Friday, April 29, 2005

Dear Mr. President,

I turned on the TV when I got home from work yesterday afternoon and saw you were holding a press conference. At first I thought it was weird you were wearing the flight suit, but I got over it when I realized the how powerful your words were. He sounds strong, I thought, almost presidential. But when you actually got into the jet, I realized I was on the wrong channel and had been watching Independence Day. So here's my question: Whatever happened to Jeff Goldblum? I always liked that guy. You've got almost no pull in the Pacific time zone, but maybe you know someone who knows someone who could get Goldblum back on the big screen. Thanks, man.

Sincerely,

Daniel Carlson

P.S. Even if you help me out with the Jeff Goldblum thing, I'll still think you're a douche. Sorry. That's the way it goes.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Dr. Thomas Bowdler, born in England in 1754, didn't care for vulgarity, particularly in his literature. Seeking to protect the youth of his day from the morally decaying influences of William Shakespeare, he edited and re-released the Bard's works in an edition called The Family Shakespeare, in which Bowdler "endeavoured to remove every thing that could give just offence to the religious and virtuous mind." One instance of Bowdler's heavy pen is the death of Ophelia in Hamlet; whereas Shakespeare implied suicide, Bowdler's version has her die of accidental drowning. Bowdler's efforts to clean up the most famous playwright in history earned him his very own word: the verb "bowdlerize," meaning to censor a work by editing arbitrarily offensive material instead of just banning the whole thing.

Several companies have sprung up over the past few years that aim to carry on Bowdler's frightening work by selling edited versions of mainstream Hollywood films. Many of the companies are faith-based, run by parents or groups who want their children exposed to a more wholesome view of life and, subsequently, film. These intentions, pure though they be, are misguided, illegal, and most of all, dangerous.

Those who provide the service claim to be filling a void and providing a needed service to growing numbers of consumers, mostly parents, who want to watch mainstream films with their children but want to avoid the language, violence and sexual content common to most Hollywood films. But many of the films being edited and resold are rated R by the MPAA and were never intended for young eyes. The MPAA's rating system has been around since 1967, after years of waning standards and the defunct Hays Code left Hollywood with the option to edit itself or let Congress do the job. Hollywood, wisely, chose to attach ratings to films to provide for parents a brief summary of the type of suggestive content, if any, a film might contain. This allowed filmmakers to have their way and parents to know which films were appropriate for all ages. Films given the R rating, formerly X until that letter was appropriated by the booming porn industry, are not meant to be screened by younger viewers; children under 17 years old aren't allowed into an R-rated film unless accompanied by someone older, and with good reason. Saving Private Ryan, Braveheart, Pulp Fiction, and dozens more use graphic violence, language and, yes, even sex to tell adult-themed stories to a discerning audience. Will recutting Saving Private Ryan somehow prepare a 10-year-old child for the moral and theological questions proposed by the film? The CleanFlicks version edits out the infamous shot of a soldier dying on Omaha Beach, holding his intestines and screaming for his mother. But the rest of the story remains, and for all the film's glories or faults, a child can't wrap his or her head around it. Veterans of the war still have trouble understanding the chaos they survived, and Spielberg's realistic depiction of the Normandy invasion, one of the most visceral war scenes ever shot, does their sacrifice justice by recreating it as accurately as possible. The sequence is supposed to be unsettling; by trimming it to suit their own needs, the vigilante editors are cheapening Spielberg's work and the point he was making.

But these rogue editors are doing much more than cheapening the work of the filmmakers whose films they recut; they're breaking the law. The consumer has every right to manipulate a film after purchase if he or she wishes to do so; had I the hardware, I'd buy George Lucas's Star Wars set and edit out all the new things he put in. And I'd be within my rights to cut it. But I'm not allowed to rent it out, or sell it, or make copies of my reedited version and sell them on eBay. George Lucas would come after me with a lawsuit, which I'd lose, because, my aesthetic arguments notwithstanding, the films are not my intellectual property. No one involved with making the film has given me license to reedit and redistribute the film. I have not sought the filmmaker's permission for reworking his movie. I'm breaking copyright law.

