Hoping for Better

Bill has been watching his copy of The Return of the King and he as a quibble:

Aragorn is not as inspiring as he could have been, I can't find fault with Mortensen's performance, so I'm going to have to lay blame at the feet of the writers for choosing to make him so reluctant to become King. Specifically, they make it seem like he only takes up Anduril because Arwen is dying. This pretty much emasculates the character.

Well yes, exactly. It does emasculate the character and it is the writer's fault. Tolkien's Aragorn is first-and-foremost a leader of man, hardened by years of war against the Shadow, a kingly man with an air of command and stern dignity recognized by all who encounter him. Yet in Jackson's films - especially the third - he agonizes over whether to wield Anduril and claim the crown of Gondor like some spotty emo teen agonizing over whether or not to ask the popular girl out on a date. And as Bill points out, it's not Mortensen's fault - he gave a damn fine performance based on the script given to him.

It's no accident that I consider the first film, The Fellowship of the Ring, to be the best of the bunch. Of the three, it is the film that remains closest in the viewing to Tolkien's story and characters. Starting with The Two Towers we see the onset of the tweaking with the introduction of Faramir and the mystifying scenes with Arwen. Not enough to ruin the film, but enough to make me uneasy.

In The Return of the King this tweaking ran wild, and left me very disappointed. We have the continuing emasculation of Aragorn followed by his inexplicable action hero take ("For Frodo!" Gag...) at the battle before the Black Gate. There is that damnable bit involving Frodo sending Sam away and Sam actually leaving* and don't even get me started on the whole slow-motion-let's-all-frolic-on-the-bed-scene which left me vaguely wondering if I had stumbled on to a pointy eared version of Eight Is Enough.

I'm hoping the extended version of the third film, rumored to be five hours long will improve the film, and if not undoing the damage mentioned above, at least atone for it somehow.

*I confess I am a big enough Tolkien geek that this bit enraged me. First of all, anyone who knows LOTR knows that Sam would never leave Frodo, even for a short period, unless Frodo was dead. Never - his entire being is centered on his loyalty to Frodo.

Secondly, I either read or heard somewhere that Jackson made this change to add more dramatic tension to the story, which makes me want to whack him upside his Kiwi head. Fer chrissake dude, your story already involves two guys pushed nearly beyond their endurance, trying to save the world, with a traitor in their midst. You. Don't Need. More. Drama. Than. That.

The Gambler(s)

The May issue of Washington Monthly contained an article title "Jack of Smarts," by Justin Peters purporting to explain the sudden popularity of poker. Naturally, some poker bloggers weighed in with their opinions on the piece. And naturally, I can't resist adding my own $0.02.

First of all, I agree with Mr. Cole that the current 'poker boom' is not due as Mr. Peters states, to the movies and the internet, but to television. Specifically, the keyhole cameras that allow viewers to see what cards the players are holding. Previously televised poker was as exciting as watching porcupines mate; now I know of plenty of people who don't even play that tune into the Travel Channel to watch The World Poker Tour. To quote Mr. Cole directly:

I am as big a fan of the internet as anyone, but claiming the internet caused the increase in popularity is as silly as the rest of the psychological nonsense in Peters piece. The interest was caused by the television, and the internet merely provided an outlet to fulfill the thirst for the game.

Mr. Peters goes to a lot of trouble to try and explain why poker is so popular among the 'Internet generation' because "Every generation gambles, but how they gamble says something about the spirit of the age. We'll leave aside his delusion that the poker craze is somehow limited to or the sole province of the 'Internet generation' and move to some his explanations for the game's appeal, such as...

The answer may be that the popular image of the game has undergone a subtle recasting--one with a great attraction to ironic youngsters like me who find in the game the same slightly glamorous, slightly seedy, go-getter spirit that characterized the Internet boom.

..or better yet:

The myth and aura of the game have perhaps never before been in such perfect accord with the aspirations of a generation. In the post-tech-boom years, the archetype of male success and cool mixes laddish cockiness and financial acumen.

This is a whole of gibberish to explain something very obvious. Oddly enough, Mr. Peters touches on this explanation in a way:

...no one looked for glory or drama in modern poker anymore. To callow youth like me, the game looked like just another thing that Babbitty men did, like the Rotary club, or golf. People's dads played poker.

People's dads - or granddads - also drank martinis. Wore fedoras. Watched black and white movies. And so on... it's really very simple. Poker has always been an exciting, absorbing game, just as martinis have always been a very fine drink. Just because younger generations may occasionally forget these fact or deliberately ignore them (after all if dad likes something, it can't be cool) does not make them any less true. The new manner of televising poker simply reminded a lot of people - and not just the 'Internet generation' - of this truth.

Critical Mass, or, Seeing Brian Cox

There comes a time in every movie freak's career, when an actor moves from being 'that guy'* to an indentifiable person, from being someone vaguely familiar to an acotr you recognize and whose presence in a film you welcome.

The turning point, when this process reaches critical mass, comes when you see the actor in a role you enjoy and make a point of finding out who he (or she is). Then, that actor starts poppping up all over the place in subsequent movies. Finally you realize you've seen 'that guy' in plenty of previous films.

I reached critical mass with Brian Cox in the movie Super Troopers, where he plays the redoubtable Capt. John O'Hagan. Shortly thereafter, he popped up in The Ring as the sinister island dweller Richard Morgan. The other night I killed some time watching the DVD of The Corruptor and who should materialize as Mark Whalberg's bad see father? Why Brian Cox of course.

A quick trip to IMBd.com confirmed what I had begun to suspect: Brian Cox is my own personal Michael Caine, an actor everywhere. Over the last ten years I've seen him in the following films - and for most of the time I was completely unaware of him:
Rob Roy - 1995
Braveheart - 1995
Kiss the Girls - 1997
The Boxer - 1997
The Corruptor - 1999
Super Troopers - 2001
The Bourne Identity - 2002
The Ring - 2002

And that's not evening mention all the films he was in that I've heard of but never seen.

