That’s right Charlie, you’ve been replaced by the great Libertarian Hope, Rand Paul. Sources have it that Paul is working on bringing the parties together and working out a deal on the government shutdown thing. I know, I know, this shutdown hasn’t personally hurt Sean Hannity or Rush Limbaugh, so it’s all canned corn on a Tuesday, but bear with me here, because I herar that somebody somewhere might actually be a little more month-to-month than a highly successful carnival barker. So, give peace a chance eh?
Now ordinary folks might think that was a contradiction of sorts, or at least an ill-timed loss of good publicity, from Politico no less! You might think the devil is in the details here, something about which parties Paul was trying to bring together, but folks only get that impression because they are using the wrong kinda logic. If you think about it, making peace with your enemies and beating them at the same time is pure fricking win! Seriously, how on earth do you beat that? Making peace and vanquishing your enemies at one and the same time. It’s absolutely win, I tell you. In fact it’s the kind of win worthy of you know who?
But only when he’s in his manic phase.
Which is sorta where some people have been for a long time now, Just ask Michelle, Glenn, and Sarah. These folks will find their depressive moments in another life, or lives, so to speak. …preferably those of other people. But seriously, I’m not even sure that the Sheen-meister himself could wrap his mind around the full genius of the tea-minded people and their leaderlings, at least not without a good supply of coke and a few hot girlfriends. He might just have to take drastic measures to help us find a wisp of wisdom in this cloud of swamp gas.
But Hell, Randy Neugebauer can dig it right now. Neugebauer can take a rainbow, mix it up with love and make the whole world take the blame. …or at least one low-level employee.
I know what you’re thinking; it’s politics right? And politics ain’t fun, and politics means everyone is dirty, or at least all of them folks that do politics, ad care about politics, and certainly those idiots that think it matters what side you are on, because who can be damned if it’s worth sorting Jack from Jill or pie from a pill? Cause screw the lot of them right?
Y’all just don’t appreciate genuine super-hero powers when you see them. A man of Neugebauer’s brilliance could wash his hands of anything. Hell, he could probably fix Fukashima. Radiation? Bah! Let him hold a press-conference in an arcade, and the the whole world’s goat will be good and scaped at the price of a few glow-in-the-dark teenagers.
Damned kids anyway!
That’s two Vatican Assassins if you’re counting, and no, Charlie ain’t one of them, not right now, or so I’m told. He ain’t two either, but I hear tell he might be better than bunting on a good gumbo day. You just gotta know how to listen with your nose, I tell you. The whole tune sounds just like apple pie cooling in a window, at least it would if you talk to the right red district representative. So, don’t be discouraged folks. Just let this good bunko-billy mansplain it to ya!
Still don’t understand?
Well you’re very pretty, but honey, you just ain’t a Vatican Assassin.
So, I’m still trying to get back in the swing of blogging here. Damned if life isn’t keeping me away from the keyboard these days, but I miss it so. And what better way to start back in than by chatting up a few of my favorite performances. I’m not presenting them in any particular order, and here I am less interested in the overall films than the contributions of a single actor.
Anyway, without further ado…
Christoph Waltz in “Inglorious Basterds”
Say what you will about him (and I have, I know), but Tarantino can certainly spin a story; he can pile ever more twists onto a narrative until you swear the whole thing couldn’t possibly get any more complicated, and then that damned Tarantino will prove you wrong, all the while keeping you on the edge of your seat. How does he do it? For one thing, his villains are always smarter than your average thug; their motives are always complex and their heads are full of ideas just waiting to burst out. Sooner or later, a Tarantino villain can be relied upon to explain himself, and in so doing, to surprise us with some new plot twist we couldn’t possibly have expected.
This is where Waltz comes in; he is perfectly contemptible at every moment of this film. This is easily one of Tarantino’s most complex villains, and Waltz gives him an air of contemptibly that remains constant with every new twist in the story. You just can’t help but hate him no matter what he is doing; whether he is being charming or churlish, killing innocent people with a smile on his face, or saving the day (still with a smile on his face). Hate him? Hell! You just can’t help but want to hurt him. If I had three wishes, I would use one of them to wish this guy into existence, so I could smack that smirk off his face.
…but he’d probably get the upper hand on me in the end.
Dam that Waltz!
***
Gong Li in “To Live”
Okay, I admit I’m biased. I’ve been in love with Gong Li ever since I first saw her sassing one of the characters in Farewell My Concubine, but for my money the best performance she ever produced was in To Live. Much like Farewell, To Live tells the story of a relationship against the backdrop of late twentieth-century Chinese history. In this case, the relationship is more straight-forward; it’s just a couple, not a love triangle. But of course one must never fall in love in a Chinese drama.
That ever ends well.
One of my favorite scenes in the film begins with a humorous look at the Maoist era. Jiazhen (played by Gong Li) and her husband accompany their daughter (Fengxia) to the hospital where Fengxia is to give birth. They are joined by Fengshia’s husband, Wan Erxi, and two of his workmates just as they realize the hospital is remarkably devoid of doctors. Upon learning that the reasons for this are political, Erxi contrives to bring a doctor to the hospital on the pretext of shaming him at the sight of good politically correct nurses doing so well without supervision. Unfortunately, the doctor hasn’t eaten in several days and efforts to remedy that serve only to make the situation worse. It is all hilarious, at least until Fengxia begins to hemorrhage. With no-one conscious and capable of helping, the comedy goes very dark indeed, and this scene ends with Gong Li in tears, simply begging her daughter to stay alive…
George C. Scott in “Dr. Strangelove”
Yes, Peter Sellers was brilliant in this movie, and he was also brilliant in this movie, and he was even brilliant in this movie, but for all of Sellers’ brilliances, George C. Scott’s performance as General Turgidson is the one that consistently has me reeling in laughter.
