How "300" Helped Me Understand Musicals

That's right. The film version of Frank Miller's 300 led me to an understanding about musicals.

I'll say that even with my fresh understanding of them, I'm still not so much a fan. But the obstacle, the same thing that many people have with musicals now makes sense to me. And it came thanks to one of the least musical movies ever.

Or is it?

300 is a fantastic telling of a real story, to a degree. And it's in that degree that I found my understanding.

Miller or director Zack Snyder is not leading us to believe that the Persians had giant men chained up as a secret weapon, or that King Xerxes was 9' tall and sounded like the bad guys from Stargate. For comics it has been common for quite some time. Comic books, because of the medium, has always had a degree of impressionism to it. (Footnote on this to follow)

But one of the age old arguments for film was whether or not it represented 'reality,' or what was the real. "Seeing is believing" has guided the audiences expectation in film, or that has been the conventional wisdom of film theory, at least one side of it. The other, springing from the Melies films vs. Lumiere and Edison films that were more or less documentary.

The realism restriction, that expectation of audience, has pretty much dominated. But I think thats selling audience short by making excuses for when the audience doesn't seem to follow that need. All the way back to The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari there have been impressionistic films. Audiences are more than willing to accept fantastic setting, from the films of Tim Burton or Terry Gilliam or Jean-Pierre Jeunet. These are theatrical pieces, magical reality.

Theater has never really had a problem with this and since the inception of the musical has churned them out non-stop. But for film consetions like "it's a dream" in films like Chicago or The Wizard of Oz, or the "Backstage musical" (there's not even a Wiki page on that...weird), essentially a music set 'backstage' at a musical hall so people singing was proper. Never mind that Busby Berkeley's numbers couldn't take place on any stage. Or that musicals became popular as soon as films got sound. But the wisdom was that the audience still expected the film to be 'real.'

It doesn't even hold true if you look at the body of films made that a film has to be a story of what happened in the literal sense, that notion of 'reality.'

So if I can accept a 9' King Xerxes why can't I accept people breaking into song? My problem was trying to establish the 'reality' of setting. Trying to understand a 'world where people suddenly break into song.' That's not it, anymore than the family is supposed to be feasible in The Royal Tenenbaums. With all the fantastic things that we will allow in a film, song seems mild considering the other extravagances of film. The trick is not trying to relate it to what 'really' is happening. Nothing, it's a story. Even when it 'really happened' it's not a matter of what really happened.

Footnote On Comic Adaptations

300 had another discovery for me in it. That was with its obvious comparisons with the other comic book movie out at the time, Ghost Rider. One, as already discussed, abandoned the notion of reality almost all together, shot entirely on a set with the style and look of the film stamped on every frame. Ghost Rider instead took the chopper riding flaming skeleton demon and shoe horned him into 'our world.' It's actually a bit surprising that this mistake is still happening. The film that jump started this rather long run of comic book films, Tim Burton's Batman, created an art deco out of time Gotham, an impressionistic world in which a man in a bat costume could emerge and not be out of place. The mistake that happens in Ghost Rider type adaptations is trying to bend as few rules of realism as possible. However, they should be looking at once you've crossed a certain threshold all bets are off.

There are degrees. Spiderman has as part of his identity New York as his backdrop, and to that he is anchored to a degree of the 'real.' But really, they should be looking with the barest amount of real they need. After all, audiences seem to follow Wizard of Oz just fine. And I think more of the audience than to excuse it as, "It's just a dream."

Motivation Through Public Shaming

To break from the essays we finally started writing, to talk about the other kind of writing we haven't done enough of by a long shot.

That being script writing, me and Sous Rature's initial collaboration. (Well, actually, our first collaboration was a fake news magazine of a sci fi universe for a rather unique club, but anyway...). We haven't managed a new work in quite some time in spite of having come up with what I think are some pretty good ideas.

Enter Script Frenzy. It's like that National Write a Book Month, but for playwrights and screenwriters. And we've entered.

The possibility of public shame has been one of our chief motivating factors so I thought I'd announce our attempt here.

So you know if at the end of the month if we for some reason don't mention this again, we failed.

We haven't selected the story yet, and seeing as the month started today that's not a good sign. But in all reality the bulk of the writing will be done in the last week of June anyway no matter what our intentions are.

Hopefully this will jump start us again. I'm beginning to really hate Reality Shows.

It's not so much that we agree, but why we agree

Over the last several months (or maybe it's a bit more like years), a friend and I have been in a prolonged debate. It started when I saw What the Bleep do We Know? with him and his wife; anyone who knows me more than casually know that this movie drives me absolutely up the wall, and it started that night. It was a parade of nonsense that was built on a foundation of massive equivocations mixed in with some mild misinterpretations of quantum physics and history and a major dose of new-new-age pseudopsychological mumbo-jumbo. Ever since, these two friends have regularly baited me (although in no way that inspires animosity or an urge to dislike or ridicule them) into discussing these "laws of attraction."

Some of you might have twigged to the fact that this is all related to The Secret, and my specific views on that book and its popularity are summed up by someone else here. Anyhow, in the course of this exchange, I did, in the interest of intellectual honesty, concede that there is a vague and roundabout sense in which it is true--thinking about owning a Porsche has a discernible effect on the likelihood of one's actually owning one (look no further than the Walrus for validation there); however, that's simply a truism, and obvious conclusion that emerges from a mature understanding of cause and effect and the role of planning in achieving goals, not a magical formula for getting the universe to serve up your heart's desire on a silver platter. I can envision jumping off my roof to the moon every day, and there will be no measurable increase in the likelihood of that happening (that is, admittedly a bit of a strawman, but try out acting as though you have already won the Megamillions jackpot and see how much money that gets you). Positive thinking and visualizing goals are certainly important facets of realizing those goals, and I am certainly focused more on that kind of thing lately than usual (my existential crisis of the moment isn't worth getting specific about, but it has certainly been a major concern of late), but only to the extent that they influence me to try to do the things that I want to do.

What really concerns me here, though, is the why. Why someone holds a certain belief or takes a certain course of action is often the overriding concern for me. Are American Evangelicals really allies to the state of Israel if they only support its existence because it must exist to fulfill the end-time prophecies of Revelations? I would certainly be uneasy about accepting their support knowing that they were just keeping me around because there have to be some Zionists in the lakes of fire.

My friend asks me why I get so worked up about The Secret and What the Bleep... when I agree with the basic principle at the root, but not with the metaphor used to make the point. I guess that's why he studied engineering (then became an organic kiwi farmer) and I studied literature. I see metaphors as dangerous things to be handled with extreme caution. People who don't think much about words in and of themselves are often in danger of conflating the metaphor with the thing it represents--see John 6:51-56. The Eucharist seems like a bizarre misinterpretation of an interesting philosophical idea (albeit one that holds nothing for me), and Karma isn't really what Earl Hickey thinks it is, or the active, seemingly conscious force for good that the writers of the show make it out to be (I do think that My Name is Earl is a fascinating exploration of the concept told with great humor and intelligent writing; it's even more so in light of the season finale). I don't think that there are a lot of people out there who take the show literally, but I don't think that Jesus (if he existed as an actual historical personage) was betting on people "literally" eating his flesh and drinking his blood on a regular basis, either.

The road taken seems at least as important as the destination.

"Hank, As I Like to Call Him"

Sous Rature and I grew up with the piano player on this album. He's easily one of the most interesting cats either one of us have ever known. I had a chance encounter with him after 9/11 where he was his typical low key self. He hadn't mentioned this album, just that he had strained his hands while playing in New York because the session musicians where giving him a hard time for playing 'too white.' While his injuries healed he did some freelance work in what I believe was international banking (his degree from UC Berkeley, making him one of the only musicians I've known whose 'back up' was really just a back up.) His work at the time had him working at the World Trade Center, just not that day. When I saw him he told me in his usual deadpan manner, "New York is trying to kill me, I'm coming back to California."

I remember forming various jazz groups with him in high school when we both had the dream of being cool, kick ass jazz musicians. During a rehersal for a graduation concert he showed me a biography about Henry Mancini he was reading, or "Hank, as I like to call him." Again, in his total deadpan with only the slightest hint of wry smile.

His playing has the same kind of subtlty. I haven't heard this album yet, literally seconds ago Sous Rature told me about it, but I'm guessing that that's what you'll find here. My only regret is that I was living in the East Bay when this was recorded, I would have loved to see this live.

Of the group of us in high school, there are only two of us left to not live up to our expectations.

I better get to work.