Apparently I gravely underestimated Mr. Cox.

*As in 'who is that guy? I know I've seen him in something else.'

The Archives of Minas Tirith

For my fellow Tolkien fans - an online collection of some 140 odd essays on the man and his works. Lots of interesting material to read through.

Just Rewards

I cannot tell you how pleased I am to be ranked 3rd on Google's search results for 'figgy dowdy.'

Seriously.

I extend a hearty welcome to all of you who come here in search of figgy dowdy, whether ye be antiquarian chefs, O'Brian afficionados, or folks who loves words that you can roll around on your tongue like hard candy.

Derek Lowe: Scarier Than a Clown

When he's on the mound anyway.

This season, the suggestion has been maybe Lowe is pitching FOR the contract he's due at the end of the year, and thus putting extra pressure on himself. We all know how Lowe displays himself under pressure. Like the kid at a Dead concert who ate too many of the brown stamps.

Sigh. I do want him to pitch well. We need him to pitch well.

The Madison

I watched Band of Outsiders this past weekend. To be honest, I'm still not quite sure what to make of it - which perhaps means that when it comes to cinema I'm lacking in discernment.

That's not to say I didn't enjoy the film. Or at least parts of it, which is probably why I'm not sure what to make of Band of Outsiders: I liked certain scenes much better than I liked the film as a whole. Like the one depicted above, where the three main characters dance 'the Madison' together.* I could watch that whole scene again and again. Or Odile's reverie on the Metro, which is interspersed with some astonishingly beautiful shots of Paris. But taken as whole, the movie left sort of... puzzled... as in 'that's it? That's what all the fuss was about?'

But hey - maybe it's just me. I'll certainly be watching it again.

*Was this an inspiration for Tarantino's dance sequences in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction? I suppose I could google this question, but maybe one of my dozen-odd readers is fan of both Tarantino and Godard?

The Envelope Please

According to this my 'type' is ISTJ which means that I am a:

moderately expressed introvert
moderately expressed sensing personality
slightly expressed thinking personality
very expressed judging personality

A more detailed explanation can be found here...

ISTJs are easily frustrated by the inconsistencies of others, especially when the second parties don't keep their commitments. But they usually keep their feelings to themselves unless they are asked. And when asked, they don't mince words. Truth wins out over tact. The grim determination of the ISTJ vindicates itself in officiation of sports events, judiciary functions, or an other situation which requires making tough calls and sticking to them.

...and here:

These quiet, no-nonsense Guardians have a distaste for and distrust of fanciness in speech, dress, and living space. Their words tend to be simple and down-to-earth, not showy or high-flown; their clothes are often homespun and conservative rather than of the latest fashion; and their home and work environments are usually neat, orderly, and traditional, rather than up-to-date or luxurious. In their choice of personal property (cars, furnishings, jewelry, and so on) price and durability are just as important as comfort or appearance. Classics, antiques, and heirlooms are especially valued, having achieved a certain time-honored status—Inspectors prefer the old-fashioned to the newfangled every time. Even on vacation, Inspectors tend not to be attracted by exotic foods, beverages, or locales.

I would like to take this moment to assure my readers that I do not wear 'home-spun' clothing. I also eat exotic foods. (Sushi counts as exotic, right?)

As far as the rest goes, well, sometimes, and sometimes not.

Heavy Metal Thunder

I don't write about politics or current events on this site for much the same reason I don't discuss these things with strangers in bars: the resulting exchange is usually less a dialogue than two people talking (or shouting) past one another.

However I certainly follow, and read about, politics and current events a great deal. Some of the places I visit are listed on my blogroll, and there many others. In an effort to stay informed I look to a variety of sources, mainstream and independent, liberal and conservative, and many points in between. And in doing so, I always try to remain aware of how the news I'm reading has been spun or manipulated by the person or persons presenting it.

The ocasional nostalgic foray aside, it's been a long time since I've considered myself a metalhead. Prior to today I'd never heard of the band Iced Earth and it's leader Jon Schaffer. But in reading this interview I can't help but admire Schaffer's forthright way of expressing himself and the direct manner in which he confronts his interviewer's bias. A few examples...

BW&BK: "Do you think 9/11 will be viewed as the first event in the US empire's decline and fall?"
JS: "No. This is not an empire, first of all. If the United States was an empire, your country would be our 51st state."

BW&BK: "So you don't see the Bush regime as being cultural imperialists? You don't see them as trying to force the American way of life on to a nation that maybe doesn't want it?"
JS: "No. If you think that's true, then why are 70 or 80 percent of the people are thrilled to have us there. Have you not seen that? And it's not a regime, by the way. You keep up that kind of language I'm going to end the interview right now."
BW&BK: "Ok. I understand."
JS: "I'm serious."
BW&BK: "I'm sorry. It's just my Canadian bias I guess."
JS: "Yeah, it is your Canadian bias. I'm sure it is."

BW&BK: "I'm glad you ended it on that note. I'm as proud to be Canadian as you are to be American. Your words speak for themselves, and I don't know how I could spin this story."
JS: "Well, that's cool. But the way you asked your questions, you were asking biased questions. Calling our president the Bush regime? That's a tainted thing, dude. That's not like saying, 'How do you feel about President Bush?' Saying 'Bush Regime' is a bullshit way of saying it. That's spin, alright? But you can say it however you want. It's in your hands. You're the one who has to live with it, not me. Because I'm cool with who I am.

For another good example of media bias, take look at Jason Van Steenwyk's thorough analysis of the way multiple major news outlets presented - and distorted - a press conference with USMC Gen. Mattis.*

Like I said before, I don't write about politics and current events here. I'm not interested in trying to sway anyone's opinions or change their minds. I do encourage, strongly encourage, people to dig deep and think for themselves. Seek out a variety of sources and opinions. Don't parrot the rhetoric of the right and left - be an informed citizen.