I could swear I once saw Scott claim that this was his favorite role on a talk show, but my memory may be sideways on that one. The truth is Scott’s performance has been something of a controversy. Apparently, director Stanley Kubrik wanted Scott to play the part a bit more recklessly than the already well-established actor deemed appropriate. So Kubrik would shoot the scene straight, so to speak, then ask Scott to do it one more time, hamming it up a bit, just as an exercise. Scott is said to have felt rather betrayed when it was the over-the-top performances that made it into the final cut. I can definitely understand his feelings on the issue, but I’ll be damned if the results aren’t sheer genius.
***
Carl Anderson in “Jesus Christ Superstar”
Now folks have certainly raised questions about the decision to cast a back man as Judas, and there are good reasons for those questions, but I somehow doubt many people came away from this movie thinking worse of African-Americans on account of it. I can well imagine the untold numbers that must have walked away saying something like; “wow, Judas really stole the show!” He didn’t of course; the show was always his film from the outset. Yes, Ted Neeley belts out an amazing performance in the Garden of Gethsemane, but the consistently moving presence in this movie is clearly that of Anderson.
This movie is essentially the story of Jesus, as told from the viewpoint of Judas, and in 1973 that was a Hell of a departure from traditional film fair on that topic. Anderson had to secure the sympathies of an audience for the greatest traitor of all time, so to speak, and that had to be a tough sell. He had to frame the whole movie with its first song and wrap it up with its last,. Anderson did all of that with tremendous style and force. Every time I watch this movie I keep waiting for Judas to come on screen, cause it’s just not the same without him.
In this production anyway, you gotta give it up for Judas, because he is absolutely the best part of the movie.
***
Heath Ledger in “The Dark Knight”
The hype related to this performance was so intense I thought I would have to wait several years before seeing it, just to get that crap out of my mind. I was so prepared to be disappointed, because I thought there was no way Ledger’s performance in The Dark Knight could possibly match the press he was getting.
It did.
***
Lara Belmont in “The War Zone”
Lara Belmont deserves every Oscar that was ever given out to anybody in any category ever conceived. Seriously folks, they should all be gathered up and sent directly to her along with a great big note saying, “We’re not worthy.” Then they should close down the motion picture academy and replace it with a link to the most convenient place to buy a copy of The War Zone.
I could say a lot of things about this movie and Belmont’s performance, including at least one warning for anyone thinking of giving it a quick look-see. This movie is not for the faint of heart. It is a very frank and sometimes graphic meditation on the subject of incest. First time director, Tim Roth does not flinch in his treatment of the subject matter, and he doesn’t really let his audience do it either. All in all, it’s a pretty merciless 99 minutes.
For me, the hardest scene to watch comes near the end of the film as Jessie (Belmont’s character) watches a confrontation between her brother and her father. In effect, they are fighting about her, and yet she plays no role in the fight itself. Jessie watches the men in her life explode in anger over the fate of her own body as she sits at the kitchen table and smokes a cigarette.
…and quietly falls apart.
***
Ray Winstone in “Sexy Beast”
Ben Kingsley got the lions-share of attention for his own amazing performance in this film, but for my money the real brilliance came from Ray Winstone. Nevermind the fact that Ray Winstone is always outstanding. This man could sneeze an amazing performance into a sheet of kleenex. Hell, on an off-day Winstone could phone in a sneeze from home, and 4 out of 5 sheets of kleenex would tell you it was the best damned bit of acting they had ever seen. The fifth sheet of kleenex would of course damn itself to hell as unworthy to receive the expectorate of this genius.
…over the phone!
The moment of true genius comes as Gal Dove (Winstone) is eating breakfast and a mob boss comes to question him about the whereabouts of a missing co-conspirator. You see, Gal was the last to see the man alive, and the boss doesn’t quite buy gal’s account of things. Gal is cool as ice during the whole conversation, of course. You can see his facade, and it’s convincing, but you can also see how close he is to losing it altogether. The whole scene is nails on a chalk-board, excruciating.
It is also exquisite.
***
Evan Adams in “Smoke Signals”
There is a lot to love about this movie, but I’ve always thought the acting was a little uneven. I have had a full on fan-boy crush on Irene Bedard ever since 3 days before I learned of her existence, but this certainly isn’t her best work. Adam Beach is Adam Beach, and his Beachyness plays out to great effect in this story. But there is one performance in this movie that is just perfect, Evan Adams as Thomas Builds-the-Fire. This character is so gentle, and so clever, and so damned likable, you just can’t help but wish he was real.
…and living next door.
In the documentary, Reel Injun, director, Chris Eyre, claims that he once asked Adams what he was doing to make the character come together. Adams explained that he was playing his own grandmother.
Evidently, Evan Adams’ grandmother is made of wonderful.
***
Donald Sutherland in “Little Murders,” …Okay, it’s just the one scene.
This movie was obscure when it wasn’t hopelessly dated, and I can’t say much for the overall production really. It’s been a long time since I first watched Little Murders, but I do remember the whole thing left me feeling kinda meh, …except for this one glorious little scene. The sermon Donald Sutherland gives at this wedding has me dying of laughter every time.