Movies are not the Choose Your Own Adventure books I loved as a boy. I'm not allowed to change something if I don't like it. A writer, a director and a million other people worked together to bring me the film I'm watching, and I don't have to watch it. The proprietors reediting all these movies claim to be offering parents an option, but they're forgetting that the parents' option already exists: to see the film or not. To show it to their children or not. Ultimately, to be a responsible parent or not. These parents seem to forget that many movies are made for adults. Would an edited version of Sideways appeal to a 12-year-old? I doubt it, because the story requires a little more perspective than the one available from the middle school cafeteria. Many conservative parents express growing frustration with what they claim to be the downfall of society and the moral decay of entertainment, but no one is forcing them or their children to watch R-rated, adult-themed films. In fact, the biggest moneymakers every year are almost consistently the family films, animated comedies or light-action thrillers aimed at the whole family: Pirates of the Caribbean and Finding Nemo, two terribly overrated films from recent years, boast impressive box office and ancillary earnings because they were broad in appeal and simple in intellect.

President Bush signed into law Wednesday the Family Entertainment and Copyright Act, a law designed to please filmmakers and those who wish to edit them. Although the bill does enact stronger punishments for those illegally videorecording movies in the theater, companies like ClearPlay are protected. ClearPlay sells a special DVD player with filters designed to skip over chapters with offensive material or mute coarse language, and while I don't do this, it's hard to argue that this is a copyright violation. Rather than using the remote to fast forward through the risqué scenes, parents let the machine do it for them. But the bill doesn't, and rightly shouldn't, protect companies that sell reedited versions of the films. In a stunning show of hypocritical ineptitude, ClearPlay doesn't offer filters for Schindler's List or The Passion of the Christ, films the company deems to be inherently violent. They're as good as admitting that the line they draw between clean and not is a subjective one.

The squabble over the illegal reediting is just a symptom: the disease is lazy parenting. Maybe this is the price we're bound to pay as Generation X creeps slowly toward adulthood. Why bother screening what your children see when you can let a company illegally do the job for you? It's a trend with dangerous implications: instead of just editing the sexual innuendo or coarse language out of many filmmakers' legitimate art, some companies, like Family Flix, edit out homosexual acts and references. In what is sure to be another shameful moment for religious conservatives, Family Flix recently edited the DVD of The Spongebob Squarepants Movie because one scene featured an animated starfish dancing around in high heels. Apparently not content to let the film's fictional and satirical nature speak for itself or to let parenst decide which kid-friendly cartoons they should let their children see, Family Flix has announced that they care more about breaking the law than they do responsible parenting. I wonder, how long will it be until someone requests a film free of African Americans, or Jews, or atheists? After all, rigging the filter would be simple, as evidenced by the many in existence. What's to stop someone from deciding that Hollywood's latest blockbuster would be better without all the Arabs?

And why stop at movies? Books, music, television programs, you name it: disagree with the artist all you want, you're free to fix it and sell it to others who agree with you. Suddenly this is sounding familiar. I think I may have read about something like it, but I can't remember, and at this rate I might never know.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Classics Of Modern Literature As Updated And Abridged By Eugene Peterson

Romeo and Juliet
So this boy and girl were in love, but it ended badly.

To Kill A Mockingbird
Don't be all mean to people you don't know. Swap presents and be polite.

Lord of the Flies
These boys were stranded on an island when their plane crashed, and it ended badly.

Finnegan's Wake
This Irish man died.

The Catcher in the Rye
A teenage boy was sad, but he kind of got over it.

Fahrenheit 451
The government burned everybody's books. Drag.

Little Women
These four girls did stuff. One died.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
This boy and a slave rode the river. I think the boy's dad showed up at one point.

Of Mice and Men
These two guys lived rough lives. One died.

Monday, April 25, 2005

Unused Alternate Titles For XXX: State of the Union

XXX: Filibuster Brawl

XXX: Electoral College Showdown

XXX: Not Porn, But Actually A S***ty Action Movie

XXX: Recount to Disaster

XXX: Special Election Coverage of Doom

XXX: Seriously, It's Not Porn

XXX: House Resolution Vote to Kick The Bad Guy's Ass

XXX: Stump Speech

Notes on Locusts, Last Night's CBS Movie Of The Week

People this attractive would never actually enter the sciences or public service. They'd be, you know, actors in crappy TV movies on CBS.

Commercial: Wow, Farrah Fawcett looks like hell. I know she was hot for 15 minutes in the '70s, but time and age have had their brutal way with her.

John Heard is the scientist who created the super-locusts out of boredom, only to be fired when people realized this was insane. Then the bugs get out. He later dies, as he has to, to karmically balance things and let the attractive characters survive. I think Heard is doing this as penance for Home Alone.