*Jason's site Iraq Now carries some damn fine media analysis. I highly recommend it.

#33, or There Can Be Only One.

And I'm not talking Rolling Rock here. I'm referring to the 33rd event of the World Series of Poker, the Main Event - the $10,000 No Limit Texas Hold 'Em that decides who is crowned the World Champion of Poker. Last year, the event drew a (then) record 839 entries; this year the number of contestants sky-rocketed to 2,576 players. The winner - the last man (or woman) standing will take home about $5 million in prize money, as well the traditional platinum winner's bracelet.

You can visit here to see some pretty good coverage of the Main Event, including a database with players and chip counts, as well as some pictures. That is, if you're into that sort of thing - if you want to know if Doyle Brunson is still in the running, or what Chris 'Jesus' Ferguson's chip count is - and lord knows I am. I wouldn't recognize Lindsay Lohan (she is a famous person, right?) if she emerged from a crowd to bite my barely existing skinny Irish ass, nor can I identify Justin the nSync guy unless he's in proper context*, but I can pick Annie Duke or Phil Hellmuth out of a crowd.

Ah well, it's a harmless obsession.

*right context=on stage somewhere="That nSync guy seems kinda android like"
*wrong context=picking his nose when he thinks the interviewer isn't looking="Gross. Who is that guy?"

Another Brain Dead Columnist

Jim Donaldson of the Providence Journal says Red Sox fans are unhappy, despite the team's success:

You'd think, given all that, that Sox fans would be ecstatic. That they'd be enjoying the moment.

You would think that, unless you had spent significant time in New England, and thus come to understand the tortured psyche of the true Red Sox rooter -- an angst-ridden, long-suffering soul, who, at least subconsciously, considers himself cursed and isn't really happy unless he's miserable.

Bruce at Boston Sports Media Watch* has a lovely riposte:

Can't a highly paid journalist at least come up with his own material? Does Shaughnessy get a cut of this? If I was Dan, I'd be demanding one. And who's fixated on the players? I don't know any fans that are "fretting" about it...but I know that there are stories in the paper everyday about the free agents to be...

Donaldson's column is, of course, condescending bullshit. And it annoys me to no end. I expect foreigners to the Red Sox Nation, and those that live outside of New England to indulge in all sorts of claptrap about curses and haunted Red Sox fans. But I would expect a 'highly paid' journalist to get out of his ivory pressbox and make an effort to find out what the the fans of the sport he's expected to cover are really thinking. Or failing that, to just keep his mouth shut and stop telling us what we're supposedly thinking or feeling.

*By the way, if you're a Boston sports fan this should be a daily stop for you. Especially if you're living behind enemy lines and need a guide to all the news 'bout the Sox.

Smack the Bunny

Bunny now has comments enabled. Go say hello. Ask him to write out the tale of his infamous close encounter with Ben Affleck.

Ben Affleck Esse Delendam

Ben Affleck is stalking me.

Not in person I must admit; he's not following me home from work, or calling me and hanging up when I answer, or sending me suspicious packages. Not yet anyway.

But I can't look at a television screen without Affleck's pumpkinhead floating into view. Which may seem odd, considering how little television I watch. But - if I do watch TV it's to see the Red Sox game or Red Sox related programming - and in that case, Ben Affleck. Is. Always. Fucking. There.

This may have been going on for some time, but I first noticed last season. Almost invariably any home game broadcast involved an ongoing montage of shots of his beefy face. Maybe with a brief interview. Ugh.

To make matters worse, our retarded local media is apparently playing along, seemingly determined to market Affleck as some sort of Boston baseball every-fan. Last night footage of Nomar's charity event was playing, and of curse, there was Ben, hugging Nomar. The station (and I can't recall which one it was) helpfully ran the following caption under Affleck's mug:

Ben Affleck, Red Sox fan

Oh yes, indeed. Don't be fooled by the celebrity lifestyle that he's got, he's still (he's still) Benny from the block.

I Write the Songs

Or at least I list 'em. Frequently. This list was lifted from somewhere else. Because the blank spaces are scaring me today.

Song that most makes me want to kick someone's ass
That awful one that drones on about a little bit of Monica, Erica, whatever. This song makes me see red and scream in aural pain.

Jump Around works too.

Most Romantic Song
Throw Your Arms Around Me by Hunter & Collectors. Hands down, no question. Shame on you if you don't know this song.

Best Song For Seducing The Ladies
My inability to come with an answer this might explain a lot. Social D, Johnny Cash, The Replacements - they don't really seem to set 'the mood.'

Although I suppose if any of the above ever do I should probably marry the girl. Like instantly.

Secret Shame Favorite Song
I can only pick one? Very well, I confess. It's Obsession by Animotion.

You can laugh now. Go ahead.

Why Not?

Not much percolating upstairs today. I'll probably throwing random bits and pieces up here over the course of the afternoon.



Dorothy Parker writes you, you wonderfully urbane,
witty boozehound, you.


Which Author's Fiction are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

While we're on the subject of authors and fiction, this is a cool site, a free online library of classics.

I gotta admit though, the idea of reading all of Dumas' Three Musketeers books on line makes my eyes bleed.

Friday Morning Coming Down

Watching Derek Lowe 'pitch' fills me with a mad urge to start breaking things.

Just saying.

From the Mouth Of Babes

Once again, I missed the trend wagon. From an article published back in January, six and seven year olds review some classic rock tunes. My personal favorite is their take on Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song:

What the grown-ups say: "... bulldozer rhythms and Plant's double-tracked wordless vocal croonings echoing behind the main vocal like some cannibal chorus wailing in the infernal light of a savage fertility rite." (Rolling Stone)

What the kids say:

Holly: This isn't singing, it's just screaming.

Benjamin: I like the screaming.