Lonesome Rhodes, Howard Beale, (The Life of) Brian, and Stephen Colbert

I have been watching Stephen Colbert and The Colbert Report, like many people, from when it was simply a prank promo on The Daily Show. It has been one of those phenomenons that lit off on from the first episode with the headline coining of (the popular use of) the word "truthiness." It has been a tour de force, he has been passed around YouTube, discussed on the pundit shows he mocks, and thousands of people sit ready to mobilize at his very whim. His influence is such that people go on just to be mocked to show they have a sense of humor, in the hopes that they will be considered 'in' on the joke.

But the joke is what has gotten me thinking. The Colbert Report and the character he plays on that show is a send up of the cult of personality that builds up around the self important pundits that make up the bulk of the programing of the 'news' networks. When he did a bit on Wikipedia, inviting viewers to change the entry on elephants, the response was so overwhelming that Wikipedia had to change how entries where done and he mobilized viewers to have a bridge named after him (he was later disqualified because he didn't meet a primary condition, he was still alive).

And this, I imagine, is a bit of problem for him. He has stated in interviews that he is troubled that people might not be able to separate the character of Stephen Colbert from the performer Stephen Colbert. It is arguable that a larger cult has built around Colbert than around the personalities that he is parodying.

There are a trilogy of films about the rise of media sensations, probably the most notable of these being the 1976 Sidney Lumet movie Network. In it a frustrated and suicidal anchor, Howard Beale, tells people he will kill himself on his next broadcast. In his tyraid he asks the people watching to go to their windows and scream at the top of their lungs, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore" (a moment referenced by Jon Stewart where he asks his viewers jokingly to go to their windows and scream, "Be reasonable!").

A cult builds around the ravings of Beale and the network begins a cynical exploitation of his popularity. It is a theme repeated from the 1957 Elia Kazan movie, A Face in the Crowd where a down-home folky drifter Lonesome Rhodes(a very un-Mayberry Andy Griffith) has a cult built up around his 'straight talk' and simple wisdom. Like in Network his popularity is cynically exploited, with Rhodes buying in and slowly corrupting himself. (it is the source of the cliche of someone switching on the feed during a public figures candid moment, a moment that has become prophetic in todays world of inexpensive camcorders and YouTube, such as the "macaca" incident.)

In both these films, and in Spike Lee's tribute/update Bamboozled, the cult of personality that surrounds the men overwhelms and ultimately destroys them. There is a scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian where the mob has mistaken Brian for the messiah and wait outside his bedroom. He addresses them, telling them that they are individuals, to which they chant back, "We are individuals!"

I begin to wonder if this is the trap that Stephen Colbert is heading for. I wonder if we might become so enraptured in the joke that we forget the joke itself. If the character of Stephen Colbert might eclipse the man, Stephen Colbert. He's not in danger of believing his ability as a king maker, like Lonesome Rhodes, I don't think. Nor having his anger and exploitation eat him from the inside like Beale (that fate, it seemed, was saved for Dave Chappele). But he seems already shin deep in the quicksand of Brian. In an attempt to ridicule the rhetorical messiahs he is in danger of becoming one. He has a keen sense of irony, an awareness and ability to build character. From interviews there is a sense that he understands the needle he threads with his egotistical, perhaps maniacal alter ego.

But do we? I don't want to be in that position of underestimating the public at large, that sort of self satisfied "Why's everyone stupid but me?" kind of notion. But I can't help but think that we have a tendency to martyr the prophets, and while I think he might be able to appreciate the irony of it all, I'd hate to see his end accompanied by the cheerful whistle of Eric Idle while he dies for our foibles.

Thoughts on Capitalism

A few months back, I came to the conscious conclusion that I had been skirting the edges of for years: I am not a capitalist. The really odd thing was that this was actually hard to come to terms with than my much earlier declaration of atheism; this was troubling. It even turns out that it's harder to talk about than atheism--reactions are weird and unpredictable. For the sake of my own clarity, I'm going to hash out the basic reasoning for my position in this public forum.

Smith's invisible hand is, I think, born out of a form of the naturalistic fallacy. I think that he was basically mistaking the movement of a dynamic system (the relationship between supply and demand, for instance) toward an attractor with what must have looked to a person of his time (the Enlightenment) a lot like intention. We now know that rapid convergence of complex systems on points of equilibrium is basically a consequence of mathematics.


To put it more simply, the fact that the math works in a free market doesn't mean that that math necessarily produces the best result for all individuals. This assumption is so embedded in our culture that it is difficult for people to conceive that it might be otherwise.

Another basic issue here is that I agree with the premise that people operate out of a place of self-interest (Matt Ridley's The Origins of Virtue captures my basic POV here), but this is, to some extent, an argument against systems that encourage capitalistic behavior. It's akin to legislating breathing or sexual attraction. People simply cannot be stopped from seeking their best advantage, and need no further incentives to do so. In fact, I would go even so far as to say that one of the most important functions of government is to mitigate the excesses and abuses that self-interest engenders. Capitalism becomes a problem when people start treating it like something that has to be defended or encouraged.

I was debating with an Alex-Keaton-like student of mine who loves to talk economics with me after my composition class. He's young, well read, and completely wrong in the way that a middle class straight white male is uniquely attracted to. I enjoy the discussions, even when they keep me from grading papers that are long overdue, and I hope that the perspective that I bring will eventually sink in. Anyway, I compared capitalism to fire in a kind of extended analogy today (and do let me know if I take this one further than is warranted). A fire is a good thing--it warms your house, cooks your food, and destroys your incriminating documents; however, there is a clear limit to its utility, and its growth must be checked and its fuel limited. If fire threatens to consume a house, we don't simply say "let's make an adjustment and only add half a log and see if that saves that house." We douse that fucker with all the water we've got until it's back where it belongs.

Critical Validation

Some years ago (1999, in fact), I had a theory about the film American Beauty. It was basically that there was a film hidden inside the film, that something else was clearly going on aside from light pedophilia, suburban potsmoking, self-actualization, and mystical plastic bags. The video segment that was the first shot of the film suggested that the tapes were significant in that they constitute the only hard evidence that investigators of Lester Burnham's murder would turn up, and that they would construct a seemingly airtight case against Ricky Fitts and Lester's daughter Janie. What kind of shocked me was that, at the time, nobody else seemed to be talking about that dimension of the Oscar-winning film (I must admit that film critic bars are spread rather thin in Sacramento, and I didn't make any special effort to comb the internet for others who shared my view, so this might be old hat for IMDB message board types--scratch that--just checked the aforementioned, and no mention).

Anyhow, that's just kind of the first part of what I'm getting at here. As someone who spends a lot of time picking media to pieces (just ask my friends about the subtlety of the Slowsky Comcast ads or the Geico cavemen (probably another blog about that whole thing in the near future)), I can sometimes second guess myself into thinking that I'm seeing something that isn't there. The other side, though, is that, if my opinions and interpretations of media/texts is just smoke and mirrors, then why did I spend twelve years in college learning how to do it? If I had studied engineering, I wouldn't be forced to admit that maybe my bridge is no better than anyone else's, but the general perception is that there's a very short journey from literacy to literary criticism, and it just ain't so. It's this kind of intellectual timidity on my part that got me into a weeks-long debate with a friend who denied that there was Christ symbolism of any kind in Cool Hand Luke; I value intellectual honesty, but there's got to be a point at which it's not necessary to painstakingly consider each and every opinion regardless of its source.

On to the validation part.

I recently bought American Beauty on DVD (a long-overdue purchase, considering how much I like the film), and sat through the commentary track narrated by Alan Ball, the screenwriter (of Six Feet Under fame); and Sam Mendes, the director. Right out of the gate there was a mention that the original first scene of the film was a courtroom scene in which Ricky and Janie are convicted of Lester's murder, but that it was removed because it didn't match the direction that the studio wanted from the film (I guess it would have been a bit more like Sunset Boulevard than it already is). What I think is great is that the first scene gives a hint toward decoding the original story from what was actually released without compromising the film that it ultimately became. I don't know which of the two creative influences on the movie pulled that off, but I feel a lot of gratitude to whoever it was.

It's nothing new, really. There's even a name for stuff like this in art studies, much like the roman a clef, or "story with a key," in which historical or controversial events Primary Colors is a great recent example, but Kerouac's On the Road is another good one. I thought I might even be on to something (I get a cool kind of buzz when there might be some neat new idea out at the edge of my awareness).