Y’all might have noticed a little clip making the rounds on the net lately. It’s a debate between Jamie Kilstein and John Fugelsang over the existence of God. It occurs on Totally Biased with Kamau Bell, and frankly, the whole thing is a lot of fun.
Yes, I am going to take a stand against fun here. I mean, someone has to do it!
Seriously though, it’s hard to dislike this piece, because all three come across as funny and likable, and all three make interesting points, though I have to say the best point Kilstein makes is the one he attributes to his girlfriend. I’d have to give the edge to Fugelsang on this one though. His humor was the edgier of the bunch, and definitely the most thoughtful. If I had to pick a winner, …or even if I didn’t, I’d give it to the believers in this one.
Lest you think I have already give up the gripe and joined the fan-club though, let me get to the problem. Okay, I don’t really have a problem with anything in this video. I don’t literally agree with a lot of the points made by any of these guys, but I’m happy to have a laugh and take it as food for thought. What bothers me is the way some folks are touting this as a model of religious discussions and debate between different viewpoints. By some people, frankly I mean the folks at Upworthy.
…and I like Upworthy, but that’s not going to stop me from cappin’ on them.
…the bastards!
By ‘bastards’ in this case I mean Joseph Lamour, who has this to say about the segment:
If you’re religious, think about the last time you had a talk with an atheist about religion. If you’re an atheist, think about the last time you talked religion with someone who was devout.
Now think how you would have liked that to go.
Okay, Lamour isn’t really a bastard, but dammit, I’m trying to pick a fight here, so I’m calling him one anyway. Someone has to be the bad guy amidst all this goodwill and nice-ossity.
…dammit!
I should add that Upworthy puts this page under the following title: “A Debate Between An Atheist And A Christian Has Quite A Surprising Result.”
So what’s the problem?
Well first, I’m still looking for my surprise. Believe it or not, a polite and friendly conversation doesn’t count as a surprise ending for some of us. These happen all the time; ugly conversations too, but friendly and polite conversations about religious topics are not that rare. If that was supposed to be the surprise, then I’m a little disappointed. I feel like a kid who just got a Happy Meal without a toy. And no, I don’t want the damned cashier to give me one now; it’s too damn late dammit!
I do damn-say.
I do!
Okay, but what’s the real problem with this piece? It’s this. There are reasons this debate went so well, and those reasons should make it perfectly clear why this bit of comedy fun isn’t really a model for how these discussions are supposed to work. If this is a fun chapter in the story of interfaith discussion and debate, it is ultimately a unique chapter, and it isn’t going to set the tone for the rest of that story. Sorry, it just isn’t.
For one thing the Christian wasn’t very ‘Christian’, so to speak. That might actually be because he was too Christian for Christians, though I suspect many would respond that he wasn’t Christian enough, and of course he may well be right to say that Jesus wouldn’t be either, cause Christianity is a tough club and the Prince of Peace may well be barred entrance at this point, and well, …fun with identity-belief games. The point is that he wasn’t representative of Christianity as it is conventionally defined in the public eye. That may be a good thing in itself, but let’s be honest, it’s one of the reasons this debate went so well.
Fugelsang’s values, at least as he represented them in this discussion, don’t necessarily clash with those of Kilstein or any number of secularists such as, …well, myself. He may well have values to which we object, but he did not put those values front and center in the discussion above. Fogelsang may believe in something we don’t, but in this discussion he did not threaten many (or perhaps any) secular ideas about how to live and behave. Put a conservative Christian up there, standing up for conservative Christian values, and we would have a much deeper clash between all the parties involved. I suspect that both Kilstein and Bell would have had a much more difficult time relating with God’s man in this debate had he taken a different approach to the issues in question.
Is Fugelsang’s faith better, more accurate, or more true than that of the folks we normally associate with the label? Well that’s a battle between him and them (though I kinda hope he win’s it). For the present, the point is that he is for many of us in the just-say-no-to-God club the kinda Christian we can readily get along with.
So, perhaps it isn’t so surprising that the folks in this debate got along after all.
More to the point, look at the contours of the debate. These are comedians; they are playing for laughs. Each makes his points, but not one of them really scrutinizes the claims made by the others. In fact, each gets by with a lot of shaky reasoning and imprecise language because we don’t normally expect rigorous arguments from comedians. We expect to laugh. …and if a comedian also gives us something to think about, well hey, then that’s a plus. But we don’t sit in the front row and shout “red herring” at folks like this. And apparently they don’t do it to each other either.
…which is another reason why this turns out to be a friendly debate. The poison pens and trashy talk comes out on this issue when people actually begin to take apart each other’s reasoning on the subject. That’s when it starts to get personal, not necessarily because the other guy is calling you names, but because your own thinking is actually on the line in such a debate. …and okay, because people also call each other names. Discussions about religion get a lot more heated when people actually respond directly to the arguments of the other person, …when they say things like; “that’s not true!” or “that’s totally irrelevant.” It’s at such moments that people start to pepper the discussion with additional phrases like “…you stupid git” or “you miserable cur!” It is much easier to keep it calm when folks just outline their basic point of view and move-on. It’s counter-arguments that turn up the heat on iterfaith conversations, and those really didn’t happen here.