Holly: I really like it apart from the screaming.

Ben: Is he upset?

Gabrielle: This sounds like Busted.

Sophie; It's a witch singing.

Beth: It's kind of eeeevol. I'm going to watch Lord Of The Rings Three next week.

Holly: No you're not.

Beth: Am.

Holly: Not.

Attention span: 43 seconds.

You Don't Say

You're a Classic Cup 'O' Joe!


What Kind of Coffee are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

No Mas

Bill McCabe has the latest dope on the final Star Wars prequel. And it ain't pretty.

I don't think I'll bother seeing this. I just wrote a post largely about the extreme care some directors took in bringing another's fictional creation to the silver screen. So why on earth should I spend my dollars to see a movie by a man who clearly has zero respect for his own creation?

I'm all done with Star Wars.

And far far away, an icicle begins to grow in Hell.

Underrated Bands

Mitch at A Shot in the Dark has a great post up about underrated bands, bands that he feels "saw a glimpse of fame - and have seen their body of work unjustly poo-poohed."

I agree with him 100% about Big Country. Anybody else have any bands they'd nomiate for this honor?

No Man is a Temptation Island

I will be completely unable to resist this - The Good, the Bad and The Ugly (Extended Version Collectors Set). Featuring the newly restored and extended version that I foolishly missed at the Brattle.

Maybe I can hold out until my birthday.

Greatly Loved Books

The other night I passed an hour or so watching the extras on the Master and Commander DVD. One of these extras features Peter Weir discussing the process of adapting O'Brian's novel(s) to the screen, during the course of which he says something to the effect of 'it's very hard to make a great movie from a great book.' I would quibble with this statement only slightly, amending it to 'it's very hard to make a great movie from a greatly loved book.' War and Peace is undoubtedly a 'great' book, but greatly loved? In contrast, arguments will rage over whether The Lord of the Rings is a 'great' book, but is undeniably greatly loved.

It seems to me that more often than not, greatly loved books are marked by an emphasis on the characters. Take O'Brian's novels for example - of the twenty-odd volumes I would be hard-pressed to remember more than a handful of plots, yet the characters of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Mathurin remain as clear and vivid in my mind's eye as the hour I first encountered them. Aside from the struggle at Reichenbach Falls most of the conundrums faced by Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes have vanished from memory, but I would have no trouble recognizing Holmes and Watson were I to run into them on the street. Even Tolkien's characters, often criticized as wooden, have a wonderfully long shelf life. Who can forget Gandalf, by turns ruthless and compassionate, merry and outright cranky, or the bluff, hearty yet doomed Boromir?

It is the seeming reality of these characters, and the attachment readers form to them, that makes translating a greatly loved book to screen such a challenging endeavor. Only the most rigid of purists would deny the need to make some changes to the story of The Lord of the Rings in order to bring it to the cinema. But to make gross alterations to the natures of the various characters - well then the screams would have been long and loud. The ultimate success of that film lies at bottom in Jackson's remaining true to the characters.* Changes are made to the course of events, but Gandalf never does anything, well, un-Gandalf-like. Sam Gamgee is not depicted as wisecracking hipster in order to make the character 'relevant.' Weir too showed the same care in his rendition of Aubrey and Mathurin. Russell Crowe may be much thinner than O'Brian's Aubrey, but he does not do or so anything that a long-time reader of the works can't imagine him doing or saying. Crowe-as-Aubrey does not make politically correct speeches about the unfortunate necessity of war. Instead he strides across the screen as O'Brian imagined him: a man not only devoted to carrying out his duty to King and Country, but a man completely and utterly at home in making war on the French over the seas.

* My disappointment with The Return of the King is rooted in the fact that Jackson seemed to forget this emphasis on remaining true to the characters. But that's a post for another day - I'm the extending version of the film makes up for some of those sins.

The Ancient Enemy

I find much of what John Derbyshire writes to be... distasteful. So I was rather surprised to come across this column on the struggle of civilization and barbarism.

Exile in Guyville

I'll always have soft spot in my heart for Baltimore. On the whole, it's my kinda town, albeit the whole tool fixation escapes me.

If small grunts escape your lips when you look at double-bevel sliding compound miter saws. . . . If you tried to serve beer and pizza at your wedding. . . . If you own more remote controls than pairs of shoes. . . . Well, you might just be a guy. And you’re in luck. Despite the amount of male manicures we’ve seen, Baltimore is a quintessential guy’s town. Heck, our Mayor even has a rock band. Of course, things used to be even better: back when the people at Orioles game were more “Wild Bill Hagy” and less “Bryce and his executive management wine-and-cheese cronies.” Back when bars were called “Red” something or other because the owner’s name was Red. Back when you could order a Natty Boh at said bars. Yet despite that, Charm City is still a long way from being the metrosexual capital of the Eastern Seaboard. We remain a blue-collar guy’s town. And this guide shows you how to take full advantage of it. Commence burping.

The Bunny Speaks

Oh frabjuous day! Callooh! Callay! Bunny now has his own blog!

Yes, it's true - now you can hear the stories of our misadventures from the perspective of the Thirsty Bunny - fellow road-dog, co-conspirator, and wingman.

His first full post is titled The Irony of Life: A Quartet of Misery Performed In Eighteen Minutes, relating an episode of disaster unparalleled in our combined histories of interacting with females like a house on fire. A house on fire that burns to the ground because the fire department never shows up.

The Glamorous Life

A brief glimpse into how the jet set - at least the Have-Southwest-Will-Fly-For-Beer-Jet-Set - prepares for New Year's.

Pictures are fun, but this post may be removed at a later time to protect the innocent.

Born Free

While generally good-natured, beagles can be quite determined - even dangerous - when stalking their prey.

