Friday, April 30, 2004

Thank blog it's Friday!

Wow wow wow. What a week. Boss is gone, the news software on my work computer died today, luckily no obits today or I would have gone on a real rampage. Not to mention the added stress of housesitting for the dogs that my parents have to pound-for-pound replace my sister and I now that we're out of the nest, the three cats, the fish, the plants, etc, etc. I'm exhausted. I don't know, mom deserves a big mom's day gift this year. I've always respected how much work she does, but just these past few days in her shoes, I'm simply amazed. I think she might really be four people.

Well, three minutes left in my work day . . . as for political vents, my mind is willing, the body is not. Happy Friday- tonight: MST3K with Michelle!

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Interesting

I figured out that if I got a Saab, which has the previously mentioned 23 to 29 mpg I so desperately want, I would save so much on gas that I'd really only have to budget an extra 34 bucks a month for the payments. I can live with that.

In the name of blog . . .

last kiss: eh, i'd rather not say . . . not because it was illicit but because it was soooo long ago

last cigarette: never had a whole one- took a drag on flunk day of '03

last good cry: probably a hormonal moment of weakness and serious lizzie deficiency, can't really remember

last library book checked out: James Joyce's Ulysses, which I'm sorry to say I couldn't finish. In fact, I could barely start it.

last movie seen: Kill Bill Vol. 1. Can't wait for Vol. 2!

last book read: I'm working on "Forever" by Pete Hamill

last cuss word uttered: I reflexively say "Fuck You" to the TV every time G.W. comes on. I can't stop myself.

last beverage drank: Coffee. I have too much blood in my caffeine supply.

last food consumed: english muffins

last phone call: Val's daughter calling the newsroom and looking for her.

last tv show watched: Queer Eye

last shoes worn: Black strappy wedge heel sandals

last cd played: tom petty wildflowers

last item bought: Ben and Jerry's Fro Yo- very gross. Not recommended. Full fat is sooo worth it

last downloaded: Wow, I haven't had high-speed in so long . . . probably a MST3K episode

last annoyance: the G**Damned car!!! . . . and justifying being single

last disappointment: Uh, Ben and Jerry's Frozen Yogurt.

last soda drank: i never drink soda . . . probably a blueberry Izze.

last thing handwritten: notes to myself about what I'm getting Mom for mother's day

last word spoken: "uh huh" to something Val said that I didn't really care to listen to

last sleep: two hours ago

last im: Dad

last weird encounter: A guy came into the newsroom upset about something, with a letter to the editor, turns out he's a wife beater who was arrested on two counts of domestic abuse and was mentioned in an article by his ex-wife who is angry that he's attending the same church as her. Longmont is so WT it kills me.

last ice cream eaten: Ben and Jerry's Frozen Yogurt should not even be placed next to the ice cream in the store. So it doesn't count. But I got coldstone after a workout a couple of days ago.

last amused: All these queen-bee girls came into the newsroom, they are the student body presidents of local high schools and are being featured in an article. They think they're pretty hot shit.

last time wanting to die: Uh, in the BP car wash . . . when my tire went flat and I drove off the track

last time in love: not sure. Probably when I saw Lord of the Rings, Return of the King. I am in love with the movie, Legolas, all the hobbits, and of course, Aragorn.

last time hugged: Mom and Dad, at the butt crack of dawn, at the Airport shuttle.

last time scolded: Val scolds me all the time. I think the last time was when I said something about how working with the dead is guaranteed job security.

last chair sat in: my ugly-ass work throne.

last lipstick used: hm . . . probably my signature Clinique Black Lily.

last shirt worn: signature black tighty crewneck

last time dancing: in my living room

last poster looked at: the naked red-haired bicycle lady one at my parents' house

1 MINUTE AGO: sending Church briefs to the editor

1 HOUR AGO: logging in the obits

1 DAY AGO: trying to keep my cool upon accepting a date with Val's son

1 WEEK AGO: still trying to figure out Kill Bill while stressing about the car

1 YEAR AGO: anticipating graduation, trying frantically to get the Coe Review published, obsessing over Nick Barnes and Bic Runga.