Which means none of these guys got called-out on their cheap shots, their wonky reasoning, or their not-literally-true claims. None of these guys even had to make up his mind as to just how serious he was about the claims he made on the topic, much less answer a direct challenge to the truth of those claims. The tougher arguments don’t necessarily happen because people are trying to be mean, but because there are genuine questions about whether or not some points of view are just wrong, and once you put those questions on the table, the pulse rates start to go up. Counter-arguments are where the shit gets real, and counter-arguments didn’t really happen here.
Counter-arguments didn’t happen, because of course this wasn’t really a debate; it was a venue providing each party with a chance to highlight aspects of their comedy routine, and each did so with remarkable skill. In short, this was comedians doing what comedians do.
The debate wasn’t ugly, because they never really got to the ugly questions.
So, here I am surfing along the wifi challenged net of my lovely hotel room and what do I find in between 404 notices? Well it appears to be the latest talking point from the right wing echo chamber; a snappy little infographic promoting the virtues of a national day devoted to the celebration of Capital!
It seems that labor and capital both need each other, at least according to this catchy little visual. So, in the interests of fairness, we really ought to have a national Capital Day, at least if we are going to have a national Labor Day. And if we can’t have that, well then we should at least celebrate them together.
I mean it’s only fair!
I found this on Tumblr, a account for The Bill of Rights Institute, … so, Koch Brothers, yep! The visual has the stamp of FEE on it, which leads us easily enough to the Foundation for Economic Education, an unsurprisingly Libertarian bastion of economic chatter, and once there it doesn’t take long to find a whole article (penned by none other than the President of the foundation, Lawrence Reed) touting this movement to counter-balance the celebration of labor with that of capital.
Now to be fair, Lawrence does tell us he will be celebrating Labor Day. Apparently, that’s okay, just as long as we don’t dip into any lefty labor union kinda thinking. Good workers know their place, and their place is working for capital! …without complaints and collective bargaining power. And of course Reed does want to reassure us that he is NOT engaging in class warfare, no. He loves labor. Hell, workers too can become capitalists if they save and invest.
I wonder what Reed thinks the average worker has to invest in today’s climate?
Apparently, we aren’t supposed to think of capital as something deployed only by bankers, because of course workers COULD invest in stock themselves. And in the classic tone-deaf stylings that have become the hallmark of libertarian thought, that little bit of formal equivalence is supposed to help us forget the massive difference between the economic power of the investing classes and those who might have a chunk of their fragile retirement fund riding on the fate of a corporation or two.
I could wonder a lot of things about the fairy-tale land of free market fundamentalism this preacher sells from his think-tank pulpit, but for the present it is enough to meditate on the vision of fairness he has in mind here. It is somehow unfair, he and the folks at FEE seem to be suggesting, that Americans should think about labor and not give a happy nod to capital as well. I wonder where that sense of fairness can be found when paychecks are measured against dividends, personal bankruptcies to corporate bailouts, and second homes to rental properties? I wonder where that sense of fairness is when people like Donald Trump talk about building this or that casino with hardly a nod to those who actually did the dirty work? I wonder where that emphasis on interdependence can be found when folks talk about ‘job creators’ as though they were the unmoved movers of the economic world? And I wonder where all this painfully important need for balanced credit falls when we measure the access of workers to the ear of public officials against that of capitalists? Today, it seems we must be reminded that workers and capitalists work hand-in-hand; on most days that same vision of cooperation is deemed to mean every-man-for-himself, and shame on those who fall short at the end of the month.
No doubt the fine folks at FEE will protest (as Libertarians often do) that they are against sundry special treatments for big business as well. And I suppose, one can indeed imagine a world in which the libertarian scheme of things offers a fair chance to everyone and a better more efficient economy for all. That world is every bit as real as the communist state. In the world we live in though, Libertarian intervention always seems so much more focused on the denial of benefits to the lower classes. Bail out a corporation and they will tell you that sucks and things are not supposed to work that way. Offer health care to the working poor and they will burn the country down around our ears if that’s what it takes to stop you.
And just as a small petty footnote in economic history, they may even find a way to begrudge working men and women a single day of acknowledgement.
This was the nurse talking to the patient next to me earlier this morning. Her words struck me as about the most cruel thing I had heard anyone say in a very long time. To be fair, I wasn’t privy to the whole story, and the occasional dose of percoset could not have done much to improve my own perception of events happening on the other side of a curtain. Still, I think I took in enough of what was going on to understand the poor sobbing man who had to answer this question.
My own stay at the hospital was rather uneventful. Three minor procedures and an overnight stay. It was painful, but hardly beyond my own (less than impressive) tolerance levels. I found the staff pleasant and helpful. The story of my brief encounter with the medical world this weekend has thus far been a rather boring story of a plan coming together nicely. The drama last night was unfolded just beyond the curtain beside me.
The patient showed up well into the evening, obviously in great distress. I could hear the man explain that he had walked out of another hospital because they wouldn’t give him enough pain killers. He didn’t seem to be capable of repeating that move again. Shortly after being left to his own devices, the man began to vomit. He seemed to vomit until he had nothing left, and he just kept on going.
…all night.
Granted, there were moments of respite, but they were few and far in between. I could hardly imagine the pain he must have experienced, but listening to him cry just like a child was enough to drive the point home for me. The physical suffering of the patient next to me was but the kicker for the real story. Over the course of the evening, the staff slowly seemed to disengage themselves from the struggle to control his pain, replacing the effort to help him with explanations for their own inability to do so. The response time for his requests grew longer and longer over the course of the evening. At least one time I could hear people joking and laughing just outside the door as his bell rang, and the man struggled to expel whatever it was that wanted out of his belly so badly.