Still No Original Content

But until I dredge up some obscure topic to poke at with my internet stick, enjoy this list of The 10 Eightiest Movies

As agreed upon by rad analysts, the ‘80s was the best decade for films. The comedies were actually funny, the stupid action movies were stupid in a GOOD way and any time a scene got slow a mannequin would spring to life or a dog would annoy Chuck Norris. This made compiling a list of the Ten Eightiest Movies as difficult as a parent picking their favorite child, only all their children are hilarious foreign exchange students and John Candy.

I'm sure at least one of your favorites made the list.

Deja Vu All Over Again

Here we have a case of art imitating life...

The Savior of Fenway

Over the course of the final two games of the American League Championship Series between the Boston Red Sox and their bitter rival, the Yankees, a Quincy bar bursts at its seams with the anxiety experienced by three friends who live every moment in hopes of a Red Sox victory...

This sounds eerily familiar.

UPDATE:
I'm thinking that I really need to go see this. The playwright, Brendon Bates, seems to get it.

I love Red Sox fans. I love them because they embody the definition of being a diehard. A diehard fan does not remember Buckner when he hears the number 1986; he remembers Henderson. A diehard does not remember Bucky Dent; he remembers Fisk. He does not remember Wakefield in the eleventh inning of Game Seven; he remembers Derek Lowe in the bottom of the ninth against the A’s. Diehards do not follow one season after another because they are “masochistic“. They watch one long season after another because they feel the magic that emanates from the organization itself, from the mystique of Fenway, and they are moved by the fire they see burning within the eyes of Nomar, Dewey Evans, Bruce Hurst, Yaz, Williams, Pedro, Boggs, Varitek, among others. I have never experienced such loyalty, such love for an organization, in any other city.

Words cannot describe how excited I am to bring this show to Boston. I wrote this play for the diehards. The story, the language, the characters, the relationships, the intensity was born out of our community. There is no better place to present it. Although The Savior of Fenway was a huge success in New York City, where Yankee fans run wild like stray dogs, I am eager to share my passion with an audience that truly understands what it means to be a fan.

French Letters

Say what you will about the French - and there's certainly plenty to say - there are aspects of French culture that I thoroughly enjoy.

Obviously there's the cuisine. Mmmmmmmm...pate.

And there's music as well. The compilation Jazz A Saint-Germain is as good a means as any to get your feet wet; the tracks by Les Nubians and Angelique Kidjo are stand outs.

But most of all, I enjoy the French sense of style. Not style as in haute couture, since I'm far from being a clothes horse or a fashionista. I'm referring to style as it applies to film and acting.

Jean Reno is cooler than a dozen Brad Pitts or Ben Affleck. Exhibit A: Ronin. Exhibit B: The Professional.

Speaking of Jean Reno. La Femme Nikita was a far superior film to the insipid American remake.

But it goes beyond individual films and actors. The 'New Wave' of cinema that came out of post-war France heavily influenced many of the directors of the American film renaissance of the 1970s. Jean-Luc Godard in particular had a large impact on American filmmakers, one that is still felt today.* So I was delighted to come across a (reasonably) cheap copy of Godard's Band of Outsiders this weekend. I can't wait to watch it.

*I was fascinated to find out that the name of Quentin Tarantino's production company - A Band Apart is a tribute to Godard (Band of Outsiders tranlsates into French as Bande a part.)

Who You Calling A Geek, Geek?

At the beginning of the week Sheila wrote about geeks and what makes one a geek:

What "geek" seems to mean in this context is "I am incredibly passionate about something rather trivial, and I can tell you every teeny detail about that subject, and I'm kind of embarrassed at how much I know ... and yet ... here goes..."

It's as good a definition as any I've come across, and to me it means just about everyone has some geek in 'em. Unless you walk through life with blinders on, devoid of curiosity, then there's probably some subject that's piqued your interest and about which you know lots more than the average Joe.

She went on to list a whole bunch of things she knows waaay too much about, as did The Big Stupid One and The Most French Hatingest French Hater in New Jersey. Thus, in keeping with my tradition of bringing up the rear with these sort of things, here's my (by no means all encompassing) list of things I know too much about. I should note that I couldn't come up with a straight forward list of ten; rather I noted some areas I geek out on in general, and then pointed to a few specifics in those areas. So, onwards...

Books
My bibliophilia is well-documented here. But there are some authors about whom I've developed a perhaps unhealthy interest.
Tolkien
I lost track of the number of times I'd read LOTR somewhere after the 21st time. I was in the Fifth grade. It's been downhill since then.
Robert E. Howard
Best known as the creator of Conan, a character since bowdlerized in movies and comic, Howard was a prolific pulp writer, mainly published in Weird Tales.* I have spent the last 20 years seeking out long out-of-print books in order to complete my collection of Howard's writings.
Movies
Only my lust for more books exceeds my desire for more DVDs. I love movies -watching them, reading about them, and of course blabbing away about them.
Star Wars
This such an obligatory geek cred that it needs no further explanation.
quotes
Quotes from favorite movies invariably wend their way into my everyday speech. Longtime favorites in rotation: "I'm just as God made me" and (of course) Clemenza's famous "I love-a you so much I'm a-gonna die" bit. And I'm just as good at identifying other's favorite quotes.
Dr. Who
Strictly speaking this television, but what the hell. Thanks to the local PBS channel I saw the entire runs of John Pertwee, Tom Baker and Peter Davidson as the Doctor. I have battered VHS copies of favorite episodes.
History
As a five year old I was riveted to the World At War documentaries, much to my mother's chagrin. Once I learned how to read and that instead of awaiting the convenience of the TV schedule I could hit the library, I was off and running.
Warbirds
In other words, airplanes of the Second World War. Robert Johnson's memoir Thunderbolt gave birth to my fascination with planes of that conflict and the men who flew them. I have a battered sketch book filled with pencil drawings of these plans and if you and I are anywhere near a museum exhibiting these planes, rest assured I'll drag you through it.
Winston Churchill
Ask me about WSC -I'm happy to go on about him. And on, and on, and on. Just an absolutely fascinating man who led a fascinating life.