1. What do you most like about your body? my legs- everyone tells me I have nice legs.

2. And least? my belly, it attracts chub like flypaper

3. How many fillings do you have? i think just one.

4. Do you think you're good looking? about 70 percent of the time . . . the rest of the time I feel like a fat cow with big pores and man hands.

5. Do other people tell you that you're good looking? yeah, usually it kinda creeps me out

First job: a Jewish deli

First screen name: downtownsprite

First funeral: that little neighbor of ours, the three year old

First pet: McGee the fatty tom cat

piercing/tattoo: Spencers gifts, seven years old, ears- Afterthoughts, 11 years old, one more in the left ear (now closed up)- 19 years old, K's on the hill, nose (soooo acceptably rebellious). I'd like to get something else done but I think I've exhausted the possibilities of what I actually wouldn't mind having pierced. I like the adrenaline rush but I really can't think of what else I would wnat to have done . . .

First credit card: my debit card

First Kiss: he he, Ben Nixon, 9th grade :)

First one that mattered: Hmm . . . mattered how? I guess Nick Gossert. He was a horrible kisser.

First love: Mark Spencer. 6th Grade. I never saw him after his mom shot his step-dad and he left school.

First enemy: Christina in 3rd grade. She was a fat ho.

First big trip: Probably Idaho when I was just little, like 2 or so.

First concert: A punk concert at the Elks Lodge when I was 14. I was such a little punk . . .

First musician you remember hearing in your house: Heart.

Monday, April 26, 2004

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

Lyrics - What Do You Do with a B.A. in English? Lyrics. Avenue Q Soundtrack Lyrics (Musical)
Ha ha. I love Avenue Q. One of these days I'll go see it.

What do you do with a B.A. in English? Well, if you're like me, you convince yourself that it's fun to be poor. Woo!

Wrote another theatre review today, the Entertainment Ed loved it. I have to say, hearing you're a good dresser gets old. Hearing you're smart gets old. But I never, ever get sick of hearing that I'm a good writer. That's what you do with a B.A. in English. You work for peanuts and love every moment of it.

Almost scored free REO Speedwagon tix today from that very editor . . . but it's on a worknight and my buds are hardly REO fans. Ah well. I'm kinda hoping to go see the Prince show in August.

Bob Woodward was on meet the press today. His book is the No. 1 Bestseller in the U.S. now. But Bush has never had to rely on the literate vote.

I noticed a while back that "House of Bush, House of Saud" was No. 1, and before that it was Richard Clarke's book. So people are reading what really happened, what really is happening. But I have to question how much of a difference that truly makes. I hardly think the folks with the "Aint Skeerd" stickers next to their "Bush/Cheney 00" stickers are heading to the nearest Borders for a latte and the hardcover of "Against All Enemies."

The Bush Culture is not one of delicacy, not one of well-read reason. Reading is for wussies. Intellectualism is for tree-huggers. Now clearing brush, there's a constructive activity. And shooting stuff. That's always good.

I have now moved out of the realm of positive, well-constructed rhetoric and well into bitter, cynical namecalling. Yeah, I guess I am Maureen O'Dowd. But every time I go to work out at the Y, they have CNN on. And every few minutes on CNN they talk about someone else my age being brutally killed by yet another satisfied customer of American cultural hubris. I'm sick of it and I'm sick of the fact that despite the brilliant stuff coming from the likes of Woodward, Clarke, Huffington and Unger, things are pretty much staying the same- kids are still dying (both American and Iraqi) and people are still lying and kids who are lucky enough to be born into families like the Bush family are still being better educated and less likely to go to jail or have kids at 15 and are kept away from active military duty while the 97 percent of the world who are not so lucky have to fight for themselves. Literally and figuratively. Here and abroad. And all the that little unelected monkey can do about it is sit and smirk and say stuff like "We'll do whatever it takes," and "we have the opportunity to change the world," over and over and over. There was a comic on the George Must Go site that said Bush is like that lottery machine deal with the ping-pong balls inside and there are only 4 or so ping pong balls that you can choose from.
"WMD!" "THUGS AND ASSASINS" "CHANGE THE WORLD FOR THE BETTER." Whatever. All I can hope for is that he's completely snowed in the next election. Humiliated. You know how angry Uma Thurman looks on Kill Bill? That's how angry I feel. Again, in the convertible. Hair blowing back, eyes straight ahead.