Was I missing something? Perhaps the staff believed him to be a problem patient of sorts, contributing to his own misery in one way or another, or perhaps they simply felt they were unable to help him. Either way, their increasing reluctance to try seemed to grow more obvious over the course of the night. I suppose it would make sense in that perverse way that the human mind actually seems to work that a nurse unable to help a patient in any substantive manner would withdraw from him emotionally, but this seemed to be an exceptionally striking loss of compassion. By morning, it seemed the staff could hardly pretend to care anymore just what happened to this patient.
One particularly sad chapter in the drama came when my neighbor asked for pain medication. He was given a pill and some water, all of which stayed down less than a few minutes. As the patient pointed out that his pain medication was now in the bucket, the hospital staff argued that some of it must be making its way into his system. How much was in the bucket and how much was in his system, no-one could tell, and that unanswered question had serious consequences. The man continued to complain of pain all night, and having given him pain medications, the staff explained that they could not risk giving him anything more. Despite any evidence to the contrary, they had to assume the medication they had given him was still in his system. He would simply have to tough it out.
At some point in the evening, I heard somebody take them man into the bathroom where they left him. About ten minutes later I heard a crash. Do, I know that he fell? Not quite. Something else could have gone wrong, but I continue to believe that is what I heard. By this point in the evening, I was getting a slow response to my own requests for help. Perhaps the staff was just that busy, and perhaps my own efforts to get help for the neighbor had earned me too a skeptical ear. Either way, no-one came to help for several minutes as I pressed buttons and talked into speakers. The man begged me to find him some help. Finally, I decided to get up and make for the hallway.
Someone finally entered the room as I grunted and groaned my way out of bed. After asking them to help my neighbor I was told he was just lying on the floor. It was only after I insisted several times that he had fallen, and after I added that I had heard a crash, that anyone turned their attention to him. After sometime they got him back into his bed and listened as he added a very sore shoulder to his list of complaints. Convinced that it had popped out of place, my neighbor asked for help pushing it back into its socket. This request was of course denied, and rightly so, I imagine, but I couldn’t help thinking that to this person it was just one more refusal to help him.
Things were relatively quiet for awhile after that. When asked, the man always said he was in pain. Finally, someone brought him a couple pain pills and a glass of water. The man patiently explained that he would vomit them back up just as they had the first time. His nurse interrupted with terse question; “Do you want them or not?”
After a long silence, I could hear the man taking the pills. It had to be a difficult decision. The previous botched attempt at such medication was the very reason he spent the night in so much pain, and now this was the only option the nurse could (or would) offer him. She left immediately after giving him the pills, and the room fell silent. As it happens, he did keep this batch down, and things were okay for awhile (less than an hour). Who knows, maybe there was a trace of wisdom in her cruelty.
I keep thinking about this, wondering how accurate my sense of the events may be, what details may fill the gaps in my own sense of the story, and just how much I should be angry over the story unfolding beside me. If I’ve gauged the bathroom incident correctly, then I think that argues for an angry-as-hell verdict, but I am on very uncertain ground there. Most of the story takes place in more grey areas, a patient in great pain, and staff well beyond their ability to help him. I wonder if people may have overlooked some options that were available to them all along, but I don’t know what those would be. Perhaps there are lessons here about the way bureaucracies allocate authority for decisions and the way people deal with those policies in real life. Far more likely, I suspect there is a lesson here about the way that people respond to their own limitations, and the short trip from inability to help to utter lack of compassion. These weren’t uncaring people, at least I don’t believe they were, but by the end of the evening you’d have been hard-pressed to see it in their actions toward that patient.
This is going to be one of those this-is-what’s-happening-in-my-life posts. I generally don’t do those. I figure a blog is a sufficiently self-indulgent exercise in itself when I am at least trying to talk about other things, but life has gotten far eough ahead of the me and my blog that a commet or two about my present state would seem to be in order.
…My keyboard has a sticky ‘n’ …dammit!
Anyway, It’s been a Hell of a summer. I won’t say its been a particularly good one, but it certainly did have its moments. The first feature quality of this summer would seem to be travel. First I flew down to Denver, then I flew to Vegas, then to Orange Couty, then back to Vegas, then up to Barrow, down to Santa Fe as part of a summer camp I ran for high school kids, then back to Barrow, down to Anchorage, and back to Barrow once again. …and I’m headed back to Anchorage in a few days.
That’s a bit much.
Extra travel (always by plane) is part of life i barrow, but this is a bit much. I worry that my cats will soon disown me. Seriously, all I have to do now is touch my socks and they are all over me. That aloe makes me feel bad.
This summer has also been a bit too medical for my tastes. I entered Jue with two teeth on the left side of my mouth making a good argument against ordering a steak dinner. They have had me chewing on the right side for awhile now, and I’m getting pretty good at it. Mid you, both of these teeth have had work doe on them, ostensibly complete work. So, an endodontist tore into one perfectly good cap i search of problems with a root canal and my regular dentist tore into a nice filling to investigate the other tooth. Turns out the first was a lateral channel near the bottom of the root, ad the secod also had an extra root. The doc took what nerves she could outta the tooth, but lucky me, I get to visit another endodontist soon. …and I get to pay some hefty bills on accounta my dental plan is already maxed out for the year.
Ouch!
I the interim, I have a steak i my fridge, and I wouldn’t bet on it still being there tomorrow night.