After sitting on it for a while, I thought "literary pentimento" was the right term (I wrote a paper about Hellman's autobiographical novel (not quite a roman a clef) back in English 1B). It seemed like this might be something that could tie a good critical essay together. Then I came across (pretty basic google search), of course, literary pentimento. I was only a little disappointed, but that little bit of disappointment got me thinking about whether it's really possible to have an original idea anymore. I'm not sure how I'd answer that one, but I think it's a good one to start discussing. Any thoughts on any of the above?

An Ounce of Prevention Lacks Satisfying Feeling

I don't do it. I don't have health insurance as a rule so even when I did I wasn't in the practice of going to the doctor for anything. Even when I ripped my toenail off I didn't go to the doctor until the barely attached nail hurt too much and the people at my job insisted I go.

No, for me it's only when the squeaky wheel starts shooting sparks and grinding to a halt that it gets replaced. Usually, I couldn't afford the grease. Of course some would point out that it's less than a new wheel, but what do those people know?

Well, for a change I did some preventative maintenance before it was a problem. Well, to be honest before it was even more of a problem. I bought a full set of tires for The Lego. This is after two blow outs and a mechanic telling me that he wouldn't go very far on those front tires. Initially it was just going to be the fronts until the same rear tire blew out a second time. At that point it just seemed like a good idea to take on a full set.

First of all, I had no idea how expensive a full set of tires was going to be. I had been buying cheap single tires as I rolled in the shredded spare, never before that I can recall had I actually rolled the car in for the tire change.

I think on some level I feel like it wasn't necessary, even though it was. The tires were working when I rolled up to the tire joint, they still had some drive in them and I cut them off. I know this doesn't make sense, that driving a tire until it blows out is an incredible hassle. In fact, I know that intimately. But I still can't manage to feel satisfied with spending that money on tires that were literally on the edge of their lives.

This all comes from my most successful month ever. I have made more money this month than I ever have, pennies from heaven included (and there were none this month). I have as much money coming in as I have and what I have is what I would usually consider a touch of a surplus. I've been poor so long (even this lump sum, if I made it every month, would put me in a very low income bracket) that the practice has extended to everything. What I should be doing with this money is finding as many creditors as I can and clearing off as much as I can. But I'm not. The only debt I'm killing is one that will come up one way or another in June anyway. And the tires.

Other purchases have been things that have nagged at me, like a new hard drive, and things I thought would be a good idea, like a GPS receiver so that I don't get lost on gigs anymore. On the plus side of that one is I was able to download voices so that Mr. T or Gary Busey give me directions, and that's pretty satisfying...

In my slacker days (well, more thorough slacker days) this money would have been spent on a PS3 or Wii. Of course in those days I never would have been able to make this much...I'd always pictured a time like this as me running down the street throwing $20 bills over my head.

Nothing is as cool as you imagine it.

Our first spinoff

Hello all--this is just a heads-up about the side blog that I just started (no schism--Walrus and I talked about this, and it seemed better suited to a side project than as a regular feature of the Sandwich Machine). It's certainly not required reading, and it's a bit personal, but it is for consumption by interested parties. I do ask that those who know the meatworld individuals mentioned not publicize those identities, and I would likewise like to leave those mentioned out of the loop until it seems appropriate.

The blog itself offers a thorough explanation of the project, but in summary, it's related to my father's recent cancer surgery and surrounding issues. Stop by and check it out if you are so inclined.

A new post to the newly rejuvenated Sandwich Machine should show up soon.

Timing Issues

It turns out that entries are posted based on when they are started, and not when they are posted. While I am not necessarily forcing people to look, it should be noted that the Vonnegut entry that I put together following his death, while actually posted today, shows up below the two quite worthy entries of my co-blogger. If you're inclined to check it out, do so, but I guess that's the price I pay for taking my time.

The Macro-Series

I should edit my last post as there are some connections that I forgot to make and such.

Or I should look up other critical writings on this subject first so I don't retread something someone has already said.

I'm not going to do either, too lazy. Hopefully I'll at least follow up.

I mentioned briefly in the last post about the 'macro-series,' and I wanted to go into that trend in television as of late.

The television series, traditionally (and I know everyone knows this, I just don't know where to start) has been an open ended serial with a central premise, being newlyweds, or an entertainer married to busy body or a detective with a lazy eye and an odd method of questioning.

Then came the mini-series. This site has an interesting history and analysis of what makes up that. That's also a site I just now discovered, so thats something.

Lately we've seen the rise to new addition, a serialized show that while having complete and multiple seasons has a finite end to it. There is a difference between these shows and shows that have the appearance of a finite end, such as an angel that has to save a fixed number of souls, or a man who has to complete or prevent something before the millinium. In those serialized shows the task is a repetitive device that fuels the drama of each episode. Sam can jump as many times as the show remains relevant, lists can be added and rules changed to maintain the length of the series so that a show about a war can last longer than the war itself.

I don't know if it is the first, but the first instance I became aware of this new narrative, what I've been calling 'the macro-series,' with Babylon 5, which was promoted on the notion that the writer, J. Michael Straczynski, had a five year story arch in mind for his show.

This is an interesting approach to the high concept television show, which traditionally has a short shelf life anyway. It gives the narrative a chance to be a closed loop, for the story to work itself to and end rather than being a series of interconnected events that just stops at some point. It has been one of the major advantages that film has had, that it could tell a complete story. The mini-series managed this dissandvantage into and advantage in that it can be even larger in scope, the macro-series magnifies this even further. Now it can tell a complete story with nearly the narrative depth of the written word.

Now I should be careful and say that while it can, I don't know that it has yet.

But the macro-series does have a pitfall, and thats its own success. Kiefer Sutherland said of 24 essentially, "How many bad days can one guy have?" And that was before the beginning of the 3rd season. Lost struggles to continue the story to keep it on the air.

There are some easy reasons that might contribute to the rise of the macro-series. First there is the aforementioned short shelf life of high concept series. But I think probably the biggest contributer is the rising sales of DVDs of television series.

Time was that a show was sold to the network for 90% of what it took to produce it and the producers hoped to reach a watershed number of episodes, 100 for the longest time, that would allow it to be sold in syndication. Changes in the amount of programing a station can own itself has made it more difficult for shows to reach that watershed (as well given rise to the reality show). But with DVD sales of series a show has another method to make up production costs. A macro-series can then sell itself as a complete story divided into series and then episodes. It is a complete project, not one you can skip a season or two. With a show like The Simpsons you can choose maybe only your favorite seasons, but miss a season of Lost and you will be.

I'm actually a fan of this new development. I've always felt that while it would be interesting to develop a character over time, having to commit to an open ended story, stuck pivoting on one premise was a limiting element in television that inevitably lends itself to shark jumping moments like 'evil amnesia Sonny Crocket.'What happens is, no matter how dynamic the premise their entire existence isn't going to be interesting, only a particular moment or moments. Now the strength of a series, such as a character developing over time, can meet with an actual story arch.

Of course now it's being used for people breaking out of prison and illegal cross country road races, but just because some of the execution leaves something to be desired doesn't mean the format doesn't have promise.

I'll probably find a better article on this later and feel silly. Ah well.

Secret Bad Ass

I've been watching Fox's new macro-series (more on that term later) Drive because I'm just enough of a tool to watch a TV show about a high stakes illegal road race starring that dude from Firefly but not enough to watch a movie about a high stakes illegal road race starring Carmen Electra.

Well, last night the secret was revealed as to why our lead character was inducted into the race (aside from the already improbable kidnaping of his wife.) It turns out he's that special kind of fictional character that fills a specific niche, a certain kind of fantasy that has held some facination with me.

It turns out, he's a Secret Bad Ass.

It's one of the action genre's more interesting archetypes. There are two distinct types of Secret Bad Ass-the first, probably most common is the Reluctant Secret Bad Ass. The Reluctant Secret Bad Ass has a vague and horrible past, a past in which his Bad Assness was no secret. But then something happened...maybe he couldn't save that one true love and that's why he holds everyone at a distance. Or he found a true love and gave up the life for her. Or he couldn't stand the horrors anymore, he's turned over a new leaf.

There are plenty of examples of the Reluctant Secret Bad Ass. John Rambo just wanted to pass through town, maybe get something to eat, then the sheriff pressed him and his Bad Assness had to come out.

Tom Stall of History of Violence just wants to start a new life until someone starts some shit in his diner.

Casey Ryback was just the ships cook until Tommy Lee and the boys try to take over his ship.

Then, and this is even more intriguing, there is the Unknown Secret Bad Ass. Our hero goes through his life with a blank spot, or maybe wakes up lacking a certain degree of his memory only to have events trigger his Unknown Secret Bad Assedness.