Allright. I'm going to stop here- I think you get the gist so I won't inflict on you - today anyways - ramblings about baseball (Red Sox), games (video games, Poker), martial arts (uechi-ryu) or any other subjects I have a tendency to be pedantic about.

*Bonus geek tidbit: A large number of writers of varying degrees of fame (probably depending on your interest in fantasy) published in Weird Tales. Among them: Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, Tennessee Williams, H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith and E. Hoffman Price.

Red Sox Mob

Speaking of the Godfather - if you loved the movie and the Red Sox, these two columns are reqired reading. Trust me.

The Godfather

At long last, The Godfather is available as a stand alone DVD.
Naturally I picked up a copy yesterday and watched most of the film after work.

My first thought after turning off the movie was 'what the hell happened to Al Pacino?' How did he go from brilliantly portraying the transformation of Michael Corleone from All American to ruthless capo, to awful scenery chewing roles in Scent of a Woman and that hideous Satanic lawyer thing?

My second thought was 'I have no need of any other Godfather DVDs.' The third one, of course, never really happened, and while I enjoy watching the second one, I have no desire to own it.* In my humble opinion there's too much missing by way of the cast - and the overall cast is the reason I love the first Godfather. Not just the big guns of Pacino and Brando, but everyone else. It seemed like each of the many character, no matter how small, had one spotluight scene - where that character was center stage and on display for the audience to understand. Take Clemenza (played by Richard S. Castellano) for example. The scene where's he prepping Michael for the Sollozo hit in the basement - that tells you everything you need to know about who Clemenza is and what he's about.

I miss these moments when watching the second film. The 'modern' storyline of Godfather II centers around Michael, who to me is a much less interesting character once he's actually become the Don. There's no Brando (who evidently declined to participate at the last moment), only a brief appearance by James Caan, and Duvall is relegated to an occasional brief and largely docile appearances. I prefer the broader canvas of the first movie, with it's crowded cast of characters.

*Unless of course there somehow came to be a DVD with just the DeNiro backstory portions of Godfather II. Those are my absolute favorite parts of that film.

Missing Persons

Into what nether regions has my blogroll disappeared?

Hell and damnation.

Physical Graffiti

Recently observed scrawl at the local:

Life is mighty in XXX XXXXXX
Ne'r Gon Back
To Dublin or Glasgow

Top Ten Rock n' Roll Books

Brought to you via The Guardian, the list in brief (with my comments) is as follows. I should note I haven't read a single one of them.

1. Hellfire by Nick Tosches
A bio of 'The Killer' aka Jerry Lee Lewis. Allirght, this could be good.
2.Elvis in the Twilight of Memory by June Juanico
Elvis' teenage sweetie cashes in. Blech.
3.Unbelievable: The Life, Death and Afterlife of the Notorious B.I.G. by Cheo Hodari Coker
This subject merits a whole book?
4.Take It Like A Man by Boy George
No interest in this at all.
5.The Life and Times of Little Richardby Charles White
I bet this is a reallllly interesting book. Little Richard is anything but closemouthed.
6.Yes Yes Y'All: An Oral History Of Hip-Hop's First Decade by Jim Fricke, Charlie Ahearn and Nelson George
Old school. I might add this to the ever-expanding list of titles to be acquired.
7.Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs by John Lydon
John Lydon. Of the Sex Pistols - the Monkees of punk rock. Next please.
8.X-Ray by Ray Davies
Ray Davies is a great songwriter - I'm curious to know how his memoirs come off.
9.Clubland Confidential by Frank Owen
Supposedly about New York club life in the 1990s. Yippee. Angsty rich kids on coke. I'd rather be lit on fire than forced to endure this book.
10.The Autobiography of PJ Proby (unpublished)
Whatever

As I said, I haven't read any of the titles above. My own list of rock n' roll books would have to include the following two titles.
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
From the Velvet Underground to the death of Johnny Thunders.
Hammer of the Gods: the Led Zeppelin Saga by Stephen Davis.
Whopping great fun. Read it and then go trash a hotel room.

I can't think of anymore rock n' roll books though. Any suggestions?

Tuesday Truisms Reloaded

Chris of pressure drop fame has come up with a list of Tuesday Truisms. I can't help but second a couple of them:

I'm a peaceful person, but I feel that people who hold up a convenience store line with their scratch card and lottery ticket purchases need to be beaten severely.

Oh yes indeed. Pay your 'stupid tax' if you must, but don't make me wait while you do.

Men should not wear ponytails. Middle-aged men attempting to halt the aging process by doing this need to have a sit-down with a loved one because they are horribly, horribly misinformed.

I could not agree more. Whenever I see a guy wearing a ponytail, I take an automatic dislike to him, even if I've never met the poor bastard. I'm intolerant that way - sue me.

Society would benefit greatly if adults could have recess, too.

I would change that to 'nap time.'

Go read the rest of them.

Jesus is Coming. Look Busy.

Now then. Sharing google searches that result in hits on your site is old hat for inspiration-starved bloggers.

But I can't help but wondering what the person searching for information on 'terminator baby jesus' is seeking to find. Two things spring to mind:

A block rockin' Baby Jesus, like Terminator X of Public Enemy fame, spinning grooves from the cradle to the cross.

Cyborg Jesus. Automatic weaponry, miracles, and one-liners. 'He'll find your lepers. He'll heal your lepers. That's what he does - that's all he does!'

Good luck bud.

Reading is Fundamental

Taking a break from renovations, here's the updated reading list. As always, short reviews on various titles will follow. Some day I'll actually get around to writing the long-promised more substantive reviews of certain titles. Not that anyone's begging for them. And so...