"I am going to vote Kerry."

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Gas Mileage of 1995 Saab 900 Convertible

Gas Mileage of 1995 Saab 900 Convertible

When I close my eyes, I imagine buzzing along 36 with the top down, wind in my hair, shades on, a good slick of SPF on my forehead and bare shoulders. I imagine parking easily, doors that don't threaten limbs when opened on a steep hill, I imagine 20 mpg and filling up once a month rather than twice.

Even with a car payment of 60 or 70 bucks, when you consider what I'll save on gas, that comes out to 30 or 40 bucks a month out of my budget. And now that I've canceled my 15 a month to Greenpeace I'll be just fine. And not feel like I need to give to Greenpeace as a sinner's fee for the car I drive.

I hope my grandmother will understand just how happy a Saab Convertible would make me . . . but then, sometimes I doubt that she gave me her car thinking it would make me happy. I think she was thinking she would no longer have to own the car, but she would be able to keep tabs on it. Sounds cynical, I know, but there is little that causes me to doubt this notion.

Olive would like to go for rides in my convertible. Lizzie and I could go for rides up into the mountains, blasting Coldplay and enjoying the piny air. I could roadtrip up to Iowa with the top down through the sod fields of southern Nebraska.

Coincidentally, I found NO negative reviews on the 900 . . . something I can't say for the Jetta. I have abandoned my Jetta dreams . . . apparently the electric system is highly unreliable. And the 4-cylinders have a distinctly teutonic sluggishness. But it seems that despite the relative unpopularity of the 1993-97 Saabs at the time of their release, they have relatively few major issues and a lot of power and fun- even after 70K miles.

I hope one day I can find a guy who understands the way I love cars. And isn't afraid of that . . .

When in Georgia with the Habitat for Humanity group, I mentioned my liking for Volvos and Saabs. An Iowa native and girl who could define the world "sheltered" looked at me and asked, "What's a Saab?" Not since a friend asked me "What's Weezer?" had I felt such a mixture of shock and pity.

When I think of getting 20 to 29 mpg, I get a little woozy with excitement. I'm from a car family, those who have not had such an upbringing couldn't possibly understand.




Friday, April 23, 2004

Dulce et Decorum Est,

The New York Times > Opinion > The Real War
Dulce Et Decorum Est
Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


Those who know me, and know my family, know that we are a Doonesbury family. We have a signed Trudeau print, we own the director's cut of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." We identify with the political view, we enjoy the humor in humorless times.

But now, things on Doonesbury are serious. Perhaps more serious than ever.

B.D., a Viet Nam Vet, has found himself back in combat, back in a conflict that seems to have no clear plan. And now we don't know what's going to happen to him- frames of black illuminated only with thought and dialogue clouds intersperse with chaotic depictions of people and places. Pretty heavy stuff for a cartoon. But cartoons, especially political ones, have never been known to pull punches in times like these.

I think what Trudeau is saying here is that if our media won't show the realities of Iraq, then someone has to. And if these realities are represented on the page most people turn to to escape reality, all the better. Someone needs to see that war isn't a video game or a slick Bruckheimer film or a question of supporting or not supporting our troops. It's real.

It is not surprising at all to me that the newspaper that had the biggest problem with the past few Doonesbury installments is from Colorado. Colorado manages somehow to vehemently wag the flag while firmly implanting its collective head in the sand. And while I am fortunate enough to be employed with one of the last remaining privately owned, family owned media outlets in the nation, the Post and the Rocky remain firmly in the back pockets of wealthy sports, beer and political figureheads (although here, one can easily be a sports, beer and political figurehead all in one).