The funny thig about doctors is that if you avoid them for a long time (say about a decade) they tend to find things when you come back. Everythig on me is more or less fixible, or live-with-able, but damn! I am relieved to learn that the general sense of fatigue that has bee creeping up o me for years may have a specific (and perfectly treatable) cause. That’s a good thing. I’m also happy that this doc found the source of recurrent pai i my side. Let me just say that a certain kidney stone has a date with destiny. …soon, you bastard! I do wonder why previous doctors missed it, but K-Sarah, or something like that! Also, I am hoping the outtie which became my belly button a few years back will one day soon be a innie again. Three small procedures in one day; I wonder if that adds up to at least a medium-ish procedure?
Also, I guess I eed to eat more bananas. At least I’m told my heart will stop skipping around so much if I do. And of course it’s time to start thinking about my cholesterol, …well past time actually.
Sheeshes!
…and once again money! My bank account was healthy a few weeks ago. It’s taking a hell of a hit now, and I can’t help but wonder what I would have done without work-related insurance.
Then I realize the answer is obvious. I would have done exactly what I did do when I didn’t have insurance, which is nothing. Without insurance I still wouldn’t know what that pain was in my side, why I am so damned tired all the time, or why the slightest exercise makes me want crawl directly into the grave. And since a couple of those things are ticking time bombs, I guess my story would be a tragedy unfolding it’s way toward the climax chapter.
So, I guess things are shaking out okay, but I definitely have to rethink my perspective on doctors. Time was when I simply couldn’t afford any of this care, but I was awful slow to take advantage of it when my circumstances changed. Ah well, I shall kick myself over this three or four more times before moving on.
We are already seeing snow here in Barrow, though it isn’t sticking yet. I am oe week ito a ew semester, which usually means a more stable schedule, and more time with the cats. I ca only hope my students don’t pick up any bad spelling habits from yours truly. …and maybe I can fid some compressed air i Anchorage.
The blog looks like a bit of a train wreck at the moment. My topics are a bit more scattered than usual, and my efforts to catch up on summer comments ended with many good people unanswered. As of now, I eve have a badly misspelled title i one of my posts.
Just terrible!
I have plas for several posts. Most of those plans have been in place since Jue, but I suppose that’s better to be behid than to have nothing to say. Hopefully I will soon begin knockig out new material soon.
Could someone please eat these donuts for me? The doc says they will kill me, so naturally I bought a whole firing squad.
The Shape Shifter is still my favorite mural in Anchorage …Ziggy did this in collaboration with one or two others.
This post was going to be called “Fat Loot and Three Cool Characters from Anchorage,” but thanks to the airlines, the ‘Fat Loot’ part is now in the questionable column. Somewhere out there a piece of luggage is lost and looking for its home.
…or maybe it’s out looking to party with the internet service for the hotel I stayed at last week. If you see a band of wifi coverage and a grey-colored stand-up suitcase doing lines of coke at a local strip club, please tell them both to go home.
That said a little stint in Anchorage has yielded a few good memories, not the least of them being a chance to meet some some truly memorable characters.
***
Me & Ziggy …cool!
I first noticed Ziggy‘s name on some of the beautiful mural‘s throughout downtown anchorage. He is responsible for a lot of the pieces featured in this post. On a lark, I decided to google the name and see if he might be found in the area. As it happened, I had only to cross the road and enter the coolest crafts shop in town. That’d be the one piping vintage blues out onto the street, a fact which had not escaped my attention, even if the name ‘Ziggy’ all over the establishment had.
Sometimes the path from 2 and 2 takes the scenic route to get to 4.
Wallet by Ziggy
Richard Ziegler (that’s long for Ziggy) runs the Arctic Treasures Trading Post, which is also known for its 4th Avenue webcams. You can buy all sorts of Alaskan goodies in this trading post, but Ziggy does the leatherwork himself, so I have a cool new wallet. That much escaped the great suitcase escape of the summer.
My only beef with Ziggy is that he hasn’t done any new murals within the last year, a fact which is almost unforgivable. But seriously, it was a real treat to meet the artist behind so much of the public art in Anchorage.
***
Laurel Downing workin’ a mean history booth
I first noticed Aunt Phil’s Trunk while looking for links to provide students in my Alaskan history classes. I was looking for short vignettes and flavor pieces to counter-balance the usual dense survey texts, and her website provided quite a few gems for use in the classroom. So, it was a pleasant surprise to find Laurel Downing working a booth at an arts and crafts fair in downtown Anchorage.
Laurel is the person behind this great website. Her path into Alaskan history started with the passing of her Aunt Phyllis. Phyllis Downing Carlson had written quite a bit about Alaskan history in her day, and Laurel picked up the torch when she inherited her Aunt’s life’s work. She wet to school to learn the skills necessary and then began turning out stories about Alaska’s remote past at an astounding pace. She is up to 4 books now, all of them worth a read.
We chatted a bit and Laurel was in high spirits as she had just sealed the deal on some new publications. For the present, I walked away with all four books from her series and a supplement of crossword puzzles to boot. Seriously, this is local history at its best.
…here is hoping my luggage doesn’t pawn all four of those books to pay for booze and cheap sex.
***
Mike, the Pissin Off Texas Guy
Mike the Pissin’ Off Texas Guy is one of a kind, …which is probably just as well, but hey, let’s just be glad there is one of him anyway. I laughed my ass off the first time I saw his work, the state of Texas sitting snugly inside the boundaries of Alaska. At the time I didn’t think much about it; just an internet meme as far as I knew, albeit a damned funny one. Little did I know, Mike has parlayed one-upmanship over the Lone-Star State into a gig of its own. His shirts are $20.00, but he offers a smaller price to his little buddies from Texas.