I first encountered the Unknown Secret Bad Ass was in American Ninja. What? Don't look at me that way, I was a teenager in the 80s. Ninjas were where it was at.

In it, Joe Armstrong (seriously, Joe Armstrong. Follow the link, I'm not making that up) is given the "Enlist or go to jail" option where a attempted hijacking reviels that the blank spot in his past was when he learned and mastered Ninjitsu.

The Bourne Identity relies on the Unknown Bad Ass as its premise. A character has no memory except the muscle memory neccisary to be an Unknown Secret Bad Ass.

Even The Matrix hinges on an everyday hacker in fact being the Unknown Secretest Bad Ass, in this case some sort of digital messiah.

It doesn't take much imagination to form a theory about the appeal of the Secret Bad Ass. It's the portal out of your mundane existance, day to day you are your usual workaday self. You go to the same job, do the same work, eat the same muffin. But just under the surface, just below the tie and morgage payments is a Secret Bad Ass waiting for that one crucial moment for it to surface. You go from Everyman to Superman in the blink of the eye with no clue except for that pained look now and then and avoidance of discussing the past, or in some cases not being able to remember the past.

For the Unknown Secret Bad Ass the appeal is even greater. Just replace that vague period in your memory with the time that for some reason you recieved your Secret Bad Ass Training but then, because of a traumatic event blocked the experience from your memory, or simply didn't know you possesed the power to save the world.

I'm not stranger to this, though I can recognize it and its pitfalls, I am just as suseptable. When I had my sports car I had a portion of me that secretly hoped that someone would jump in my passenger seat brandishing a gun and telling me to 'run for it.' My Secret Bad Ass driving nature would come out as I use my blank check to make a run for it in traffic and my Secret Bad Ass cunning to outsmart my kidnapper.

Or maybe I could have been 'forced' into an high stakes illegal road race.

Instead I'll watch a show about it...if only because there isn't anything else on at that time anyway. My Bad Assness can remain secret a little longer.

How Do You Parody Something That Barely Exists?

Here's how.

I also learned that Lorem Ipsum is not who I thought it was.

The Universal Will to Become

Note: the following entry was started immediately following the recent death of Kurt Vonnegut; it has become a project of somewhat greater scope than originally intended, and the author has decided to forgo the mad rush to comment on this sad event immediately in the interest of thoroughness. Any statements that reflect the time at which it was originally started have been preserved in the interest of authenticity.

Last night, on the way home from teaching the first lecture of my history class, I caught the end of a BBC World News story about Kurt Vonnegut;I've always been rapt whenever Vonnegut is mentioned, but it gave me pause because there was no mention of what he was doing now, and I immediately felt a sense of dread that soon turned out to be justified, but it took several phone calls until I could get a definite confirmation that one of my favorite writers was, in fact, dead (So it goes). If you've been following this blog (and I know that this is a highly select group), you might find it notable that this is the same stretch of road (Business 80 between the Watt and Exposition exits in Sacramento) where I got the news about my cousin's death (so it goes)--I'm not inclined to look for special significance in this kind of thing, but it seems kind of Vonnegut for that to be the place where I have contemplated the inevitable on more than one occasion.

I blew off grading the papers that I had promised my students for the next day and instead decided to get a little trashed and think about the most significant literary and philosophical influence on my twenties. In retrospect, Vonnegut popped up on a near-constant basis during that decade. I remember catching the excellent film adaptation of Mother Night at a now-defunct arthouse theater (just visible from the aforementioned stretch of highway) on a cold night just before Christmas--I saw it alone, and it cut me to the core in that depressing and life-affirming way that Vonnegut's work always seems to.

I saw Vonnegut speak at the Scottish Rite Temple at the end of my undergraduate coursework in English at CSUS. While what he said was not atypical, the experience was still a significant one. I was already bound for grad school, and I wanted to write a thesis on Vonnegut (this was born out of a bizarre academic standoff that was kind of the literary/critical equivalent of with me in the role of the Spartans--more on that later). This was one of the first times that I realized that the primary dividing line between me and "fans" of all types was my self-awareness about my interests--I loved Star Trek as a child, but couldn't cross into wearing Spock ears or going to conventions. The crowd wanted to hear the same things they had heard before, and the key moment came when a very earnest man from Eastern Europe begged Vonnegut to secure a better Russian translator. In good, but heavily accented English, he made his plea, and, in an attempt to be flattering, told the old man that to many people in his country, Vonnegut was "like a god." Vonnegut walked out of the room and had to be talked into coming back. This poor man was crestfallen, and I don't think Vonnegut was insensitive to his distress, but the bubble in which he has spent the bulk of his life was never more visible, and anyone who knows his work would understand why that specific phrase might be upsetting. I enjoyed myself, but I couldn't get the proper space in which to ask the very different kind of questions that I had, and I couldn't, couldn't fawn over him, before or after the incident.

About a year prior to that, I took a lit course that covered Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. As we discussed the novel, a disagreement arose about the ending of the novel (the exact nature of the whole thing isn't specifically relevant, but it was my assertion that the final few sentences clearly indicate that the narrator commits suicide). The argument lasted two full class sessions and ended in a draw (although I later found that a few critics did share my view).

In The Sirens of Titan (a quite underrated part of the Vonnegut canon), Vonnegut writes about the Universal Will To Become (or UWTB). This is a cosmic force for change, adaptation, and growth--what makes things become the things they are, and strive to be the things the may one day be. I think it's a fair description of the man himself.

Project Woodshed

For the last several months, I have been kicking around the idea of taking some time off work--not just a week or two, but something on the order of six months or so. For years, I've often lamented the fact that work, or school, or whatever, keeps me from focusing on artistic and intellectual pursuits. I'm hoping that this experiment will help determine whether this is just a pretty story that I tell myself or an actual truth about my nature. In either case, I'll know something that will help me figure out where to go from here.

So here's the plan:

1. Work my butt off in order to reach a target savings of $7500 -10,000, which, by my calculations, should be sufficient to support myself for six months without serious financial strain.

2. Non-op and store my car so that I can cancel my insurance and save money on gas.

3. Put 70-80% of my belongings in storage in the interest of minimizing clutter and distractions, with a related goal of temporarily narrowing the books that I have ready access to to what can fit in one bookshelf.

4. Find a cheap apartment or other living arrangement and put up six months of rent in advance.

5. Make arrangements for a hiatus from my three part-time teaching jobs, with an eye toward returning to work when the experiment concludes in the event that I don't decide to do something else.

6. See what happens.

My hope is to put all this into effect at the beginning of 2008--I will try to keep this blog updated regularly with my progress.

Wish me luck.

Why I Like Working Documentaries...

I guess this would be a really good reason to finally make a new blog entry. Today I worked on a documentary where we filmed Peterme.com, the man who coined the term 'blog.'(If you scan down on the left you can see the actual post that started it all there.) Well, it should be a good reason, but really it just made me want to apologize for what I do with the thing he named. Or don't do.

We also met Paul Niquette, who apparently in 1953 first coined the term 'software.' He had to do a little defending and searching, but just found out from the Oxford English Dictionary that he was going to be given credit for the word.

We did this in the Computer History Museum, which doesn't sound like it would be all that much, but was pretty cool. It was interesting to see the Compaq lugable computer I used to have or the Commodore 64 as museum pieces. And of course the game system display. But the coolest was the stuff that I had no idea about. A hard drive about half as big as me, a machine that had the coolest name, Johnniac. Why don't computers have cool names like that? Then there was Kitchen Computer, which no one cold tell me what it was supposed to do or how it was supposed to work. And the original Google server. Oh you hand built finder of porn, trivia, and how many times my name is mentioned on the internet.

Anyway, that is why I like doing documentaries, it's like watching them, but it takes longer and occasionally I get to ask my own question. Peter Merholz even told me what the Sandwich Machine was-something like lazyweb, where people just state the things they want but are too lazy to make it so they put it on the web and hope someone else does it. I like my name.

It implies that I get sandwiches.

It was nice talking to you

The title above was the last thing the automated operator at T-Mobile said to me as I finished paying my account for the month. There's a sense where I understand the urge on the part of a company to create the feeling of human contact, but it comes off as a bit patronizing as well. There is little doubt in my mind that I was talking to a machine, especially considering that very few people misunderstand the difference between "eighty" and "eighteen" to the point that I have to say "eighty-one" just to move forward in the conversation.