27. The Elves and the Otterskin - Elizabeth Boyer
28. The Summer of the Great Grandmother - Madeline L'Engle
29. Slan - A.E. Van Vogt
30. A Good Life: Adventures in Newspapering - Ben Bradlee
31. Positively Fifth Street - James McManus
32. Cowboy Feng's Space Bar and Grille - Steven Brust
33. Hard Revolution - George Pelecanos
34. Big Deal - Anthony Holden
35. Retreat, Hell! - W.E.B. Griffin
36. Cicero - Anthony Everitt
37. Sharpe's Escape - Bernard Cornwell
38. Last Car to Elysian Fields - James Lee Burke
39. The Intelligent Guide to Texas Hold 'Em Poker - Sam Braids
40. Lost Dorsai - Gordon Dickinson
41. The Voyage - David Drake

Housecleaning

Just a little re-modeling...

UPDATE:
Bugger this.


1)Despite the re-installing the code, Haloscan seems to have finished. Hopefully that's just a temporary outage at Haloscan, and not something I broke.

2)So I (supposedly) enabled the new Blogger comments feature...

3)A whole section of links (Family, Tasty Links, and my wishlist) are gone until I figure how to get them to align properly.

4)Why is there no sprot for my goddam email to be displayed!?Curse these clumsy fingers - I meant spot!

5)That recent posts sidebar is a nice bit - but why oh why does it insist on displaying more than the post title!? So...unsightly....

Again, bugger this.

Story Time in Brief: Part the Third

The trail had gone cold and so had I. The rain was bouncing off the pavement, like so many peanut shells tossed to the dirt floor under the Big Top. I had business to attend to and I was tired of being wet, so I hopped a cab to The Downtown Clown, a well-known hangout for the greasepaint and wig crowd.

The barkeep ignored me, until I cleared my throat and bounced a quarter off his forehead.

'Rye and a beer back,' I said, and as he started to turn away I added, 'and some information.'

He set my boilermaker down in front of me, doing his best to avoid my eyes. He had a dressing room tan, so I figured him for a player in the funny game.

'I'm looking for Mickey the Pratfall.'

I thought he was going to jump out of his apron.

'Never heard of him,' he said, with an anxious glance at the Bozos drinking at the corner table. One of the clowns looked up and eye-fucked me for a long ten seconds before adjusting his squirting flower and downing a mouthful of beer.

I leaned forward, so he could see my .45 riding in a shoulder rig.

'That's a nice calliope you have in here. Be a shame if anything happened to it.'

Hookers, Guns, and Money

This month's issue of The Atlantic features an interview with Dennis Lehane, author of Mystic River and a bunch of other great reads. I encourage you to read the whole thing for yourself, but here are a couple of choice samples:

"In the early nineties there was a sort of backlash against the direction fiction was going. Not all fiction, but a majority of what I considered bad fiction had become choir preaching, esoteric fiction written by academics for academics. Every novel was about a forty-two-year-old professor having an affair with a student and going through a midlife crisis. Story had disappeared. One of the most explosive publishing events when I was in graduate school was The Pugilist at Rest by Thom Jones. There's nothing about Thom Jones that's absolutely spectacular or innovative. He just brought story back. Denis Johnson's Jesus's Son was another book about which we said, "Oh my God, this is fiction that's about something, the blood and guts of it. It's life going on here."

"I think that was the moment when I turned toward noir. A lot of us who are considered the new renaissance writers of noir believed that's where the social novel was going. We wanted to write about the people nobody was writing about. I've always said that the best novel hands down of the 1990s was Clockers. It never got the respect it deserved. This was what was going on in the early nineties in America, but nobody was writing about it. Nobody would touch it with a ten foot pole because they were writing about thinly disguised versions of Princeton. Who cares. This guy was writing about crack. It was America. He was writing about race. I think that's how I ended up drifting into this genre—the desire to write about social issues. So my first novel was about racism." *

"When I teach fiction I tell my students to read poets for language and to read playwrights for plot, to just learn how to get the story moving. It doesn't mean that it has to take off like a bullet, or you have to have a flying car or a shootout or anything, but just tell the damn story. Playwrights know that better than anybody. You've got a bare stage, somebody walks out, and stuff better start happening or the audience is going to leave. I teach a lot of David Mamet's theories. He's got a book, Three Uses of the Knife, that's absolutely wonderful. One of the things Mamet says is: no backstory. Playwrights hardly ever have backstory. "

*For the record, Lehane's first novel - A Drink Before the War - happens to be a kick-ass private eye novel. It's a good place to start if you've never read any of his books before.

Story Time in Brief: Part the Second

My grandfather's words whispered through my head as I studied the smeared trail of blood and greasepaint that wound down the hall to the cellar door.

"There's nothing more dangerous than a wounded clown."

I checked the load in my shotgun and pondered my next move. Had I hit him solidly? Or merely winged him? I couldn't recall. Clouds of balloon animals and the shrill honking of my adversary's nose had made our initial clash a Land of Confusion.

Genesis. Why was I thinking of Genesis at a time like this?

Yet Another Post About Friends

So Friends has reached the end of it's long run , and people are talking about it. Some won't miss it, and some defend it.

Personally I hated the show. Not because I have anything against popular and/or lowbrow television shows - I do - but because I disliked the characters. I didn't find them realistic. On the face of it this maybe a silly standard to apply to sitcom of all things, but it simply means that due to the way the characters were portrayed I couldn't suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy the show. Especially in regards to the male characters, who on the whole seemed to be a bunch of bumbling eunuchs. ESPN.com's Bill Simmons hits the nail on the head:

There are certain codes that guys live by. I've mentioned many of them in this space over the years -- stuff like "If you're sharing a bed with someone in Vegas, make sure you remain at least two feet apart at all times," and "If your buddy's team loses an especially tough game, you can't call him to make fun of him under any circumstances." But there are three codes that supercede all others. Here they are:

1.) You can't be attracted to your buddy's sister.
2.) You can't be attracted to your buddy's girlfriend.
3.) You can't be attracted to your buddy's ex-girlfriend if he had genuine feelings for her.