I know that Lucy Lawless and Nameless Handsome Male Lead will survive because they are attractive and because they wear jeans while others foolishly wear suits. Don't you know those wool pants won't save you, General Stereotypical Military Figure? You need to relax and get into some denim.

Commercial: Andie MacDowell and Rosie O'Donnell are starring in a TV movie that looks to be the sentimental schlockfest I've come to know and fear from CBS. It looks like something PAX would air. Rosie plays a retarded woman. Tears ensue. I'd care, if (1) an actor playing a retarded person was as challenging a role as we are led to believe, or (2) there's actually no way I could care. Sorry.

Apparently Lucy Lawless does not require any type of bra to fight locusts/crime/whatever she normally does. She also changes her outfit a lot for a scientist, leaving me to wonder if the traveling lab van they use has a Gap attached.

Commercial: The voice-over on the ad for Subway's new chicken parmigiana sandwich is using a pretty heavy Italian accent. Because when I want a taste of the old country, I head to Subway.

I could never make it as a screenwriter because I'm not willing to produce things like this. It'd be like going to med school and then being told to stop healing people and start injecting them with these dirty needles we found in the parking lot.

All is saved when two huge series of power lines are charged up and turned into giant bug zappers. How. Awesome.

CBS couldn't even nail the obligatory ambiguous ending. Eveything's okay. Lucy and Handsome Man get married after she gets knocked up, changing their daughter from a bastard to simply a mistimed accident, and all is once again hunky-dory. Lame.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

I have to give all the credit for this amazing find to my sister, who, in the event of my death, will inherit my TV and all of my movies. Not that I'm looking to die any time soon. I'm just saying, it's yours.

This is the greatest.

Thanks for your time.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Christian Apparel: For When You're Tired Of Being Nice To People And Want To Give Them The Impression That The Church Is Full Of Arrogant Jackasses

Step right up, get 'em while they're hot. If kindness and love aren't working, turn on the smug superiority. [I'm sure there's a verse about it somewhere, maybe toward the back.]

Tired of having to reason with people? No worries! We've got your t-shirt comparing abortion rights with the Holocaust right here. Murderiffic!

What's that you say? You'd like to frighten people into believing like you do? Then try this one on for size! Nothing counteracts compassion like a heaping helping of sulfur and brimstone!

What's that, sir? You want something that shows your unequivocal support for unilateral invasions around the globe wherever our best interests or slightest whims may take us? Then you, sir, need to slip into this stunner and let the neighborhood know you won't be doing any thinking of your own any time soon!

And finally, for when you want to just turn people completely away from the notion of a loving God: this always works.

In conclusion, thank you for shopping at HZN, the Home Zealots Network. Feel free to contact us anytime via phone, fax, email or pipe-bomb. Haha, just kidding about that last one, folks! But seriously, you should only bomb the heathens and unbelievers who really deserve it, like single mothers and ethnic minorities.

See you next week!

[Paid for (probably) by Pat Robertson and John Hagee.]

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

This was the first result:

ENFJ - "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be. 2.5% of total population.
Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com


Then I clicked "Refresh" and got this:

ENFP - "Journalist". Uncanny sense of the motivations of others. Life is an exciting drama. 8.1% of total population.
Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com


Apparently the results of the test can be, to a degree, generated randomly, and refreshing the page made me a whole new person. I don't so much feel like either one is accurate, although the "journalist" label was spooky.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Notes I Took At My Department Meeting, 4.19.05

Kim describes the fabric of our new cubicle walls. She says the color palette includes willow and tusk, which I think means green and white. I'd look it up if I actually cared.

This is indicative of how the company works: rather than raise our pay, we get to have dull green walls instead of dull gray ones. Awesome.

Joyce asks about the content of the vending machines at our new building, to which Kim responds that they'll probably include the usual suspects, at which point Joyce laughs her senile head off. It's not a particularly funny statement, and cliched, but Joyce still found it hysterical. This is what Joyce looks like, for those who don't know.

Tony rocks the Mexican pompadour and mustache. Man, I wish I could do that.

The Fun Committee members are mentioned, including me, who Kim refers to as "Mr. Fun himself." This is kind of confusing, since I haven't exactly hidden my disdain for the retarded things we are forced to do by the Fun Committee. My ideas are all shot down.