The whole situation poses a dilemma. I really, really like the fact that I can hop on the phone and pay a bill or conduct any number of simple business transactions without actually having to bother a human being, but the fact is that such convenience carries with it a certain alienation. I generally try to be polite to machines (I always tell the gas pump, for instance, that I do not want a receipt), perhaps hoping on some level that when the machines rise up, I will be on the protected rolls.

What I guess I'm getting at is that I would prefer that a machine not be set up to represent anything else--the voice on T-Mobile is a nicely euphonious woman's voice with inflections and pacing that varies from vaguely seductive to comically robotic. I am certainly always aware that I am talking to an interactive menu that may seem friendly, but it is never a friend, and really cannot be mistaken as such.

As we move forward into an age where it is increasingly possible to simulate real social interactions in a kind of stripped-down commercially oriented Turing Test, I think that my actual human interactions become more, not less, important. Many of us interact with living people through interfaces that resemble the ones that we use to talk to computers, so it's really easy to blur the line between them. Ultimately, some kind of infrastructural designation seems called for--a way to require a machine to report "I am, in fact, a machine, and this interaction is, at best, a lifelike simulation of human contact."

In the meantime, I have to wonder if the T-Mobile voice has any admirers out there...

"You Suck."

Maybe this is catharsis. I'm surely not proud to admit this to the well of the internet, to the handful of people who have probably stopped checking this because it's been so long since an update, or to the people who pop by here for a brief second before realizing that there is no real sandwich machine, but like picking a scab or standing on a sore leg to hope the pain dulls, away I go.

I got fired. They didn't actually use the words, "You suck." Hell, they didn't even use the words, "Your fired." They phrase it like a favor, "We're letting you go." Really? I get to go? Where am I going, is it cool? No, it's a one way ticket to Shametown, population, me.

It's not as drastic as it would have been in my pre-freelance world. It was only a job I would have had for 10 days, and I already had worked two of the days. But I really could have used the money from the remaining eight, and even if it was temporary it's still a blow to the mighty pride.

I've done all the usual things. Rationalized-it was a disorganized shoot anyway, and now I'm saved the bother. I'm not worthless, I turned down three other jobs to take this one (that stings a bit, since I would really be working right now...), I have another job coming up on the 3rd, I'll be fine. They'll be worse off now than if they kept me, it was my first time as an official grip and I was bound to be out of my element, etc.

I've blamed it on them-of course I don't know where all your equipment is, you didn't give me a call time, contact info, or location. I had to hunt you down on the first day. We didn't have time to move the equipment to my van much less do an inventory. So yeah, on the first couple of days it's going to take me a while to find shit. You have bigger problems than me, I'm not the reason you're behind schedule.

But the reality is, a more experienced grip would still have been faster. On some level they where right. And there the nerve ending attached to pride starts to twinge. And it hits even harder when it's my 'real job,' not some Joe Job I could give a shit about while working my way through college.

But these things happen. I keep telling myself I can't live and die by one job. Maybe if I say it enough times I'll believe it again.

I Dare You Not To Listen

I double dog dare you to see this and not listen to a sample or two. At least own up to the one you did. For me it was Alligator ass.

EDIT: Ah, you all missed out. Apparently the site that I linked to has been torn down in favor of a new one, but on this one you can't listen to the songs. It's really too bad.

Home Depot in Emeryville Sucks

I wanted to let Sous' post sit on top for a bit before I did this, but the Home Depot in Emeryville on Emry Ave. sucks. It may be the worst hardware store on Earth. Now this isn't just, "I went in for some screws and a sander and someone was rude." No, sir. I've worked retail for far too many years and understand that sometimes it's just a bad time. But for a week and a half I went to the Home Depot in Emeryville at least once if not twice a day. Every journey was a symphony of frustration.

First, finding someone to help you is like playing wack-a-mole. Except when you actually wack that mole it doesn't tell you that it's not his or her department and then shine you on about how he'll call someone to help you. Only two out of five times (I had to go there enough for this to be a reduced ratio-and I actually kept track) would they actually make any announcement and absolutely zero times would that help come. Place on top of this the complete and total disengagement of the employees. Though to be fair, there was one doddering old man who seemed to care but was too far off the rails to really be able to help-but by depth of comparison he was a fountain of information.

The shelves are a complete shambles, marked poorly and inaccurately, and they are completely understocked. If you have a project larger than fixing a cabinet door, forget it. For a store of its size it has shockingly little. By the end of my job despite the additional distance I would go to OSH on Ashby in Berkeley first, just to avoid frustration.

Do not go to the Home Depot in Emeryville. It is nearly the worst retail place on Earth. And I used to work at a record store.

Why am I bothering, since only one reader I know about is in the Bay Area? Because thanks to sitemeter I know that we can be a bit of a Google trap, and hopefully I can warn off an innocent Googler looking for a hardware store in Emeryville and save him the hard ship of going to the worst one ever-the horrible Home Depot in Emeryville.

I am Sous Rature's Class Rage

People who know me might not be surprised that I saw The Devil Wears Prada the other day, as I had a gap in my schedule of about three hours, and none of the films that I was actually anticipating this summer had been released yet. I was prepared for a fair-to-middling “chick flick”; what I was not prepared for, however, was for a barely containable class rage to rear up in my consciousness even as I sat in the movie theater.

A little background is necessary here. First off, my family is basically lower middle class as far back as I can trace. I often joke with friends that my forebears probably carried the luggage off the Mayflower. At the same time, I come from a long line of educators, artists, and lovers of reading. It was no surprise to anyone in my family that I studied literature when I went to college; I had said as much when I was in the seventh grade, and I have an aunt who went the same way. Most of the men in my family, though, are tradesmen of one kind or another—printers, mechanics, truck drivers, technicians. All through my childhood, I witnessed adults struggling to support their families; my stepfather mowed lawns in the day and worked as the night janitor at a high school while he went to welding school. What this meant for me was that whatever I was going to do, it had to be, foremost, a trade that could support me.

Teaching English seemed like a reasonable way to go, and there are ways in which my time as a literature student (twelve years) was incredibly important, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything; however, there were a few difficulties. First, literature is not typically a discipline for the masses, and I continuously felt out of place among my peers. I was surrounded by people who immediately clarified the meaning of the word dilettante. These were people who had opinions about wine and could use the word lover in a conversation without it seeming entirely ridiculous. My tastes are a bit different, and if my love for popular culture generally and television specifically made me a little bit the odd John, my scientific leaning were tantamount to declaring myself the enemy. For many of them, I was the Morlock in the garden of the Eloi.

What made this worse is that I love art and literature and much of what is put in the “high culture” box. This stuff meant a lot to me, and I was often the wide-eyed innocent; to me, they often felt like the couple in Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” or extras in The Great Gatsby. It often felt to me that all of what we were doing mattered more to me than it did to them, even as they were “to the manor born.” It took me a long time to figure out why Jude the Obscure got me so angry, but years later, I realized that it hit a little too close to home. I was smart enough to get into the party, but once I was there, there was no reward other than the discomfort of literally and figuratively not knowing what fork to eat with.

Going to England for a year served to further define things. England is an openly class-driven society, and I could clearly see where my allegiances lay. Further, I am not particularly an Anglophile, but my enthusiasm often overshadowed that of other exchange students (particularly those from New York), who seemed more interested in not appearing interested. What it really seemed like was that these people were (1) practicing not being impressed, and (2) setting up contacts for future shopping expeditions later in their lives. I had a great time in England, and I think my experience was probably richer and more personally meaningful than it was for many of these people; at the same time, it was my first (and so far only) trip out of the country, and it proved nearly ruinous financially. I loved Europe, and I always grind my teeth a bit when I hear people talk so casually about popping over the Atlantic when it is just a couple steps shy of a lunar landing for me.

My moviegoing experience of a few weeks back shouldn’t have been a shock for me, but it was. I have some dimensions of my personality that I wish I could change, but, barring that, at least I can be honest about them. Seeing this film about the transformation of a basically down-to-earth character into a fashionista brought up my bile in a way that I hadn’t seen in myself since that time I accidentally watched Paris Hilton abuse Burger King employees on The Simple Life. I can only call it class rage, and it is one of the only instances where my thoughts actually take a violent turn. I can understand the spirit of the French Revolution when Barbara Bush talks so callously about the displaced poor, when well-heeled people don’t get what’s going on at intermission of Ibsen’s A Doll House. Whether I like it or not, I feel like I have more right to the great things of our culture because they actually mean something to me, because they were not my birthright, because I pursued them, because they weren’t a given for me.