People are often surprised at the conservatism of Colorado, but the truth of the matter is, there are simply not enough enlightened Boulder and Denver folk to balance out the gun-toting, homophobic, boot-scooting, god-fearing ranch culture one runs into once one leaves the shadow of the front range. Consider:
-Colorado Springs, headquarters of both the U.S. Air Force Academy and Focus on the Family
-1992's proposed Amendment 2, which would have allowed employers to discriminate on grounds of sexual orientation
-Popularity of KOA talk radio, featuring as its local big dog a Mr. Mike Rosen, whose enlightened stance includes such blather as:
"Conservatives believe in limited government. Liberals believe in intrusive government when required to achieve societal needs. (Exception: social-issues conservatives advocate government intrusion on matters of abortion, drugs and pornography.)"

So no, I can see why the Colorado press had a problem with seeing a war portrayed graphically. To many here, war is all part of the great American crusade.

An American working in Kuwait was fired because he had the audacity to publish photos of flag-draped caskets on the web. God forbid someone break the "Dulce et Decorum Est" fallacy. God forbid someone show the truth- that young lives are being lost at the whim of old white guys with a taste for oil, power and revenge.

In any case, the current administration is keeping people from seeing something true out of the fear that it will change minds. When this is the case- that the real outcomes of a governmental decision are being covered up to preserve a public opinion, something is very, very wrong. It's one thing to refuse to believe, to intentionally keep blinders on. It's entirely another when the blinders are being administered on behalf of the government.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

More quiz fun!




I just found out that both War Liberal blog and George W. Bush Must Go are both linked to me :)
Little old me, colinked in the blogosphere. Guess I should probably stop screwing around with quizzes and start actually writing about stuff that matters again . . .

This is kind of discouraging:
Maureen Dowd
You are Maureen Dowd! You like to give people silly
nicknames and write in really short, non
sequitur paragraphs. You're the most playful of
the columnists and a rock-ribbed liberal, but
are often accused of being too flamboyant and
frivolous. You tend to focus on style over
substance, personality over politics. But your
heart is in the right place. Plus, you are a
total fox.


Which New York Times Op-Ed Columnist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I like to think of myself more as the William Safire type. His style, not his stance.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

. . . the astonishing!

Patron Saints Index: Saint Christina the Astonishing

I am Cassandra the Astonishing!

Patron Saints Index: Saint Veran

Patron Saints Index: Saint Veran
St. Veran and St. Vrain are one in the same. A settler by the name of St. Vrain came to this flat area in front of the Rockies more than a century ago and gave his name to the river, and the valley.

St. Veran is the patron of insanity, mental illness, and mentally ill people.

So now you know.

I know what blogs like . . .

Good god, y'all.

Today we had an editorial concerning the Mormon practice of baptizing deceased Jews into the Mormon faith. Of course, Val exploded, calling managing editors, the Associated Press, everyone she could think of, to vent about it being "bad reporting." Actually, editorials aren't reporting. And actually, this is a true thing that goes on quite frequently . . . and I think everyone is entitled to an opinion about it. If it was an editorial on the evils of gay marriage, she'd have had no problem with it, but since it shows Mormons in a bad light (God forbid) she's on the horn all morning, blowing off customers and phone calls . . .

Talk about your drama queens. I think it comes with being a Mormon- the drama of their pioneering days, etc, etc, persecution (we all know how much Mormons love a good persecution), you are raised to be a drama queen.

I actually heard her on the phone saying "It's not like we're hurting anyone."

Right, ask any Jew.

Man, I am seriously craving Gyoza. Lizzie- let's eat lots of Gyoza when you come back, ok? Mmm. Salty little pork pockets . . .

Busy day today, so I'll keep the blogging short.
Until next time . . .