Possible nicknames for Scott, who is uber-Mormon: the Mormonster, the Mormongrel, the Mormonger, the pansy blonde.

We enter into a play-by-play of the April Fool's day shenanigans had here at the office, and I contemplate praying for another mudslide or boulder spill or something to make it end.

A guy from I.T. comes to talk about a systems update, which Joyce frantically tries to follow. She survived the Dust Bowl, so these strange electronic typing machines we use often give her grief.

A haiku about my boss, Jennifer:
had i the courage
i would ask you about your
crazy lazy eye

We get to take a field trip to a printing press in a few weeks, where a few local newspapers are printed. For me this is like being mauled by a lion and then window-shopping for BandAids. So close, but so not.

We eat muffins to "celebrate" the people who have birthdays in April. Kim engages in a discussion about which sign we're currently in, which one we're entering into, etc. The whole topic seems about 30 years stale.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Nothing Wrong With Reruns

Despite my first posting about it a few months ago, this is still worth watching, if only because people need to see how easy it is to become a public school teacher.

Friday, April 15, 2005

fiesta

I broke a cascarone over a coworker's head and was sent to HR to discuss "latent hostility issues," whatever that means. People in California, I learn too late, do not celebrate Fiesta.

Man, I could use a turkey leg.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

This is so depressing. So, so depressing.

I lack the ability to describe the horror, fear, and deeply rooted esteem issues that would cause someone to think that driving over to WalMart, home of low-price DVDs and disturbingly affordable small arms, is a good way to meet someone on a Friday night.

Notes I Took At My Sub-Department Meeting, 4.14.05

I would never actually hit my boss, because you don't hit women. But I'd trip her.

Jive, jibe, and gibe are three different words. Unbelievable how hard this is for some.

She tells us we need to do our best to cut pages from our department's procedures manual, then a few minutes later argues for keeping its length despite the redundancy of some of the information. This is typical management: she wants things done her way, not necessarily the most efficient way.

I'm trying to use some combination of telekinesis and the Force to cause one of the books to fly off its shelf and smack someone, anyone, in the head. No success so far, but I've only been at it a few months.

Maybe I wouldn't actually trip her. But I'd think about it. A lot.

I'm also trying to see if I can make my head explode just by thinking about it. Again, no success (obviously), but I'm willing to keep trying.

I could be making more money working construction, plus learning how to swear more in Spanish. Some days this is pretty tempting.

Why are legal pads yellow?

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

The Conversation Between The Five Women At My Lunch Table As I Sat Idly By, 4.12.05

"How was the wedding you went to?"
"I love weddings! I was in a friend's wedding a few months ago and she had the worst bridesmaid dresses."
"I had to wear an ugly dress at my friend's, too, with these awful shoes."
"My shoes are killing me today. My feet hurt because I went running yesterday."
"I've been meaning to start running again, but I've been so busy with work."
"I ran track in high school. I had a lot of fun."
"I did, too. I was also in the theater department."
"Does anyone know of a good community theater around here?"
"There's one off the highway next to the old book shop."
"I love that old book shop. It reminds me of one near my house growing up."
"I grew up pretty close to my school, which was good because I could walk and not take the bus."
"I took the bus to the museum the other day."
"Did you get a chance to see that human body exhibit? That was amazing."
"No, but I did see this new batch of impressionist paintings they got in."
"I've always liked paintings. When I was a kid I liked to paint by number."
"One time I was painting and I got paint in my hair."
"I just got my hair done last week."
"And it looks great...."

And so on, and so on, ad inf. and ad inf. and oh my sweet holy goodness some more ad inf., until I was forced to pass the time by seeing how far up my nose I could shove my Dr Pepper bottle (3/4 of an inch, then blood).

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Words/Phrases I Heard In Texas Over The Weekend I Rarely Hear In California

honeypie

suparpie

up close and personal

chicken fried steak

wetback

freedom fries

lynch

breakfast taco

Notes From My Company Meeting, 4.7.05

I don't need to be here.

They put out snacks beforehand, as if stale Entemann's and coffee are enough to keep us in line. But they are.

Some guy, call him Kevin, gets up to talk about accounting or something, and for some reason I feel like I've seen him before. Weird.

There are at least twice as many women here as men, and every time I realize this I think again: In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns.

The company's president is named Blaise. The only other Blaise I've ever known was Pascal, and I didn't really know him since I'm not French or 400 years old.

Blaise shaves his head. This makes him look like Lex Luthor.