This is a self-esteem issue too, though. Every now and again, I get the sensation that I am a barely restrained Liza Doolittle at the garden party, and my discourse on art, philosophy, and culture is only shades different from KoKo’s attachment to a kitten. I’d like to get over it, but I’m not sure I ever will.

The Artistic Process

This sums up nicely a feeling I have about the process of artistic acceptance, among other things. There doesn't seem to be anything on deck for writer/director Jeff Hopkins, but I hope there will be soon. It's a good little film even without the personal relevance.

Why Teach Critical Reading?

Here's a good reason. This is an anti-abortion blogger who apparently wasn't able to figure out that The Onion was a satirical newspaper. Now, I'm like the millionth blogger I think to make fun of this, he even had to post a response to all the other chattering horde on the internet that still fails to realize the schtick of The Onion.

But since an English teacher (theoretical) co-authors this blog and another occasionally visits it I thought it a relevant justification for the work they do. She must think Swift is the father of the pro-choice movement...

Side note: Blogspot spell check doesn't recognize "Blogger" and "blog"??? What the...

Update: This isn't the first time this has happened.

That's One Way to Deal With Criticism

Challenge them to a boxing match.

That's right. Uwe Boll, director of such universally panned video game to movie adaptations as House of the Dead and Alone in the Dark, the former of which (being the only Boll I've seen) achieves connection to the game by actually splicing in screen shots of the game during a climactic(?) last fight, has decided to challenge his five harshest critics to a boxing match:

"I'm fed up with people slamming my films on the Internet without see them. Many journalists make value judgments on my films based on the opinions of one or two thousand Internet voices. Half of those opinions come from people who've never watched my films. I have been told that BloodRayne has a very bad IMDb rating but how many of those votes of zero were made before the movie appeared in theatres."

I can certainly understand that level of frustration. I mean when your a filmmaker that has a website dedicated to petitioning you to stop making films or calling you the antichrist, it can get to you. I'm reminded of the ending of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back where they spend their royalty money giving internet forum haters a beat down. But as Banky says in that film:

That's what the internet is for. Slandering others anonymously. Stopping the flick isn't gonna stop that.

And really, if the rest of his movies are anything like House of the Dead, he does have a lot to answer for. But then, I guess he is. Though he's no fool, there are parameters-

To be eligible only critics who have posted on the internet or who have written in magazines / newspapers at least two extremely negative articles in the year 2005 will be considered. Critics of 2006 will not be considered. Please submit proof of your negative reviews & comments via e-mail to: info@boll-kg.de.

All challengers must be healthy males, weighing between 140 lbs. and 190 lbs. You will require to be physically examined by a doctor and sign the necessary release forms for liability, etc. You will not be paid nor entitle to any residuals or fees. Your transportation & hotel costs will be paid.

The following posters to the IMDb have earned the right to be placed on the list of the most extreme anti-Boll critics and therefore eligible to enter the contest for being picked to be an extra/stand-in in Postal and physically box Dr. Uwe Boll.

Headhunter004
Adultswimlover2
Evolution_500_2
Greatnates
thedoomsdaybegins
GunnerySergeantNumbnuts
Murdoc995
AimeeBrookes
ChineseOldMarketMan
GabeLogan9060
Veedragon40
BigSexy77
TylerDurden52
Dan223-1
howdy4641430-1


You will surely not want to miss this, so keep checking back on IGN for more!

I looked up a Headhuner004 quote, here, where he lists a bunch of anti-Boll movies.

He could just make better movies, but everyone deals with things their own way...

This Guy Really Hates Walls...

Roger Waters has graffiti the Israeli Wall. It's part of a larger campaign, and probably more news worthy is the concert and organization. But it's Waters, and a Wall.

Imagine in ten years time when he'll be in America with a whole new wall to graffiti...

No Pictures, Please

Having been the Easter Bunny, I totally understand this.

Now That's What I'm Talking About

As a geeky little kid H. P. Lovecraft was one of those things that was 'in my orbit,' so to speak. I was into role-playing games, and there was a role-playing game that I think I remember trying, or at least creating a character in. I had a complete volume of short stories that I read a few of. People who where into some of the things that I was into where into Lovecraft and Cthulhu. I would be a poser, though, to say that I was that into it.

But the movie that's been made I'm all about. Why? Because the filmmakers have decided to not only set it in the time period of the original story, but they have filmed it as if it was filmed in 1925-including being silent and only 47 minutes long. Looks like it's not going to be on a screen anywhere near me, the DVD is definatly on the list.

This is something that really intrigues me about modern filmmaking that really can only come about as a medium matures. Here the method of the filming is part of the narrative. The mise en scene has always been important in film, but this degree, not only what's on the film but how it was filmed, creates a new level of the narrative for the audience to interact with because the audience has an awareness of the medium. We're seeing this become more prominent, as with another film that uses this very technique, The Saddest Music in the World, the in the blending of documentary, narrative, and surrealist styles in the adaptation of American Splendor, or in the recent biopic of The Notorious Bettie Page that depicted the period of Page's life by emulating the film-stock of the photographs that she was taking at the time (grainy black and white in New York at the film clubs, over saturated color in Miami with Bunny Yeager). There are more examples, such as the super-genre love notes of Tarantino's Kill Bill and Conran's Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. It inspires me as an aspiring film maker and engages me as an active audience member.

I can only hope that Cthulhu and it's ilk are harbringers of things to come. Bravo.

I Told You...

Unicorns would be dicks.

It's Good to be Remembered

I grew up competing against, if for only a few years, a top level athlete. I don't want to mention his name so as not to end up trapping someone in a Google search because for some reason that would make me feel silly. Most the people who actually read this and aren't just passing through looking for an actual sandwich machine (I'm stunned at how often that's searched for, not to mention how many of those people actually click here ever so briefly...) already know who I'm talking about.

By complete randomness, I ended up working a Food Network show where I met him again as an adult. Now I remember him because of who he is, but there was no reason for him to remember me. And he didn't. What did surprise me was that his dad remembered me. I mean really remembered me. He described my dad, my grandpa (I couldn't even do that...), my number, a lot. Apparently I'm in a video they have of that time as well. He even said I was good, which I think was polite but gave me a warm fuzzy anyway.

All in all it was pretty cool. Meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but cool anyway. He was a pretty nice guy, too. Though in the situation that was to be expected, people always say that as if they expect 'celebrities' to be kicking puppies...

My Tenuous Connection to a Disney Film

As should surprise no one, I saw the movie Cars. If you're a fan of the automobile (even if you know it's ultimately a destructive relationship) than there is a well of references, as well as a faithful extension of the "Little Cabbie" cartoons that I like so much. All in all it's better than any movie with, no kidding, ten writing credits should be. The opening short, One Man Band is worth the price of admission.

But even cooler, I have a degrees of separation connection that I will stretch to make.

On of the back drops of for the film is a place called "Cadillac Ridge," which is a reference to Cadillac Ranch in Texas where an artists group called Ant Farm buried a series of Cadillacs nose first in the ground in a row. A key member of Ant Farm is Chip Lord, head of the UCSC Film and Digital Media department. (I had to change the link because I realized the one I used was for his personal info for UCSC students...on this one be sure to check out his movie map project using Bullitt. Badass...)

It's almost like seeing someone you know in a movie. Almost...

Because Maybe I Secretly Wish My Name Started with a B...

...but probably not. Anyway, following Incertus' lead I installed a sitemeter on this site so I could obsessively look at who glances at this page for less than a second in their search for something else or to see if for some reason we actually made an entry.

For those readers who were looking for sous rature, but not the Sous Rature who so rarely posts, and anyone else who is maybe strolling through the "next blog" button tour, I invite you to check out their adventures. The only thing I can add is how creepy it is to know so much about those people who where looking for an actual sandwich machine...

Fight Back and the Era of Infomercials.

I miss Fight Back. You all remember that show, it was like a proto-type Mythbusters that challenged the claims made in advertising. The show ran for 18 seasons and was amazingly popular. Somethings I didn't know, but found out at Fight Back.com. For instance, the number of claims that where true was pretty amazing, according to the history page:

One of its most popular features was the commercial challenges, which were entertaining as well as informative. The challenges included products being dropped from a helicopter, or being smashed with wrecking balls, to test claims of strength ... the popular "Timex Watch" challenges (which were all successful, by the way) ... durability tests featuring "Geeta the Elephant," a series regular from the Los Angeles Zoo, who tested the strength of products ranging from roof tiles to water beds. David recalls that 95% of all challenges proved the companies' claims, but the 5% failure rate sent worried manufacturers into a panic.