Mike seems to do a lot of business at the fair, …Texans are of course his best customers. I think he gets pretty much anyone from down that way right over to his booth, without exception. But it’s all in good fun.
…I think.
Mike loves it when Texans wear his shirts.
Ouch!
Another Happy Texan
Still Cappin on Texas
***
My damned suitcase better not be giving my shirts away, …dammit! Seriously, I know a piece of luggage with some serious explaining to do!
Looking up at the Institute of American Indian Arts
Sleep done left me now on accounta the kids. Not my kids, but they stare at me all day now and mostly frown. I do my best to inflict knowledge upon them, but my evil plans are often foiled by the mysteries of the modern world, …or at least the iphone.
It fills and protects their minds even when it stays in the room!
Some might call it a field trip; I call it a collective loss of Northitude. Alternatively, we could call it turning the heat up on the ice people. It’s also called visiting some folks I happen to think a lot of, but let us save sense and seriositude for another day.
Haven’t traveled with teens since I was one. Its an experience…
“When do we board?”
God may not exist but middle seats are pretty close to proof that the Devil is alive and busy issuing boarding passes. I think he also designs the help pages for Microsoft!
I miss the gargle-bunkies and my bloggetry has gotten sloppy. Classes need work and my ecological footprint is a big boot stomp on everything I love. For now, I am Southward, …and I have hostages!
“Hey, shouldn’t we be boarding soon?”
The rules are as follows:
1) Control of musical decisions belongs to the teenagers in the vehicle. Volume is negotiable.
2) Sarcasm is a given.
3) “Family” doesn’t mean what I think it means.
4) Failure to follow rule 1 is the first step to tears and fears, but no beers, not even one.
What the Hell? Hostages aren’t supposed to make the rules! One of the kids decides to throw me a bone and plays Madonna, (cause I’m old). This does NOT make me feel shiny and new.
Precedent argues strongly for the use of a scowl in conjunction with a stern ‘No’, all of which is best delivered in response to a perfectly reasonable question. I am apparently a bad influence, and I’m almost sorry about that.
“So what time do we board?”
Santa Fe is a wonderful place to visit. Taos Pueblo and the Institute for American Indian Arts are always beautiful places. Watching my students eat Frito pies for the very first time in the front yard of our host and guide brings the beauty up a notch for me. Knowing they aren’t used to the spice is pure joy. …Yes, I’m a bad man.
“Are we boarding soon?”
Seriously, I can’t believe I am driving by so many public murals without even getting my camera out. …I got a couple of them, though, yes, I did.
The doc says I gotta eat more bananas, and my friend owes me a beer, but never mind the beer and the friend, doc says what? She tells me all about the changes in my near future as I look down at my dinner and realize that I am presently eating about the only meal in a month that might pass muster. …except for the noodles, of course.
“Seriously, when are we gonna get on the plane?”
Project Runway aside, it’s probably best to leave the gay bar off the agenda. Angry parents sound like Jaws music. The Elvis Shrine is a big can-do, and Goose is the coolest!
…and the whole thing leads us to old Santa Ana Pueblo, fittingly, during the Feast of St. Anne. So, there we find ourselves sitting at the dining table of a wonderful host, looking over more dishes than any one of us could possibly sample. It wasn’t a week ago that I found myself eating Ugruk (seal) at Nalukataq (the Spring Whaling Festival). Now I am sitting here finishing off a bowl of red chili that proved a bit too much for one of my students, and thinking how wonderful this is. Some days (and especially feast days) it’s a good day to know indigenous people. I can only hope our little trip to the sun and the spicy food finds its way into the “worthwhile” bin amongst the learning lessons of my students. …and that there is more chili to be had.
It is a bit hot outside, and my students are holding the car keys hostage in the hopes that I will show mercy.
“There will be no more ice people if you melt us!”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Has the flight been delayed; when are we gonna board?”
I’m bringing back one demon girl, but another now knows how to feed a hundred Indians with 50 pieces of Fry-bread. Empirical proof of the former is confirmed, but we are still waiting on the latter.
“Seriously, when are we gonna board?”
…and Northitude returns with sleep soon to follow.
Close-Up …thanks to Diane for helping me think about these sorts of things.
Just a cool wall mural.
PSA mural
Red and White on black.
Smoking Face
Hey that looks like a Shepard Fairey …oh, not without good cause apparently…
***
Unhumorous Point of Partial Clarification: I generally don’t show pictures of students, colleagues, etc. This is just a matter of personal respect. They have signed up for work or study with the school, not a command appearance in my personal blog. …also, I have no pictures from Santa Ana or Taos Pueblo. Those would not be appropriate for an entirely different set of reasons.
Yes, I wore sunscreen
Hats and umbrellas are frowned upon during the Feast of St. Anne. Oddly enough 4 Alaskan Natives and a Tongan don’t burn as easily as a balding white guy who normally wears a hat.
Don’t the folks at MSN know that I’m busy? Don’t they realize I have better things to do than rant about the slippage between their storylines and their headlines? Or is it some kinda clever plot to drive me bonkle-wozzies before the end of summer?
I mean, seriously, take a look at the teaser line for that story on MSN. Isn’t that amazing? No, not Zimmerman, silly, or the guy whose face I deliberately cut in half with the cropping tool (I’m in a bad mood); I mean the lady in the funny hat. Check out the line underneath it.