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Okay, enough of the quizzes, I've got something to say . . .

Today is April 20. Five years ago I came home from school and my mother was crying. There was a shooting, she said- at a school in Douglas County.

And so it began, the media blitz, over and over again, pictures of young kids trembling, crying, holding eachother, trying to recover. There were metal detectors at our prom. There were vigils and speeches and calls for action.

It was one of those events you don't forget. Or do you?

What is terrorism? It is what makes us feel like our world is caving in, that the balance of evil and good has tipped in a terrifyingly wrong direction. But big events of terror often fail to make us truly look into the reasons for the evil, the realities that we perpetuate that indirectly cause children to kill or the faithful to martyr.

In response to the terror of April 20, 1999, we heightened security. We stripped students of their privacy. Schools mandated clear plastic backpacks, random mandatory locker searches, metal detectors, cameras, police officers.

In response to September 11, 2001, we heightened security. We regulated carry-ons for airline passengers. We mandated spy software for e-mails. We profiled.

We treated the symptom, and not the cause.

The war against school shootings has cooled, and we have been fortunate to avoid another Columbine. But we remain in a similar quandry as we do with the 9-11 tragedy. We can't quantify threat- so it is difficult to say whether children in schools are actually safer or whether we're long overdue.

The notion of random acts of violence is a false one. These events were not random. They were due to a long string of strategic moves and ideological drive. Erik Harris and Dylan Klebold thought they were avenging wrongs and performing a righteous act. They wanted to sacrifice themselves to make people take notice, to inspire change. And in some ways, nothing has been the same. But in many ways, everything is still the same.

People fear what they do not understand, but what's more, they do not attempt to understand. These boys did not act randomly simply because of a taste for blood. They were just tweaked enough to feel as if they were acting nobly in reaction to ignoble acts on the part of their peers.

When the shooting happened, they tried to make it sound like the kids were pure evil. They wore black. They belonged to the "gothic street gang"-- right. They listened to German death metal. But I knew what it was like to be one of those kids- to be brutalized, to be hurt, inside and out, and further, to be ignored when I brought these hurts to the attention of administrators. It would be an exaggeration to say that acting as those boys did is a small deviation from relatively normal teenage drama. But I have to say that I know what it was like to reach the breaking point. Luckily for me and many others, I had a supportive, attentive family. But I was lucky.

None of those kids deserved to die. But the sick part is that it took something as devastating as Columbine to bring people to the realization that bullying is not okay. And still, we are not treating the cause. Bullying continues. It still happens. And it is still ignored. The only difference is that now it can be captured on tape by the surveillance cameras. Surveillance systems costing up to 80 thousand dollars. 80 thousand dollars which could have been spent on textbooks and supplies. As far as I know it costs nothing for a hall monitor to get in the face of a bully who goes too far. As far as I know it costs nothing for a principal to call in the parents of a kid who humiliates someone else. But as far as I know, plenty of administrators are still turning the other way even when such behavior is very, very present.

Terrorism in all its forms is like a pandemic. Treatments only cause it to mutate, to change properties, to adapt. Surveillance cameras won't stop bullying, and so surveillance cameras are helpless against school shootings. Columbine had cameras. So now we have live footage of the actual event to treasure for eternity.

And by the same token, prohibiting sporks on airliners will not stop the fundamental ideological rage that causes terrorism. We may have eliminated the threat of people hijacking airplanes and commandeering them into buildings. But since we didn't see that one coming (well, that's up for debate) who knows what will happen next? Terrorism proves that necessity is the mother of invention and while we can keep eliminating the means, we cannot eliminate the drive. In fact, by declaring a war on terror, we only serve to further deepen and widen the anger the Muslim world holds for us. Before, we were just infidels. Now, we are crusaders, murderers of women and children, ideologues, imperialists. To high school kids facing humiliation and torture from bullies everyday, we are willfully blind, turning our back on them while we install more metal detectors. Perhaps we will never fully eliminate that rage. But why must we exacerbate it?