Originally I was going to lament the passing of such a show, but .86 seconds on the internet and it turns out that David Horowitz is going strong and giving consumer news on the internet. But as with most things it's not done to fulfill my lazy direct needs. Also, to parallel the eventual disappearance of that show and the change in advertising regulation that created the beast we know as the infomercial.

I don't have a remote for my TV and sometimes I just let the thing drift into infomercial because I get involved with something else or I'm just outside the door having a cigar and don't want to come in just to click through all the channels to see if there is anything on. There are a lot of vague, result and testimonial oriented programming on that promises that I'll be rich and beautiful as long as I call before the infomercial is over.

Thing is, I'm a naturally curious cat. I want to know how these systems are supposed to work. Now, I am the son of a real estate developer-you can't convince me that it's a good way to make money in your spare time. I don't buy the 'get rich quick' idea, I just want to know how they think it works and why it doesn't, explained simply by people who tried it and then buttressed by an expert.

Now I think that there is some sort of copyright deal that disallows such a thorough review of the product, after all if someone explained to me how it was supposed to work and the kinks in its system I wouldn't need to buy the systems. But I don't want to buy the systems, I want someone else to do it and satisfy my curiosity.

I want my own personal Horowitz that I can send off to tell me why I can't really get a house for $455 or earn $15,000 in my underwear, or is it a tape worm that causes people to lose 45 pounds in one month?

The Altman Effect

I had to make a decision today that kind of amused me, between seeing the new Pixar movie Cars, which actually is something I had intrigued me, a take on the anthropomorphic taxi and airplane cartoons (Like where the bomber gives birth to a jet, and you're thinkin' "She got a little on the side. She's got a little 'Space Fever,' if you know what I mean...goin' for those hot new NASA boys...I digress...), or An Inconvenient Truth, about how, among other things, cars are going to kill us all. So to speak.

I ultimately decided that a lone man in his 30s, smelling of cigar, who drove up in a van...with tinted windows on a Sunday afternoon to a kids movie was inviting trouble. So I saw An Inconvinient Truth.

But Incertus said all that needed to be said about that.

So I'm going to talk about why I'm never sure if I've seen a good movie or not when I watch an Altman film. I'm going to work this out with all of you, well by the time you read this I'll have already done it, you would have just followed how I did it. But anyway...

I saw A Prairie Home Companion. I should say that I am a long time fan of Garrison Keillor, from back when entirely by accident I came across a broadcast of A Prairie Home Companion. I was delighted the day he asked me to get out of the way during a book signing.

But this A Prairie Home Companion is much more of an Altman movie than it is anything else. It made me think a bit about Altman's style of story telling. In theory he is a 'proof of concept' for me and Sous Rature in that we tend to write character based ensemble pieces. But Altman, as is easily imagined, has a style all his own that I honestly don't know how I feel about.

There isn't a real sense of ending, or completion to an Altman film. He is perhaps the only filmmaker of the 70s auteur crowd that has retained that aspect of his filmmaking. Jarmusch does a bit of that, too. Though the movie has a kind of definitive ending it undermines that both in how it is set up and in the denouement.

I think that the thing that is the hardest to get around, and probably a barrier for other audience members is that his characters have very little internal life. This might seem like a natural thing for film, but it really isn't. When a character is alone, or doing something that they don't think at least others are seeing that is films way of providing an internal life for the character. While Altman doesn't abandon that all together it is far more spartan. You are an observer with no particular special privilege. You are flipping channels through the evening in these peoples lives and are left to piece it together yourself. Peoples reactions and emotions, their outbursts, can seem unmotivated and a little confusing. But it is because we are accustom to the special privilege that audiences have. Altman robs you of that.

While it would seem that this would separate the audience from his films, and no doubt it does for some, I think it has the opposite effect in that your reactions to the characters, their unmotivated outbursts or behaviors holds the same curiosity as would if it happened literally right in front of you. You are reacting as the undressed member of the crowd, the guy no one remembers inviting going from room to room nursing that one beer. The quality, the elusive reason that you think you've seen a good movie but aren't sure with Altman, is in this needle he threads with things that aren't supposed to work.

He has too many characters, no internal life, and conventional wisdom is that you can't make a film of someone's party interesting unless you are there. By giving us only the privilege that we would have as audience at that party, that's exactly what Altman films-a party that you are at. It's a different kind of filmmaking and takes a bit of getting used to.

There are weaknesses, and they don't neccisarily come from Linzie Lohan. Some of the actors, particularly and most noticably Virginia Madson, have a hard time. I don't know if it was being starstruck with author and director or what, but there are lines that you can almost tell the actor feels is corny or doesn't work but trudges through them anyway. Madson in particular gives the movie the feel of a community theater rendition of Our Town. But the interplay between Streep and Tomlin. For that matter, most of the pairings. And while it's frustrating when that style of storytelling steamrolls over a favorite bit (messing with the sound effect guy, for instance) it's about the only way this story could have been told.

One last note is the way Kiellor depicts himself, through the various stories about how he got into radio and his reactions (or lack there of) to what goes on around him. He is always at the tail end of a story that he gives you no reason to believe but want to hear anyway. He has the narrative of an observer with the characteristic of someone that does not notice those around him accept as audience. He doesn't care that the show will end because for him the show never ends. It's an interesting way for an artist to portray himself. And again, fits well into the style.

The Pet Image Principle

I do a lot of Google image searches-not that kind (well...), just for various reasons I've had to look up images for a lot of things. One of the things that I noticed in doing this is that there a threshold: If a search has enough pages there is an almost certainty that one or more of those images will be a picture of someone's pet.

This image of someone's pet birds came up for 'motherfucker.'

Evil!

So far today, on 666-

The first The Sipmsons of today, Homer predicts the apocalypse. The first thing that came up on my iTunes when I hit random? The Damnation of Faust by Phillip Johnston, from the album Merry Frolics of Satan album. Which I recommend. I was going to watch The Omen but by the time logistics where worked out, the urge passed.

Full Year, Full Circle

It hasn't been a year yet, and it's going to be a dodgy couple of months, but when I do hit the 1 year mark as a freelance crew worker, it will be the same way I began this experiment, as truck PA for the Monterey Historics at Laguna Seca. I have to say that I had sent the e-mail to the producer in the hopes that he would put me on the motorcycle races, but being hired back is just as good. Anyway, I think the motorcycle events already passed.

The "M" job went to the intern that was doing it as I suspected it would. As a consultation they say they've been passing on my number to LA productions looking for crew in the area, though I haven't gotten any calls from that. It doesn't matter, I'm still a fan of the show. And who knows what will happen. I also did not get the permanent gig at PBS, though again they say they'll call when they need some freelance help. I had the sense that was the direction they where headed in the interview. That's what I get for avoiding light hang in my theater time.

I love the Historics. After all I've done it's still my favorite job, and not just because they pay the best. It's a weekend hanging out with my brother (who works for them as a spotter) and watching gorgeous vintage racing cars, more than a few driven by the drivers that made the cars famous. This year's theme is the Trans Am racing series (for those who don't know, the car Trans Am gets it's name from the series, it's not a race of only Trans Ams). After those two defeats, the difficulty I've had in trying to move closer to the work and the frustration of taking a job that makes it harder for me to find work that pays enough to support me vs. not taking the job and risking not working at all, finding out that I get to go back to where I started is great.

It's still a little early for me to do any sort of 'retrospective' of this year of the experiment, like I said, June and July are going to be pretty dodgy and I may have screwed myself out of a good movie job by taking a underpaying one, but I'm going to be that touch happier going towards it.

Added P.S.- And I'm not going to let it bother me at all that I just found out they apparently had already contacted my brother last week about coming back but only contacted me after I e-mailed them.

Ecto 1 is For Sale!

If I where some sort of loaded collector type it's probably no surprise that one of the things I'd collect would be movie and TV cars. Which makes fantasy me excited by finding out that Ecto 1 is for sale! For a 'mere' $149,998.00. Who needs a Lamborghini when you got a car that busts ghosts?

The Swag Count

One of the things that I hated about leaving jobs like the record store or the movie theater was the free access to movies and cds. It was an access that got me into movies I would never have watched if I didn't work there or music I wouldn't have even known about. (Never in a million years would I have noticed two of my favorite bands, The Cherry Poppin' Daddies and Sex Mob.

I was feeling sorry for myself and my cut of swag gravy train when I realized I was unloading swag from my van.