Those three codes are non-negotiable. So when Chandler fell in love with Joey's girlfriend ... I mean, that's it. As Charles Barkley would say, first of all, they can't be friends no mo'. Joey ain't forgivin' nothin' like that. And No. 2, I can't like Chandler no mo'.

But seriously ... how can anyone get past this? Wasn't there a guy on the "Friends" writing staff who could say, "Hold on, everyone. We can't do this; we will lose our entire male viewership."?

Truer words were never spoken. Like Mr. Simmons, I'll take Beverly Hills 90210 any day. Really, I would.

Story Time In Brief

He screamed all the way to the bottom. But he screamed silently.

I walked down to join him, past the broken railing, to the foot of the stairs. 'You filthy mime,' I said and I emptied a pistol into his head. My .45 barked until the trigger clicked empty. I whistled while I reloaded.

You might say it's a cold thing to do, pushing a mime down the stairs and shooting him in the head. I'd say, nuts to you pally. The mime killed my partner - and my gun is quick. Puttin' the mime on ice was easier than doin' the business with a broad.

Easier actually. The mime didn't give me any lip about doing it.

The sirens keened in the distance. I need to leave. I needed to sleep. I'd been awake for seventy hours. My head ached and there was a fog behind my eyes; my suit reeked of smoke and sweat, the residue of violence. I wanted to sleep. But vengeance never sleeps, and neither could I.

Not until the clown joined his bunkie in hell. I had to find the clown. Before the cops did.

Random Questions Du Jour

I found these questions from my sister in my inbox, so I figured I'd answer them here. Some other folks have answered them as well:

My cousin Phoebe.

Heather.

Tom PainintheAss.

1. What time do you get up?
Between 8 and 8:30 AM, depending on how late I was up the night before.
2. If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be?
Winston Churchill
3. Gold or silver?
Gold I guess.
4. What is the last film you saw at the cinema?
In America
5. What's your favorite TV show?
The Red Sox game broadcast.
6. What do you have for breakfast?
Coffee and a donut, occasionally some cereal.
7. Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with?
As in forever? Elmo I suppose. Do muppets count?
8. Who/what inspires you?
My sister. And people who write better than I do.
9. What is your middle name?
Christopher.
10. Beach, city or country?
If I had to pick just one, it would be city.
11. Favorite ice cream?
Chocolate chip.
12. Butter, plain or salted popcorn?
Butter and salt.
13. Favorite color?
Green.
14. What kind of car do you drive?
The Mach Five of course, or what small-minded folks might call ' that old Saturn.'
15. Favorite sandwich?
Bacon and tomato - we don' need no steenkin' lettuce.
16. What characteristics do you hate in a person?
A lack of a sense of humor.
17. Favorite flower?
I do not understand this question.
18. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?
I'd love to go to New Zealand. Or Sicily. Or Scotland.
19. What color is your bathroom?
For the life of me I can't recall. This should surprise noone who knows me.
20. Favorite brand of clothing?
Gap t-shirts, black and grey. And I do have much love for my Dunkin Donuts t-shirt.
21. Where would you retire to?
A re-furbished stone farmhouse, somewhere in upper New England, like Vermont. With a lot of books, whiskey and a pack of Beagles.
22. Favorite day of the week?
Saturday.
23. What did you do for your last birthday?
I hauled my sorry ass across several mountains.
24. Where were you born?
Boston.
25. Favorite sport to watch?
Baseball of course.
26. What fabric detergent do you use?
Whatever is on sale or in the vending machine at the ghettomat.
27. Coke or Pepsi?
Coke.
28. Are you a morning person or a night owl?
I am a night person, a veritable Prince of Darkness.
29. What is your shoe size?
Ten and a half.
30. Do you have any pets?
No.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Following in the footsteps of others...Things I'm Not Ashamed To Admit (But Probably Should Be):

Because I am a Level Three Geek (scroll down for definition) I receive - and delight in receiving - things like vintage Battlestar Galactica T-shirts for Christmas. And I wear them.

Not only do I own the CD soundtrack to Annie, I know all the words.*

Thanks to Channel 56 and syndication I've seen the entire runs of many bad sit-coms: Good Times, Alice, The Facts of Life, Happy Days. I still think Laverne and Shirley is funny.

In junior high I was the proverbial last-kid-picked-in-gym-class. Though I was still only five and half feet or so, I had the shoe size of my current height. Consequently I was not unlike a very ungainly puppy, big and feet and all. My clumsiness was legendary and I was notorious among friends for causing breakage, spills and other accidents.

I am not above causing the occasional public spectacle. At my sister's college graduation I stepped out of the crowd and marched in with her, despite her increasingly frantic attempts to shoo me away.

*A brief Annie vignette. Growing up, this was my sister's favorite soundtrack; she played it constantly, until the words were burned into my brain. Several years ago, my sister and I and our friend D were returning from a night in Boston. I was 'relaxing' in the back seat, when for some reason my sister demanded that I sing a song. So I did an a capella version of Tomorrow. Shortly thereafter, D gave me a copy of the soundtrack. 'For practice,' she said.

Flipperheads Revisited

Heather has taken the time to compile a list of Flipperhead Dance Songs, complete with rules for nominations. Go add your own sugestions.

Your Affectionate Uncle Screwtape

After posting about evil and such last week, it seemed oddly appropriate to come across a copy of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis on Saturday. The local library was having a booksale, and since I've never read The Screwtape Letters I decided it would be $0.50 well spent.

I haven't started reading it yet, but I was unable to resist thumbing through it and then reading the author's introduction in it's entirety. I particularly relished this quote:

"There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and healthy interesting in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight."

Now, question: has anyone read any of Lewis' other works that they can recommend? Excluding the Narnia books (long since read) and the Perelandra trilogy (couldn't finish it).