I am Morpheus

Morpheus
Morpheus


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

And I now have commenting. So post away! Hooray for dialogue!

Monday, April 19, 2004

Results...

GIRLY GIRL - Clever Kitty
A GIRLY-GIRL. You dont have a lot of self-esteem
and people are always bringing you down for
being sad. What do they know, anyway? You feel
like youre too mature for your age and are
frustrated by the trend-followers who refuse to
accept you because youre not like them.
Your virtues: Intelligence, understanding nature,
modesty.
Your flaws: Lack of social life, inferiority
complex, timidity..




What kind of girl are you?
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I dunno if I buy the "inferiority complex, timidity part."

so addicted to quizzes . . .
HASH(0x8a87410)
You are CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL. She is a rad
chick with absolutely no fashion sense. If you
are a guy and chose this... you are gay.


Which old school Nickelodeon show are you?
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I knew it! I am Clarissa explains it all!

and apparently, I am Proverbs.
You are Proverbs
You are Proverbs.


Which book of the Bible are you?
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HASH(0x8ae13f4)
Legolas Loves You And You Love Him... He Would Die
For you, You soon Will Be Queen Of Mirkwood
Luck You!! ^.^


What Does Legolas Think Of you?? Part 1!!
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ah. good to know.

quizilla is funny.

Google Search: "what movie do you belong in

CWINDOWSDesktopFightclub.jpg
Fight Club!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
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Yahoo! News - 'Toothing' for Hi-Tech Sex with Strangers

Yahoo! News - 'Toothing' for Hi-Tech Sex with Strangers

Oh, yuck.
Yuck yuck yuck.

The question of the day today is "What is this world coming to?"
The answer- a world in which people use text messaging a la Ryan Seacrest (more yuck) to engage in anonymous sex on Tube trains.

Let me reiterate: YUCK

Thursday, April 15, 2004

a 9/11 movie would have to show both sides . . .

LILEKS (James) The Bleat

Hoo boy. There's a reason why this guy calls his own writing "Dashed-off Tripe." In defense of his notion that 9/11 "Would make one hell of a movie":

cue smarmy Republican sarcasm . . .

"Anyway, we would have to show Arab males as the bad guys, and that’s not worth the grief; you want to answer the phone when CAIR sees the dailies of the guys slitting the stewardess’ throats? And here’s the big one: if we make a patriotic movie during Bush’s term, well, it doesn’t help the cause, you know. People liked Bush after 9/11. Why remind them of that? Plus, you can just kiss off the European markets, period.

Richard Clarke’s book is available? Here’s a blank check. Option that sucker.

It’s like it's 1943, and Hollywood turns down a Pearl Harbor movie in favor of the gripping account of a Washington bureaucrat who warned FDR that the oil embargo would needlessly anger Japan. The attack on Hawaii would take up five minutes – and even then it would be a shot of the hero listening to the radio with an expression of stoic anguish. If only they'd listened."


Let's get one thing straight, once and for all. Pearl Harbor DOES NOT EQUAL 9/11. The Japanese did not attack the U.S. out of ideological furor. The Japanese attack did not represent a tiny minority of extremists. The Japanese attack was one of strategic military power, representing the greater plan of the Japanese people (not a very small group of way-out whack jobs, but the nation of Japan itself) to establish military and trading strength in the South Pacific by shoving the United States out. They did not attack to deal a blow to the Judeo-Christian Capitalistic ideal and chalk one up to the blinding righteousness of Shinto. The Japanese thought they were better than us, yes . . . but not because we were the infidels and they were the believers. And finally, the Japanese did not need to comandeer anything to attack us . . . because the military might was THERE, at their disposal, in a naval force that was built by the taxes of the Japanese people.

Kapesh? Good.