Seriously?
Somebody has reason to think they actually found a piece of the cross to which our dear and fluffy bamble-hussy was nailed in the way back when. And if that is true, then maybe a few other claims about that old carpenter’s cat might be true too, and damn! If that’s true, I guess I better re-evaluate a few things, not the least of them being the way I talk about our Lord and Savior.
Seriously, …uh oh!
Okay, I know it’s not really alleging proof of a miracle, but what the lie does suggest is that they have serious reason to believe a piece of wood actually dates back to the historical event of Christ’s crucifiction, and THAT would be a Hell of a piece of research to produce. It really would.
But wait a minute, the actual headline on NBC News doesn’t have quite the same force as the front page teaser on MSN. The teaser is just the sort of phrasing you would use to put a claim on the table; the actual headline could as easily be used to suggest you were getting ready to throw the claim in the trash. This whole thing just got less interesting with a single click of the mouse. Still, I wonder what the Hell this is all about.
Turkish archaeologists say they have found a stone chest in a 1,350-year-old church that appears to contain a relic venerated as a piece of Jesus’ cross.
It turns out that what MSNBC meant was little more than that they unearthed a artifact that WAS venerated as a piece of the old bad bark by a particular people in a particular time and place. The rest of the article discusses some of the comments thrown back and forth about such artifacts in centuries past, all of which is actually quite interesting, but what this piece does NOT contain is any reason to believe that it really is a piece of the most famous chunk of wood in human and (Divine) history.
Speaking of Icons, there is definitely an iconic relationship between the marketing of this article and its informative content, one that probably shouldn’t be there. Seriously MSN-NBCNews guys, it’s one thing to tell us about holy relic hyping; it’s quite another to hype a relic yourselves. …or at least those SHOULD be two-different things. The problem is at least partly a matter of slippage between the various stages of publication and promotion, but somewhere in there a potentially interesting story has been transformed into the rhetoric of carnival barking.
So, I guess this isn’t really the journalism-as-apologetics piece that the original teaser seemed to suggest it would be. Don’t get me wrong; this is actually kind of neat – in a perfectly-sober-professional-archaeologist-doing-what-those-guys-do sorta way, maybe even in a cool-find-and-high-fives-all-around-kinda-way, but definitely not in holy-carble-monkeys-you-has-found-the-holy-of-holies kinda way.
…one of these days I’ll go back to using real words in my posts.
But not today.
Today I am just blowing raspberries at the whole damned thing.
Speaking of absolutely bunk, let’s try an online poll. This oughtta be about as meaningful as all the other junk polls you get with news stories. I only regret that it will probably fail to find it’s way into anybodies talking points.
Dammit!
.
CORRECTION: I took a second look at this and changed a few things (including the title) on accounta I still think it’s June of 2012. Thanks to John for catching my mistake.
Just a quick note to say that I am running a summer youth camp right now, which is why the blog has been silent lately. What I’ve posted has been stuff written in advance (like this one for example). The kids will soon dismiss me, though, and I’ll commence bloggenating proper once I taste freedom.
***
Okay, most of you probably aren’t going to get the point of this story, and some of you may flee in terror shouting ‘nerd alert! nerd alert!’ That’s okay, because, well, …guilty as charged.
The game was D&D, and it may have been the mid-90s, but we were playing first edition. I was the Game Master, and two separate gaming groups (one from Las Vegas and one from Flagstaff) had come together for a single game session. Each of the players had several characters on the table and we were engaged in a massive battle with an army led by evil forces. At some point in the evening, the players had achieved a clear victory over that army, so I thought it was time to wrap up the long game session and give the players their just rewards for a battle well-fought.
I told the players that an evil God (Li Kung, I believe) had descended upon the battlefield and congratulated the party on their victory, asking them to consider sparing what remained of the evil army and allowing it to quit the field. In exchange for this, Li Kung would grant a number of favors. At this point I meta-gamed the issue and simply told each player that they could ask for 1 favor for 1 of their characters. The players readily agreed.
It didn’t take long for the players to begin making their requests. Most of the specifics were perfectly forgettable, but one of them stands out. This player prefaced his request with the words; ‘it can’t hurt,” which I actually thought was probably a safe assumption under the circumstances. He then asked for a Holy Avenger for his Paladin.
I thought about explaining to the player that his great and Holy Warrior ought not to ask an evil deity to provide him with a weapon that was supposed to be a symbol of his faithful service to his own (good) god. Then inspiration struck me. I told the players that Li Kung nodded his head and then disappeared. The players chatted a moment in character, wondering where he went and whether or not this meant the deal was off. Then the evil one reappeared with a great sword, which he offered to the Paladin, the bloody stump of a human hand still gripping its handle.
“Oh goody!” the player was positively beaming.
He wasn’t entirely sure why the sword functioned as a simple +2 weapon.
That’s right Charlie, you’ve been replaced by the great Libertarian Hope, Rand Paul. Sources have it that Paul is working on bringing the parties together and working out a deal on the government shutdown thing. I know, I know, this shutdown hasn’t personally hurt Sean Hannity or Rush Limbaugh, so it’s all canned corn on a Tuesday, but bear with me here, because I herar that somebody somewhere might actually be a little more month-to-month than a highly successful carnival barker. So, give peace a chance eh?
But only when he’s in his manic phase.
northierthanthou 