So to alleviate my lust for free stuff, I thought I'd run down the swag count from my current profession. So far, I have gotten:

Various collections of snack foods including bags of candy, bread, peanut butter, crackers, and on one occasion two giant bags of Chips Ahoy. Unfortunately, Chips Ahoy is kinda nasty.

A van load full of lumber. This actually isn't the first time I've been offered lumber, just the first time I actually accepted it. I was feeling a little lost during the Trading Spaces shoot and wanted to be as accommodating as I could be and taking the wood seemed like it would help. Besides, even though I'm not 'handy' my roommates are. They don't seem to know what to do with the lumber either, though.

Two crates full of cleaning supplies. Some of that stuff I didn't even know existed. Those who know how I live aren't surprised by that...

Voltage Detector. Oddly enough, that thing has come in really handy. And no one expects a PA to whip one out.

Two pairs of gloves. Also, very handy. These where given to me after two weeks as a grip without gloves-that's carrying and setting up stands and mounting lights that are sometimes very hot. I didn't know I was going to be a grip nor did I have any idea how to be one. Now it's my only credit on IMDb.com.

T-Shirt and hat from the Speed Channel. This is actually the only swag type item I've received, and that was on the first go.

I was kinda hoping to score a pair of boots from the ad, but ah well.

It's not a bag of cds every week, but it'll do.

The Other Me

Confession, of a sort. I am, to a small degree, an identity thief. So to speak.

Here's the story-

Safeway has those club cards, or whatzits, you know the deal. I had applied for one a long time ago, and a slightly shorter time ago I lost that card. That's pretty common-they let you put your phone number in lieu of the card.

Here's where it gets tricky. I used to not have a phone. None what so ever. It was a bill I couldn't and didn't want to maintain. I didn't care. I did have phone numbers fleetingly-I'd get a pager for a couple of months or move into a place that had a phone or whatnot. But when I lived by myself I had a phone for a very short period of time before I didn't. Though that didn't stop my phone from ringing one day asking me to take a survey. As an exchange for taking the survey I asked the guy what number he dialed. Until the phone company killed the line all together, I had a phone number. I couldn't call out without a calling card, but people could call me.

So fast forward again to the Safeway Card. I knew I had one a long time ago but didn't know which number I had given-I often give long since dead phone numbers on things for several reasons, some good, some bad. So, at the register with only enough to cover the sale price but not enough time on my break to create a new card I started entering numbers that I had until one worked. The phantom number worked.

I figured that was the number I gave and started using it when I bought stuff at Safeway. That is, until the cashier stumbled through trying to pronounce the name she thought I had. Turns out that the phantom number had been reassigned to someone who also had a Safeway card. Rather than getting a new one I just decided to reassure my checker that how ever they decided to pronounce the name was indeed correct and bail.

But as I used my last five bucks (and 'borrowed' Safeway Card) today I looked down at the receipt-sometimes I try to make a go at pronouncing my benefactors name-and looked at the buying stats. It seems that my alter ego likes the Safeway sandwiches and occasions the Safeway Starbucks.

I've eaten a fair share of sandwiches at Safeway, but not common enough for me to care about the sandwich club deal, so I've never noticed. But I wonder if my 'card buddy' does-does he notice that he got to the free sandwich faster than he should? Does he even notice? Maybe he's as cavalier about the sandwiches, too. Maybe he, too, doesn't notice. I wonder what the marketing for him looks like, do I skew him-him me?

I think I might start tracking my grocery doppleganger. I don't mind that my shopping reaps him some awards, it seems a fair exchange for me not having to fill out a new form and remember what phone number I gave.

Trading Spaces

Right, we have this thing.

I've been gone for a while and haven't had internet for a while. I just wrapped (well, last week-I'm lazy, okay?) on Trading Spaces. Now, for the most part I don't actually post what show I specifically worked on until it airs because of these things I sign that tell me not to-but Trading Spaces had the name one the side of their truck. What a relief to not have to lie and tell people, "We're doing a documentary."

I'm finding that often the more I'm paid the less that I do. I'm sure that people will tell me that's the way the rest of the world is. That just makes me wonder why everyone kept telling me that laziness wasn't good...

Stupid Lego...

This won't make much sense or be much of a post, but...

The Lego constantly breaking down wouldn't be so irritating if it wasn't consistently breaking parts that Veronica doesn't even have...

Just when movies caught up with reality shows, reality shows took a giant leap forward. If I hadn't taken the Bunny job it'd be even worse. I'd feel bad about littering the world with reality shows if it wasn't for the tenancy for the ones I work on not to air...

On the plus side I've hit the 'magic' (even if it's only magic to me) 10th paid gig. Now I'm two away from 10 paid gigs where the term 'paid' isn't euphamistic...

Sometimes...

Sometimes, I have a very juvenile sense of humor, which is why I want this movie poster:

One Career Goal Down...

I done got me a page on IMDb.com.
As a grip, no less. Granted, it's for a movie no one is likely to see, but I never made that qualifier...

Now I need a 'written by' and a 'directed by' credit...one step at a time...

Sandwich Idea & Random Notes

A website for cell phones that lets users rate and comment on specific business, like "This Jack in the Box is stingy with the dipping sauce, this Cheveron won't give directions without having to buy a map (the instance that brought this on). Users can either log on and find a place that has good comments to do what they need on the road or check to avoid places that has stingy or just ass policies or employees. Or, if they're pissed off, tell someone about it. I think a lot of places don't give a shit about 'return business' because most of their business is transient. They can be dicks because by the time you find out you've already spent your money and you're gone. Franchises are supposed to curb this by offering a same 'standard' everywhere, but like a lot of things, that's a total sham. This is a way to punish the piss-poor and reward the cool.

It's raining like crazy right now. It has been for a long time. While I appreciate the readiness of the PG & E, but the trucks just waiting out front somehow not comforting.

The big gray Hum-Vee that lives around here is driving around in the rain, perhaps looking for situations that require a giant truck. Perhaps he's hoping it will be someone in a hybrid so he can use up that lecture he's been saving up...

Thank You Easter Bunny!

So one of the things I'm finding about my new life is that occasionally I'm free to take an 'off topic' job. In this case, I'm making a sort of return to one of the best jobs I ever had. I'm a children's character-this time the Easter Bunny at the Tanfranan Mall in San Bruno.

It's not quite like my old Ninja Turtle job. I'm a lot more anchored, I don't have any magic tricks or parachutes and I don't get to use the raspy surfer voice. (Which is good, because apparently I can't do that anymore without coughing.)

I gotta say, I like working with kids again. It may be influenced a bit by the fact that I know that on the 14th I don't have to do it anymore and I can go back to crew work, but what the heck. I'm having fun so far, but it is only the second day.

Sous Rature will point out that kids are just like adults, they have the same chance of being cool or little jerks-and the little jerks don't have the empathy thing really developed yet. But I have had a chance to revisit some things.

I wonder what adults the kids will make. What of the shy ones, that have to be coaxed into shaking my hand or 'petting' my 'paw.' What about the ones that want to be older, too cool to acknowledge the bunny. What about the little girl who couldn't stop waving, laughing and dancing, but didn't want me any closer than three feet? (probably has a good sense of smell, it was day two for that costume...) Or the one who wouldn't leave my side? What about the screamers, the starers? What about the caretakers, the older sisters who would step in and attempt to calm a fussy brother on my knee?

It's interesting to see how often the photo is for the parents versus how often it's for the kids. I sympathize with the kids, I've never been able to fake the smile either.

I don't ever remember 'believing' in the mall Santa or Easter Bunny, or Mickey Mouse at Disneyland or Bugs Bunny at Great America...I knew it was a dude in a suit, I just didn't care. When we go to a play we know that the actors aren't really a couple of arguing college professors (though, sometimes they are, but you get the idea). When the kids see me they don't look into the eyes of my giant bunny head, they look at the screen in the mouth. They know that mouths shouldn't have screens in them and eyes should blink, they just don't care. It's not the Easter Bunny, it's a dude playing the Easter Bunny for them.

For adults, the world revolves around their kids, but I think it's hard to imagine that kids don't always see that and when they find things that are just for them, especially in the mall where they don't want to try on that cute outfit a fifth time, they're thrilled. They don't know 'suspension of dis-belief,' the nature of performance and space, the role of audience and art. They do know that the man or woman in the giant bunny costume is waving at them. Specifically.

Maybe the criers think I'm real. Maybe they know I'm not and have decided that a man in a giant bunny suit is not to be trusted.

So far few mallrats have opted for a bunny photo, I'm prohibitively expensive. I await the prank, I can only hope it's good.