhile, when from the right side (not my good side), I attracted the attention of a nearby bridal party of some kind (perhaps a bachelorette party, but there was one guy with them wearing a tux, and one girl wearing a wedding dress). And the guy, clearly saw my skills as a dancer and repeatedly encouraged me to dance with the group. To be fair, I had imbued a few drinks and it was a loud club, so I was not sure whether he kept trying to drag me out to the dance floor to dance with a particular girl (not wearing the wedding dress) or whether he was more interested in me for himself. Obviously, I'm moderately flattered either way, but I feel like my rep would be improved more if he was into me for himself, (not because I'm into guys or because its hip tha guys are into me, but more) because people (girls) always seem to think I would be great for someone else. "You would be great for my friend/sister/stranger {subtext, you are not good enough for me}" So, I'm not even sure which way I'd prefer to remember the incident. Maybe I will make that my next vote. I did dance with a girl from the group who was cute, but that's none of your business. But, ask me later and I'll tell you. But nothing happened. So, don't ask.
While I was there, I partook in several sporting events, including a Heat-Celtics game, which demonstrated how good the Celtics are and how dominant Shaq can still be on the defensive end as he stopped Garnett in the 4th quarter, pretty much entirely. Also note that the Miami Heat dancers are distractingly attractive. I actually kept the magazine of posters they gave out for free in the lobby. I carried the posters around and hid them like it was pornographic. It felt a little more pornographic since there was basically no indication that the posters were related to the Heat and the magazine could easily have been the advertisement for a high class strip club, or a medium class bordello. Not that I know the proper classes of these things. But, I would really break out my best Robot to impress those ladies.
But, the weekend's main event was the Loser Bowl. The Dolphins-Jets game was historic if but for one reason, which I will get to when I feel like it. Sure, the Jets won and half of my section were Jets fans, or apparently "snowbirds" as we're called, but the crowd was united in our agreement that the heat in Miami is nearly unbearable. After a few quarters, once the crowd no longer expected to see a close game, the crowd would literally cheer the clouds rolling by that would protect us all from the sweltering sun. We had Jets fans and Dolphins fans screaming at parents who were selfishly watching the game in the dangerous heat at the expense of their infants. Heat is apparently one of the few things that transcend sports; along with the two other things, which I don't know. It makes me wonder why animist religions (which include some fine respectable religions such as the soap opera that was the ancient Greek gods), worshipped the strong fearful sun and not the pleasant wayward clouds. Just goes to show, people naturally respect what they fear... and its easier to draw a smiley face on the sun, (ask any second grader).
But, all that Roboting has led me to catch the sickness. That combined with the fierce cold has placed my impending football game (with cones) in jeopardy (scaring away some easily intimidated players.) But, I digress because I have no complaints about the past sports weekend or the upcoming football game (with cones) weekend. Just know that if you are looking for a deity to pray upon (or did I mean "to prey to") that I do a really badass robot and its easy to draw a smiley face on me (ask any second grader).
Fear ME,
Papa Bear
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