Now, for the notion of "showing Arab Males as bad guys." I really thought that this guy was more the Tom Clancy type. Let's just go down the list of movies making Arab Males into bad guys:

Back to the Future (remember the Libyan terrorists?)
The Rules of Engagement
The Delta Force
The Seige
The Mummy
Raiders of the Lost Ark
True Lies
The Black Stallion
Executive Decision

In fact, it's difficult to come up with a movie wherein an Arab character exists as anything other than a terrorist, a sleazy sheik, an untrustworthy merchant or a bumbling idiot who lapses into babbling prayers in his native tongue when upset.

Why wouldn't Europe watch a movie about 9/11? Well, in all likelihood because it would be poorly produced, borderline or blatantly racist, woodenly acted, overblown and ideologically pointed. But also because it is in poor taste to even make the movie, considering the myriad people that could be hurt by it. True, Mel Gibson said that his film wasn't anti-semitic. But here we have the problem of the intentional fallacy (excuse my literary theory speak here). It means very little that Gibson's intention was not one driven of anti-semitism. But it sparked it anyway. If a 9/11 movie was made, it wouldn't take much imagination to see that it would make life even harder for anyone in the US with a tan deeper than Dick Cheney's.

My point? Well, if I have one it's that we do not NEED a 9/11 movie. Perhaps some people NEEDED a Pearl Harbor movie, in a pre-TV, pre-Internet world where it might have been difficult to grasp the immensity of the event. But we were all THERE for 9/11. We may not have seen what went on behind the closed doors, but even the best film couldn't really give us the full story. Just like "Passion of the Christ" could never be a truly objective, play-by-play account, neither could anything describing 9/11. Nothing exists in a vacuum. Especially events laden with the ideological and cultural baggage of something like 9/11. Unless . . .

Unless a 9/11 movie begins in Afghanistan. Unless it begins with children dying in the Kabul streets of starvation, interspersed with film of a new Super Wal Mart in Odessa, Texas being stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, hugely obese people walking through the aisles . . . unless you cut in shots of the "I Like Twins" commercial from whatever watery crappy beer congomerate with images of an Imam preaching of purification of the mind and soul . . . Unless you give some background- not an excuse, but background to the reasons WHY these people felt so compelled to end so many lives and their own. Unless you show these people as driven by something other than the taste of blood, the movie would be worthless.

And another thing. "People" probably includes me . . . and I'd thank Mr. Lileks to never, EVER insinuate that I ever liked Bush. Not after 9/11, not ever. And especially not now.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

The Darkness | Men What Do Rock, Baby

The Darkness | Men What Do Rock, Baby
To make: The Darkness
Take:
2 parts Motley Crue
1 part Twisted Sister
1 part post-disco Brit Pop (really)
dash Coldplay bitters
Lots of Ice

Shake.

The taste: familiar. But refreshing.

Seven obits yesterday. And I kicked their asses :)

Self-tanned. Now I'm ready for the world. Baked a cake, too.

This morning I saw a grandfather taking his grandson to the park with a little red radio flyer wagon.

It made me feel sappy sweet but also sad because my grandfathers probably never would have done anything like that. I guess I didn't know my dad's dad well enough to know if he would have or not, but I'm pretty sure my mom's dad would not have. Ah well.

Despite my penchant for all that is greasy and fried, I think I'm getting thinner. I know I'm getting stronger. It's not as hard as it was to open that damned car door. Although now the key requires more effort to get it in the door. Not sure what that's all about.

*daydreaming* about new cars. Fast little ones that don't involuntarly pull toward gas stations as I go by.

Anyway, obits call . . . Tonight: Queer Eye! (I used to hate Tuesdays. Now they're my favorite . . . 'cept tomorrow's payday, that kinda rocks too).


The Darkness | Men What Do Rock, Baby

The Darkness | Men What Do Rock, Baby
To make: The Darkness
Take:
2 parts Motley Crue
1 part Twisted Sister
1 part post-disco Brit Pop (really)
dash Coldplay bitters
Lots of Ice

Shake.

The taste: familiar. But refreshing.

Seven obits yesterday. And I kicked their asses :)

Self-tanned. Now I'm ready for the world. Baked a cake, too.