Meetings are indispensable when you want to waste time, until you realize that you'd do that at your desk anyway, and at your desk you've got the Internet and a better chair.

I really don't need to be here.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Just Something I Thought I Should Share

we paid good money to look like this

Things That Are Overrated; Mainly, Although Not Always, In Regards To Movies

The Purpose-Driven Life

The Lord of the Rings movies

Dead Poets' Society

Braveheart, Gladiator, and every other stupid movie aimed at 19-year-old guys

Jamie Foxx

Getting up early

Shaving daily

Self-respect

The DaVinci Code

Staying late at the office in hopes of garnering more than the standard 3%-4% raise when evaluations come around in January

Wine

Coffee

California Mexican food

Pretty much everything Robin Williams has ever done, except for Good Will Hunting, and he barely toes the line in that one

M. Night Shyamalan

Working for a living

Monday, April 04, 2005

Review: Sin City

Sin City
Starring Bruce Willis, Clive Owen, Jessica Alba, Benicio Del Toro, et al.
Written and created by Frank Miller
Directed by Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez

3 stars (out of 4)

Sin City is the place where you can get away with it all, and not just murder, although there’s plenty of that to go around. No, here you’ll find melodramatic dialogue, impossible laws of physics, and sordid tales brought to life in such striking black and white that when the little pieces of color occasionally seep in, your mind cries out in revolt: tales like this one couldn’t take place in our world, a world of color and order. A tale like this one could only happen in the comic books.

cliveThis is a movie, after all, drawn from a series of graphic novels, something most people don’t care about or read. The pulpy plots, ham-fisted dialogue and bullet-riddled hearts worn on grungy sleeves are the domain of the nameless outcasts, the boys huddled alone at the cafeteria table reading tales of pain when the real world seems much worse.

Robert Rodriguez’s latest film weaves together four of Frank Miller’s legendary extreme-noir comic books, with much of the dialogue, voice-over and actual framing of the shots drawn straight from the graphic novels. True to two-dimensional form, characters voice thoughts like, “When it comes to calming a traumatized 19-year-old, I’m as expert as a palsy victim performing brain surgery with a lead pipe.” And the romance is equally juvenile, grown men knowing no greater tribute to their women than professions like, “She smelled like angels ought to smell,” something only one of Miller's young readers deep in the throes of calf-love would dare voice.

An old cop, Hartigan (Willis), does his best to save a young girl and stop a murderous pedophiliac. A pug-ugly brute named Marv (Mickey Rourke) sets out to avenge the curious death of his true love and one-night stand. And Dwight (Owen) is drawn into an escalating gang war between the whores, cops and mobsters of Sin City. But these things are just placeholders, killers to root for and killers to hate while we sit still and hang on and wonder what's next. The film is a pure thrill ride, to be sure, but where we're actually headed doesn't seem to matter. Gaping holes in plotlines are left wide open, and this carryover from Miller's books, although loyal to the source, makes for a pretty uneven film. By the end, it seems that just as many heroes, if they could be called that, have died as villains, and their sacrifices seem in vain.alba

Rodriguez’s clear love for the source material bleeds through every frame, overeager glance and all of the many severed limbs. Not to worry, though: the violence here is purely stylized and 100% fictional, more Tarantinian folly than Gibson guilt-trip. Tarantino is even credited as a guest director, although the meaning of this is never made clear. Similarly, Rodriguez and Miller are listed as co-directors, a move that prompted Rodriguez to quit the DGA when the organization objected to the dual credit.

The film is a glistening, blistering bloodbath, a love song from the director to the author, and enjoyable for most of its 2 hours and 6 minutes. The longest and most satisfying vignette, that of Marv and his vendetta, carries the bulk of the film, although its length causes some drag toward its wandering end, especially when, as happens often in Sin City, a few minor battles are won while the larger was remains unfinished or unfought. Still, it’s hard to fault a filmmaker with the skill to create such a visually stunning world, breathless in its immediacy and more revolutionary than any field of tired monsters. Sin City breaks new ground, its imagery both driving the story and defining it. Function and form are collapsed here into one giant, blood-stained hand-cannon, and only the foolest of the fools would stop to wonder which came first, the pulp or its metafictional revelries. More than a comic book come to life, Sin City is the book's biggest fan telling you why he thinks you should read the book, too. And although you may appreciate his fervor, it's not quite enough to convert any but the already faithful.