This morning I saw a grandfather taking his grandson to the park with a little red radio flyer wagon.

It made me feel sappy sweet but also sad because my grandfathers probably never would have done anything like that. I guess I didn't know my dad's dad well enough to know if he would have or not, but I'm pretty sure my mom's dad would not have. Ah well.

Despite my penchant for all that is greasy and fried, I think I'm getting thinner. I know I'm getting stronger. It's not as hard as it was to open that damned car door. Although now the key requires more effort to get it in the door. Not sure what that's all about.

*daydreaming* about new cars. Fast little ones that don't involuntarly pull toward gas stations as I go by.

Anyway, obits call . . . Tonight: Queer Eye! (I used to hate Tuesdays. Now they're my favorite . . . 'cept tomorrow's payday, that kinda rocks too).


Tuesday, April 06, 2004

it's getting blogger all the time . . .

WetFeet.com > Career Profile > Editorial and Writing
Words can't describe how good it feels to get better at something after struggling for a long while. It is so great to get the obituaries back from my editor, with only a couple stray green marks (she doesn't use red, it's less "harsh," she says) and a little smiley up on the corner.
It's kinda like hot chocolate- sweet and satisfying.

I'm getting better at something I thought I'd never get good at- it feels fab-you-lous.

I also am planning on getting rid of a certain large, sheet metal curse. I am hoping to get it sold for enough to get me a small, friendly, easy-to-park, gas-efficient eurobox. Like a Jetta. Or maybe a newer Volvo . . . soft spot in my heart for Volvos.

Since the car broke down Friday night in one of Longmont's less spiffy neighborhoods, I have come to the conclusion that it is trying to kill me. First, it traps me in a car wash, then it randomly dies and refuses to start. It's posessed by something . . . maybe if I left it in neutral it would drive itself back to it's masters domaine.

Tonight- Queer Eye for the Straight Guy! Woo!

I bought too much food. I am still under budget but I have too much food. Too much for me. I need someone to come over and I can make them a sandwich . . .

Until next time-


Thursday, April 01, 2004

Telegraph | News | US vows to avenge Falluja killings

Telegraph | News | US vows to avenge Falluja killings

Working in the news is sometimes like working in a meat packing plant. You see things nobody really wants to see.

Walking to get a document off the printer, I saw a picture on the photo ed's monitor of what looked like dusty black garbage bags hanging by ropes from a bridge, surrounded by that front page favorite, Shouting Brown People with Guns.

Turns out, as I learned last night, that those black bags were actually the charred, mangled bodies of people who were dragged through the streets of Falluja. Those pictures will not appear in the U.S. press. And you'll be hard-pressed to find them in any of the international dailies. These pictures are censored. Bush does not allow the pictures of U.S. casualties to appear in the "Free" press of the United States. And since our photographers supply the world wire services, it rarely gets out anywhere else. Who knows how our photo ed got the picture.

I had a bit of a breakdown when i realized that the black charred bags were people. I haven't been in that much shock for a while. And while I take that reaction and feel a burning desire to bring every last one of those U.S. soldiers and contractors back home, my heart sinks because I know that the people in charge will see this as another reason for revenge.

I hate this stupid paternal attitude- that the Shouting Brown People are children who need the guidance of a strong US daddy to put them in their place. These are not rowdy teenagers. They are a deeply angry culture that has every right to be upset with us. This is not a popular opinion. Because many here believe we are "helping" the Iraqis, most people see this kind of activity as the deepest form of ingratitude imaginable.

I'm not saying those contractors deserved to die. Nobody deserved to die as a result of the foolishness and imperialism this administration has decided to carry out. I'm saying that this incident will be fuel for both sides. Some will see it as a deed requiring a punishment, others (like me) will see it as proof that nobody knew what we were getting into with Iraq, we still don't and it would be best to think up an exit strategy sooner rather than later. Where I see a disgrace, others see a clear signal that there work in democratizing this nation has only just begun.